‘And who would want a broken shaft, I ask you, as broken up as that is? Look.’
She saw the tall figure grab the piece of shaft from the boy’s arms and dash it to the ground, where it splintered, again into two pieces, and, his voice high, he cried at the boy. ‘We want nothin’ belonging to them, rotten shafts or anything else. Haven’t I told you?’
As Kirsten watched him stoop down now and grab up the longer and thicker part of the shaft and hurl it towards the middle of the river, she clapped her hands over her mouth and held them there as she watched it twisting through the air like a boomerang. But unlike a boomerang, it did not return to the thrower. It struck the water; but it did not entirely submerge, nor did it topple over, and she stared as the two figures on the farther bank stared at the yellow piece of wood sticking up slantwise from the middle of the river. She knew what had happened, the jagged end of the shaft had become caught between two rocks; the whole river at this point was rock-strewn and likely now whatever had been in that secret pocket would be splayed over the rocks, then gradually washed down into the silt.
‘Aw, our Colum, aw man. I could have made something of it.’ The boy’s voice was tear-filled.
She watched him now grasp the other piece of the shaft and hold it tightly to him and the tall figure bend over him, again demanding, ‘Give it here! I’ve told you we want nothin’ belonging to them.’
‘Aw, Colum man, it’s bonny. Look, it’s got painting on it.’ The narrow dark head moved downwards and the voice, full of appeal now, came to her saying, ‘Let’s keep it, Colum man, let’s keep it.’
She had her foot tentatively on the first stepping stone when she called, ‘Please let him have it…it doesn’t belong to the house, it…it was part of the cart I came in.’
Mr Flynn was looking at her, as was the boy now, from across the water, and as if she were pleading for a toy for one of Ma Bradley’s bairns she called, ‘In a way it’s…it’s mine, it’s…it’s the last of the cart, so you can let him keep it.’
He was on the stepping stones now coming towards her and he didn’t speak until he reached the last stone but one, and then he said, ‘It’s good of you, but…but what lands on their bank is theirs, it’s the rule of the river. It might just be dead cattle, or somethin’ worthwhile, but if it turns up on your part then you’ve got a bad find or a good find. It’s the custom.’
She paused before she said, ‘It’s of no value, it’s just the piece of a cart shaft.’
He was looking down into her face and his own softened a little as he said, ‘Aye, I suppose you’re right.’ Then turning his head towards the far bank he shouted, ‘You’ve got your way; the lass here has spoke for you.’
Kirsten looked towards the thin dark boy, and when he smiled and waved at her she smiled and waved back.
Colum now said, ‘I haven’t seen you around for some time, have they kept you tied up?’
‘No, no.’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘But I’ve not been down to the river.’
‘Is it your time off again?’
‘Aye. Yes.’
‘And you didn’t want to go to the fair?’
‘The fair! Oh no! No!’ Her face was straight now. She never wanted to see another fair as long as she lived. She had seen all the fairs she wanted to see with Hop Fuller, when he would bring people to the back of the cart and make her put her hands on them to kill bad luck that might befall them because her eye had looked on them.
‘We never go to the fairs either,’ he said conversationally, ‘except to sell the mats and things. But there won’t be much trade done the day, just drinkin’…and—’ He stopped himself from adding ‘whoring’ and supplemented ‘jollification’.
‘What’s up there! What’s up there!’ She looked towards the hill from where the voice came and saw a fat woman scrambling down a path between the low scrub, and Colum Flynn shouted at her, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right.’
When the fat woman came panting onto the far bank she did not speak immediately but looked across towards Kirsten; then shouting, she said, ‘All right, you say? All right, but what made you go off like a devil in a gale of wind? What’s he done?’ She was now looking at the boy, who laughed up at her and pointed to the piece of yellow wood. She nodded at him, then looked again across the river and addressing Kirsten this time she called, ‘Hello there.’ And Kirsten called back, ‘Hello.’ She did not know whether she should have added ‘mam’ or ‘missis’.
‘How are you?’ The fat woman’s head was nodding towards her, and she answered, ‘Nicely, thanks.’
‘You’re the young body that Colum there brought up out of the water, are you?’
