No Ocean Too Wide Page 6

  Lifting her hand, she rubbed her stinging eyes, trying to fight off the wave of hopelessness rising in her heart. She wanted to sit down right there on the back steps and have a good cry, but that was not an option. Her family needed her to be strong and think clearly.

  She pulled in a deep breath, trying to sort through her jumbled thoughts. Mrs. Palmer, the widow who owned the dress shop, would have a key to the flat. Perhaps she was still at the shop.

  Laura set off down the alley and rounded the corner. Many of the shops were dark and shuttered, but light still glowed from Palmer’s Dress Shop. She peered through the front window, past the two mannequins on display. Mrs. Palmer stood on a step stool behind the counter, placing a box on a high shelf.

  Laura summoned her courage and pushed open the front door. The bell rang overhead. Mrs. Palmer turned, and her expression hardened.

  “Good evening, ma’am.” Laura forced cheerfulness into her voice, hoping it would warm the woman’s chilly reception.

  Mrs. Palmer stepped down from the stool, her expression unchanged. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to town to see my mother.”

  “And have you seen her?”

  “Yes ma’am. I’ve just been to the hospital.”

  “How is she?” The woman’s tone carried no hint of compassion.

  “She’s improving. Though she still needs some time to regain her strength.” Laura glanced around the shop, wishing Anna and Liza, Mrs. Palmer’s daughters, were there. Perhaps if Mrs. Palmer remembered Laura’s friendship with them, it might make her more willing to help. “I tried to go up to our flat, but the door in the alley is locked, and I don’t have a key.”

  Mrs. Palmer’s gaze turned icy, and her lips firmed.

  “I’ll be in town for a few days, and I need a place to stay.”

  “Well, you can’t stay upstairs, not unless you plan to pay the past-due rent.”

  Laura’s stomach twisted. “The rent hasn’t been paid?”

  “Not since the beginning of April. And if your mother doesn’t pay what’s owed and return to work soon, I’ll have the flat packed up and her things put out on the street.”

  “Oh no! Please don’t do that. I can pay.” Laura reached in her pocket and pulled out a five-pound note, three one-pound notes, and a few coins and held them out to the woman. It was almost all she had left from the money Andrew Frasier had given her earlier that day.

  Mrs. Palmer sniffed and lifted her chin. “The rent is twelve pounds.”

  Laura’s chin dropped. “Twelve pounds!”

  “That’s right. I only charged your mother six, but I can’t give her that rate unless she comes back and takes up her duties.”

  “I’m sure she will as soon as she can.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Well, I can’t hold her position open forever. We’re working our fingers to the bone, doing all the hand sewing ourselves.” She narrowed her eyes and looked at Laura. “If your mother doesn’t return to work by the end of the month, I’ll have to hire someone else to take her place.”

  The tight band around Laura’s chest constricted, making it hard for her to pull in a breath. There had to be some way to reason with the woman and make her give them more time. “My mother is an excellent seamstress. You’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone so skilled.”

  “Maybe, but I have enough troubles of my own. I can’t carry your mother’s load as well.”

  Heat rushed into Laura’s face, and she clenched her jaw. How could Mrs. Palmer be so uncaring?

  “It won’t do you any good to stand there giving me the evil eye. I won’t change my mind. I have a business to run, and I have to do what’s best for me and my girls.”

  “I’m sure your daughters would understand and want to help.”

  Mrs. Palmer huffed. “You can’t expect me to take food from their mouths to feed you and your family!”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. My mother is ill, and most likely it’s due to the long hours and unhealthy conditions in this shop.”

  The woman’s expression turned stormy. “Don’t blame me for your mother’s poor health. She always caught every illness that passed by.”

  “My mother is a loyal, hardworking widow who is doing the best she can to care for her children. I thought you of all people would understand her situation and have a little more compassion. Evidently that’s not the case.”

  “You’re a rude, ungrateful girl! And I won’t listen to any more of your foolish talk.” Mrs. Palmer grabbed her hat and coat from the hook on the wall behind her. “Go on! You won’t be staying upstairs tonight!”

  “Please, Mrs. Palmer. I have nowhere else to go!”

  “That’s not my problem.” She waved her hand. “Now take yourself right out that door before I change my mind about giving you until the end of the month to come up with the rent money.”

  Laura spun away, strode out the door, and gave it a hard shove. The door banged closed behind her. That woman had no right to scold her like that. She silently rehearsed all she would’ve liked to say to put Mrs. Palmer in her place. But by the time she’d marched twenty paces, her anger had drained away. A stubborn lump lodged in her throat, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  Where should she go now? Since her dad died and they’d moved to this part of town, they’d lost touch with most of their old friends. She’d lived here only a few months before she’d left to go into service. Who would help her?

  Her thoughts flashed to Andrew Frasier, but he was at Bolton and would not return to London until early next week. If she was going to come up with a solution, she needed to slow her racing thoughts and be sensible. Surely there was someone who might take pity on her and give her a place to stay while she helped her mum and siblings.

  Mrs. Graham’s letter came to mind. Perhaps her mum’s friend would have more compassion than Mrs. Palmer. Laura set off in the direction of the Grahams’ home, fighting each step of the way not to give in to despair.

