Authors: Yelena Kopylova
“Well, yes, but ... but Hal ... you know Hal, he pops over every day, but... but I’m
worried.”
“About Hal?”
“Yes, yesterday was the first day he never came and ... and here it is nearing twelve
o’clock and he still
hasn’t been, and he brings milk every morning.”
“Perhaps he’s gone into town?”
“He always calls.”
“Well then, you must go and see what is wrong. Perhaps he’s ill.
“Yes, yes, I mean to do that. I’m goin’ to get Mrs. Patterson in from the village.” She pointed towards
the door.
“She’ll look after them until I come back.”
“I’m on my way there,” he said, ‘at least to the mill. I’ll be passing the cottages. Will I give Mrs.
Patterson a message? “
“Oh, if you would, please. I’d be very grateful.” And as she saw him to the door she
asked, “How ...
how long do you think she’ll last, doctor?”
“Oh, if she had her own way she’d go now, but she’s got a strong constitution that’s
fighting the disease
in her stomach. She could last a week or more.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He put his hand on her arm now, saying gently, “Don’t worry for
her. She seems
to have had a good life, and apparently she’s lived it as she wanted to live it,
independently.
It’s very good for a person to be independent as she has been. If you follow her pattern you won’t go
far wrong, Mary Ellen. “
“No, I won’t. No, I won’t, doctor.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, doctor, and thank you.”
Mrs. Patterson did not arrive until an hour later and Mary Ellen was standing ready to go, her coat on
and a shawl over her head.
“Where are you off to, lass?” Mrs. Patterson enquired.
“I’m goin’ over to Hal’s place, Mrs. Patterson. You see, he didn’t call yesterday, nor yet today. I think
he must be bad or something.”
“Never came yesterday, nor today? That’s not like him, he’s never off your doorstep.
Caused a lot of
comment that, you know, lass. Aye, it has. But there are people who always find
something to talk
about. And as I said to Jennie Pratt when she came tattling in not long ago, it wouldn’t be him you’d
take as you were waitin’ for the other one comin’ back. That’s right, isn’t it?”
Mary Ellen’s face was flushed and she said, “No, it isn’t, Mrs. Patterson. And you can tell Jennie Pratt
to mind her own business.”
“Oh, well, people will talk, lass, you can’t tie tongues.” The older woman had seemingly taken no
offence at Mary Ellen’s tone, and she added, “I can stay only an hour, mind, so don’t be all that long.”
“I won’t. And thank you.”
She hurried out, indignation now mixed with concern for Hal. Waitin’ for the other one comin’ back.
Well, wasn’t she?
No. No. The voice was loud in her head. No, no, she wasn’t waitin’ for him, not any
more. Nor had
she been for a long time.
She began to run. It was only two miles to the farm but she thought she wo’nd never get there, the paths
seemed endless. And when she entered the yard, there was Terry Foster standing talking to a tall
gaunt-looking woman, and they both turned at her approach.
“Where’s Hal ... Mr. Roystan?” She addressed the boy now, and he, looking at the
woman, said,
“Eeh! that’s what we were just sayin’. We thought he must be over at your place, Mary
Ellen.”
She now looked hard at the woman who said, “I’m Annie Gordon. I... I come and tidy up
for him and
do a bit of cooking. I haven’t seen Turn since yesterday morning when he left to go over to Whitfield
way to see about a bull.”
They looked from one to the other now; then in a very small voice, Mary Ellen said, “Not since
yesterday morning Anything could have happened him. He could have been knocked off
his horse and
lying somewhere.”
“That’s what I thought, Mary Ellen. I’ve just said that to Miss Gordon. Didn’t I, Miss Gordon?”
“Yes, yes, you did, Terry.”
“What shall we do?” Mary Ellen asked the question more to herself than of them; then
she answered it
by adding, “I ... I’d better go down to the mill and ... and see the men, and perhaps Mr.
Mulcaster will
do something.”
The sound of barking had been going on in the background all the while, and Mary Ellen said, “Boyo.
