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  It was on Lena’s tongue to say, ‘Let them help themselves otherwise they’ll always be expecting charity,’ but she held the words back. It was no good provoking argument. It was the season of good-will towards all men.

  ‘So will you help?’ prompted Olivia again.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Lena, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  ‘Then I’ll call for you at nine the day after tomorrow. Be prepared for a long day. Alistair has said he will take us to the Angel for luncheon then we won’t have to trek all the way back here.’

  Lena nodded. ‘That’s very good of him.’

  ‘It will save time, and that is important when it gets dark so early. And he doesn’t want to spend another day at it.’

  Then why start at all? Lena once again stifled the words but thought them with frustrated annoyance. ‘I’ll be ready,’ she said with an agreeable smile that hid her real feelings.

  Olivia was as good as her word; the grandfather clock in the hall was striking nine when she was admitted to the Carnforth residence. Knowing her strict time-keeping, Lena was ready.

  ‘Good, I’m glad you’ve wrapped up well,’ she commented when she saw Lena’s brown redingote and small tight-fitting bonnet.

  ‘I looked out to test the air before deciding what to wear. Nippy, but at least it’s fine. It certainly wouldn’t have helped if it had been raining or snowing.’

  ‘God looks after those performing good works,’ said Olivia.

  Lena made no comment to this but started for the door. ‘Are we meeting Alistair at the surgery?’

  ‘No, at Mrs Moorsom’s at the end of Henrietta Street. She offered to help and he suggested that if the gifts and food could be assembled at her house, it would be easier to distribute them from there as it is nearer the yards running off Church Street. It would have taken a lot of time if we had had to go back and forth to the surgery on the west side of the river.’

  ‘Good,’ approved Lena, but her mind most welcomed the fact that this would enable them to finish sooner.

  Alistair was already at the house when they arrived, to find that he and Mr Moorsom had got some packages ready to be distributed. Mr and Mrs Moorsom were to continue in the role of packers while the other three distributed the Christmas fare.

  Alistair greeted Lena with a smile that said much more than his words of welcome. ‘It is very good of you to help, Lena. It means so much to me to make Christmas a brighter time for those of my patients who otherwise face a bleak festive season. I’m sure you will find it very rewarding too.’

  She made no comment but asked instead, ‘Just helping your own patients . . . won’t it rouse jealousy in others?’

  ‘I dare say it will, particularly if the doctors who look after them do nothing.’

  ‘Won’t those doctors then be antagonistic towards you, because you are doing this and they aren’t? I would imagine that is not the way to remain popular in this town.’

  ‘I don’t seek to be popular with everyone. If I tread on some toes, then so be it. All I seek is to do some good for Whitby and the deserving cases under my own jurisdiction. But enough of this. Let’s get started. Those boxes at the front of the cart contain toys for the children, the rest are Christmas hampers. We’ll all stay together. We’ll be in some rough parts of town but you’ll be treated with respect if you are with me.’

  Alistair proved to be correct from the start. Men touched their caps or foreheads to them but were openly curious about the two ladies who accompanied the doctor, though as the day wore on Lena sensed that some looked her up and down with more of a salacious gleam. Women with torn shawls around their shoulders and stains on their black dresses, though they had at least made some attempt to make their hair tidy and scrub colour into their cheeks, stood about in groups gossiping, but turned their gaze eagerly on the newcomers as they entered the confines of the yard.

  Here and there Lena saw poor attempts to make these hovels more habitable, but there were others too where nothing had been done and filth lay all around. Lena almost retched when she entered the first such house; only by strength of will did she prevent herself from making a fool of herself, and as it was, was unable to hide her disgust. Other dwellings were more salubrious and there she could see a woman had struggled to make her home more habitable for an oversized family. Children seemed to be everywhere; their excited shouts on seeing the toys were almost overpowering, especially when arguments arose over who should have what.

  In spite of being affected by the general squalor Lena had to acknowledge their appreciation of the food and gifts the doctor had brought them, to brighten what would otherwise have been a bleak holiday.

