James lifted the brass doorknocker, let it fall with a thump and removed his watch from his pocket. It was twenty minutes before five o'clock and he wondered who would open the door. As he looked at the sash windows, the sound of someone playing a piano drifted out from the front parlour, but he couldn't see through the lace curtains.

            Eliza and Lucy were good girls. Affectionate sisters who sometimes irritated him, especially Eliza, but he loved them dearly and he had missed their banter and good humour. It was probably Eliza playing the piano. He thought of Catherine, his eldest sister and how dependable she was. Father's favourite, Catherine had married and left home some two years before.

James felt as though he had been away for years rather than a few short months. He turned and looked down the familiar tree-lined street. Walking through the town from the Pump Rooms to Kate's little house and then through the cobbled streets, to his father's house, had been a pleasure. With its elegant people and its cream Regency buildings, the town had almost sparkled in the late-autumn sunshine.  It had slipped his mind how beautiful Leamington could be on a fine morning. Most of the leaves had fallen, except for a few late Rowans, half covered in autumn gold.

            He turned to face the door. Only the sound of the piano came from within. He waited a moment longer, then let the knocker fall again, this time pushing it hard to produce a louder bang.

Perhaps mother would open the door. It struck him how much he had missed her and looked forward to seeing her twinkling brown eyes and her petite, oval face. One thing was certain, father wouldn't open the door. He wouldn't demean himself. Even if he were home, he would probably be washing after a hard day chipping away at blocks of stone in the yard at the back of the house.

A sharp stabbing pain shot through the back of his head and even though it vanished in an instant, it left him feeling weak. His resolve began to falter and he had to make a mental effort to concentrate. The piano stopped and a moment later, the front door swung open and Eliza stood there, framed in the doorway, her long brown skirts rustling as she skipped with delight. 

"James! Oh, welcome back! Welcome! We expected you, but we didn't know exactly when. Oh, you do look a fine soldier in your uniform James, you look so much better than when we saw you in hospital, though you still need to gain weight."

            She seemed rounder and her hair was darker than he remembered. He swept her off her feet and squeezed the breath out of her as she kissed him on the cheek.

"It's good to see you Eliza. Now are you going to let me in? Or are you going to keep me standing on the door step for all the street to gaze upon."

"Not until you take off those boots. We don't want your muddy footprints across our nice clean hall."

"Certainly ma'am. At once ma'am!" He laughed and saluted as he inserted the heel of his boot into the brass boot-fork by the doorstep. First one, then the other, he pulled them off ignoring the twinge of pain in his left shinbone. He picked up his kitbag, dropped it inside and tiptoed over the chequered black and white tiled floor, stopping in the middle of the hall.

"I don't think that is quite so necessary James," said Eliza smiling.

"It sounds as though you received my letters."

"Yes. We've been talking about your arrival for a few days now. I'll go and tell mother you're here."

"Who's at home?"

"Mother and Lucy. Father isn't in yet. We're expecting him within the hour."

"Is my room ready?"

"It is always ready. And now John has married and moved to his own home, you have the room to yourself."

"Yes of course. I'd forgotten. Excellent! Where is John living?"

"Father has let him have number 22 round the corner."

The sound of voices grew louder as two women entered the hallway from a door at the back.

"James I thought I heard your voice... it is you!" said Ellen.

"I told you it was him!" said Lucy squealing with delight. They both smiled and laughed but Lucy stood back, reserved as always, to let her mother greet James first.

"You look much improved James. I was deeply concerned when I visited you at the hospital. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine Mother, just fine," smiled James and Lucy joined in the greetings.

"My dear brother," she said, curtseying with exaggerated politeness. "You are a good looking soldier and I believe all the girls in Leamington would like you for a sweetheart!" They laughed and giggled, linking him and kissing him on the cheek.

"Ah, but a soldier no longer," said James.

The noise subsided when Ellen asked the question they all wanted answering. "How are your wounds?"