Did he come back alone?”
“No.” The young boy shook his head.
“Mr. Roystan never took him along with him ‘cos he didn’t know whether he was
bringing the bull or
not. But Boyo’s been cryin’ an’ yellin’ his head off ever since. I’m frightened to let him out in case he
runs off.”
“Who’s seeing to the cattle?”
“I am.” The woman nodded at Mary Ellen.
“They’re all right. I often see to them when Hal is not here. He’s... he’s been away a lot of late.” She
narrowed her eyes and said, “Well, of course you know that?
you’re the young person from over Kate Makepeace’s place, aren’t you? “
There was no need for Mary Ellen to confirm this, but she stared back at the woman
wondering if she
detected resentment in the look. She also wondered if the woman had ideas about Hal.
But then she
dismissed them. What ideas she would have would be motherly ‘cos she was getting’ on.
You could
see that, although she wasn’t as old as Hal had made her out to be, middle thirties, she’d say.
She said to the boy, “Have you thought about looking over the moor?”
“No, miss? I’ve just been waitin’ for him comin’ back.”
Quickly now she said, “I’ll away to the mill. The men’ll know what to do.” And with that she turned and
ran out of the yard, and down the hill. There was no one about the inn, nor at Nillston Rigg. She hurried
along the lane, skirted the dam, went up the steep hill and along the waggon track. She could see a
group of men crossing the yard. Stumbling over the rails and the debris, she came up to them gasping,
and as she could not speak for a moment, they all stopped and gazed at her. Then one
said, “What’s the
trouble, lass?”
“Have ... have any of you seen Hal?”
“Hal?” They looked at one another. Then one of the men, with a slight leer on his face, said, “Hal
Roystan? Why, lass, don’t you know he’s no longer a common workin’ man? Farmer he
is now.
Landed gentry is goin’ to be his next step. Why, I thought you would have known.”
Her body was already hot with running and there was colour in her cheeks, but now her
whole face
became suffused with a blush and in a manner very nearly her old self, she retorted
smartly, “Yes, and
what you say could just come true, Mr. Conway. Then, instead of spitting your spite
you’d be raisin’
your cap.”
There were three Conway men in the group. The man who had spoken was a leading
smelter in the mill
and with his brothers John and Frank working alongside him, and his younger brother,
Herman, mining at
Stublick, he was known to think that his family ran the whole show, for he had a sister, too, who was
married to a smelter, and experienced smelter men were the cream of the mill.
“What is it, lass? What d’you want?” It was the quiet voice of Ben Fowler. He was
standing next to his
son Paul, who, before she could answer, stepped forward and said quietly, “Kate gone? Is that why
you’re lookin’ for Hal?”
“No, no.” She shook her head quickly.
“Hal’s gone missin’. He went over to Whitfield yesterday to see about a bull and no one seems to have
seen hilt nor hair of him since. I’ve been over to the farm. He didn’t turn up last night, nor today either.”
The men looked from one to the other and one said, “Perhaps he’s gone off jaunting to
town.”
“No. He ... he went after the bull. Anyway, he always brings me milk every morning She paused now
and met the glance of Peter Conway and she repeated, “ Aye, he brings me milk every
mornin’. And
just by the way, Mr. Conway, I can tell you, he saved me life when the baim came
because nobody else
tried to get through to me in the snow. “
There was the sound of scraping of hobnailed boots on the stones, and one man muttered,
“Lass, you
should understand we couldn’t move up here. Nobody could. Anyway’—the man was
looking round
the group now saying, ‘this needs lookin’ into. What d’you think? He’s not goin’ to stop bringin’ the
milk and that without sayin’ something’.” He turned his head towards Mary Ellen again
and said quietly,
“He would likely have told you, lass, if he had been goin’ away, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, Mr. Fowler, yes, he would.”
“And you say nobody’s seen him since yesterday mornin’?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Well now’—he nodded his head ‘that’s comin’ up close on two days.
