Authors: Yelena Kopylova
There were eight
of them, mostly from the cottages, and their talk on the road back was kindly. It wasn’t until they were
seated at the table eating with some gusto the pies and the spice cakes Annie had
provided that one of
them, who seemed spokeswoman for the rest, said, “Roddy. I would have thought he
would have been
here out of respect if nothin’ else.”
Mary Ellen looked across the table at the woman, saying, “He wouldn’t have had time,
tomorrow is the
earliest we could expect him.”
“Aye, well, the coaches run every day, so I’m told, from London.
Travel overnight an’ all. As for them from Newcastle, our Rob says they fly off like flies to every part of
this county and Durham. To my mind, if he’s comin’ he should have been here by now. “
She looked
round the table and the other women, some with eyes downcast, nodded their heads, and
one murmured,
“ She brought him up, spoilt him, an’ that’s what you get. “
“What’ll you do if he doesn’t show his face, Mary Ellen?” This from a woman who had
been too
occupied in eating to have opened her mouth to speak so far.
Being unable to curb her tongue any longer, Mary Ellen rose from the table saying, “The same as I’ve
always done, Mrs. Pratt: go on livin’ and mindin’ me own business. That was one thing
Kate taught me,
to mind me own business, an’ you don’t need to take any potions for that.”
“Well! Well! To talk like that on a day like this an’ all, and her still warm in the ground.
Doesn’t show
much respect.”
“As much as you’re showin’, Mrs. Pratt. As much as you’re showin’.”
She looked round the table and, her mouth tight, she said, “Now if you’re all finished I’d thank you to
leave me.”
“Well! Well I never!”
“Oh, Mary Ellen. Fancy you talkin’ like that.” This was from a quiet little woman and she sounded
shocked as she sidled up, dusting the crumbs from her skirt.
One after the other they got to their feet, picked up their shawls and, after exchanging glances and
muttered remarks, they made for the door, where one of them said, “We’ll know what to
do when you
next shout for help.”
“Well, it won’t be you I’ll call on, Mrs. Taggart, so don’t worry. I’ve never troubled you so far and I
won’t start now.”
That all the women were amazed showed on their faces, and they filed out now, leaving
the door open
behind them. And she stood watching them walking down the pathway, their heads
bobbing. She was
clutching the front of her black blouse, and her throat was full and her eyes smarting, when she rushed
forward and banged the door, then stood with her back tight against it, and she wished from deep in her
heart and for the first time that she was miles away from this place. She felt alone as she had never been
before: she had a father not a mile away, but it didn’t matter to him if she lived or died; nor did it apparently matter to the father of her child;
there was only Hal and he wouldn’t speak, because he would never believe that she had
got over her
feelings for Roddy.
She moved from the door and went towards the fire where the child was sleeping
peacefully in the
basket. And she asked herself if, when he saw her and recognized she was his, would he offer to take
her back with him to London? That would mean marrying her. What would she say?
Oh, she knew what she would say all right. She knew what she would say. Closing her
eyes now, she
again gripped the front of her blouse and, as if it were a prayer, she muttered, “Hurry up and come.
Hurry up and come, so I can say it and take what comes after.”
She slept in the cottage alone, and she was up at five o’clock on the Tuesday morning.
She was glad
the day was fine for she meant to take outside every movable piece of furniture and wash it. She was
going to strip the bed and air the mattress and wash all the linen. After this, she intended to whitewash
the walls. It was going to be a long day’s work.
By nine o’clock she had dragged most of the furniture outside. All that remained in the room now was
the bed-frame, the table, the press that held the herbs and potions, and the settle that was fixed to the
wall. So when Hal arrived, he stood gaping, saying, “What are you at?
Goin’ to start a bonfire? “
“I want to get rid of the stench.”
“Aye.” He nodded at her.
“Well, I suppose it’s the right way to go about it. But you should have waited and I’d have given you a
hand to move the things.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, and she turned her back on him and walked into the cottage, adding, “You
can hardly carry yourself along yet, never mind giving anybody a hand.”
As he put the can of milk on the table he said, “Where’s the hairn?”
“I’ve left her upstairs. It’s too early in the morning to bring her outside, the air’s too fresh.”
“No trouble last night?” he asked now.
“No. I had no trouble.”
He was really asking if she’d had any callers after dark. And she had worried after he had left last night
that she might just have a visitor or two, supposedly for a cure for this, that, or the other.
And if they’d
come in the dark, they’d surely have been men.
Having stood for a while looking round the room, he said, as if it were a matter of little importance, “I’m
havin’ to make me way into Haydon Bridge now. There’s some odds and ends I want for
the cattle, and
that old horse out there thinks I’m made of bran. And one or other of the carriers may have brought
some letters in from the mail coach.
If there’s anything I’ll call back. “
She made no answer but just inclined her head towards him.
As he walked towards the door he said, “You’ve set yourself a job.”
And she answered, “It has to be done.”
As she followed him outside he turned to her and, looking straight into her face, he asked quietly, “How
are you feeling?”
“All sixes and sevens.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t tell you. If I could I would have given you a better answer.”
“Aye. Aye, I suppose you would.” He turned and mounted his horse and, looking down
on her, he
said, “Perhaps by the end of the week you’ll know?”
She didn’t answer but stood watching him ride off. Yes, by the end of the week she
should know. And
the sooner the better.
It was sooner.
She had pulled the posstub outside the wash house and brought pan after part of hot water from the fire
to half fill it. She had put a scoopful of soda into it and now she was sos sing two
unbleached sheets up
and down in the steaming water. Her back was bent over the tub. Her face was covered
with steam
and she was intent on her work, so she didn’t hear the trap’s approach; not until it stopped at the gate,
did she raise her head, then the sheet dropped from her hands into the water.
