‘I’m not hungry, lad.’
‘Hungry or not, you want somethin’. Will I do you some gruel?’
‘Aye, that would be nice, and for her an’ all.’
He made a pot of gruel and divided it in two bowls, and having put each on a wooden platter together with a spoon, he gave one to Kate before mounting the steep ladder, balancing the other wooden platter on one hand, conscious as he did so of this being the first time he had been up here.
From the glimmer in the room below he could just make out the huddled form lying on the plank bed. Slowly now, he made his way on his knees towards her. Then placing the platter on the floor, he tentatively put out his hand and touched her shoulder.
She did not respond immediately; and so he shook her gently, and then she gave a great start and a gasp and he said quickly, ‘’Tis all right. ’Tis all right. I’ve brought you something hot.’
‘Ho…t?’ She pulled the cover up under her chin, and he said, ‘Sit up and get this gruel.’
‘Gruel?’
‘You haven’t gone deaf, have you? That’s what I said.’
She blinked, then slowly turned onto her back, saying, ‘I…I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Aye, you did. Get this into you. It’ll do you good.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Gettin’ on four I think. But in no time this gruel will turn solid. Come on, sit up.’
He watched her pulling herself upwards until she realised she had nothing on but her petticoat, when quickly she pulled the cover further up around her. And he made her more self-conscious of her action by turning on his knees and saying, ‘’Tis all right, I’m on me way down. It’s on the floor at your side there.’
His body was half through the hatchway when she said quietly, ‘Hal.’
‘Aye?’
‘Did Kate tell you?’
‘Aye, she told me.’
‘She…she shouldn’t have…Hal.’
‘Aye, what is it?’ Only his head was above the floor now.
‘Don’t do anything, will you?’
‘Not any more. ’Tis done.’
As he disappeared from her view she gasped and clutched her throat, than made to scramble from the bed, but checked herself. ’Tis done, he had said, and what was done was done and he had likely done it with his fists.
Slowly she leant over and picked up the platter, and, gratefully now, she drank the gruel from the bowl; and when it was empty, she lay back on the pillow and there came into her mind a thought: Would Roddy have gone after that man if he had been there? And the answer came: But if he had been there things would have been different; they would have been married.
It was after this that the feeling of illness came on her and she felt the child could be born any day. There was a pressure towards the bottom of her stomach and a nagging pain in her side, and overall she felt, as she put it, not right. There was also another worry in her mind, and it induced her to pay a visit in an effort to erase it.
On Christmas Eve, after talking it over with Kate, she made the journey to her father’s cottage. There had been a light fall of snow but nothing to impede her walking. And as she approached she saw the smoke rising from the chimney, and there was evidence that he had been out for wood because of the churned snow outside the door. She had knocked twice and, having received no answer, she now called softly, ‘Da. Open the door. Please open the door. ’Tis me.’ When she still received no reply she took her fist and banged hard on the wood and shouted, ‘I’ve got some things here for you; I’m not here to ask anything of you, I’m well settled. Just open the door. ’Tis Christmas.’
She waited. A gust of icy wind crept round her and she pulled her shawl tighter over her chest and shivered. The pain had started in her side again. She pressed her hand on it. Then, as she was about to turn away, his voice came muffled through the door, saying, ‘Get yourself away to where you came from. You know what I think. I don’t want to see your face.’
She had stood with her head buried deep on her chest for a moment, but she did not cry; instead, her teeth gritted against each other, and with an angry gesture she picked up the basket she had laid on the step and turned away.
Could that voice belong to her da? Was that the man who had loved her as a child? Yes, yes, it was one and the same, because he had been rigid in his rules even then.
Her feet were trailing when she entered the cottage, and Kate greeted her with, ‘It’s no more than I expected. I’m sorry I advised you to go.’
‘I would have gone in any case,’ she said.
‘He’s a pig-headed swine of a man. Well, you’ve done your duty, lass. He’ll be the one that suffers, not you. You need have nothing on your mind any more concerning him. Sit yourself down. There’s nothing more to do; everything’s ready for the morrow. You know, I thank God every day for Hal.’