‘Yes, yes, I am.’ She glanced at Colum and they exchanged a smile. Then the fat woman was calling, ‘Come on across with you then. Come on across for a minute.’
She looked at Colum and he said, ‘Aye, why don’t you? Come on across.’ He held out his hand to her but she hesitated and murmured, ‘I’m only allowed two hours.’
‘Well how long have you been out now?’ he asked.
She looked up at the sky to where the sun indicated between two and three o’clock and she said. ‘About half an hour I should say. And then not that. No, twenty minutes.’ And he laughed as he said, ‘Oh, you’ve enough time to get from here to John O’Groats and back. Catch hold of the rope.’ Then stepping sidewards he took her hand and guided her gently over the slippery stones, talking as he did so. ‘It’s all right,’ he said; ‘just plant your feet dead centre and if you slip I’ve got you. You’re all right. You’re all right.’
She could feel the stones slithering away under her feet and when she reached the middle of the river a suffocating feeling enveloped her as if she were again fighting for her life as she swirled round on the shaft. And there was the remains of the shaft sticking up out of the water not more than five yards from the stones, but it might as well be five miles for she’d never be able to go in and retrieve it; she was afraid of the river…
‘There you are.’ She was at the other side and standing facing the fat woman, and her first impression was that here was a happy woman. All fat people were happy, so they said, but this was a definitely kindly body for she put out a hand and caught hers as she looked into her face, and then she said, ‘Eeh, by! You’re a bonny piece, you are that. Aye, you’re still a bonny piece.’ She did not qualify it by adding ‘in spite of…’ but went on, ‘Will you come up to the house and have a sup tea? By the way, me name’s Dorry, nobody’s thought to mention it.’ She cast a laughing glance up to Colum as she finished. ‘What about it now?’
Kirsten glanced from the lean young man to the small boy, and waited for the response, especially that of Mr Flynn, and he looked at her and said, ‘Why not now, why not! It’s a holiday an’ all, an’ a special one as it’s her birthday.’ He nodded towards the fat woman.
Kirsten now smiled at the woman and said, ‘Oh may it come again!’
‘Thank you, lass. Thank you.’ Dorry beamed on her as if she had received a present, then added, ‘Let’s away then!’ But as they made to move off up the bank she swung round and, looking at the river, said. ‘What’s that I saw you throwin’? And what was the schemozzle about?’
‘Oh, it was him.’ Colum thrust his hand back towards his brother. ‘He went over and into the park and took the piece of shaft he’d had his eye on. It just wanted them to catch him at it and they would have had him up afore the justice like knife. He’s a fool.’ He pushed his brother on the head. Then stepping quickly sideways he picked up the remains of the shaft that the boy had laid on the ground and was about to hurl it into the river again when Barney groaned, ‘Aw, no, our Colum. Aw, no! You said I could keep it…you said…’ And Kirsten added her protest to the boy’s, saying quickly, ‘It wasn’t theirs; as I said, it’s part of the cart I…I came on.’
‘Aw well; there now’—Dorry’s voice was high—‘it was your husband’s, so the boy can have it?’ She laid the flat of her hand on
Colum’s arm and pushed at him; at the same time Barney scooted off to the water’s edge crying excitedly now, ‘An’ can I get the other piece, do you think, Colum? Can I get it?’
Within seconds he was swung round by his brother’s grip on his collar and pushed roughly towards the hill with Colum shouting at him now. ‘Let me catch you goin’ in there and I’ll have your hide meself; you know there’s drops atween those stones you’d never get out of.’
‘Aw, our Colum’—the boy wriggled free—‘it must be solid there ’cos it’s stuck.’
‘Aye, it’s stuck, that’s plain, and in a cleft likely; but I’ve told you afore, there’s a big drop atween the stones just there an’ the current would suck you down quicker’n you could scoot down a drainpipe. Now I’m warnin’ you, don’t you dare go in after it, not in that part. What’s the matter with your brains, are they addled? Don’t you remember Paddy and how he went?’