"Mending Mother. I am in good health I promise you, but the journey has left me tired."

"Yes of course, what are we thinking of. You must go to your room and rest, then come and have something to eat. I have some roast beef and vegetables cooking. Your father will be coming in from the yard soon James." The mood dropped at the mention of his father. He frowned and looked down, twisting his cap in his hands.

"Yes... well..." said James, "I'm sure he'll have some things to say." He walked to the bottom of the staircase and paused on the bottom step and dropping his cap on top of his kit bag he smiled at his mother, "I can't wait to get some decent clothes on. Clothes that don't itch so much."

"How did you find your Aunt Maude? Is she well?"

"Yes indeed... she is in the pink of health and looked after me famously. She's an excellent cook! Midhurst is a beautiful town, and the River Rother was wonderful."

"James! You didn't go swimming already?"

"Constantly, it was a great help in regaining my fitness."

"Well I must say it seems to have done you proud," said Ellen. "Lucy, please take James' boots through to the scullery and clean them for him."

As James turned to go upstairs, Ellen caught a glimpse of the back of his head and lowered her eyes as they filled with tears.

James nodded and walked up the staircase; the fourth step creaked as always. Leaning on the spindled banister, he climbed wearily. He crossed the narrow, panelled landing and entered his room. The sunlight had beamed through the glass all afternoon, making the air warm and stuffy. He undid the brass buttons on his tunic and threw it across the back of a chair.

The smell of lavender and mothballs stung the back of his throat and made his nostrils flare as he opened the wardrobe doors. His clothes were still there, two dark suits a few jackets, trousers and some clean linen shirts. He turned to look at the room. It was bigger than he recalled and he smiled as he saw the two iron bedsteads. They seemed bigger than his bed at Aunt Maud's and certainly bigger than his Army billet. He walked to the dark oak dressing table, and picked up the tortoise-shell hairbrush, part of a gentleman's grooming set, given to him for his 19^th birthday by his father. He wondered whether to go into his parent's bedroom to look out over the yard and workshop but decided against it. His father may be down there working and he would see him soon enough.

Sitting down, he unbuttoned the studs from his collar and put them in the small cut glass dish. He slipped his braces from his shoulders and looked at the face in the mirror and a stranger looked back at him, gaunt and tinged with yellow. Speaking out loud he said, "God I look a mess." Standing up, he crossed to the window and slid open a sash a few inches to let in a breeze of fresh air. He picked up his tunic from the chair and neatly placed it on a hanger in his wardrobe and then he flopped onto the bed wearily.  Even the steady clip-clopping horses and the rattling carriages trundling up and down the road didn't prevent him from falling asleep. In no time, he was snoring gently, oblivious to St Paul's church bell ringing five, from across the street.

* 

Kate's mother bent double as she struggled through the back door from the cobbled alleyway into the tiny back yard. A thin woman, she had wispy fair hair that was starting to turn grey. She pushed a small handcart piled high with folded washing through the yard door. Kate stood at the scullery sink and saw her through the window. Quickly drying her hands, she skipped out to meet her, "here let me help you Mam," she said. "You'll never guess what's happened."

They wheeled the small handcart over the stone flags up to the scullery door and started to carry the piles of washing inside, ready for washing, drying, starching and ironing.

"My goodness, you've got a flush to your cheek girl. What's been going on?"

"James is back. He's injured. Oh, he was so brave mam. He came off his horse and some other horses ran over him. His injuries were so bad they've discharged from the army."

"Oh dear! Is he badly hurt?"

Kate told the story as they walked back and forth with the washing.

"...so we can be together again. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Well I'm glad you're pleased dear but I can't see Mr Tandey taking it kindly. You know what he has said before." She placed two flat irons on the range hobs, "and I'm not too sure myself whether any good will come of it. They're not our kind of people, though I grant you, James Tandey is a good catch and with any luck you won't have to take a handcart with other people's washing to the washhouse like I have to do." She walked back into the scullery and placed some folded bedding near the clotheshorse, ready to replace the dry ones. "I should put these through the ringer again. They're a bit too wet."