Mary Ellen went to the fire and held her hands out to the blaze, thinking, yes, she too should thank God for Hal. But somehow he still got her goat. It was his offhand manner, she supposed; and the way he ridiculed most things and capped everything she said either with something funny or sarcastic. She could never sit at peace in his company. Yet, what would they have done without him these past months; and more so at this time? Yes, she wished she could see him as Kate did.
Christmas Day, it rained but everything was warm and cosy in the cottage. Kate, miraculously, was on her feet again, the pain in her stomach had seemed to ease. They had a good meal and they exchanged presents: socks and a muffler for Hal, a pound box of china tea for Kate, and a soft Shetland shawl for Mary Ellen. His gift had touched her greatly and she was warm in her thanks to him. Later, they sat round the fire and he even made her laugh spontaneously about his neighbour Farmer Gordon and his wife and three unmarried daughters, the latter all well into their thirties. He imitated the farmer’s voice shouting for them, demonstrating by standing up, his stomach thrust out, and yelling, ‘You A!…B! And C!’ and the women hastening to do his bidding. Apparently the eldest was called Annie, the second Bella, and the third Carrie. He said he had wanted ten of a family and he would name them after the alphabet; however, they stopped at three. And Hal said he treated them as he would a small squad of soldiers. His wife never spoke except with her thumb. Again he demonstrated, pointing his thumb to different corners of the room and ending, ‘I bet her thumb speaks in five different languages. It’s bent right back like this…and it wobbles.’
When Kate was able to get her breath again, she said, ‘There’s a slate loose there. There was in his father afore him. He came down from Scotland and he wore a skirt, kilt they called it, and he used to march around Hexham market on fair days, his bum swinging like two pigs’ bladders. And the women used to go into fits. But his slate wasn’t completely loose for he was a good farmer, at least when it came to bargaining. And this one is much the same I should say.’
The darkness had set in when Hal made a move to go to see to his cattle, and Mary Ellen went to open the door for him in order to let him out quickly because a high wind was blowing. She stood with the sneck in her hand for a moment and looked at him through the candlelight, saying, ‘Thanks, Hal. ’Tis been a grand day.’
His voice serious for once, he said, ‘It has that. I’ve enjoyed it. It’s the best Christmas I’ve had for a long time, in fact, ever.’ Then he became silent for a moment while he stared at her before asking, ‘You all right?’
Her lips parted twice before she admitted, ‘Not so good at times.’
‘Do you know exactly?’
‘Aye. It should be towards the end of January or early February. Kate says you never can be clear-cut with…with a first.’ Her voice trailed off.
It was the first time they had discussed the matter openly; and now he said, ‘Take care. Have you seen about a midwife?’
‘Mrs Patterson’s comin’ in from the mill cottages.’
‘Aye, well, she’s a sensible woman and has a squad of her own. Anyway,
I’ll be over every day.’
‘Thanks, Hal.’
‘You’re welcome. You’re welcome.’ His tone had returned to the one she recognised and she opened the door and he bent his head against the blast and went out.
After closing and bolting the door she stood for a moment drawing in gasps of air. She had said she would go to the end of the month. Would she have to suffer this pain in her side and this awful feeling till then? Yes, she supposed so. This was what carrying a child meant. But how did some women carry on till the last minute? All she really wanted to do now was lie down and not get up again. Oh—she moved from the door and shook her head impatiently—she mustn’t think like that. She mustn’t, she mustn’t; she had some weeks to go yet.
Eighteen
It was the second week in January and it had snowed for a full day and a night, thawed a little, then a frost had turned the slush into ice. On top of this there had been another heavy fall; and Hal told of roads blocked and horses in drifts, of the coaches being delayed and no hope of some of them getting through for days. Each time he came he would observe Mary Ellen anxiously, and once he said, ‘Do you think you’ll travel the time?’ in answer to which she could only shake her head.