  Five minutes later, she knocked on the Grahams’ door and held her breath. If the Grahams turned her away, she’d be sleeping on the front steps of the church or on a park bench. A shudder traveled through her, and she rubbed her hands down her coat sleeves.

  The door opened, and Jacob Graham looked out at her. His brown eyes widened, and a smile broke across his face. “Laura! What a surprise. Come in.” He stood back and pulled the door open wider. “Here, let me take your case.”

  “Thank you.” She released it to him, and he set it on the floor just inside the door. “Is your mum home?”

  “Yes, she’s in the kitchen, making dinner.” He studied her face with an admiring gaze. “It’s good to see you again, Laura.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to see you as well.” She considered Jacob a friend, but before she’d gone into service, she’d sensed he hoped for more. She pushed that thought away. This was no time to worry about Jacob’s feelings or intentions. “I received your mum’s letter and came as soon as I could get away. I’ve just come from the hospital.”

  “How is your mum?”

  “She looks so pale and thin I hardly recognized her. But she wasn’t coughing, and she says she’s improving.”

  “That’s what my mum said after her last visit. I’m so sorry your mum is ill. We’ve all been praying for her.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. May I speak to your mum?”

  “Sure. Come with me.” He motioned toward the hallway behind him. “She’s right this way.” He led Laura into the warm, steamy kitchen where his mum stood by the stove, stirring a large pot.

  Mrs. Graham turned as she entered. “Laura, I’m so glad you’ve come!” She wiped her hands on her apron, then stepped forward and embraced Laura. The comforting scents of apples and cinnamon clung
to her clothes.

  The tender hug and warm welcome made Laura’s throat grow tight.

  Mrs. Graham stepped back. “Have you been to the hospital?”

  “Yes, I slipped in even though visiting hours were over.” Laura recounted her visit with her mum, and then she explained what had happened when she’d gone to the dress shop and spoken to Mrs. Palmer.

  Jacob’s face reddened as he listened. “How could she treat you like that?”

  Mrs. Graham released a soft sigh. “Ethel Palmer still hasn’t recovered from the loss of her husband and young son. She’s angry about the past and fearful of the future. And I’m afraid that makes her say and do things that are thoughtless and hurtful at times.”

  Jacob made a noise in his throat. “That’s no excuse for locking Laura out of her family’s flat.”

  “No, it’s not, but we don’t have to let that ruin our reunion.” Mrs. Graham turned to Laura. “You’re welcome to stay with us if you don’t mind sharing a bed with Sarah.”

  Relief poured through Laura. “I don’t mind at all. Thank you so much.”

  “Well, it’s the least I can do for the daughter of such a fine friend.” Mrs. Graham glanced over her shoulder. “Did you know she sewed those curtains for me? Aren’t they lovely? And she wouldn’t even let me pay for the fabric.”

  Laura studied the butter-yellow curtains with the ruffled valance hanging across the kitchen window. That was just like her mum, so kind and generous, always thinking of how she could use her skills to bless others even when she had so little. She deserved so much more out of life than what she had been given. Laura determined to find a way to make life easier for her mum and siblings from now on.

  Jacob took a step closer to Laura, his gaze intense. “You don’t have to worry. We’ll watch out for you, Laura.”

  Her cheeks warmed, and she sent him a slight smile. She needed the Grahams’ help, but she didn’t want to mislead Jacob. He was a fine young man, but she couldn’t imagine ever feeling more than friendship for him.

  4

  Andrew slipped his watch from his vest pocket, lowered it beneath the dining room table, and discreetly checked the time. He stifled a groan and tried to focus on the dinner conversation. With effort he’d managed to contribute a few polite comments during the last hour, but his patience was wearing thin.

  If they would just clear away the final course, he could excuse himself and return to the library. He’d much rather spend what was left of the evening reading the latest issue of the Law Journal Reports than listen to Aunt Eloise complain about her arthritic knees or her milliner’s lack of creativity.

  If only his sister, Olivia, were here with her husband and two children. She always kept the dinner conversation going. But with the recent birth of a new baby boy, they had decided to stay home this Easter rather than visit the family at Bolton.

  “I do hope you’ll be coming to town for the season.” Eloise dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and looked around the table. “The Royal Academy Summer Exhibition opens soon.”

  His father scowled across the table at his sister. “I am not a fan of art exhibitions, and I have no plans to attend.”

  “But, George, it’s expected. You should make an appearance.”

  “I detest all the noise and mad rush in town.” He turned his cool gaze toward Andrew. “You know I prefer country life, away from the stifling crowds and dirty streets of London.”

  Andrew clenched his jaw. He would not argue with his father about the virtues of life in town versus life in the country.

  “I quite agree with you.” Uncle Bertram nodded to Father. “Country life is much more peaceful. Fresh air, fine walks down country lanes—who could complain about that?”

  “I enjoy time in the country as much as the next person,” Aunt Eloise continued, “but if you want to maintain your connections, you must take part in the London season.”