 "That's not why I love him Mam and..."

"Yes I know that dear. I didn't mean anything by it. Has he proposed yet?"

"Well not strictly Mam but..."

"Then don't count your chickens girl. You can never be sure of your man until you've got him down the aisle, and even then it can be a battle with some of ‘em, it's hard for a man to stay true. Very hard for some of ‘em." She undid the rope from the cleat and lowered the rack, from the ceiling until it was waist high.

"What do you mean? Mam, are you saying father was unfaithful?"

"No I'm not young lady, that's not what I said at all. Now let's get the scullery table up near the range in the living room and change over some of these sheets. We have a mountain to shift here before bedtime." Kate walked to the edge of the table.

"But we love each other Mam, we're well suited."

"Yes I know dear. But it's not just love that keeps a marriage going; it's putting food on the table and clothes on your back that counts. You get hunger in your belly for a few days and you'll see how quickly love can fly out the window."

"I know that Mam. But if James can work for his father, and persuade him that we are serious about planning a life together, he might get a house for us. After all, James' father gave John number 22 Norfolk Street for a wedding present; he owns number 20 as well. Maybe he would give it to James if we got married."

"John Tandey did not marry a washer woman's daughter!"

"Yes I know that but James..."

"I think you're a long way from marriage my girl..."

"No we're not. Anyway James and I will spend the rest of our lives together whatever happens." Kate's face glowed with love and enthusiasm. Her mother could see the depth of feeling, there in her eyes, and in the flush of her cheeks. It opened a fear within her as she realised Kate and James had been alone in the house just a short time before. It was a fear she didn't feel strong enough to confront. All she could manage was, "... and don't you ever show your face in this house if you get yourself in trouble my girl."

"In trouble?"

"You know what I mean very well Katherine... you know..."

"Mam... I don't understand I..."

"Oh yes you do girl. If you ever find yourself in that way, don't bother coming home because you'll be out on your ear. It would break your father's heart, something like that. We are not having a good catholic house like this made a subject of gossip or shamed, d'you hear me?"

"Yes mam."

"...and I have this washing to deliver in the morning before breakfast or some of these men won't have clean collars to wear to work and that will be the end of my money."

"I'll help you Mam don't worry. I'll take some of the dry stuff out tonight with Alison." Kate's mother relented a little and patting Kate on the shoulder she said,

"Would you dear? That would be a great help. You're a good girl and I don't know what I'd do without you. I also know you would make James a fine wife though I'm still not convinced it's the right thing. Our family have always stuck with our own kind, but we'll see, it might work out alright."

Kate thought back to what had happened just a few short hours before. She had missed James so much, he had been away to long, and she couldn't help herself. There was no going back now. It was only the once; surely, she would be all right. Alice, her best friend, had always said you couldn't make a baby the first time. Surely God wouldn't be so unkind. She felt so self-conscious, as if everyone knew, so different somehow, as if a big light was shining on her and her guilt was written across her forehead for all the world to see.

            "Mam, why does it have to be like that? It's not like that with James...Why does it have to be our kind and their kind?"

"It's just the way it is my girl... now go and move the handcart from the back door and wheel it to the bottom of the yard out of harm's way. And don't put it behind the door. If your father came home tonight by chance, after a jug or two of beer, he'll fall over it and there'll be hell to pay." Kate put down a bundle of shirts, hugged her mother and went out to the back yard.

*

James Tandey senior stood in the scullery, stripped to his vest, swilling the dust out of the cracks in his hands. A big man, he bent over the bowl and threw water over his face; a face that was as hard as the stone he worked all day. The water ran down, into the bowl flushing out the dust and chippings from the deep wrinkles in his forehead. His eyebrows, permanently knitted together, formed a deep, grooved frown. After wiping round his neck with a cloth, he hunched himself over the bowl and scrubbed vigorously at his fingernails. The hissing gaslight cast his rapidly moving shadow on the scullery wall.