During each visit he would stack plenty of wood and peat by the door and fill two buckets of water from the well, together with the same number of jugs. His usual time of arriving was late in the afternoon, and sometimes he had to light his lantern to get here.
On this particular day she had just got back into the cottage from emptying the slops when she heard him kick his feet against the wood pile. And when he came in he stood on the mat inside the door and shook himself free from the fresh falling snow.
‘You’re early,’ she said in surprise.
‘Aye. I thought it best. It’s been comin’ down steady for hours now an’ the sky’s low. It could go on all day and I mightn’t be able to make me way across later on, so, look, I’ve brought you extra milk and a cut of bacon. Now if anything should happen that I can’t get across in the morning, don’t worry, I’ll make it later somehow. They’re out cutting through the drifts now on the main road. It isn’t the bloomin snow, it’s where it drifts to. If only the wind would go down…How are you?’
She drew in a long shuddering breath before she said, ‘I…I’ve got to admit, Hal, I’m not feelin’ too good.’
‘Should I go and tell Mrs Patterson?’
‘No, I saw her yesterday. She knows.’
‘How is she?’ He nodded towards the bed.
‘She’s not well at all. Her chest’s bad. She can hardly speak this mornin’ and she’s got this pain in her stomach. She’s asleep now.’
‘Her potions no good?’
‘No, they don’t seem to answer.’
‘Funny’—he shook his head—‘she can ease other people’s pains but not her own. She should see a doctor. If I happen to come across him I’ll tell him to call in. But there again, there’s small chance of him gettin’ here at the moment. Look’—he moved nearer to her—‘I would stay, only…well—’ he gave a little smile and he wagged his head from side to side, ‘it’s funny in a way. Well, not funny, I didn’t mean it like that, but I’ve got a cow comin’ on to calf any minute an’ you know I’m new at the game. Although I saw Farmer Gordon bringing one through recently I got a sort of scared feeling in case anything should go wrong with her. She’s a nice old cow.’
His voice was soft, the look in his eyes warm. She had never seen that expression on his face before, and her voice, too, was soft as she replied, ‘Oh, you must go, Hal, and see to her. It will be wonderful to have a calf. But you know, you needn’t worry, they see to everything themselves, unless something goes radically wrong.’
‘You’ve seen them born?’ His face stretched slightly, then he added, ‘Oh, well, aye, you would on the farm.’
‘I’ve helped sometimes.’ Her voice was low.
‘You have? Aw, well, you’ll know all about it then. I wish you could come along and give me a hand.’ They exchanged smiles now, then she said, ‘It’ll be all right. But I always think it’s amazing they can stand on their legs after about an hour, after their mothers have cleaned them, an’ the mothers always look so pleased. I…I’ve always liked cows. They’re so sensible, at least most of them are, but you can get some that can be naggy and bad-tempered. One used to kick the bucket over every time she got a chance. Oh!’ She brought her jaws tightly together and put her hand on her side, which brought him closer to her, saying, ‘Starting?’
‘No, no.’ She lied with a grin. ‘He…it kicks.’
‘Oh.’ He pursed his lips, wagged his head in an embarrassed movement, then said, ‘Well, you’ll be all right then for a time?’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll be all right, Hal. I hope it’s another little cow for you.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind what it is as long as she gets it over. Well, I’ll be off. Now take care, won’t you? I’ll be back the day if I can, later, if it eases off. But in any case I’ll be over tomorrow, sometime or other, hail, rain or snow. Huh!’ He laughed. ‘Or snow, I said.’
She smiled at him, pulled open the door; he nodded at her, then he was gone.
Slowly now she made her way towards the table and sat down and, leaning her forearms on it, she muttered, ‘Oh, if only he could have stayed.’ Then bending her head lower still, she muttered ‘Oh dear God! What am I going to do if it should come afore time?’
