After the Rain Page 2

  ‘Well.’ Ada turned back into the room and paused for a moment. ‘Well, I don’t quite know what to say.’

  ‘If it works out, and I’m sure it will, I would much prefer Lottie wasn’t told about this. It might make it very awkward for her with the other pupils if they got to hear about it. I do hope that might persuade you to change your mind, Mrs O’Brien.’

  ‘It might,’ Ada said grudgingly. ‘I don’t like charity, I’ll tell you frankly, Miss Carson, so I’ll have to think about it and discuss it with my husband. I’ll let you know. Thank you, Miss Carson.’

  As Miss Carson opened the door she saw Lottie sitting disconsolately outside, an expression of anxiety on her face, and gave her a fleeting, reassuring smile.

  As the door shut behind her Lottie rose to greet her mother. ‘What did she say?’ she burst out when they were outside.

  ‘She tried to persuade me that it might be in our interests as well as yours. I’m thinking about it. I’ll talk to your father.’ She looked at her daughter severely. ‘Miss Carson seems to think very highly of you. I can’t think what you’ve done to deserve it. She should see you at home.’

  ‘Maybe I could take a weekend job and also work nights?’

  ‘My, you do want it badly, don’t you?’ Ada said grudgingly. ‘I’ll see what your father says.’

  As Lottie knew, what her father said went for very little in a household where Ada ruled and her word was law.

  Desmond’s approval, as usual, was not asked, but it could be taken for granted because he loved his bright, sparkling daughter Lottie. He loved Bella as well, but maybe he saw in Lottie more of himself – the young man full of hope, as he had once been. He also still loved his wife, remembering her when he first met her and he had by virtue of his Irish charm swept her off her feet, much to the disapproval of her parents.

  How things had changed. Desmond O’Brien was a first-generation New Zealander born in Wellington. His parents were assisted immigrants from Protestant Belfast having been lured to a new land by promise of rewards and an enhanced way of life that had somehow not lived up to its promise. They had come from large families, had no relations in this country so far from home, and missed their parents. His father got a job as a carter and eventually Desmond, who left school at twelve, followed him, becoming a driver with the advent of the motor car. With the outbreak of war in 1914 he was more excited by the idea of adventure abroad than going to the defence of a country to which he owed no allegiance. Against Ada’s wishes he eagerly enlisted and was among the first troops to leave the country with the New Zealand Expeditionary Force in October on the converted Union Company ship The Limerick.

  But any hope Desmond also had of bettering himself vanished as he was absorbed into one of the infantry brigades that saw action first at Gallipoli, then on the Somme and finally at Passchendaele, where he inhaled the gas that so damaged his lungs. Battle-hardened, disillusioned and weary, he had returned home in 1918 with little to show for his misplaced patriotism other than a meagre pension and an inability to earn a living on his own, or frankly any desire to. By that time Ada, too, had changed from the vivacious, fun-loving girl he had loved and married to an embittered woman, resentful of having been left on her own with three young children for four years. Seeing the wreck her husband had become she had no sympathy for the ordeal – both physical and mental – he had been through, which was, anyway, beyond her imagination. Her attitude changed towards him, as it had towards the children she had had to bring up on her own, perpetually finding fault with them, especially with Desmond’s favourite, Lottie, who she seemed to blame for all her ills. Her own parents had rejected her after her teenage elopement with a man with good looks but no prospects. In their opinion Ada had got what she deserved and she, in turn, was too proud to ask them for help.

  Locked in depression, Desmond sat quietly for most of the day in his armchair, putting up with the jibes from Ada, grateful when she went off to her work and could no longer taunt him until she returned home and resumed with gusto, complaining about how hard she worked compared to what a lazy so and so he was. He spent most of his days lost in his own world and looked forward to the return of his children from school. Indeed, it was through them that he lived and had any enjoyment from life.