  ‘God bless yer, doctor.’

  ‘Yer’s too good.’

  ‘Thank yer, good lady.’

  ‘The kids will be happy.’

  And with their thanks she saw tears dampen their eyes.

  Sitting down to a fine spread for lunch at the Angel, Lena’s eyes were newly opened to the contrast she had just witnessed and she realised fully for the first time what Alistair was doing for these people. Olivia had willingly helped, and Lena was sure now that he would expect the same of her too.

  Nevertheless, as she walked up the path to the elegant, comfortable, warm house where she had been brought up by loving parents, she knew she could not venture into those poverty-stricken streets and yards again. All she wanted now was to get out of these clothes. The redingote and dress she would burn; they had been fingered by too many dirty urchin hands, tugging at her for attention while she was distributing toys. She could never wear them again for they would always remind her of the filth and poverty she had seen. Besides they smelt of sweat, smoke, confined quarters and squalor; a smell that would cling to them forever. No doubt her petticoats and underclothes would have absorbed the odours too; well, they could all be burnt.

  As soon as she was in the hall she called for a maid and ordered hot water to be brought that so she could bathe the dirt and smells away. It would not be so easy to erase them from her mind.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Mrs Campion, be sure to see that the servants have as pleasant a Christmas as possible. Anyone who lives locally may go home if they wish, but see that they are back here the day after Boxing Day so as to prepare for the MacBrides’ arrival,’ Lena instructed her housekeeper as she pulled on her gloves, ready to go to the Nashes’ on the afternoon of Christmas Eve.

  ‘Certainly, miss,’ Mrs Campion replied. ‘There will only be Sarah and me staying.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘May I say, all the servants asked me to say how grateful they are for the wonderful Christmas meal you provided yesterday? Cook was especially appreciative of the fact that you brought in someone else to do the cooking, so she could enjoy it without all the preparation.’

  ‘I am pleased everyone enjoyed it, and I know my brother will be too. And Happy Christmas to you, Mrs Campion.’

  ‘You too, miss.’

  As Lena walked to the Nashes’ residence she realised that the time spent at the servants’ party, though short, for she did not want to intrude or to embarrass them with her presence, had been good for her. It had enabled her to relax, forget the thoughts that troubled her and realise that even tragic anniversaries could be marked without any disrespect to the departed.

  James had wanted to make a visit to the office so had arranged to see his sister at the Nashes’. She sensed from the sparkle in Olivia’s bright eyes, as her friend hurried into the hall to meet her, that he was already there.

  ‘Parcels for under the tree,’ said Lena, placing the packages on a table at the foot of the stairs. ‘I hope James hasn’t forgotten the rest?’

  ‘He hasn’t!’

  Lena slipped out of her coat, undid her bonnet and handed them, along with her gloves, to the maid who had admitted her to the house.

  ‘Come on, we’re all in the drawing-room,’ said Olivia, slipping her arm through Lena’s. ‘We are going to have
a splendid time.’

  ‘We are,’ agreed Lena, squeezing Olivia’s arm as if to emphasise her observation and reassure her friend that nothing was going to spoil this festive season.

  When they entered the drawing-room, the greetings from all the Nashes were warm, making Lena feel at home. Alistair was first to greet her.

  ‘Welcome,’ he said, admiration clear in his eyes as he raised her hand to his lips.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Lena, returning his smile and inclining her head in acknowledgement. She was aware of Georgina Nash’s eyes on her.

  ‘James and I are most grateful to you for inviting us. We . . .’

  ‘My dear, our families have been close for so long that you are one of us. You must make yourselves at home.’ Georgina straightened her back and placed her hands firmly on her lap as if to say, That is out of the way. ‘Now, we are having a light luncheon, shortly, and will dine in splendour this evening. I have no doubt you young ones will entertain yourselves happily after that.’