A croak from the bed brought her slowly to her feet, and she went over to it. Kate was lying on the far side near the wall but her face was turned towards her, and in a cracked voice she asked, ‘That Hal?’
‘Yes. He came early, ’cos the roads are blocked here and there, but he’s comin’ back later. If he can see the doctor he’s gona tell him to call for you.’
‘Useless. Useless. I want no doctor. ’Tis you who wants a doctor. Rest, girl; lie yourself down here.’
‘I…I will in a minute, I’ve one or two things to see to.’
The one or two things to see to included tearing up a flannelette sheet into squares, carrying the water from the scullery and putting the pails to the side of the fireplace, trimming the candles, and lastly, putting some oats in a big black pan and pressing this into the ashes.
This done, she went to the bed and, pulling off her boots, she got under the top cover. Kate made no sound: she had been chewing on whole marigold leaves which must have eased her pain and put her to sleep.
Kate had been very reluctant about discussing the uses of the marigold: she had warned her only of the dangers of the African marigold, which, if eaten, could make you swell up like a balloon. But even the leaves of the ordinary marigold she never gave whole to anyone who called. She might sprinkle a little in with a mixture of other herbs to perfect a cure, yet she herself would chew on the dried whole leaves.
She, too, at this moment felt in need of whatever solace the leaves could give her. But she resisted the urge to lean over Kate and help herself, and slowly the pain eased and she dropped into a sleep.
When she awoke, the candles had guttered and there was a chill on the room. She sat up slowly, asking herself how long she had been asleep. There was still no movement from Kate.
Shuddering, she put her feet on the floor and went to the fire. It had burnt low. Lifting the lid of the pan, she saw that the oats had swollen and absorbed all of the water. She raised her eyes to the clock and couldn’t believe what she saw. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. She looked towards the window but could see nothing. The room seemed to be holding a great silence.
As she bent to reach out to pick up some wood to put on the fire, she was attacked by a pain that brought a cry from her. And the next minute she was kneeling on the mat, her head towards her knees, her arms hugging at herself and the sweat pouring from her.
This was it. This was surely it. When the pain eased she dropped onto her side and laid her arm on the settle and dropped her head onto it. After a moment she got onto her
knees and hastily banked up the fire; then pulling herself upwards, she went towards the window, and when she rubbed at the pane she could see nothing but a great white blur. Cautiously now, she opened the door and her face stretched at the sight of the barrier of snow three feet high. A gust of wind took the top off it and drove it into her face and into the room, and she banged the door closed and, leaning against it, stood gasping as she thought: He’ll never get through in this. Neither will Mrs Patterson.
When the pain seized her again she cried out against it. Then struggling to the bed, she shook Kate on the shoulder. ‘Kate! Kate! Wake up! I…I think it’s comin’, and Mrs Patterson, she won’t be able to get through. The snow’s nearly up to the latch outside and it’s still coming down. What am I goin’ to do Kate?’
‘Lie down. Lie down. If it comes, it comes, an’ come it will. Lie down. I…I can’t do anything for you, girl, but it will be all right. When did the pain start?’
‘Just a little while ago, and bad.’
‘Oh, that could go on for a day or more, two in fact. Don’t worry. There’s more to come. All you’ve got to do is hold your breath, grip on to something an’ push. It’ll come when it’s ready.’ Her voice trailed away and she turned her head into the pillow.
Mary Ellen sat on the edge of the bed, panic filling her. And now she began to whimper, ‘Oh, Ma. Ma.’ Oh, if she was only back at Mrs Davison’s. Or if Hal was here. Oh no, not Hal, not when she was havin’ the child. Not Hal. That would be too much, Roddy’s child comin’ into the world and Hal seein’ it. Oh no, no. She started to wag her head from side to side until a stern voice from within her commanded, Stop it! Stop it. Pull yourself together. Get things ready. The wash-basket from the scullery. Put a blanket and a sheet in it. Yes, yes. She nodded at herself as if the advice were coming from someone else.
A Dinner of Herbs (The Bannaman Legacy) Page 26