Eliza and Lucy moved back and forth to the large dining table in the living room, setting out the crockery and cutlery as Ellen dished up the vegetables and potatoes.

"The meat is ready for carving now," shouted Ellen from the living room. "Eliza, go and wake your brother and tell him his tea is ready."

"Yes mother."

James Senior rubbed his face with a large cotton towel and shouted to Ellen from the scullery, "So the boy is unwell you say?"

Ellen came to the doorway. "Yes dear, please treat him kindly if only for my sake."

He grunted, pulled a clean shirt over his head, walked through to the living room and stood with his back to the cooking range, "his letters said he had recovered." 

            Lucy put a jug of water on the table and measuring the positions with her eyes, she placed the drinking glasses symmetrically. Ellen joined her at the table.

 "You haven't seen him Father," said Eliza coming back into the room. "He's lost weight..."

"...and his colour is unhealthy," said Lucy.

"Great Scott! Are we talking about a strong young man here or a delicate flower? You women fuss too much. He wasn't even injured in battle, he fell

off his damn horse!"

James walked into the room and the conversation ceased as everyone looked at his father. James, clearly nervous, had to take a deep breath before speaking, "Hello Father, I trust you are well?"

He walked across the room extending his hand. His father hesitated before taking the hand and shaking it stiffly. "Welcome home James. I am sorry to see you home under such circumstances, I expected you to be away much longer."

"Yes. Well we know the reason for that don't we Father?" said James bitterly.

"James," pleaded his mother, "please don't rake that up again. Your father only had your best interests at heart."

"I shall let that remark pass my boy, given that you have just arrived and are clearly not fully recovered."

As James turned to take his seat, his eyes flashed with contempt. His mother saw this fleeting expression and chose to say nothing. His father, unaware, walked to the head of the table and towering over them, began to carve the roast beef, his face hard and unmoving.

"You must eat a good meal James," said Ellen trying to allay the tension. "You need to build up your strength again." Eliza watched James' face intently, trying to read his blank expression. Lucy looked down at her plate as James tapped the table with a spoon while his father deliberately and meticulously sliced the meat.

The carving completed, he placed two equal slices on each plate and passed them round and seated himself. The six o'clock chimes interrupted the tic toc of the mantelpiece clock. There was a long pause. Eliza, unable to bear the silence any longer, tried to lighten the atmosphere.

"Please tell us about the Army James. Was it fun? Well, apart from getting kicked by a horse of course... silly thing to say... I'm sorry."

"It's not a career I would have chosen for myself, as you know." The open resentment made his father throw his knife down with a clatter. Ellen looked at her husband directly - straight into his angry grey eyes, her expression pleading with him not to respond. James stared ahead, avoiding eye contact with everyone, his gaze focused on a patch of ornate wallpaper on the opposite wall. Eliza still studied him and Lucy returned to staring at her plate, head down. James Senior ran his forefinger round his shirt neck before speaking, "this is good wholesome beef," he said. "I trust my hard-earned money will not be wasted and the food will be fully consumed. Lucy, you may say grace, and then perhaps we can enjoy our meal."

Lucy raised her eyes, glanced around the table before closing them and placed her hands together. The rest of the family clasped their hands with the exception of James who ceased tapping his spoon but left his hands open and resting on the table.

"We thank thee for thy security and providence oh Lord as we consume this vital sustenance. Our hearts, minds and gratitude will be with thee always. Amen."

Father's Amen was loud and strong, Ellen's subdued and the girls' almost inaudible. Lucy risked a quick glance at her father as everyone began to eat. He was concentrating on placing a piece of potato on his fork. The gentle chinking of knife and fork on plate accentuated the stress until Ellen had to speak to break the tension.

"Tell me James... your injury... what have the Doctors said about your recovery?"

