Day after Day 4

Muriel and May arrived home following their wonderful evening at the ball to find May's mother in tears. Muriel's parents were also in the house. The two girls were ushered into the front room and told to sit down.

“I am afraid my dear,” said Mr. King looking at May, “that we have some bad news for you. Shortly after you left for the dance this afternoon your father was suddenly taken ill. The doctor was summoned, and I am afraid that he found that your father had died. It must have been a heart attack. Very sudden. He would not have suffered.''

May, now understanding the reason for her mother's tear-stained face, was too stunned to cry. “But he was so healthy,'' she protested. "He was only 57. He swam every day in the Severn River. He can’t have died.”

Only then did she start to cry. Her mother put her arms around her, and the others drew away to give them their privacy.

“I think perhaps we should go home now, but we'll come back early tomorrow to see how we can help,” said Mrs. King.

May’s brother, Tom, had to be told what had happened. He was staying at a friend's house.

The funeral took place a week later at the local church, Holy Trinity on Scrub Hill Road. The bell in the turret tolled 57 times for the years of Thomas Stinton's life. The service was conducted by the Vicar, Rev. George Hough. There were many mourners as Thomas had been a well-known and popular man. Among the congregation were members of the Choral Society, of which Mrs Stinton
was a member including the director, Mr Edward Elgar, who held her in high regard as a gifted soprano.

Muriel tried without much success to comfort May, who repeatedly expressed her guilt at enjoying herself at a ball while her father was suffering a fatal heart attack.

After the funeral son Tom returned to school, but for him, his mother and May life would never be the same again.The reading of the will revealed that Tom Stinton had invested his money wisely. There would be no need for the family to vacate their pleasant home for a cheaper dwelling.

Much as Muriel had enjoyed the ball at Perdiswell Hall she felt that under the circumstances she could not talk with May about that evening. However she kept an account of the event which had been published in the local newspaper, Berrows Worcester Journal. At an appropriate moment she showed this report to May. It read:

"The dining-room, which was converted into a ball room for the occasion, was most profusely decorated with choice flowers, palms and ferns. The guests, who numbered upwards of 80,
comprised a contingent from the staff of the 1st Worcester Regiment, to which Lieut. Walker, who is at present at the front in the South African War, is attached.

"Amongst the ladies of the house was Miss Eva Walker who was very gracefully attired in black satin and old lace and who wore a magnificent tiara of diamonds. Miss Florence Walker, her younger sister was very prettily dressed in a pale blue and white costume with turquoise ornaments, and a visitor, Miss Poulett looked very charming in a dress of ivory and Cambridge blue.

"Miss Eva Walker and the steward opened the ball, and the dancing was kept up with great zest until the early hours of the morning. The scarlet tunics of the military added picturesqueness
to the scene. During the interval a sumptuous repast was provided by the hospitality of Mr. Henry Walker.''

May appreciated the article, but it brought back memories of the sad aftermath of that evening and once more her tears flowed.

“I was surprised to read that one of the guests was called Miss Poulett,'' said Muriel, trying to steer her friend's thoughts in a different direction. "That name is similar to that of my relative mentioned as having royal blood in letters to my relative. I may be related to Miss Poulett. I shall endeavour to
find out more about her.''

Then, mindful that her prime quest was to marry the man she now knew to be called John Day, she asked May if she felt up to accompanying her to a service at Perdiswell church the following Sunday.

“I thought you had got over your infatuation with Mr. John Day,” said May, immediately aware of Muriel's purpose for the proposed visit. "Men were swooning over you at the ball.''

“I know in my heart that Mr. Day is the one for me,'' said Muriel. "I would like to meet him in a situation in which we can get to know one another.''

“But we cannot again impose on Dot and her mother. How will we get there?”

"There's a train station at Fernhill Heath which is less than a mile from the church. We can walk from the station to the church, arriving in plenty of time for the 11 am service. And after the service... Perhaps a chance to talk to Mr Day.''

So with their mothers' permission, the following Sunday morning found the two girls alighting at Fernhall Station, a ten-minute train ride from Worcester station. Frederick Price, the Fernhill stationmaster, directed them to Perdiswell church.

The girls soon reached the church and immediately went inside.

“Ah, we have visitors,” said a kindly male voice. “Can I offer you girls a tour as we still have some time before the service begins. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Alfred Stevenson Porter, and I have been the vicar here for 18 years. Where do you girls come from?”

"From Worcester. Lansdowne Crescent,'' Muriel replied. "We recently attended a ball at Perdiswell Hall, and it was there that we heard a glowing description of your church and thought we would like to see it for ourselves.''

While she was speaking, John Day (pictured above) entered the church. Both girls could not resist staring in his direction. John was tall and dark and just as handsome as they remembered him to be.

“Good morning Reverend Porter,” John said cheerfully. "And I do believe I have seen these young ladies before. Are you not Miss King who spoke so eloquently at the Queen’s Memorial Service? I am afraid I do not know your friend's name, although I believe she was with you on that occasion.''

“Allow me present my best friend, Miss May Stinton,'' said Muriel, seizing her opportunity.

“How do you do, Miss Stinton,” said both men together.

“Ah, Mr. Day, since you know these young ladies, I will leave the history of the church in your capable hands and go to prepare myself for the service,” said the Rev Porter.

Things could not have worked out better from Muriel’s point of view. She smiled brightly, reminding John that they had met his grandmother, Mrs. Duncan, and his aunt Dot at the ball a few weeks earlier.

John Day acknowledged the occasion before launching into a quick guided tour, saying he would soon have to get ready to assist in the service. "The mosaic you see in the chancel displays the descent of Christ from Jesse. You have heard in the gospels about Him coming from the Root of Jesse. That is a sort of family tree.”

