Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [36]
Mrs Bruce studied Sam as he was talking and noted how much he’d come out of himself since he became a barman. He was more confident now, looking directly at whoever he was talking to, not dropping his eyes the way he used to. He was a handsome lad, with his blond hair, peachy skin and brilliant blue eyes, and his easy manner with women was very attractive. Mrs Bruce thought he’d be irresistible once he’d put a little muscle on to that lean frame.
But she also noticed how little attention he paid Molly. After the dinner, as she staggered around the room going from one person to another, Sam didn’t watch her as everyone else did. He picked her up when she fell over by him and he offered her small pieces of an orange he was eating, but he didn’t take her on his knee or make a fuss of her. Mrs Bruce decided that while he certainly wasn’t unkind to her, he was actively avoiding any involvement.
She wondered why this was, and the only logical reason she could find for it was that he intended to walk out on Beth and Molly. He probably felt he could do that more easily if he didn’t allow his heart to become engaged with his baby sister.
Mrs Bruce found herself fretting about this a great deal as the New Year came in. She told herself that Beth could be fine, for with or without her brother, the Langworthys would continue to employ her. Yet whenever Beth played her fiddle over in her rooms, and she heard the joy and hope in her music, she couldn’t help but feel dismayed that her life was never going to take her beyond Falkner Square. Mrs Bruce could already see the shackles binding her here. Right now it was just because of her duty to provide for Molly, but the longer she stayed, the bigger she’d feel her debt to the Langworthys was. By the time Molly was old enough to work, Mrs Bruce would be old, and Beth would slip into her shoes. She’d never get the chance to play in public, to see more of the world. Most likely she’d never marry either.
Chapter Nine
‘Mam, mam,’ Kathleen screeched out at six in the morning. It was early February, bitterly cold and still dark, the master and mistress asleep. Mrs Bruce had just gone down to the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove for tea.
She rushed back upstairs to find Kathleen in the doorway of old Mr Langworthy’s room. Kathleen’s first job each morning as maid was to stir up the fire in his room, and on seeing the girl’s horrified expression Mrs Bruce guessed that the old man was dead.
‘He had his mouth and eyes open,’ Kathleen sobbed. ‘I asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. But I think he’s dead.’
‘Control yourself,’ Mrs Bruce said sharply. She was just going to add that Kathleen should have come down and told her quietly without waking the master and mistress, but it was too late — both their bedroom doors opened simultaneously. Mr Edward was in his long nightshirt and the mistress was clutching a shawl around her shoulders.
‘Is it my father?’ Mr Edward asked.
Mrs Bruce nodded and went into the old man’s room. Kathleen had put the oil lamp on the mantelpiece, so there was enough light to see exactly what she had seen. He was lying awkwardly, his head right at the edge of the mattress, as if he’d been struggling to get out of bed.
Mrs Bruce went over to him and found he was indeed dead. She lifted him back on to the pillow and closed his eyes and mouth. ‘He has passed on then?’ Mr Edward asked from the doorway, his wife standing beside him as if they were both afraid to come in.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Mrs Bruce said, straightening up the bedclothes. ‘I am so sorry. But you two must go back to bed or you’ll catch your death of cold. I’ll get Kathleen to take a note round for the doctor.’
When Beth came over to the house with Molly at nine that morning, she found Mrs Bruce, Cook and Kathleen sitting at the kitchen table looking very woebegone.
Mrs Bruce explained what had happened, and said that the doctor was up with the Langworthys now signing the old man’s death certificate. ‘It is for the best