She had opened the doors and windows to let the air sweep out the smell of death. There had been many visitors during the day, both men and women. They had stood by the bed looking down on the face that had already changed colour and was in sharp contrast with the white linen rag strapped underneath the chin and around the head.
The doctor, too, had called, and he had spoken so kindly of the woman who had seemingly not had a good word for him. ‘She was clever,’ he had said; ‘in her own way she was a very clever woman.’ Then he had sniffed as he walked down the room, saying now, ‘She’ll have to be boxed and buried as soon as possible. You’d do well to leave the doors open during the day while the weather’s fine. But a couple of nights closed up…well’—he spread out his hands—‘the smell would get worse. Have you instructed the carpenter?’
‘Yes, yes. Hal’s seen to it.’
‘Amazing fella that.’ He had shaken his head. ‘I never expected to hear him breathe again. Did you?’
‘No, no, I didn’t, but I hoped.’
As he went out of the cottage he turned and said to her, ‘There’s a rumour going around that the Bannamans have flown. They were living in a house outside Corbridge and the last that was heard of them was they had taken a coach southwards.’
‘Well, as long as they have gone, that’s all that matters I think. Although I feel they should be brought to justice.’
‘You’re not the only one who feels that. And it could come about yet. Goodbye, Mary Ellen.’
‘Goodbye, doctor,’ she said. ‘And thank you.’…
Hal had left about noon for the farm and he did not return until it was nearly dark.
‘How are you?’ he said.
‘I’m all right. How are you?’
He pressed his lips tight for a moment while shaking his head; then he said, ‘I’m mad about the latest news.’
‘You mean about the Bannamans leavin’?’
‘Oh, I knew about them leavin’ days ago, but it’s just been discovered they’ve taken a boat to America.’
‘No!’
‘Aye. Her and her mother and her brother, goin’ to the mother’s cousin or somebody out there.’
‘Can the justices not do anything now?’
‘I…I don’t think they’ll bother. If I had died, aye, perhaps; but, as the constable who brought me the news said this mornin’, I’m on me pins and as good as ever I was—that’s all he knows—so I don’t think they’ll take any further steps. But oh, by God!’—he ground his teeth together and thumped one fist into the palm of the other—‘I would just like to come face to face with that one just once more. You know’—he turned and looked at her—‘I never believed in devils, or heaven and hell afore, but now I believe in both devils and hell, because she’s a devil an’ she put me through hell. Heaven? Well, I won’t know anythin’ about that, I don’t think, ever. But the other two, aye. Oh aye.’ He stopped now and looked up towards the bed, saying, ‘I saw Bill Powell on me way here. He’s had a word with the doctor. He’s boxing her in the mornin’. The doctor thinks she should be buried the morrow or the next day at the latest. ’Cos you can’t stand this.’ His nose wrinkled.
‘It isn’t so bad when I’m upstairs,’ she said.
‘No, but it is when I’m down here.’
She stared at him. ‘But…but you’re goin’ home.’
‘No, I’m not, I’m not leavin’ you with that; she’s not Kate any more. Kate’s gone wherever good people like Kate go to. But what’s left, that’s somethin’ else.’
‘Hal’—her voice was low—‘you’d better not stay. I’ll…I’ll be all right. I’ll be quite all right. I’d…I’d rather you went.’
‘Oh aye. Mrs Patterson been here? Of course she has. Oh, Mary Ellen, don’t worry your head. I know what they’re sayin’ and you know what they’re sayin’. Well, let them say. When they’re talkin’ about us they’re givin’ somebody else a rest, eh? Now, I don’t like eating in here; let’s go in the scullery. And bring the bairn. Oh, and of course’—he nodded down to the dog—‘you go without sayin’, don’t you, old fellow?’ He patted the animal’s head, then pressed it against his knee for a moment.
The act of affection made Mary Ellen blink her eyelids and say, ‘’Tis a pity he can’t speak, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, I don’t know so much about that. He’s got a language all his own and it’s very understandable. Haven’t you, old boy?’ He again patted the dog’s head, then said, ‘Well come on, let’s get movin’. I’m hungry, and Annie’s made a nice pie. Oh, by the way’—he chuckled now—‘you’ll never believe this, but I had a visit from her father this afternoon. You know what he asked me?’
They were in the scullery now standing one each side of the small table set against the wall opposite the stone sink. And now there was a rumble in his stomach and his head moved from side to side before he added, ‘He wanted to know what my intentions were towards his daughter. He’s barmy, quite barmy. No wonder the lasses are odd and his wife scared out of her wits. He talked of recompense. Did you ever hear anything like it? Recompense! He said he’d be losing a good worker. He said she was as good as a right-hand man.’
His shoulders were shaking when she asked, ‘What did you say to him?’
‘I told him to get the hell out of it, but that if Annie wanted to come and work for me she was welcome, and that I’d take her on me payroll. Me payroll!’ He snorted: ‘One ten-year-old and Boyo here, me payroll. But I was so bloody wild I told him some home truths: I told him he was an old fellow and he would soon kick the bucket, but his daughters and his wife weren’t half his age, and when he went, just think of what they’d do with that farm. And if I could advise them, I’d tell them to sell up the damn lot and give themselves the time of their lives. You know, I thought he was gona have a seizure on the spot. But he never said another word an’ off he went. But did you ever?’—he brought his head forward towards her—‘Annie and me! Seriously, Annie and me.’
She stared at him, saying quietly, ‘You could do worse, I suppose.’
‘Aye.’ He stared back at her. ‘Aye, you’re right. I could do much worse, and I could do better, much better. But there—’ He turned to the table and unwrapped the pie, saying finally, ‘But you can’t have all you want in life. The quicker you learn that, the easier life will be. Aye, the easier it’ll be.’
Twenty-three
They had to bury Kate on the Monday. Those men not on their shift attended the funeral, and others whose pains she had alleviated over the years came too, and the women from the surrounding cottages followed the cart carrying the plain coffin on which were small bunches of late primroses, cowslips and bluebells.
Hal walked alongside Mary Ellen, behind the cart, which provided food for comment later in the inn. He should have walked with the men, it was said, or she with the women.
It was a long walk into Haydon Bridge, but the day was bright, even warm. And after the coffin had been laid in the waiting grave most of the mourners turned away, leaving only Hal and Mary Ellen and the doctor who had joined the cortège at the cemetery gate.
The three stood until the gravediggers had finished their work; then Mary Ellen placed the flowers in a row down the mound. Her face was twitching as she turned away and joined Hal, who walked stiffly with his head bent. At the gate Mary Ellen said goodbye to the doctor and thanked him for all his attention; then she paid the carter who was still waiting, and her eyes travelled to the group of men standing to one side of the road and the group of women at the other; and she looked at Hal enquiringly and he said, ‘I’ll take the men for a drink, you go along with the women. Annie will have got the table ready.’
Without further words they moved away from each other and she joined the women. 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 country 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, 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 recognised 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.’
Twenty-four
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 bairn?’
‘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 poss-tub outside the wash-house and brought pan after pan of hot water from the fire to half fill it. She had put a scoopful of soda into it and now she was sossing 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 recognise 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 pan of water was bubbling and at the other a small pan holding the porridge which occasionally gave off lazy little blurps 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 Main’s 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 hand—‘here I am, and too late.’
A Dinner of Herbs (The Bannaman Legacy) Page 33