Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [25]
It seemed to Beth, too, that Sam was actually growing fond of Molly at last. Sometimes, if he came in from work and she was sitting on the floor, he’d bend down and pat her head, as Ernest and Peter often did. Beth didn’t say anything — she was sure that if she did remark on it he would never do it again — but she’d watch him out of the corner of her eye and note that he was playing peekaboo with Molly, or tickling her to make her laugh.
One evening in August after Beth had put Molly to bed, she’d gone across to see Mrs Craven for a few minutes and came back to find Sam holding the little girl in his arms.
‘She woke up crying,’ he said defensively. ‘I thought she might have a tummy ache.’
The following day when she had to go to Falkner Square Beth felt like skipping the whole way, she was so happy. Later that morning she was in the little room off the kitchen where they kept the sewing machine, singing as she turned some worn sheets sides to middle and sewed them up again, when Mrs Langworthy came in.
‘And what has turned you into a little songbird?’ she said with a wide smile.
‘I’m just feeling happy because my brother seems to be getting fond of Molly at last,’ Beth admitted. ‘We had so many problems after our mother died, you see. It was difficult for him to accept Molly.’
‘I don’t think men have that instant love for babies that women feel,’ Mrs Langworthy said thoughtfully. ‘Many of my friends have told me their husbands showed no interest at first. It must have been harder still for your brother, you both being so young.’
Beth chatted on about their two lodgers, and how Sam seemed much happier lately. ‘He hasn’t even mentioned emigrating to America for ages,’ she said.
‘Would you have liked to do that?’ her mistress asked.
‘Well, yes,’ Beth replied. ‘What an adventure it would be! But it wouldn’t be possible with Molly, would it? I’d have to work too if we wanted to make a real go of it. Without any friends or family there we’d have no one to mind her.’
‘It seems a shame to me that you and your brother have to sacrifice your dreams or ambitions,’ Mrs Langworthy remarked, and patted Beth on the shoulder in sympathy.
One hot, sunny Saturday right at the end of August Sam came home from work and suggested they should catch the ferry to New Brighton the following day. Ernest and Peter were planning to go out early on their bicycles, and as they had already said they wouldn’t want any supper as they were eating out, it meant Sam and Beth wouldn’t have to rush back.
Beth was thrilled at Sam’s suggestion, not only because she had so many good memories of going to New Brighton for the day with their parents, but because he was including Molly.
‘Put on something pretty,’ he suggested. ‘You’ve been in mourning for quite long enough. It’s time we had some fun.’
Just a week or two before, Beth had gone through her mother’s clothes to see what could be sold, or altered to fit her, and she’d found tucked away at the bottom of the cupboard the pale blue and white striped dress Mama had been wearing in the photograph. Beth had been longing to wear it, for it was very pretty, with a lower neckline than she usually wore, leg-of-mutton sleeves and a pin-tucked bodice. She’d had to let the waist out a fraction and drop the hem an inch or two, but it fitted everywhere else perfectly.
‘You look lovely,’ Sam said appreciatively when she came into the kitchen on Sunday morning, ready to leave.
Beth was quite giddy with excitement, for with her hair left loose and a pert little straw boater perched on top at an angle, she felt quite the young lady of fashion. Molly seemed to pick up on her excitement for she began laughing and clapping her fat little hands as Beth carried her downstairs and put her into the perambulator.
As they turned into Lord Street to make their way down to the docks and the ferry, Sam was clearly equally excited, for he began playing games with Molly and making her laugh as he walked along beside