  The subject of Lottie staying on at school was not mentioned for days after Ada’s interview with Miss Carson, so in an agony of apprehension Lottie lived out the time wondering about her future. Miss Carson said nothing and neither did her parents. Finally, after school one day, having given her father a cup of tea and unable to contain herself any longer, Lottie perched on a stool next to him.

  ‘Dad, did Mum say anything more about me staying on at school after she spoke to Miss Carson? She said she was going to talk to you.’

  Her father’s mystified look gave Lottie the answer she needed. ‘You know your mother never asks for my opinion on anything, Lottie. It is as though I no longer exist for her.’

  ‘Mum didn’t say anything at all to you?’

  Desmond shook his head. ‘I don’t suppose she would. You know who is boss here.’

  ‘Could you ask her, Dad, for me? Say you think it’s a good thing.’

  ‘I wish I could help,’ Desmond said then stopped, overtaken by a sudden spasm of coughing. Lottie watched him anxiously as he gasped for breath, then the door opened and Ada came in with Jack, who she had collected from school. She wore her usual harassed, bad-tempered expression, which became even more pronounced when she saw Lottie perched by the side of her husband.

  ‘Can’t you find anything to do, Lottie? Is tea not ready yet?’

  Guiltily Lottie jumped to her feet as Ada took off her hat and coat. ‘Put these in the hall for me, would you, Jack?’ she said, handing them to the boy. ‘And then go and change your clothes. Tea will be ready soon.’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ Jack said with his customary docility and scampered out of the room.

  Ada slumped into a chair by the side of the table and put a hand to her brow, wearily stroking it, her fingers pressing against it as if she had a headache. ‘God knows, I’m tired having worked my fingers to the bone and no tea ready. Where’s Bella?’

  ‘She went to play with Gertie next door. Shall I get you a cup of tea now, Mum?’

  ‘Well, that would be nice.’ Ada looked mollified, her expression softened, the taut lines around her face eased. ‘And then you can start on tea for us all.’ She looked at her husband. ‘Had another coughing fit, have you, Desmond?’

  Desmond nodded and started wheezing again. ‘Lottie was asking me about staying on at school.’ Desmond gasped. ‘I wish I could help and do some work, Ada. It’s not that I don’t want to. It is very good that Miss Carson wants her to stay on. She is a very clever girl.’

  ‘You would think the army could find you some clerical job,’ Ada said, ignoring his last remark. ‘You nearly lose your life for a country you have never ever been to and then look how they treat you. You should never have gone to the war, Desmond. I told you at the time.’

  This was a perpetual gripe of Ada, one she never ceased reminding him of. It had indeed made an enormous difference to their lives. Before the war things were reasonably harmonious between husband and wife and it was a much happier home. The experience had deeply soured Ada, exacerbated by the horrific number of casualties the ANZAC troops had suffered and the never-ending worry of daily expecting bad news. ‘I’d have been better off dead,’ Desmond said, not for the first time. ‘Then you could have married again; someone who would look after you better than I can.’

  Ada gave a derisive snort and looked up at Lottie, who had returned with a cup of tea. ‘I could do with this,’ she said, sipping it. Her mood seemed to have improved and she put the cup down and sighed deeply. ‘I still think Lottie will be better off doing a job and helping us for a while.’ She got up and handed her cup back to Lottie. ‘I’m sorry, Lottie, but that really is the end of the matter.’

  ‘I think you could have discussed it with Dad. He thinks it’s a good idea,’ Lottie insisted stubbornly.

  Ada cast her husband a look of contempt. ‘If your father got off his backside and did a job of work you could stay at school as long as you like,’ she said, and with an air of finality went out to the kitchen.

  Lottie lay in bed listening to the noise coming from her parents’ room. As usual, they were shouting at each other again and she knew it was about her. Invariably her mother’s voice was in the ascendant until the voices stopped abruptly and a violent spasm of coughing ensued, as was invariably the case with these rows between her parents, her father being too weak to argue with her for long. Lottie imagined him gasping for breath and feared, as she often did, that eventually one of these arguments would lead to his death. Sometimes she thought longingly of running away and starting a new life, but that would mean leaving her father and, besides, where would she go? How would she live?

