Sarah Thornhill (6 page)

There was a crowd on the jetty now, Mary and Ma and Bub, all telling each other how long Will and Jack had been gone and how slow they was coming up the reach, and was the tide on the turn or would they have to get out the oars. On and on they went, and the boat not seeming to move.

Give us the glass, Pa, I said. So's I can see.

The eyepiece full of sky, then bush. I slanted down too fast, missed the boat. Tracked along those blue ripples and there was the old grey wood of
Emily
, and up on the bow, leaning forward as if to get to us quicker, there he was. Jack. Black hair glistening in the sun, beard so thick it hid most of his face. Looking straight at me. I waved and he waved back, even though I must of been nothing more than a shape with an arm coming out of it.

When
Emily
got up to us at last, Jack jumped across the last yard of water, didn't wait for them to tie the boat up. So light on his feet for such a big man. Landed next to me neat as a cat.

Well, he said. It's Sarah Thornhill, I do believe.

The same as I'd remembered, his eyes crinkled up with smiling.

Dolly Thornhill, stuck for words! That was a new one.

The speckled dog ran in circles with its tail going like a carpet-beater. Pa slapping Will's shoulders, Will slapping Pa's, the two of them shouting at each other.

Still want to marry me, Sarah Thornhill?
The humour of it was on Jack's face, he took a breath, his mouth started the words. But then he saw the new shape of me, changed his mind. The words hung between us.

It was nothing. A silence the length of a heartbeat, and Jack's eyes looking into mine. But it said
everything is different now
.

When the others walked up to the house the two of us hung back. We'd walked up that track together a hundred times but I'd never had to think before how you walked beside someone. How much space did you leave between you? Did you touch them as you walked, did your hand brush against theirs as it swung backwards and forwards, and how did you breathe?

Pa stoked up the fire in the parlour and splashed out his best madeira into the good glasses. His hand shaking, he was that pleased to see Will back. Anne brought in cake but Pa said, none of that stuff, Anne, these fellers need some of that meat from last night. Pickle with it and plenty on the plate, mind!

I made sure I ended up next to Jack on the sofa. Took a leaf out of Sophia's book, working it that way as we come into the room, but making it look like chance.

Pa wanted to know everything. How many storms and how many skins, was the first mate any good and did they give you enough victuals. Couldn't get enough of their tales of hardship, sitting in his cosy parlour with his rich acres round him.

An ember flew from the grate and I put out my foot to snuff it. New boots from Abercrombie's, buttons up the side, made my feet very small. Took my time with the ember and when I sat back I saw Jack was smiling to himself.

They'd had a dangerous time of it. Not enough seals, so they had to stay too long, past the good season, and the storms caught up with them. Went way down south, some island too far and too cold for anyone to live on. Took the risk rather than come home with the boat half empty.

Hard to find as a damn flea, Will said. Wasn't it Jack?

But Jack was smiling at the fire, and I was the only one who knew why he wasn't listening, because my hip was jammed up tight against his and where we touched something was running from his body into mine and from mine into his.

Wake up, Jack! Will said. Good living sending you to sleep!

So you find it? Bub said. Or what?

Found it right enough, Jack said. And these fellers on it, been there three years. Left behind to get the seals, some bugger of a captain forgot to come back for them.

Three years, I said. They'd be dead!

Well and they near was, Jack said. Ever think what a seal might taste like, Sarah Thornhill?

His face very close, I could see how the hairs of his beard sprang away from his red lips.

What does it, Jack, I said. Taste like.

He was watching my mouth, my eyes. His were flecked, green and brown. The eyelashes very black.

Bloody awful! Will shouted from across the room. Rank like fish, that right Jack?

So these fellers, Pa said. No boat to get away?

That's right, Mr Thornhill, Jack said. No boat, so it was make one or stop there till they died. A few trees on this place, but no saw with them, only an axe.

What, cut the tree down, chip it away to a plank! I said. One plank out of a whole tree!

You're a quick study, Sarah Thornhill, Jack said. That's it. One tree, one plank.

God in heaven save us, Pa said.

How many they done when you got there, I said. How far off a boat?

Eight done, Jack said. Long ways off a boat. By God they was pleased to see us.

Kissed us, Will said. Bloody kissed us!

Pooh! Bub said. What, on the mouth?

Get away with you, lad, Pa said. They never.

Reckon you'd find it in yourself, Sarah Thornhill, Jack asked me under everyone laughing. Set in to cut that first tree?

I would, I said. Got a stubborn streak, Jack, and not as dainty as you might think. What I want, I don't stop till I got it.

J
ACK ALWAYS
sang for his supper when he was with us. Carried in wood for the parlour till the box was full, always the one to tend the fire till it blazed up bright. Got out the yard broom, had the verandah and the front steps swept before anyone was up.

That first morning he was back I woke up early. Lay for a moment, then I remembered. Jack's home! Got dressed and went downstairs where Mrs Devlin was in the kitchen, saw Jack in the yard splitting kindling. The hatchet never missing, the wood falling away clean from the blade. His body moving so smooth and easy, him and the wood and the hatchet like a dance.

Well, it's Sarah Thornhill, he said. Bright as a bird.

How did I pass those months without him? Now he was here, it felt like I'd been half dead.

Come to stack for me, have you, he said. Just mind them splinters. Them soft fingers of yours.

Our valley was that deep, the sun came into it late. Gold on the hills all round before it reached down to us. A lovely time. That soft light, and knowing the sun would soon shine warm on you. Me and Jack. Nothing said because nothing needed to be.

Then Ma was bustling out from the house.

Jack, leave that, she said. And Dolly, look at you all over splinters!

Happy to do it, Mrs Thornhill, Jack said. You and Mr Thornhill good to me, least I can do.