Look’—he half turned now and glanced towards the offices ‘don’t you think she could go and see the
boss? Because something’ should be organized. “
“Aye, yes.” They all agreed quickly to this. Then the old man said, “Come on, lass. Come on and see
Mr. Mulcaster.”
Mr. Mulcaster came to the office door and gazed down on Mary Ellen and the men
behind her. And
she told him why she was there.
At first he smiled at her tolerantly, no doubt thinking back to the last time she had
approached him,
concerning another man who had later thanked her for saving him from transportation by taking her
down, then leaving her. Now here she was concerned about that same man’s friend, and if tales were
true, hers also, for Hal Roystan was known to visit her pretty frequently. But she was showing real
concern and it was true what one of the men had just stated, you wouldn’t go away from around here for
nearly two days without saying where you were going. Well, he supposed something
must be done. But
then, the young fellow could have taken it into his head to go jaunting. He was a young man and young
men often went jaunting when the need was on them.
And he said as much but he put it in a different way: Looking down at her, he said, “Now you don’t
think he just could have gone off on some business or other?”
She looked up into his face, saying quietly now, “He’s got a farm. He loves animals.
When he left he
told the boy he’d be back around dinner time; it all depended if he brought the bull back with him.”
“Where was he goin’ for the bull?”
“A farm near Whitfield.”
“That’ll be Johnson’s farm, sir, if it’s over by Whitfield,” one of the men spoke up now.
“Or Plummer’s,” said another man.
“Oh, Plummer’s is only a small place? he wouldn’t have any bulls for sale.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Mr. Mulcaster held up his hand, saying now, “Well, it’ll be one or the other. I think’—he paused a
moment ‘what must be done first is to organize someone to go across there and find out if Hal was there
at all. What about you, Frank. You like riding a horse?”
Frank Conway didn’t show any enthusiasm, until Paul Fowler said, “Well, if you don’t
want to do it, I’ll
go.”
“Who said I didn’t want to do it. I’ll go. Can I take a horse from the stables?” Frank Conway was
looking at Mr. Mulcaster and the agent nodded at him, saying, “Yes, yes, of course. How long will it
likely take you?” He paused and, reckoning in his own mind, he said, “You could be back here within an
hour and a half, couldn’t you?”
“Tis over four miles each way.”
“Yes, well, take a fresh pony, he’ll skip the miles for you.”
Ben Fowler turned to the others, saying quietly, “We’d better get cleaned up. Whatever message he
brings back will determine what we’ve got to do.” Then turning again to Mary Ellen, he said, “That’s all
we can do for the present, lass. The only thing I can add is, if he’s not found by the morrow mornin’
we’ll have to call in the constable.”
A shudder went through her as she thought of Hal lying out somewhere injured,
especially on the moor.
Another night could do for him, especially if a mist came down, because it sank into your bones even if
you were scurrying through it.
Detecting her anxiety, Mr. Mulcaster said, “Now stop worrying and go home. The men
will call and give
you their news as soon as possible.”
She swallowed deeply, then said, “Thank you.”
The men made way for her, and as she passed through them she moved her head from
one side to the
other, saying, “Thanks. Thanks.”
“Don’t worry, lass, he’ll turn up. Knowing Hal, he’ll be there in the mornin’ like a bad penny.”
Paul Fowler patted her arm and she inclined her head towards him, then hurried away.
Hal did not turn up like a bad penny the next morning. One of the men had called last
evening to say
that Farmer Johnson had said Hal had called at the farm but that he hadn’t taken the bull with him
because the pony had shied away from the animal. He had expected him back but he
hadn’t yet turned
up. Farmer Johnson had related that the young fellow had been in high spirits and very pleased with his
purchase. He had also warned Hal to beware his pony didn’t throw him for it seemed
very high-spirited.
The warning seemed to have been justified when, later that day, a pony was found
nibbling quietly on the
moor.
One thing puzzled the searchers who found it: it had a hole in its rump, as if it had been jabbed with an
instrument of some kind.