Authors: Yelena Kopylova
And they will. They will. And they’ll charge me interest, they always do, but within two years, I’ll have
supposedly made enough profit whether I do or not to pay them back. And within another two years me
stock will have improved and from then on I’ll gallop ahead, much as Bannaman did on
stolen money.
Funny, isn’t it, Kate? Funny. “
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” The whispered hiss came from the area of the
fireplace, and
immediately he rounded on Mary Ellen, crying, “Aye, I do, cleverer than the next,
because I use me
head, not like some bloody fools.” He was glaring at her now. Then as if there had been no talk about
hanging, or money, or farms, he demanded, “Does he know?”
“No, and he’s not going to.”
“We’ll see about that. Oh, we’ll see about that.”
She sprang from the seat and actually gripped his hand in both of hers, pleading with him now, “Hal.
Oh, please, please. No, I don’t want that. You mustn’t. Oh, don’t don’t, Hal. I’ve ... never asked
anything of you ‘cos we’re’—she gulped ‘well, do this for me, will you? Don’t, don’t tell him.”
As he looked at her face in the lamplight the expression on his own softened, and he said in a more
moderate tone, “What if somebody else tells him?”
“Oh, that’s a slim chance.” They both turned and glanced at Kate, and she nodded as she added, “All
those hundreds of miles away. Do as she asks.
“Tis better so. There’s no| happiness comes out of a trap whether it’s on man or beast.” 1
He turned
away from them both, muttering now, “Hej should be made to face it, not leave her on
her own like this.”
“She’s not on her own, Hal. She has me ... and she has you, hasn’t she?”
His head jerked, and he looked at her hard before? emitting a mirthless “Huh!” Then
turning slowly, he
lookedj at Mary Ellen again and said, “She would rather have the| devil on her side than me. Isn’t that
so, Mary Ellen?” ;
She didn’t answer, but her lips quivered and moved over each other.
Her head sank on to her chest; then she slid from the chair onto the rug and took up the hook and|
began scraping the nuts towards the end of the hearth. But when one that had been in the flames burst its
shell and shot out with a crack on to the mat beside her, Hal laughed and said, That’s her answer, Kate,
isn’t it Mary Ellen? The nut’s spoken for her. She would rather be shot than have me on her side. So
be it. “
The winter started hard. The light of the day was short and the darkness of night long. For the first few
weeks lying on the attic bed sleep would evade her, but now the heaviness of her body
and the work of
the day began to tell, and she soon had no trouble in falling asleep.
There was no more rising at five o’clock. She climbed down the ladder at seven, stirred up the fire,
heated up one of Kate’s winter concoctions and took a mug of it to the bed for her, and a smaller portion
for herself.
Kate was very rarely asleep, and so she would sit on the edge of the bed but would say nothing until
Kate had drained her mug. Then she would enquire how she felt and after would listen to her planning
out the day for them both, saying perhaps, “Tis Sunday, so Will Campbell will be here
afore his clothes
are on like as not. Now his potion is the groundsel. You know, you learned last week its two different
uses:
if it’s boiled with ale and vinegar and a drop of honey in it, it’ll bring up the vomit in the case of children
havin’ chewed the wrong berries an’ poisoned their stomachs; but the leaves now, as you will remember,
boiled in a drop of water . or wine, parsnip or tatie I usually have plenty of, but the fruit ones I’m sparin’
of. I’ve told Will for a long time that he wouldn’t have such a sour stomach if he went straight home on a
Saturday an’ didn’t sit in the inn swilling;
his innards are not made for what he puts into them. “
Or perhaps she would say, “Tis Friday. Jane Stubbs will be passing on her way to
Haydon Bridge for
her flour and grains and such. Now she’ll want the same as usual, colewort. I’ve never seen such a
family for carbuncles. As I’ve told her afore, it’s too much fat. They have three stints and are overrun
with pigs. They live on pork the lot of them, an’ fat’s got to erupt somewhere, and it does, mostly on one
end or the other, the neck or the backside.”