  His father huffed. “I’ve no desire to maintain connections with people who waste the best months of the year parading from one event to the next, trying to impress the other fools who have nothing better to do.”

  Andrew’s mother shifted her gaze to Andrew, an urgent plea in her eyes. She obviously wanted him to join the conversation and try to ease the situation.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m looking forward to attending the Henley Royal Regatta and the Royal Ascot. Father, you’ve enjoyed those in the past. Perhaps you’ll consider attending this year.” He wanted to add they could go together, but that was too much to hope for. His father never invited him along when he went to town or anywhere else. He hunted alone, he fished alone, and he traveled alone. He was an austere, solitary man, as uncompromising as anyone Andrew had ever known.

  “I may go to the Royal Ascot, but only the first day,” his father said. “I see no need to stay for the other four.”

  “Will you open your London house for only that one night?” Aunt Eloise asked.

  “No, I’ll stay at the club and return the next morning.”

  Andrew glanced at his mother. Was she hurt by his father’s comments? Her expression revealed little, but Andrew couldn’t help feeling offended for her. Didn’t his father even consider she might like to attend the Ascot or some of the other events in London this spring and summer? Andrew shook his head. He was tired of his father’s thoughtless ways.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re going to come in for the Royal Ascot,” Eloise added. “At least making an appearance there will squelch the rumors you’ve become a complete recluse.”

  Mother cringed and lowered her gaze to her plate.

  Father’s face reddened. “Honestly, Eloise, you spend too much time worrying about what other people think!”

  Uncle Bertram darted a glance at his wife, then at Andrew’s father. “I understand your dislike for spending time in town, especially during the season. Between the crowds and the noise, it can be intolerable and sometimes even dangerous.”

  Eloise leaned forward. “I’m afraid Bertram is right. Tell them what happened last week.”

  “A young ruffian stole my wallet right out of my pocket!”

  Eloise placed her hand over her ample bosom. “We were coming out of Victoria Station, and the boy bumped into Bertram, nearly knocking him down. He apologized and ran off, and we didn’t even realize he’d stolen Bertram’s wallet until we tried to pay the cab driver and had nothing!” Her gaze darted around the table. “It is dreadful the way decent people cannot even walk through certain areas of town without being accosted by vagrants and street Arabs!”

  “They ought to sweep the whole lot of them into jail!” Bertram waved his hand, nearly knocking over his water glass.

  Father scowled. “There aren’t enough jails to contain all of London’s gutter rats.”

  Andrew’s mother frowned. “George, how can you call them that? They’re only children.”

  “I don’t care how old they are. They’re a nuisance, and we ought to clear them from the streets.”

  Aunt Eloise gave a vigorous nod. “I quite agree. Something has to be done!”

  “Those young thieves are no better than their parents,” his father continued. “We can’t take pity on them simply because of their age. Once a thief, always a thief. That’s what I say.”

  Andrew clenched his hands under the table. “Children who resort to stealing do so only because the adults who should be responsible for them have neglected their duty. You can’t blame them for their hunger or poverty. Where are their mothers and fathers?”

  “I agree,” Mother added. “Most of them have no home or family to care for them. What do you suggest they do?”

  Father’s chin jutted forward. “Homeless or not, thievery is not the answer.”

  His mother’s cheeks flushed pink. “And neither is jail!”

  “Then what’s to be done?” Aunt Eloise
looked around the table. “When they turn to crime, the authorities have no choice but to arrest them and lock them up.”

  “There is another solution,” his mother said. “And it’s one I believe we should support.”

  “And what is that?” his father asked.

  “There are homes for those children, like those begun by Dr. Barnardo. They take boys and girls out of the workhouses and off the street and give them training so they can prepare for useful, productive lives.”

  Aunt Eloise wrinkled her nose. “I don’t believe Dr. Barnardo was a respectable gentleman. I’ve heard there were all kinds of accusations against that man and his work. He was constantly in court for one problem or another. How could you support someone like that?”

  “He was a controversial figure, but I heard him speak,” Mother continued. “And I was quite impressed. He was a man of deep faith with a powerful commitment to helping children. He believed no child should ever be turned away.”

  Father lowered his dark eyebrows. “You attended one of Barnardo’s presentations?”

  “Yes, we heard him at Cliffside. And after his speech, some of the children in his care gave a very heartwarming presentation. They sang and had such lovely voices. I was nearly in tears by the end. I wish you all could’ve been there.”

  His father scowled. “When was this?”

  “A few years ago, while you were away on a hunting trip.”

  “That is not the kind of event you should attend. They only want to play on your sympathies and get you to empty your pockets.”

  Andrew straightened in his chair. “Well, something has to be done for those children. And rather than sitting around a dining room table discussing the issue, Dr. Barnardo stepped forward and took thousands of poor and destitute children off the streets. Surely, Father, you have to admit that is a worthy cause we ought to support.”

  Irritation lined his father’s face. “What I see is a self-righteous man who tried to build up his own reputation by parading those children in front of an audience. All he really wanted to do was raise enough money to keep his name in the public eye.” He shifted his glare to his wife. “The man was a charlatan, and I don’t want you to have anything more to do with his charity.”