The boy now hung his head and Dorry put out her arm to encircle him and they walked on ahead, while Colum, his face sober now, turned to Kirsten, muttering below his breath, ‘Paddy was our dog, a fine wee beast. He could swim like an otter, but nevertheless he got sucked under like a straw just about there. The river’s treacherous. You shouldn’t trust an inch of it.’ She glanced at him silently. He was a strange fella, she thought, kindly, and laughing one minute but almost ferocious the next.
Before reaching the top of the hill the two in front had disappeared from sight, but when she stepped over the brow onto flat land she saw them going through a gap in a stone wall, and she heard the fat woman shouting, ‘’Lizabeth! ’Lizabeth! Come see. Come see.’
On that first visit Kirsten did not take in much of the strange arrangement of buildings within the walled circle, she was conscious only at first of a tall woman coming to the door of the end house, of her straightening her apron and walking towards them; then of Elizabeth Flynn looking at her and nodding her head all the while as the woman called Dorry gave her an elaborate description of the meeting, including the ownership of the cart shaft.
‘Come in,’ said Elizabeth quietly; ‘you’re welcome.’ And Kirsten stepped into the Abode, through the storeroom and into the kitchen. When she had taken the seat that was offered she looked shyly about her, first at two small girls who had come running in from another room, and a small boy, not unlike Johnnie away back at Ma Bradley’s; then lastly at the father, the thin, short man bearing no resemblance to his eldest son.
They on their part had no shyness about them, they all talked at once; except perhaps the younger girl, who stood by the end of the table and stared at her until she put out her hand and touched her, then the child grabbed it and, her head bowed, came and stood close by her side; at which the whole family burst out laughing, except the mother. She did not laugh noisily, she just smiled, and Kirsten noticed she did not talk as freely as the others.
‘Look! A currant stottie cake. ’Lizabeth made it for me birthday.’ Dorry had brought to the table a dough cake measuring about eighteen inches across showing currants around its side, and sugar burnt to a black treacle here and there on the top. ‘Isn’t that a picture? We’ll have it now, ’Lizabeth, instead of later the night, eh, ’cos it’s an event. It’s not only me birthday, we’ve got a caller.’
‘Of course.’ Elizabeth took a knife and began to cut the dough cake into large chunks; afterwards she poured mugs of black-brown tea from a massive teapot. But no-one lifted their mug until she herself had sat down at the bottom of the table, when she passed one to Kirsten together with an earthenware bowl of sugar, saying, ‘Will you help yourself? Some like it sweeter than others.’
As Kirsten put two spoonfuls of sugar into the tea she thought, They can’t be poor to have a big basinful of sugar like this. For years she had been used to black tea, when she got any at all, but during these last few weeks she had also got used to having milk with it. Now when she sipped the scalding liquid it tasted bitter to her tongue, but nevertheless she smiled at the tall woman and said, ‘It’s lovely, refreshing,’ and as if her voice had cut off all sound the room became quiet, no-one spoke, but they all sat looking at her, Dan Flynn, Colum, Elizabeth; eight pairs of eyes were on her now as if waiting for her to say something, to declare something.
The silence was making her eye twitch when Elizabeth asked quietly, ‘Do you like it over there?’
‘Oh aye, yes.’
‘Are they good to you?’ It was Dorry now asking the question, and again she said, ‘Oh aye, yes,’ then added ‘very good.’
‘An’ the child?’
Now she turned towards the father who had asked the question, and her right eye flickered before she said, ‘He’s bonny, thrivin’ an’ bonny.’
‘They must all be very happy.’ It was Elizabeth speaking again, and she nodded at her, then made a simple statement, ‘The master’s over the moon.’ And it was this that brought Colum up from the table and turned the eyes of the family onto him as he walked to the hob and took up the teapot; and they kept their eyes on him as he returned to the table and topped up his mug that wasn’t one third empty.
Now Sharon spoke for the first time, ‘Our Colum,’ she said, ‘saved you from the river, didn’t he?’
‘Yes.’ Kirsten looked shyly towards Colum, then repeated, ‘Yes, I wouldn’t be here this minute but for him.’
‘He’s a hero.’ Dan Flynn reached out and slapped his son on the back. ‘There should have been a parade through Newcastle for him, headed by the drum an’ fife band, what do you say?’