The first time K-ate talked of Jane Stubbs and the carbuncles, she laughed and said, “But by! she’s
gona get a shock when she next puts her nose in that door. A penny? I’ll say. Oh no, Jane, a penny’s
no good. If you want this salve that’ll draw nails out of the walls, an’ takes me a full day to gather and
make, it’s threepence you’ll have to pay in the future. I’ve got to live.”
And so it would go on.
When the prices for the potions and salves went up, Kate’s clientele thinned to a mere trickle. But that
didn’t disturb her. They’ll be back, she would say; they’ll be back. And she was right. For now with
the winter on them and people coughing and sneezing and pains in backs and arms
increasing, never a
day went by but that there was somebody at the door. And one notable Saturday they had as many as
ten visitors and their takings for one day were four and threepence. As Kate said, she had never made
as much as that in a week as far as she could remember.
During Mary Ellen’s first weeks in the house the number of male customers seemed to
increase, and
eventually led to Hal’s coming to blows with one of them. This upset Mary Ellen but
brought only a
cynical comment from Kate.
This particular young fellow was a well-known patron of Maggie Gates, and Hal, coming
on him
standing in the kitchen grinning, asked him what he was after.
“Same as you, a potion,” the young fellow had replied.
“Aye well,” Hal had answered, ‘you’re a mile or so out for the potion you’re after. “
And the fellow, on a laugh, said, “Aye well, that be as it may; I mightn’t have to travel so far in the
future.”
In a lightning jump Hal had him by the collar and through the door and into the garden.
And just as
quickly the implication of the man’s words struck Mary Ellen and made her turn and
climb the ladder and
hide herself under, the eaves:
“Come down here this minute, girl!” Kate yelled.
“You’ll have to put up with worse than that afore you’re much older.” And when she had descended
the ladder and stood, her head bowed before Kate, the old woman had put her hand
kindly on her
shoulder saying, “We won’t be troubled with that kind again; Hal’s put a stop to it. But he’ll likely have
to stand the racket for doing so.”
And this further implication was not lost on Mary Ellen, who couldn’t bear to look at Hal when her
returned to the room with a split lip and said on a shaky laugh, “Can I have a potion for a busted mouth,
Mrs. Makepeace?”
But now it was December and the child was seven months heavy within her. She was
carrying high and
her whole appearance had altered; she no longer looked a young girl, but a woman. Her
prettiness had
vanished, her face, at times appeared plain; and there was always a sadness in the back of her eyes,
which even her laughter didn’t dispel. What was more, as her time approached, she felt less well. The
chores of the day became much harder to get through, although all the heavy ones had
been taken from
her, because Hal now came at least two or three times a week and chopped wood and dug
peat and
brought in whatever they needed from the town.
Hal’s life had altered out of all proportion even to his dreams. He hadn’t got the
Douglas’s plot, but had
rented, through the courtesy of his employer. Barley Moor Farm. It was situated two
miles to the west
of Kate’s cottage. It had eighteen acres of land and four stints.
Attached to the land was a brick and tile works, and he had been very tempted to rent this too. But the
rent would have been forty-eight pounds and four pence a year, and had he succumbed to the desire to
take it on it would undoubtedly have caused comment, not only among the neighbours
but more so in the
firm. However, he kept the idea in the back of his mind, and was happy, more than happy to be a tenant
in a house that had a parlour, a i 228 kitchen with a stone-flagged cupboard and two real bedrooms up
above.
Outside was a cow-byre that would hold seven head of cattle with a fine hayloft, a
piggery, and a
coal-house; and lastly a privy. There was also a vegetable garden.
The furniture he had brought from Abel Hamilton’s cottage was scantily, but he had
added to it over the
past months by attending house sales. Moreover, he had three cows in the byre, a pony in the stable, a
pig lying with litter, a dozen hens, and four ducks. At times as he made his way in the evening to Kate’s
cottage he would strut over the moor, so good did he feel. But always on approaching the cottage he
would put on the cloak of casualness and when relating his progress to Kate’s willing
ears, he’d be
offhand:
Oh, yes, things were going fine, slowly, but fine. Well, wasn’t the milk in the can proof that his cows
weren’t dry.