  After luncheon, when Georgina and Albert Nash seemed to be succumbing to the desire for a nap, the four young ones decided that a walk and some fresh air would sharpen their appetites for the evening meal. Although the wind had freshened it was not unpleasant, but they had wrapped up well.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Alistair as they stepped outside. ‘West Cliff?’

  ‘No,’ replied Lena firmly. ‘West Pier.’

  ‘That’ll catch the wind.’

  ‘Do us good.’

  ‘West Pier it is,’ agreed James. Catching his sister’s eye he winked and then, in order to show consideration, added, ‘Acceptable to you, Olivia?’

  ‘It will have to be if you are all going,’ she replied with little enthusiasm. ‘The sea will be running fast.’

  She’s trying to put us off, thought Lena, so said, ‘Lovely!’

  They came on to St Anne’s Staith from where they could see the waters of the river rippled by the wind. They cut through Haggersgate on to Pier Lane where they felt the wind freshening, but it was not until they passed beyond the protection of the cliff and the Battery that they felt the full force of the wind and saw the waves piling behind each other in long lines stretching as far as Sandsend as they ran in towards the coast.

  This was what Lena wanted. She enjoyed the sea in this mood: racing towards the piers, pounding the stonework, roaring in anger, and sending spray high where it was caught by the wind before it fell in a clinging mist. The crests of the waves, streaming in towards the shore like attacking cavalry, curled loftily before crashing down to run fast over the sand until they could run no more and swirled back towards the sea, seeking to recover before making another assault on the shoreline. The powerful motion of wind and sea filled Lena with excitement, which heightened with every step she took towards the sentinel lighthouse, built in the shape of a handsome Doric column at the end of the pier.

  They were halfway to the lighthouse when they were buffeted by a sudden gust that sent Olivia staggering and grasping at James for support. Tense with fright, she cried out, ‘I don’t like it! Can we go back?’

  ‘Come on, you’ll be all right,’ countered Lena.

  ‘No!’ Olivia grasped at her bonnet against the tug of the wind. ‘James, take me back.’

  He was on the point of trying to persuade her otherwise when he saw the stricken look on her face. ‘All right, don’t worry,’ he said calmly and turned her round.

  ‘I’m sorry, James, but I . . . ’ Her words faltered.

  ‘Just walk calmly off the pier. Come on, hold on to me.’ They moved away, Olivia gripping his arm tightly.

  Alistair started to follow.

  ‘You too, Alistair?’

  Expecting them all to stay together, he was startled by the challenging tone in Lena’s voice. ‘Well, naturally I’m concerned for Olivia. I think we should go with them.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You want to go further?’

  ‘To the end of the pier.’

  ‘But it is blowing hard and the sea is . . .’

  ‘The wind won’t blow us away and the sea can’t reach us. This pier’s solid enough. We might get wet from the spray but we’ll be safe enough. I’m going on. You go back if you don’t like it.’

  Alistair bit his lip in exasperation. He glanced in the direction of his sister then back at Lena. There was challenge in her eyes. ‘All right. I can’t say I like it, but I can’t leave you on your own.’

  She smiled. ‘You’ll like it. You’ll see.’ He made no comment as he fell into step beside her. ‘Thank you, Alistair,’ she said graciously.

  Again he made no comment and she knew he was peeved by her stubbornness, but she had got what she wanted and that was enough for Lena. She slipped her arm through his and moved closer to him, a gesture calculated to wipe away any annoyance he might still harbour.

  He glanced at her as they stepped out briskly towards the lighthouse, caught the laughter and joy in her eyes, and was happy that she was happy. His sister was forgotten; she was in James’s capable hands and no harm would come to her. Although he couldn’t enjoy it as Lena appeared to be doing, he had to admit the wind was exhilarating and there was something intoxicating about being on the pier alone, contesting the wild wind’s desire to scour everything from its path.

  Alistair stopped walking and Lena looked at him askance. He plucked his hat from his head. ‘I’m tired of holding that on.’ He threw it into the air. ‘There, wind, you can have it!’ he yelled, his eyes dancing with devilment.