‘Aw, Da, give over will you?’ Colum’s voice was harsh and his face red, and not only his face but his neck. ‘She’s…she’s only got a limited time,’ he said thickly; ‘she’s got to get back.’ He nodded across the table towards Kirsten. Then looking at her, he asked, ‘Will we show you round? Would you like to see the place afore you go down the hill?’
Before Kirsten could reply Dorry put in, ‘Who’s she, the cat’s mother?’ And looking at Kirsten she asked, ‘What’s your name, girl?’
‘Kirsten. Kirsten MacGregor.’
‘Kirsten? Now that’s an odd name; but MacGregor sounds Scotch, are you Scotch?’
‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘I suppose so.’
‘We’re Irish.’ It was Barney’s thin pipe and they all turned on him, those nearest him pushing at him with their hands, and Dorry shouting across the table at him, ‘A deaf mute on a blind horse galloping to hell would know that, they haven’t even got to hear us, they’ve just got to look at us.’
In the laughter that ensued, Elizabeth Flynn rose from the table and looking down at Kirsten, said, ‘Come and look round the Abode?’ and Kirsten got quickly to her feet, saying, ‘Oh thanks…ma’am…missis.’
Again there was laughter from the children, but smothered this time.
‘My name is Elizabeth.’ Elizabeth’s voice was soft. ‘I’ll be pleased if you’ll call me such.’
Kirsten could not answer, she just inclined her head; then she looked about her again from one to the other; their eyes were still on her.
This was a kind family, a happy family, she could feel the happiness, she could see it, it was as evident to the eyes as a piece of fine cloth; and her feelings could touch it, for like a garment it seemed to be enveloping her. She found herself wanting to laugh with them, to leave her mouth wide and uncontrolled, not to be on the alert and have to compose her face and mind her manner.
‘We’ll start with the workroom, shall we?’ No-one answered Elizabeth, but they all ranged up behind her, pressing Kirsten to the fore and to Elizabeth’s side. They moved, one after the other, through a doorway at the far end of the room and into what seemed a complete cottage. The in-between walls here had been taken down and to Kirsten’s eyes the place looked filled with a jumble of dead bundled straw, great strings of teaseled fibre, hooked frames, and odd ropes.
‘The work’s done in here in the summer when it’s wet, in the winter we gather round the fire.’ She motioned her head back
to the kitchen. The procession moved down through the jumble and through another door into the room where Colum had stacked his baskets; then back they all walked and into the kitchen again, through the little storeroom and to a door opposite and into what had been another cottage. At the far end of the room leading straight up, was a steep flight of stairs. One after the other they climbed them; then they were all crowded on a landing with two rooms going off it. The one she was led into held a finely polished, sturdy wooden bed, an equally highly polished chest of drawers, and a court cupboard, older in looks than the house itself for woodworm had mushed the legs away in various places. Elizabeth led her towards the window of this room and, pointing said, ‘There. Look there.’
Kirsten looked and saw the river at the bottom of the hill, and beyond it the parkland, and distinctly now the stone wall eating into it. And the wall she thought didn’t look right over on that side, it looked out of place. Far beyond it, at the top of the valley she could see the Priory.
Dan was standing by her side and he said, ‘Isn’t that a view? It never ceases to fill me with wonder; I feel I’m in heaven looking downwards.’ He laughed. ‘But Colum there’—he jerked his head upwards—‘his is a better view still. Go on, take her up top, Colum.’ And at this they all went out of the room and onto the landing to where a ladder was pinned to the wall.
Colum turned to her now and asked, ‘Do you want to go up?’ and she answered, ‘Yes I’d like to see it, the view, if it’s no trouble,’ she added for she felt there was need in a way to placate him.
Colum went up the ladder first and as she mounted it, her skirt pulled tightly around her, Dorry said to the children, ‘No, you don’t. You lot of galoots stay where you are.’
She pulled herself up into the room and to her feet by the help of Colum’s hand, and he said on a laugh now, ‘It’s hardly worth standin’ up, I brain meself almost every day. You’ve practically got to crawl to the window. But come; look, the journey’s worth it, what d’you think?’
The Slow Awakening Page 13