Well, Jack, she said. Glad you're not a cadger like some. But we got the boy to do the firewood, rather you left it to him.

All right Mrs Thornhill, he said.

Ma went back into the house. The kitchen door banged behind her.

Why's she cranky? I said. Always nagging how there's no kindling.

Won't be beholden to me, Jack said. Doesn't want to have to say thank you. Her way of telling me she don't want me here.

Some of us do, I said. Want you here every minute of every day.

We might of gone on smiling at each other all morning, except for Mrs Devlin calling out the window for Jack to bring her some kindling.

He took an armload in, dropped it in the basket.

Do the knives for you, he said. Mrs Thornhill told me she likes a good sharp knife.

It was true Ma liked a sharp knife, but far as I knew she'd never said so to Jack. Mrs Devlin didn't argue, got the knives out of the drawer and found the whetstone and the oil. I followed him through the house to the verandah.

Can't get her one way I'll get her the other, he said. Want to hear her say it, thank you Jack.

He sat on Pa's bench, the whetstone on his knee, a bit of rag underneath to save his trousers, dripped the oil on the stone. Picked up one of the knives, an old one with the point broken off.

Wouldn't cut butter, he said. No one in this house got any idea of putting an edge on a blade.

Smoothed the knife against the stone, turning his hand one way, then the other. That sweet stropping sound.

Pa come out with his pipe and a drink of tea, sat watching.

Your mother fetched that out from London when we come, he said. In her bundle. Little enough we had by then, but you had to have a knife. Got it off a man in End Lane, broken like that when we got it, but your mother said, it'll see us out, and here it is, on the other side of the world, still good.

Sat watching Jack's hands, back in End Lane, in that past he never talked about.

I see that knife, I think about the bit broke off, he said. Out there somewhere in this wide world. Nothing ever gone, just you got to know where to look.

He drank down his tea and picked up the telescope, the end of it tracing the shape of his watching. Jack winked at me, turned the wink into the kind of one-eyed squint that was Pa with the telescope. No one but Jack would laugh at Pa, even behind his back.

A boat was sliding up the river. Sail up, man with a blue cap on the stern.

There's Dick, Pa said. There he goes.

Hundreds of Dicks in the world. Still, I asked.

Dick who, Pa? I said.

Seemed he didn't hear. The man in the cap leaned on the steering-oar and the boat swung round to where the First Branch joined the river.

Going up to Blackwood's, Pa said. Away aways up. Ever been up the Branch, Jack?

Watching where the boat had gone, as if it might come back.

Never had reason to, Jack said. Was that Dick Blackwood, Mr Thornhill?

Pa glanced at him, blue eyes like chips of glass.

That's what they call him, lad, he said. Dick Blackwood.

Gave the name a scornful weight.

What they call him, he said. But not who he is.

Then he was gone, down the steps and out the gate towards the river as if he couldn't sit still.

Who's Dick Blackwood? I said.

Lives up the Branch, Jack said. Got a still, cooks up brew. Pa gets it off him. That raw it'll strip the lining out of your guts.

Got a brother Dick, I said. Wonder is that him.

No one ever looked at me as straight as Jack or listened so well.

Dick Blackwood your brother, he said. Think so?

Mightn't be, I said. Only, you know, the name.

Jack picked up another knife and stroked the steel against the stone, this way, that way.

Will told me, I said. Some kind of bust-up with Pa, this brother sent off. Name of Dick, see.

Never heard anyone say Dick Blackwood might be a Thornhill, Jack said. Then again, he's a feller keeps himself to himself.

Thought you'd laugh at me, I said. You know, what a silly idea.

Never that, Sarah Thornhill, he said. Never laugh at you.

Touched his thumb to the blade, laid it with the others.

Only I'd like to know, I said. One way or the other.

Now look, he said. There's plenty of mights and might-nots in this world. Leave them alone till they come out and bite you. That's my view, Sarah Thornhill. For what it's worth.

He gathered the knives, stood up.

We get these back in the drawer, he said. Want to see her face when she does the bacon.

So I let it go. But knew there'd be a chance, one of these days. Find out one way or the other.

We stood innocent as the dawn when Ma started on the bacon. She made the first slice, stopped and looked at the knife, turned with it in her hand.

You done this, Jack, she said. Sharpened this?

Yes, Mrs Thornhill, Jack said.

She cut another slice. The meat fell away from the knife so thin you could see through it.

Well I'll say this for you, Jack, Ma said. You do know how to put an edge on a blade.

Yes, Mrs Thornhill, Jack said.

Meek as meek, but when she turned away he gave me a grin like a tiger.

That afternoon Langlands paid a visit. No one else, and Ma most particular for Will to put on his good new coat. No seven-guinea coat from Deane's for Jack, just his blue shirt and a bandana at his neck, his black hair combed through with water. But to my eyes, the handsomest man in the world.

I missed my moment to get him beside me on the sofa again, and he went to sit on a chair where Mrs Langland had her shawl. Picked it up to give it to her, somehow got his fingernail caught in it and pulled a thread. My word, the way Mrs Langland carried on. He stood with the bit of fluff in his fingers, head bowed under her scolding. The shame came off him like heat.

That's ruined now, Sophia said. No putting that right.

Yes there is, Mary said. Give it here, Jack. I'll have it fixed, never see where I done it.

Mrs Langland wasn't sure she wanted to trust anyone with her precious kashmir, but Mary took it out of Jack's hand, picked the thread off where it was caught in his nail, went away to the sewing room. I thought, if she makes it worse, Jack will be the one pays.

But I could see by her bounce when she come back in that she'd fixed it. Mrs Langland looked and Ma looked but blessed if they could see the mend. Sophia took the shawl over to the lamp, pored over every inch.