So altered was his life that often he found it difficult to recall that it had ever been otherwise; except
when he looked across to the hill rising above Carts Bog, beyond which was Bannaman’s
farm. That
house seemed to stand out as the only connection with the years behind him.
Both Kate and Mary Ellen showed no surprise when the door was pushed open early on a
Tuesday
morning and he came in as usual carrying something. He put the lidded can of milk on
the table; then
dropping a sack onto the stone floor, he said, “Them’s turnips. Farmer Gordon kindly
dropped me in a
load yesterday. Oh, the goodness of people.”
There was a mocking tone in his voice now.
“He only wanted a couple of days work out of me in payment, put over nicely of course.
Neighbourly
help, he called it, neighbourly help. I could have bought the load for a shilling. Anyway, what d’you
want in the town, I’m on me way?
There’s a sale on and I’m goin’ after a young bull. “
“Bull?” Mary Ellen and Kate exclaimed simultaneously.
“Aye, a bull. You know, a bull.” He demonstrated as if he were charging, and they both laughed and
Kate said, “All right, all right.
You’ve explained what a bull is. “ Then she added, “ What d’you think we need, Mary
Ellen? “
And Mary Ellen, looking at Hal, said, “We’ve got a stock of flour and sugar, but I think we should add
to it just in case. And if you should come across a bit of live yeast, I’d be grateful. And a bit of barley to
make some white puddin’.”
“Do you want anything fancy for Christmas?” His voice sounded quiet;
and Kate came back, laughing: “Aye, get me a new pair of legs, will you?”
“I’ll do that,” he nodded seriously at her; ‘what size? Had I better, measure them? “ And he made to
lift her skirt.
“Go on with you!” She napped her hand at him.
Mary Ellen now said, “You can get me some wool if you wouldn’t mind going for it?”
“No, I don’t mind going for it. I told them last time I’d taken up knittin’.”
Again they were laughing; and Kate said, “I’ve known stranger things.
Why, there’s Ben Holt he worked in the mines at Allenheads—they tell me he sews. Aye,
and better
than most women, smocking and the like, and makes banners with silk threads. So you
needn’t be
ashamed to tell them you’re knittin’, lad. And you might make a name for yourself by it, quicker than at
farmin’. “
“Now, what d’you mean by that? I’m not doin’ badly, although I say it me self
“No, no, you’re not. I’ll give you that. What you kinin’ for Christmas, a pig?”
“Aye, a pig.” He pulled his coat round him, then buttoning up the top button tight under his chin, he
asked casually, “Any news?”
Neither Kate nor Mary Ellen answered, and he turned for the door, saying, “Well, there’s still plenty of
time, I suppose. Be seeing you.”
It was some seconds after the door had closed on him that Kate said, “It doesn’t mean
that if we’ve had
no word that he isn’t comin’; he could just pop in the door any time next week.”
Mary Ellen rolled up her sleeves, at the same time kicking a felt pad towards the bucket of steaming
water, then knelt on the pad, saying, “I’ve told you, Kate, but you won’t believe me, that I hope he
doesn’t come. I... I don’t want to see him. Not like this, Kate, not like this. I’m not goin’
to hold this
over him now or ever.
Funny. “ She knelt back on her heel, hands on the rim of the bucket, and she looked into the distance as
she went on, “ I would have sold me soul, as the sayin’ goes, to get him to marry me
afore this happened,
and the possibility of him asking me seemed to be forever wavering between us. But
now, if he asked
me, well, I wouldn’t do it. marry him, ‘cos then it would be like a gun at his head and forever after. “
“You would change your tune if he asked you. And ask you he will when he sees the
pickle he left you
in, or its result.”
“You think I’m that weak, Kate?”
“No, lass, I don’t think you’re weak at all, far from it, but strength of will has no chance against the