"Thank you for your concern Mother." He glanced at his father but he was concentrating on cutting a piece of meat. "They say there is little known about the condition. I have been told I am lucky to be alive, though sometimes I find that hard to believe." His father immediately drew breath to speak, realising the remark was directed at him. Ellen rapidly interrupted, "what is your full recovery period James? Are you to rest all the time?"

James lowered his knife and fork and took a sip of water before speaking slowly and deliberately.

"The Doctors have told me to proceed as normally as possible without overly tiring myself. I am to avoid excitement and heavy exercise until I feel stronger, though I am pleased to say, I am noticeably improved each day and the spell at Midhurst did me a power of good. If I become tired, I have to take notice and rest. That is the summation. I don't know how long it will be before I am fully recovered... if at all."

"Will you tell us the circumstances that led to your injury," said Eliza. Her voice was bold and forthright, refusing to acknowledge the stress in the air. Slowly, as the conversation proceeded, the tension eased and the atmosphere became more relaxed.

"It was an exercise. We had some new horses to blood, though I was riding an experienced horse. I was racing across the fields at full gallop when my girth strap snapped. These incidents are not infrequent, but this time I was too near the other horses. There was nothing I could do."

"Oh James! It must have really hurt," Eliza's voice was full of sympathy.

"Yes dreadfully," said Lucy.

"Not really. I didn't know much about it. I woke up several weeks later in hospital. They say I'd had the fever and nearly died."

"Yes James, your sisters and I were most distressed when we came to see you. You wouldn't know that of course, but we did visit, several times in fact."

"Yes," said James looking at his father. "Sister Ashfield told me who had visited while I was unconscious."

"In my day," said his father, "a Yeoman would have carefully inspected his riding tack before mounting. Carefully inspected it mind you, looking for chaffing or frayed stitching, or a weakness at the buckle. It sounds far more like carelessness than bad luck to me."

 "I overlooked it father."

"I am encouraged at your newfound honesty." His tone was thick with sarcasm.

"Oh and what does that mean?" snapped James.

"Please! The both of you!" Ellen banged her fork on the table. "How long am I to endure this unpleasantness? It is my son's first day home." There was a long pause as James senior glowered... first at his son and then at Ellen. He placed his knife and fork on the edges of his plate slowly and deliberately before speaking. "Very well Ellen, you shall have your way... for the time being. There is unresolved business here and I mean to deal with it as soon as possible. We shall go into the parlour and speak of your future after we have eaten James. Understood?"

"Yes father."

The meal continued in silence. Occasionally, one of the women tried to restore good humour, by making small talk, but it sounded forced, and they failed. James just sat there, pushing his food round his plate with his knife and fork, while his father concentrated on his meal without lifting his eyes from his plate. Ellen looked at her son, placed her hand on his and tried to give him a smile of encouragement. He returned the effort with a weak smile of his own. He even contemplated mouthing the words "But I love her," knowing instinctively that she would understand he was thinking of Kate, but he decided against it. His father would probably look up at the wrong moment.

Kate was on everyone's mind. James couldn't understand why she was such a threat to the family. She was bright, intelligent and so pretty. She could hold her own with any of the Tandeys given a fair chance, and she was a damn site more civil than some of them. If only she were sitting at this table now with his sisters... laughing and telling stories... as one of them, if only.  But all he had to look forward to was another lecture from his father and another blinding headache. The throbbing and searing had abated with his father's bad mood. He wondered if like the tide, and his father's temper, it would ebb and flow.

As James Senior finished his meal in silence, he wondered about his son. Why had the boy come home so soon? Did he fall from his horse deliberately? Granted, he seemed injured but perhaps his plan had misfired, perhaps things had gone too far. Why couldn't he sit on his damn horse like the other men in the family? It was only an exercise for God's sake! It hadn't even happened in battle. It seemed the boy's sole purpose was to embarrass him.      