  Lena’s laughter was torn away by the wind but it was still there in her eyes. She pulled at her bonnet ribbons. The wind took advantage and whisked it away. ‘You can have that too!’ she shouted. Holding on to each other, leaning against the wind, they watched it float the bonnet like a kite over the river where it relented and, in a final buffet, dropped it into the water. They laughed out loud together, then turned and headed for the end of the pier.

  The sea pounded at the stonework below as if its fury would triumph over whatever man had raised in its path. The waves broke hard, were thrown into the air to crash down on the pier, swirled over it and ran down the channels to seek their rightful home. Wave followed wave with endless ferocity.

  Alistair stopped and restrained Lena. ‘Too dangerous to go on!’ he shouted above the anger of the sea.

  She frowned but knew he was right. Still she stood and watched, fascinated by the sea’s power, ignoring the spray that was raining down all around them, soaking their clothes, sending water running in rivulets down their faces from sodden hair. She let her imagination take over - this was what it must be like on the deck of a ship, driving through a similar sea, except the deck would be unstable, unlike the solid stone of the pier. How she wished she could experience it . . . maybe, some day, on a ship of her own. The wind seemed to gather strength then and tear at her as if to say, Dare to venture into my kingdom and you’ll see how destructive I can be. A defiant tremor ran through Lena.

  Alistair felt that shudder but read it wrongly. He was thankful to be able to say, ‘We had better go,’ and started to turn her away.

  For one moment she was tempted to protest but then he stopped and matched the wildness around them with a kiss that abandoned all decorum. It was fierce and demanding. She gasped as she held that kiss. This was so unlike Alistair, usually the epitome of good manners and respectability. What else lay hidden inside him? Had the violence of the elements sparked his most desires?

  He broke away, his face clouded with confusion and apology. ‘Lena, I shouldn’t have done that . . .’ Her mind was crying out, Why not? But the words would not come and he was faltering, ‘Please forgive me. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Alistair, don’t apologise.’

  ‘But there is a time and a place . . .’

  ‘What was wrong with this time and place?’

  ‘In public?’

  ‘There is no one else here.’

 
‘That’s as may be but . . . besides, strictly speaking, you are still in mourning.’

  ‘I chose to come out of it, and will be officially next week.’

  ‘I think . . .’ But Alistair never finished. At that moment a giant wave broke heavily against the pier, sending a wall of water high up in the air before it crashed down. It sent them staggering, grasping at each other tightly to keep their feet. ‘We’d better get away from here!’ Alistair grasped her hand and they ran towards safety.

  Reaching the shelter of the cliffs they stopped and surveyed themselves - two people completely soaked by the sea, dripping water into pools at their feet. The exhilarating laughter that longed to break free from Lena was halted by Alistair’s sombre expression. ‘You’re drenched! The sooner we get you out of those clothes, the better. We don’t want you catching cold.’ He hurried her off without waiting for her reply.

  Her desire dampened, she sighed to herself - always the doctor! Would she ever again experience the passion she had witnessed from him on the pier?

  Reaching the house, Alistair bustled her inside and called for the maids. Mr and Mrs Nash and Olivia came hurrying into the hall, followed by James. All four of them stopped, wide-eyed at the sight of the two people who stood there, looking as if they had narrowly escaped from drowning. Two maids, wondering what was happening, came rushing into the hall as well.

  Georgina Nash took command immediately. ‘Hot water for Miss Carnforth and Mr Nash,’ she ordered. ‘Olivia, go with Lena. Alistair, off with you!’ All three of them started for the stairs. ‘Leave your wet things outside your doors, they’ll be collected in a few minutes and seen to,’ she called after them. She turned to her husband and nodded then. He knew exactly what that implied.

  ‘James, come with me,’ said Albert and headed for the dining-room where he made straight for the decanters and glasses set out on the sideboard. ‘Take them both a glass of whisky,’ he instructed as he poured.

  Mrs Nash eyed the glasses when James came from the dining-room and hurried to the stairs.