  In the bed next to her Bella stirred. The noise made by her parents had woken even a deep sleeper such as herself.

  ‘It’s about me,’ Lottie said. ‘I brought up today about staying on at school and Mum says I can’t.’

  ’Dad always takes your side,’ Bella said peevishly. As the younger sibling she always felt she fell between her sister who her father loved best and her mother who so clearly favoured Jack.

  ‘And why shouldn’t he?’

  ‘I think it’s very hard on Mum. I don’t want to stay on at school for a moment longer than I need to. If I could leave now I would.’

  ‘And what would you like to do?’

  ‘Be a hairdresser, something like that.’

  Lottie fell silent and there was no more noise from next door after the coughing subsided.

  She put her hands behind her hea
d and stared at the ceiling, listening to her sister’s regular breathing as she fell once more into a deep sleep. It was all right for Bella, but she had far loftier ideas about her own future.

  Returning home a few days later, earlier than usual, Ada found her husband not slumped in his chair half asleep but leaning forward to greet her with an expression on his face that was almost animated as he looked at her. ‘What’s up with you?’ she asked, putting down a bag full of shopping and removing the pin from her hat.

  ‘Look on the table,’ Desmond said, eagerly pointing. ‘There’s a letter.’

  Wearily, Ada picked up the single page lying next to its envelope and sat down on a chair. She had started work early, cleaned two large houses, done the shopping and felt deathly tired. Soon she would have to go out again and pick up Jack.

  Dear Mr and Mrs O’Brien,

  With reference to the talk we had recently, Mrs O’Brien, I have now had a chance to speak to the Head and she has kindly agreed to release funds to assist you during the time that Lottie resumes her education from next term onwards. The sum will amount to what Lottie might reasonably expect to earn, and in due course you will let me know approximately how much this is likely to be.

  I explained to you that Lottie is a very able, keen pupil, an example to others with a bright future ahead of her, and I am sure she will benefit from further education, go on to advanced study, and that her future will be more rewarding and of benefit to you as a family.

  As I explained it is important that this information is withheld from Lottie as we cannot extend it to other pupils in similar circumstances, however much we might like to. We are making an exception for Lottie.

  I look forward to hearing that this offer is acceptable to you.

  Yours sincerely,

  Madeleine Carson

  Two

  For the rest of the school year Lottie worked hard to justify Miss Carson’s faith in her. It ended at Christmas, which was the height of summer in New Zealand, and Lottie had turned sixteen in September. As expected she had come top in the Proficiency exam at the end of standard six, after which a lot of less able pupils would leave. The ones who decided to remain were, like Lottie, keen to progress into higher education and some were also aiming to be teachers, a profession on which Lottie had now set her heart. In time she hoped to attend the teachers’ training college at Kelburn.

  On Saturdays she did a menial job in the haberdashery department of Kirkcaldie and Stains, a large department store on Lambton Quay, and on Sundays she tried to catch up with her homework, but spent most of it helping her mother in the house. Although Ada had encouraged her to take a part-time job she never made any allowances for it and expected her to do as much housework as ever. She, too, had had a hard week, as she was never tired of emphasizing, so the bulk of the tasks fell on Lottie, including changing the beds when necessary for the whole family and doing all the washing. Often at weekends, Ada was called to work at Mrs Ellis’s, who entertained a lot, so Lottie seldom had time to socialize with friends. Bella was supposed to help her but managed to contribute very little. Jack, of course, being a boy and so young, was never expected to do any work at all.

  Lottie, however, didn’t care. She felt buoyed up by the new outlook she had on life thanks to the opportunity provided by Miss Carson, who had somehow persuaded her mother to let her stay on at school. She continued to achieve brilliant results, was a model pupil and excelled at every subject in class, especially English literature. Lottie loved reading and whatever chance she got, whenever there was a respite from homework and household chores, she could be found curled up in a corner of the sitting room or on her bed with her nose in a book.