Picking up the corner of her coarse apron, she began slowly to wipe her forearms.
She watched him come through the gate and walk towards her. And then there he was,
this man whom
she had loved from a child, this Roddy Greenbank who no longer looked like Roddy
Greenbank, for he
had put on weight, and his whole attire was such as that of a gentleman. He even had
gloves on his
hands. But it was his face that was different: it was clean-shaven to the point of pinkness, there wasn’t a
hair to be seen on it, except where two panels of dark hair came down from under his hat and finished at
the lobe of his ears.
He spoke first.
“Hello,” he said.
She did not even recognize his voice. She answered simply, “Hello.”
He looked about him at the scattered furniture, asking now, “What’s happening?”
“I’m... I’m having a clean out.” Her voice sounded like a thin croak.
“Kate?”
“Oh’—her head wagged just the slightest ‘you’re too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was buried yesterday.”
She watched him lower his head slightly and look towards the ground, then mutter, “I got here as soon
as I could.”
“Been a long journey for you, taken nearly a year.”
His head jerked upwards now and he said, “I explained all that to her.
She understood. “
“She understood nothing of the kind.” She walked from him now into the cottage, still
rubbing at her
arms, and, having followed her, he stood looking round him as if he had never seen the place before.
Then the whole situation seeming to strike him, he said, “But why are you here?
Why aren’t you at the farm? “
“I left the farm many months ago.”
“To look after Kate?”
“No. No. “ Her voice was loud now.
“For her to look after me.
She went and sat at the end of the settle because of a sudden her legs felt weak. And he stood near the
corner of the table looking towards her, saying tersely now, “There seems to be
explaining to do.”
“Oh, you’ve said that right.” She nodded at him.
“You’ve said that right. There’s a lot of explaining to do.”
His face took on a puzzled expression; then he said on a sarcastic note, “Do you mind if I bring a chair
in?”
“No, if you can manage to carry it.”
He stopped in the act of moving towards the door and, turning his head to look at her, he said, “You
haven’t changed, have you? The same old Mary Ellen.”
“There you’re mistaken.”
He said nothing, but went out. And she looked towards the end of the settle. There was plenty of room
there for him to sit, but it was evident he wasn’t going to get too close to her.
When he brought the chair back into the room he placed it to the side of the table, and there was now
some six feet between them. But she continued to look towards the fire at the one side of which a large
part of water was bubbling and at the other a small pan holding the porridge which
occasionally gave off
lazy little blur ps of steam. And it was likely the sight of the food that made her ask,
“Have you eaten?”
“Oh, yes. I had breakfast in Hexham as soon as we arrived, around nine.”
She looked at him in surprise now, saying, “You didn’t come in last night then?”
“No, no. I arrived in Newcastle last night; I got Adam Mains Diligence from there at six this morning.
They have you up before your clothes are on round there. Then I hired the trap’—he
motioned towards
the door with his head ‘from Hexham. And’—he spread out his hands ‘here I am, and too
late.”
Yes, here he was, and too late. And perhaps by the look and sound of him, it was just as well, because
Kate wouldn’t have recognized him, talking of breakfasting and Diligences and hiring
traps. The cart was
no longer good enough for him. Dear God! Could a man alter all this much in a year?
And as if Kate’s
voice was speaking in her mind it said, But he had been ready for it. There was
something in him that
had been working up to it, and he would have changed in one way or another wherever he was.
“How is Hal?”
“What?”
“I said, how is Hal?”
“Oh, he’s recovering.”
“What do you mean, recovering? Has he been ill?”
“Aye, I would say he’s been ill, just on dead.”
“What happened? An accident at the mill?”
“Oh, he’s at the mill no longer, but that’s another story. As to what happened, he
seemingly took your
place.”
He leaned towards her, his eyes screwed up, and she nodded at him, saying, “Your lady
love tried to do
him in. She couldn’t get at you, so she got at the next best thing.”
“You mean?”
“Aye, I mean. Miss Bannaman. She came across him looking round the house and her
and her brother
strung him up. Not by the neck, but they bent his body into half and fastened it to a beam and gagged his
mouth, and there he lay for four days covered with hay up in the barn.
It was his dog that found him, to all purposes dead. “
“When was this?” His voice was quiet.
“Oh, not two weeks gone.”
“Where is he now?”
“Oh, on his farm.”
“His farm?”
“Oh, yes, things have moved here an’ all, you know. We may be in the country but we
don’t stand still.”
“Mary Ellen:
“And don’t Mary Ellen me like that.” She rose to her feet, but he remained seated.
“Well, keep your tongue-cutting down for the time I’m here; at least, let us be civil.”
“Oh aye, we can be civil. And you say for the time you’re here. You’ve got no intention of staying then,
have you?” She knew he had none, but she had to say it.
“My work is in London.”
“Aye, and your fancy friends an’ all.”
“They are good friends.”
“No doubt. No doubt. “ She moved her head slowly.
“But what if you had something to take back to London with you?”
Now he, too, rose to his feet, saying, “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Just a minute and I’ll show you.”
As she went past the scullery towards the steps leading to the attic she glimpsed Hal
standing near the
outer door. How long he had been there she didn’t know, but it was obvious he had no
intention of
making his presence known: he had seen the trap outside and had guessed who the visitor was. She
went on as if she hadn’t seen him, mounted the ladder, picked up the basket in which the child lay, then
bumping it on to her hip, she slowly let herself through the hatch and descended into the room again.