Read Online Where Earth Meets Sky by Annie Murray - Free Book Online
Authors: Annie Murray
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apprenticeship with Daimler.’ For a moment he was homesick for something familiar: the great machine shops at the works, the lathes turning. It was all part of him. ‘I joined the firm at fourteen. So, yes, I suppose I have.’
‘And your wife? Presumably she’s not a mechanic?’ She gave a silly little laugh. Sam just looked back at her. He wasn’t going to let her get under his skin.
‘Helen was a photographer – before we married, that is.’
That took her aback. ‘How extraordinarily exciting! A photographer! However did that come about?’
Sam laid his soup spoon down for a moment. ‘Well, she was taken on and trained. A local photographer – portraits and so on. Helen can develop the pictures, tint them and all the tricks. She knows her trade.’ He felt proud of her then, his little woman, whom he had left behind in their modest house, beginning to show that she was carrying his child. He hadn’t thought about her enough, he realized. Not for a newly married man.
Before Mrs Fairford could ask any more questions, he said, ‘I believe you have two children? Your daughter tried to pay me a visit earlier on.’
‘Izzy?’ Her voice was sharp. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, she only peeped in, when the servant was by the door. Someone was calling her . . .’
‘ Ayah ,’ she sighed, pettishly. ‘She just can’t seem to keep control of the girl.’
Captain Fairford laid a hand gently on hers for a second. ‘But where would we be without her, darling?’
‘I know.’ She looked up at Sam with a kind of defiance. ‘You see, Isadora is a problem of a child. Ayah is the only one she really cares for . . .’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ the captain interrupted. ‘Srimala, our ayah , is a jewel though, we have to admit. Had Isadora been like other children we would have brought out an English nanny for her, of course, before she went to school. Our son Cosmo has a nanny, a Miss Waters . . .’ His brow creased. ‘You know, darling, since Mr Ironside is here, we could have invited Miss Waters to dine with us as well. She might have been glad to meet a visitor from England.’
Susan Fairford’s face tightened again suddenly and with a languid little laugh she said, ‘Oh no – I really think her place is with the children, darling. After all, we don’t want to be outnumbered by the lower orders, do we?’
Chapter Ten
Coventry, 1906
Helen’s hair was the first thing Sam noticed about her. He saw her coming out of Timmins, the photographer’s, which he passed on his way home from the Daimler works every day. Once he had plucked up the courage to speak to her, he sometimes walked her home.
The first time he touched her hair properly was last winter when they managed to find half an hour to themselves away from Mrs Gregory, Helen’s mother. They were in the Gregorys’ house, it was sleeting outside and they were in the back room by the fire. There was a knock on the door and Mrs Gregory was called out to a neighbour who was in some strife or other. Sam gave a great inner cheer at the thought of being able to be alone with Helen. There always seemed to be some obstacle to his being with her! There was that Laurie fellow from the Armstrong works who was forever hanging around her with his daft grin. Helen always laughed off the idea that she had any interest in Laurie.
‘Oh, I’ve known him since we were knee-high,’ she’d say. ‘He’s just old Laurie.’
But there was also the child and today, for once, she wasn’t there either.
Mrs Gregory was a woman of good works, many would have said kindness itself. So upright, Sam sometimes thought sourly, that you could hang a lamp from her.
Although a widow herself, she had taken on the upbringing of her dead sister’s child. Helen said that the sister had lived in Liverpool and had taken ill and died tragically young, leaving the baby girl, Emma, to a feckless husband who would never be able to care for her. So Ma Gregory stepped in. The
‘And your wife? Presumably she’s not a mechanic?’ She gave a silly little laugh. Sam just looked back at her. He wasn’t going to let her get under his skin.
‘Helen was a photographer – before we married, that is.’
That took her aback. ‘How extraordinarily exciting! A photographer! However did that come about?’
Sam laid his soup spoon down for a moment. ‘Well, she was taken on and trained. A local photographer – portraits and so on. Helen can develop the pictures, tint them and all the tricks. She knows her trade.’ He felt proud of her then, his little woman, whom he had left behind in their modest house, beginning to show that she was carrying his child. He hadn’t thought about her enough, he realized. Not for a newly married man.
Before Mrs Fairford could ask any more questions, he said, ‘I believe you have two children? Your daughter tried to pay me a visit earlier on.’
‘Izzy?’ Her voice was sharp. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, she only peeped in, when the servant was by the door. Someone was calling her . . .’
‘ Ayah ,’ she sighed, pettishly. ‘She just can’t seem to keep control of the girl.’
Captain Fairford laid a hand gently on hers for a second. ‘But where would we be without her, darling?’
‘I know.’ She looked up at Sam with a kind of defiance. ‘You see, Isadora is a problem of a child. Ayah is the only one she really cares for . . .’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ the captain interrupted. ‘Srimala, our ayah , is a jewel though, we have to admit. Had Isadora been like other children we would have brought out an English nanny for her, of course, before she went to school. Our son Cosmo has a nanny, a Miss Waters . . .’ His brow creased. ‘You know, darling, since Mr Ironside is here, we could have invited Miss Waters to dine with us as well. She might have been glad to meet a visitor from England.’
Susan Fairford’s face tightened again suddenly and with a languid little laugh she said, ‘Oh no – I really think her place is with the children, darling. After all, we don’t want to be outnumbered by the lower orders, do we?’
Chapter Ten
Coventry, 1906
Helen’s hair was the first thing Sam noticed about her. He saw her coming out of Timmins, the photographer’s, which he passed on his way home from the Daimler works every day. Once he had plucked up the courage to speak to her, he sometimes walked her home.
The first time he touched her hair properly was last winter when they managed to find half an hour to themselves away from Mrs Gregory, Helen’s mother. They were in the Gregorys’ house, it was sleeting outside and they were in the back room by the fire. There was a knock on the door and Mrs Gregory was called out to a neighbour who was in some strife or other. Sam gave a great inner cheer at the thought of being able to be alone with Helen. There always seemed to be some obstacle to his being with her! There was that Laurie fellow from the Armstrong works who was forever hanging around her with his daft grin. Helen always laughed off the idea that she had any interest in Laurie.
‘Oh, I’ve known him since we were knee-high,’ she’d say. ‘He’s just old Laurie.’
But there was also the child and today, for once, she wasn’t there either.
Mrs Gregory was a woman of good works, many would have said kindness itself. So upright, Sam sometimes thought sourly, that you could hang a lamp from her.
Although a widow herself, she had taken on the upbringing of her dead sister’s child. Helen said that the sister had lived in Liverpool and had taken ill and died tragically young, leaving the baby girl, Emma, to a feckless husband who would never be able to care for her. So Ma Gregory stepped in. The
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