A Family Affair. Nancy Carson

int it?’

      ‘It is warm,’ Clover agreed. ‘Too warm. What’s for my tea, Zillah? I’m famished.’

      ‘I’n done yer a nice meat-and-tater pie, my babby.’

      ‘Ooh, lovely.’

      ‘It’ll be in the oven at the side of the grate. The others’n had theirs.’

      As she made to continue her journey, Clover noticed a solitary bottle of beer frothing in Zillah’s basket; her daily reward for not helping herself. ‘I’d better go, Zillah. I don’t want anybody else pinching my pie. See you tomorrow.’

      ‘I er…heard your mother and that Jake talkin’ today, Clover…’

      ‘Oh?’ Clover checked herself.

      ‘He was on about ’em needing more money to finish what they’m a-doing in the brewery.’

      ‘God knows where they’ll get it. You know what Mother’s like about the banks.’

      ‘Well that Jake was saying as how they’ve got to the point where they can’t turn back. They’ve got to go forwards, he says. So he’s asked his brother Elijah to come in with ’em. He ain’t short of a copper or two by all accounts.’

      ‘Well, if that solves the problem, Zillah, all well and good.’

      ‘Yes, but you ain’t heard the best of it,’ Zillah gloated, bursting with this opportunity to impart even more astounding information. ‘He’s taking up lodgings with you. He’s moving into the spare bedroom. From next Sunday. I gorra spruce it all up and air the bed.’

      ‘You mean he’s coming to live at the Jolly Collier?’

      ‘That’s about the size of it, Clover, my wench.’ She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded once, her expression suitably grave.

      ‘Thanks for letting me know. I don’t suppose Mother will tell me till the last minute. She never tells me anything. I sometimes wonder if she knows I exist.’

      ‘Well, she seems a bit took with your stepfather Jake, and no two ways. I ’spect she can’t keep her mind on nothing else yet awhile.’

      ‘As long as she’s happy…I’ll go, Zillah. See you tomorrow.’

      ‘Yes, see you tomorrow, Clover. Keep out the hoss road.’

      Clover carried on, smiling and acknowledging people who were walking in the opposite direction. As she reached the Jolly Collier, Tom Doubleday rushed out and almost knocked her over.

      ‘Oops!…God, I’m so sorry, Clover,’ he said full of remorse.

      ‘Oh, hello, Tom. Fancy bumping into you.’ Standing on one leg, Clover tried, hidden by the length of her skirt, to secretly rub her shin with the upper of her shoe at the spot where his foot had caught her.

      ‘I hope I haven’t hurt you, Clover.’ He placed his hand on her arm in a gesture of concern and the sensation of his hand, warm upon her, set her pulse racing. ‘I ought to start looking where I’m going before I wreak too much damage. I’m such a clumsy clot.’

      ‘It’s all right, Tom, I’m fine,’ she assured him.

      He took his hand away. ‘Did I hurt your leg?’

      ‘Just my shin,’ she admitted and raised the hem of her skirt to reveal a well-turned ankle. ‘It’s nothing. Are you just leaving?’

      He smiled with a warmth that churned her insides. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

      ‘Oh…Is Ramona all right?’ she asked awkwardly.

      He turned his head momentarily as if to check inside the pub. ‘Yes, she seems all right. Why? Is something the matter? Are you worried about her?’

      ‘No, no…’ She shook her head, tongue-tied, and hoped he would be able to think of some comment to make, for she could think of none.

      ‘How’s your friend?’ he blurted, almost as dumbstruck as she was. ‘Isn’t his name Ned? I think that’s what Ramona told me.’

      ‘Oh, Ned…’ She nodded, flustered. There was no sense in denying Ned if Ramona had made it her business to mention him. ‘Ned’s all right…thanks.’

      ‘He’s building a flying machine, isn’t he?’

      ‘Yes, that’s his real passion.’ She smiled then looked abashed at her shoes that were poking out daintily under her skirt, silently cursing herself for blushing so vividly. ‘I help him. I help him build it. He’s going to fly it on Sunday morning over Rough Hill. ‘Tis to be hoped the weather stays fair.’ She looked up into the sky as if it would yield some clue.

      ‘Let’s hope so.’ He found it difficult to avert his eyes from her face. ‘Are you helping him tonight?’

      ‘Oh, no, not tonight. I’m having a night in tonight. Ironing.’ She uttered a little laugh of embarrassment and rolled her eyes.

      He nodded. ‘Well, it’s nice to see you Clover. I seldom get the chance to talk to you…which is a shame. Still…I’ll see you again soon, I hope.’

      She smiled demurely and nodded again. ‘Yes…I hope so.’

      ‘See you then, Clover. Sorry about your shin.’

      ‘It’s all right, Tom. I can’t feel a thing.’

      And she couldn’t.

      As the week wore on Clover thought more and more about Tom Doubleday. Meeting him so unexpectedly and talking to him had triggered dreamy thoughts again which, because of Ramona, she dared not foster. The week also brought a steady dribble of cardboard boxes and a couple of suitcases; Elijah’s belongings that were in the course of being transferred from the Dudley Arms to the Jolly Collier. And still nobody mentioned to Clover that his permanent arrival was imminent.

      ‘Do I take it that somebody is coming to lodge with us, Mother, seeing how somebody’s trankelments are cluttering up the passage and the stairs?’ she asked, pretending she did not know, peeved that nobody other than Zillah had mentioned it.

      ‘Elijah Tandy,’ Mary Anne responded economically. ‘Sunday.’

      ‘Why has nobody mentioned it?’

      ‘Oh? I would’ve thought that Jacob or Ramona might’ve said.’

      ‘Nobody’s said. I would’ve thought you might have said, Mother. So how come he’s moving in here?’

      ‘He’s investing some money in the brewing venture and coming to work with us. Jacob said that if he did, he might as well live here.’

      ‘Why doesn’t he go and live in Jake’s house till it’s sold?’

      Mary Ann laughed scornfully. ‘I imagine he’s afeared that if he does, young Dorcas will take it as a sign to go and live with him. That’ll mean him getting wed and he don’t want to get wed. You’d think she’d have the gumption to take the hint. He’s only been engaged to the wench three years.’

      ‘Will he be paying rent here?’

      ‘Lord, no. He’s Jacob’s brother, our Clover. Besides, you could hardly ask him to pay rent when he’s coughing up a load of money.’

      ‘I suppose not. How did he make his money, Mother?’

      ‘I shouldn’t ask.’ Mary Ann lowered her voice. ‘Gambling, if you want the truth,’ she muttered distastefully. ‘Cards. Not as I hold with it, as you know. But if it can do Jacob some good…’

      Clover finished her ironing by eight o’ clock that night and, looking neat and tidy in a white blouse and navy skirt with her hair done up, went into the taproom to help Ramona. The number of young men that were patrons these days suddenly struck her, young men she had not seen before, many more than there ever used to