  Miss Carson took Lottie’s class for history and English literature and one day just before the Christmas holiday she asked Lottie to stay behind. ‘Everything going well, Lottie?’

  ‘Very well, thank you, Miss Carson.’

  ‘I’ve thought recently that you look very tired, Lottie. I hope you’re not doing too much?’ Miss Carson stared at her with concern.

  Lottie vigorously shook her head. ‘I have to do a lot in the house and that’s the way things are. Mum has to have help.’ She didn’t think she would tell her about the Saturday job.

  Miss Carson nodded understandingly. ‘Of course. Well, do take care and look after yourself. See that you get enough sleep.’

  ‘Oh, I do, Miss Carson.’

  ‘Lottie, I wondered if you would like to come to tea one day at my house? I’d like you to meet my sister, Violet. She is a little older than you, just nineteen, but she is training to be a teacher and I think you might get on well and have lots in common. Maybe after school. Do you think your mother would allow that?’

  Lottie’s expression managed to combine both excitement and anxiety. ‘I’ll ask her, Miss Carson.’

  ‘Would next Wednesday be a good day for you? You can come home with me and I’ll see you get back safely.’

  Lottie’s eyes shone. ‘Oh, I would really like that, Miss Carson. I’m sure Mum will say yes.’

  Ada had no option but to agree when Lottie asked her when she got home from school that day. She did a bit of grumbling about all the things she would have to do which would normally be Lottie’s jobs, but she could hardly refuse a woman who had provided them with a welcome and unexpected source of extra income that arrived regularly by post in an envelope addressed to her.

  Accordingly, on the appointed day, Lottie waited excitedly by the main gates to the school as she had been instructed. She had not been waiting long when a smart little car drove up with an open hood and at the wheel was Miss Carson, who waved and leaned over, throwing open the door to the passenger seat.

  ‘Hop in!’ she cried as Lottie contemplated the vehicle. She had never been inside a motor car and, feeling momentarily tongue-tied, clambered in nervously.

  ‘Shut the door tight,’ Miss Carson commanded. ‘Don’t look so frightened, Lottie.’

  ‘I’ve never been in a motor car,’ Lottie confessed.

  ‘Well, sit back,’ Miss Carson said gaily, ‘and you’ll be fine.’

  ‘My father used to drive a van before the war and sometimes we went with him in that.’

  ‘Was your mother all right about you coming to tea?’

  Lottie nodded, still feeling awkward in this completely different environment, her eyes fixed nervously on the road in front of her as they made their way through the city towards the coast. She had never, in fact, known where Miss Carson lived or even that she possessed a motor car. For some reason she thought she lived near the school. Gradually the roads widened, the houses on either side grew more spacious and affluent and finally Miss Carson took a sharp turn up a slight hill and turned into a short drive which led to an attractive white colonial-style house flanked by a large garden. As she stopped the front door opened and a lady of ample proportions with a smiling, friendly face came down to greet them.

  ‘This is my mother,’ Miss Carson said, opening her door. ‘Mummy, this is one of my star pupils, Lottie O’Brien, or I suppose I should say Charlotte O’Brien.’ She went round to Lottie’s side and helped her out of the car.

  ‘What shall I call you?’ Mrs Carson said, beaming in such a warm, kind way that completely captured Lottie.

  ‘I’m always called Lottie, except when my mother’s cross with me and then I’m Charlotte.’

  Both women laughed and Mrs Carson preceded them up the steps and into the house. ‘We’re on the lawn,’ Mrs Carson said. ‘It’s such a hot day. I expect you’d like a cool drink, Lottie?’

  Lottie nodded. Despite Mrs Carson’s obvious friendliness she still felt stupid and tongue-tied and regretted she had ever agreed to come. She had no idea that Miss Carson lived anywhere so splendid or that there would be other people for tea besides her. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

  As they came to the foot of a broad staircase Miss Carson said, ‘I’m just popping up to change,’ and ran up the stairs.