He felt sure James had already been to see Kate. With luck, they would have quarrelled because she had not answered his letters. She probably couldn't even write. It had been a good idea to pay her mother to bring his son's letters unopened. Damn servant girl. What right had she to get her hooks into his son? She was trying to marry above herself and there was no doubt in his mind she was after his inheritance. The little trollop, what on earth did the boy see in her? Countless girls had her good looks and demeanour amongst their circle of friends, what was so damn special about her? Well it wouldn't work, he would see to that. Admittedly, the army idea hadn't succeeded but there was one card left up his sleeve that would show her true colours and send her scuttling back to her own kind.

Eliza and Lucy were absorbed in their own thoughts of Kate and each had different feelings about her. They had seen her in church in her best bonnet, though she wore the same plain bonnet week after week. They had seen her pushing the cart up and down Suffolk Street with her mother. They had even seen her walking through Jephson gardens one summer's afternoon with James, wearing the same bonnet of course, both laughing so much and oblivious to the passers by. When

James saw them he had been so embarrassed that he hurried the introductions clumsily.

Eliza felt Kate was a pleasant girl and not very different from the Tandeys, though she had never engaged her in serious conversation. She didn't see the predicament. If James was happy, surely, that was all that mattered and Father was unfair to treat them in this way. Having a spirited temperament, she was frequently at odds with her father and she was secretly grateful for these diversions.

Lucy wasn't concerned. The important thing was that Father's will should be obeyed. After all, he was the head of the house and he knew best. She just hoped             things would soon return to normal and carry on without all this unpleasantness.

 

All Ellen wanted for her son was his happiness. She had qualms about Kate's ability to be a good wife, given her poor education and social standing. But she respected her hard work and honest spirit. James was a good lad he would work with her and they would pull together. He had a right to make his own choices in these matters. Besides, she had long since come to a compromise in her own mind. She had recognised deep within herself that no girl would ever be good enough for her son. So, she resolved to put this unease to one side and concentrate on what James wanted. And James wanted Kate, so that was that. Except of course for her husband, and that was the problem. He had been a good husband, a strong man; dependant, honest and hardworking. He had provided well for them this past thirty years. Starting with nothing, and with the strength of his own hands, he had given them all a good standard of living, three houses and a family business. In times of divided loyalties, she would always stand by him. Her loyalty was payment in kind; she owed it to him, even though the situation was aberrant and the arguments and tension unbearable. 

"That was a fine meal Ellen," said James Senior. "A fine piece of beef. Yet it has not been appreciated," he said, glaring round the table at the half-full plates. "Food costs hard-earned money. I do not work hard all day to see it thrown away."

"Yes. Thank you mother," said Lucy dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

 "It was excellent mother," said James. "I can only apologise that my appetite has not fully recovered."

"We shall have to work on that won't we mother?" said Lucy, with a half-hearted smile.

 "I'll have to cook some of your favourites James," said Ellen. "Perhaps I should ask the butcher to make those special sausages that you loved as a boy."

"We should go through to the parlour now James eh?" said James senior with forced pleasantry.

"Yes father."

"Right..." He rose from the table and nodded to the women. "This won't take long. I shall join you presently, after you have cleared away the dinner things girls."

The two girls nodded without speaking and Ellen, turning to her husband said, "Please will you listen to what he has to say. Let him have the opportunity to..."

"Leave it with me woman!" He thumped the table his patience finally exhausted. The plates rattled and the cutlery bounced. "I will stand no more of this resistance in my own house! Do you hear?" A vein in the side of his neck twitched angrily and his face flushed. There was a pause and then James walked briskly out of the room and into the parlour. He was ready.

"I meant no harm dear." Ellen said quietly, the antitheses of his red-faced anger. "I just want you to listen to his point of view and consider what he has been through."

"Then be silent woman and leave it to me!"

Eliza glared at her father defiantly and Lucy stared down at her half eaten meal.

Ellen watched her husband in silence as he went to the sideboard, pulled his tobacco pouch from a jar and rammed tobacco into his pipe, the scowl on his face growing fiercer.