It was a shocking Boxing Day.
Harold had just finished breakfast when he heard someone knocking at the door–much too early for the luncheon guests to arrive. He scooted around of Mother to see who it was. Maybe it was Arthur! Harold ran ahead, ready to leap into Arthur’s arms for a big hug. He hadn’t seen Arthur or his wife, Alice, since the summer.
It was Arthur! But, oh my. It was not the Arthur he expected. He held his arms open for Harold with an unsteady grin. Instead of leaping into Arthur’s arms, Harold stopped and stared, jaw-dropped and wide-eyed. Arthur’s clothes were a rumpled mess, he wobbled on his feet, and smelled like a long bad, night – not that Harold would know what that meant – but the sour mix of tobacco, alcohol, and sweat made his nose wrinkle up.
“Arthur! What have you done? How could you dare to arrive like this?” Mother was horrified and angry, but not surprised. For once, Harold had the good sense not to ask a hundred questions. He was a bit afraid of this Arthur.
In her lowest, hardest voice, Mother told Harold to bring Father and he scurried back to the dining room table and whispered to Father. “Mother wants you to come. Arthur is at the door.” Father’s face stiffens, his mouth is a tight straight line. Everyone else is quiet, exchanging grim glances.
Father got up, strode out into the vestibule and the shouting began. Only Amy spoke, and she whispered, “He’s done it again. Oh, poor Alice.” And then Arthur was gone.
Sarah and Miriam, the housemaids, silently cleared the table, and everyone left. No one made eye contact. No one looked at the vestibule, as if by looking they might be infected by Arthur’s lingering miasma.
Later that afternoon, the Holt cousins, aunts, and uncles arrive for lunch which brightens up the day. The Joys’ dark cloud lingers, but no one said anything about their interrupted breakfast. The Holts are as boisterous as usual, which helped the mood.
As usual, there were prayers in the family chapel but they were mercifully short. At lunch, Mother read aloud from Aunt Eliza’s letter where she’d written about the Ragged School that she and Uncle Edward had started in Sydney, Australia. She’d an enclosed an article from the Sydney Morning Herald that praising her efforts with the children, noting how
“Mrs. Joy had on all occasions striven to secure their confidence by the exercise of the most kindly sympathy and love.”
But there was a sad part to Aunt Eliza’s letter, which was Uncle Edward’s decision to resign from his role as Secretary of the Ragged School Society and return to England in the next year or so. Aunt Eliza said she would dearly miss her work with the Ragged School children.
“Why do they call it a Ragged School? I would not want to go to a school called that. Not ever!
“Because you ninny, that’s what they’re called. Same as the ones in England,” sniffed Charles.
Percy chimed in, “And, yet, is it not unkind to call it a Ragged School?”
Mother explained, “Harold and Percy, you aren’t the only ones who don’t like the name. In Australia, they also didn’t want to use it because it … When Uncle Edward started the school, the committee decided to call it the Free School for the Education of the Neglected Classes, which was way too much to say. Most people just called it the Free School. But Uncle Edward thought that with a name like, it would just encourage people who could otherwise afford to pay for a grammar school, would send their children to the ‘Free School,” which wasn’t at all the mission of the school. It was meant to be for children whose parents couldn’t afford to pay for a Grammar School. Uncle Edward was right. Once the name was changed back to ‘Ragged School,’ many parents pulled their children out and switched to the Grammar School where they did pay, thereby leaving the spaces for children who really need a free school.
Harold thought it was too bad that Aunt Eliza and Uncle Edward didn’t have any children of their own, because if they did, he would have had double cousins. Not only was Aunt Eliza Mother’s sister, but Uncle Edward was Father’s younger brother by just three years. Harold had never actually met Uncle Edward and Aunt Eliza, because they’d moved to Australia in 1853, nine years before Harold was even born.
Harold began to feel fidgety, but finally the meal was over and the children could be excused. Finally! Harold wandered around, looking for an amusement. His cousins were all older [tbc]… First, he checked on Charles who sat by himself, drawing elaborate churches, as he often did. He was 24-years-old, and to Harold he just seemed old and closed.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a gargoyle.”
“Goodness gracious! That’s awfully ugly!”
“It’s supposed to be,” snarled Charles. “It’s supposed to scare away bad spirits. And pests like you!”
“Hmmph” Harold thought Charles was a bit of a gargoyle himself. He would try someone else.
Amy and Lottie played Christmas songs on the pianoforte, “Angels We Have Heard on High,” Percy sang a solo. The aunts always like Percy the best. He’s the best singer and loves to show off.
Douglas is serious and talks with father about designing a new valve to measure the oil.
“What’s a valve?” interrupts Harold
“Let’s see. We use to valves to control the flow and pressure of the oils that are crushed from the rapeseeds. There are different types of valves. There are breather valves, there are gate valves, cylinder valves, butterfly valves…”
Harold’s mind promptly switches off. He leaves to try again for someone interesting. Father and Douglas know how to get rid of pesky kids.
That night Harold dreamt that Arthur came back, but as a dead person with empty eyes. Dead Arthur kept saying he was thirsty. He was thirsty for Harold’s blood and soul. In his dream, Harold wants get to the chapel where the angels will save him. Deep in his nightmare, he tries to run but his legs are heavy logs and won’t move. He tries and tries to run. Dead Arthur is strangling him. Harold tries to scream, but no sounds come out. Dead Arthur is squeezing Harold’s throat harder and harder. Harder and harder, Harold wills himself to scream until finally he is making muffled calls. “Help! Help!”
“Harold! Harold! Wake up!” Percy shook him. “You’re having a nightmare.”
Harold woke up, his heart racing. He’s safe! He’s relieved beyond words to be saved by Percy. “Oh, Percy! Arthur wanted to take my soul. He was a demon who wanted to kill me. He, he….”
“Come, here you ninny. He doesn’t want to kill you. He was just bunged. Go back to sleep.”
“Bunged? What is bunged?”
“It means he’s drunk entirely too much whiskey. Come over here ninny and go back to sleep.”
Harold crawled into bed and wrapped himself around Percy’s warm safe body. He was still frightened and lay awake for a long time until finally he felt safe enough to sleep without the Dead Arthur coming back to get him in another nightmare.
He wondered, where was Alice?
—-Not sure where these facts belong, possibly another chapter—
In 1873, at age 28 Arthur dissolves his business partnership in Liverpool and “retires.” English Joy family notes has him going to Canada. I haven’t found him in any ships’ records to Canada, nothing in Canadian news or census.
At some point, Arthur abandons Alice. She lives without him from at least 1891 onward, some years with her sister and aunt, some years on her own. Neither Arthur nor Alice appear in the 1881 English census. In 1883, both are mentioned as attending the funeral of Alice’s father (John Octavius Butler). Arthur dies in 1900 in Bristol, UK at 56 years old. Alice lives until 1927 (82 years old).
Leave a Reply