“I too am interested in family trees,'' said Muriel, perhaps inappropriately. "I have been working on my own family tree and I think I may be related to a lady who was at the ball. A Miss Poulett?''

"I am afraid I have not made the lady's acquaintance,'' said John Day, somewhat displeased at having his miniature lecture interrupted. "I will ask my family if they know her. If you have time after the service, I can take you up the staircase to the rood loft. One gets a most wonderful view of the
countryside from there.”

“Oh yes, thank you,” said May, finally joining the conversation. "We don't have to catch a train back to Worcester till mid-afternoon.''

Taking their seats, the girls looked around and recognised people whom they had met at he ball. Dot and her mother were there, along with Mr. Walker and his daughters. Other people whose names they did not know smiled and nodded in their direction.

At 12.30, when the last note had been sung and the last prayer said, Muriel and May shook hands with the Reverend Porter then spoke to Mrs Duncan and Dot.

“Mr. Day will be meeting us after the service, to show us the rood loft,” added May.

“That leaves me time to introduce you to my sister and members of the Day family,'' said Dot, drawing the girls towards a large family group who had just come out of the church. "Caroline, here are my friends from Worcester, who came to the ball. This is Muriel King, and her very best friend, May Stinton.”

“How do you do, Miss King, Miss Stinton. I do hope you are enjoying our country service and our fresh clean air. There is such a fog around big industrial towns that one can hardly breathe. We have now moved to Worcester but continue to come here on Sunday as much for the fresh air in the country as for the service,'' said Caroline.

She went on to introduce her children. “My eldest son, John, was serving the vicar during the service, but I daresay you will see him later. This is my next son, Harold, who is 17, then comes George, but we call him Jimmy, 15, then Mark, 14, then our only daughter, Una, who is 11. We also have a baby Steven Roberts, but we call him Bobs. He is only a year old so he is at home with his nurse.”

Muriel and May shook hands with the children, who seemed shy and reserved. “My husband, Mr. Day, was unable to attend the service this morning. He had important work to do. Perhaps there
will be another occasion on which you can meet him.''

With that the Days walked to their waiting carriage.

“I understand Mr. Day will take you to see the rood loft,” said the vicar to the girls. "He can lock up the church and bring the key to the vicarage. I hope we will see you again in our congregation.” Smiling, he took his leave, and John Day appeared to guide them to the staircase leading to the Rood or Crucifix and a platform where the Epistle and Gospel could be read. Above that was the loft.

Somewhat nervous of their footing, the girls were glad they had made the effort when they reached the loft. It's windows offered a glorious and extensive view of farms, trees and hills. Worcester Cathedral could be seen in the distance.

Back at ground level John said “I hope I might see more of you on some other occasion. I will be returning to Oxford soon for the Trinity term, but will be back here in Summer. Perhaps you could come here again on a Summer Sunday. Perhaps we could have a picnic. My brother Harold could come along to make a foursome.''

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Mr. Day,” said Muriel. "We will look forwards to seeing you again. And of course the church and congregation.''

“So until then, I must say good bye. I hope you have a pleasant picnic and a safe journey home.''

“Thank you so much,” said May. “You have been so kind.”

John Day gave May a very warm smile.

As they walked back to the station, feeling gloriously happy, the girls chanced upon a bench overlooking a stream There they sat, eating their sandwiches, each one locked in private thought.

When they reached the station in mid-afternoon it was locked and deserted. Checking a notice they discovered that the next train was at 5.25. They had forgotten that trains operated to a different schedule on Sundays.

“We could walk ,” said May. “It can’t be more than four miles.”

"But I dressed up for today and my shoes are not stout,” Muriel protested. “I would rather wait for the train. Why don’t we go over to Little Perdiswell? We can call on Dot and explain our circumstances. I am sure they will take pity on us and invite us in for a cup of tea.''

Dot and her mother Mrs. Frances Duncan were indeed very welcoming.

Muriel felt she had to tell them about the death of Mr Stinton on the evening of the ball.

“My dear girl,” said Mrs. Duncan, giving May a sympathetic look “how very dreadful for you. You will remember that ball with sadness for the rest of your life.''

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Muriel changed the subject.

“Mrs. Duncan, I know you spent many years in Mauritius. What was it like there? Did you enjoy it?”

“Well, yes and no, I suppose is the answer to that,'' said Mrs Duncan. "The climate of Mauritius is wonderful, and so is the scenery, but one was very limited in what one could do. There were no theatres, no concerts. Socialising tended to be with the same few ex-patriots who had gathered there for commerce, and they all seemed to be leading a very lazy life. Of course, we had
many servants. I spent my time educating the children. The schools were not of a good standard, and I didn’t want to send them back to boarding schools as so many of the families did in those days.

“My father-in-law James Duncan was quite an important personage. He was born in 1802 in Aberdeen, Scotland. He became gardener at Howick to Lord Grey, son of the then prime minister. When Lord Grey became Secretary of State for the Colonies, he sent James to Mauritius as director of the botanical gardens, the largest gardens in the southern hemisphere.

“James and his wife Sarah, and family arrived on December 28, 1849, when my John was only 13. James found the gardens to be a jungle. He transformed the layout, introduced new species,
planted avenues of palms and created lawns.

“I was originally from Cape Town and our family moved there because of the sugar industry. John and I met there, married and had twins,who both died young. George was born in 1860, and in 1862, I had Caroline. When we arrived back in this country, we settled in Calne, Wiltshire where we had a nursery on Curzon Street, and Dot was born there in 1872. My son George is now a clergyman, and
is the Rector of Shipton-on-Cherwell, outside Oxford.”

After a pleasant afternoon the girls returned to Fernhill Heath station, and the train was on time.