A Dinner of Herbs (The Bannaman Legacy)

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Ah, lass.’ He held her close, and after a moment he said, ‘Another thing that had me sick, I thought Kate would go off with him.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘You didn’t think so?’

  ‘No, it never crossed my mind. Anyway, if it had, I would have put it aside, knowing that Kate would never do anything to hurt us, and that certainly would.’

  ‘No.’ He nodded his head. ‘You’re right there.’

  Kate knew that her attitude towards her father during his long overdue visit was being discussed throughout the family, but John was the only one who had put a pointed question to her. ‘Did you like him, Kate?’ he had said. And the telling pause that preceded her answer was, in a way, as explanatory to him as it was to her, ‘Yes and no.’ To which he had said, ‘Well, you should know if you do or you don’t.’

  Yes, she supposed she should have been able to say precisely what her impression of the man was. Yet, wasn’t it asking something of oneself to be able to define a character after such a short acquaintance? One thing, though, she did know: if she hadn’t been so inwardly happy, she might have succumbed to the offer to visit him in France. And that, she knew, would have been looked upon, at least by her mother and father, as something of a betrayal. As it was now, her whole reaction to the man was ringed with pity, for his life, so successful on the surface, was barren underneath, and this she considered to be a dear price to pay for his fame.

  Altogether, his visit had disturbed her less than it had other members of the family because all the while she had been holding close to her heart the thought of Ben. And at this moment, all she wanted was to get on a horse and race across those moors and feel his arms holding her.

  Last night, it had not been her father’s visit that had troubled her dreams; but three times she had woken up and questioned if it could be true that the man who had come out of nowhere and who, she imagined, could have the choice of any girl he set his mind to, could he really love her? Was there not some catch in it somewhere? At one period she had lain awake thinking, There must be. This kind of thing doesn’t happen. In the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm there was always an ogre. Who could represent the ogre in her life?

  Her dad, Hal?

  Sitting up in bed at this thought, she had whispered to herself, ‘No, no.’ But her common sense had protested, ‘Yes, yes.’ Her dad was the ogre and he had to be overcome. But how? If Ben talked to him, would he listen to reason? She had lain back and dropped off to sleep, and this morning she had forgotten the answer she had given to herself…

  At the breakfast table the conversation was general, purposely so it appeared to Kate. Tom was saying, ‘Terry’s taking the sheep into Allendale this morning.’ He was looking at Gabriel, and Gabriel answered, ‘Well good Lord, there’s only a handful, he can manage those.’

  ‘’Tisn’t the sheep I’m thinking about,’ Tom said, ‘it’s the return journey, him coming straight back or winding his way into one of the inns. You know what happened a week gone.’

  ‘Funny that.’ They were all looking at their father now, and he chewed on a piece of bacon before saying with a smile, ‘You would say that Terry was the quietest fellow in the valley, yet put a couple of pints of small ale into him and what have you? A rip-roaring wrecker. ‘

  There were smiles all round the table now, and Gabriel said almost on a splutter, ‘I’ll never forget that day when they tried to put him into the stocks.’

  ‘Aye.’ Tom laughed now. ‘And you nearly went with him. You were hanging onto his coat-tails, and I had to pick you up and whack you.’

  ‘I hear they’re going to take the stocks down…’ Before Maggie could go on any further, Tom interrupted her: ‘Well, as long as they don’t do away with the ducking stool, I’ll be quite happy.’ And he grinned at Maggie as she tossed her head, saying, ‘Oh, you!’

  ‘Why are you sending the sheep in today?’ This was from Mary Ellen and she was looking at Hal now, and after another bite and a large swallow of bacon, he answered her: ‘Well, if you want the truth on the subject: as in the past, it’ll upset your delicate stomachs’—he glanced now at his daughters—‘there’s a crowdy main on the morrow, and you know what Terry is for cockfighting. His pay will drop like bolts of lightning down into the cockpit.’

  ‘I think it’s terrible. It should be stopped.’ Florrie was not given to airing opinions and she had all their attention now as she went on, ‘A cockfight is bad enough, two birds, but all those birds thrown into the hole and people joying in their dying. I think it’s awful. And you, our Tom, should be ashamed of yourself for…’

  ‘Now, now, hold your hand a minute.’ Tom was wagging his finger at her. ‘I’m not the only one in this household that likes a bit of sport.’

  ‘No, but you should have more sense.’

  ‘Why should I have more sense than the others?’ They were all laughing now at Tom’s stretched face. ‘Neither of them’—he glanced at his mother and father—‘had any wits to pass on, they had hardly enough to keep themselves going.’

  When the laughing uproar had subsided, Florrie, looking across at Kate and as if giving the final word on the subject, said, ‘And Kate can’t abide cockfighting. Can you, Kate?’

  And Kate, being now the focus of attention, her eyes bright, she said, ‘No, you’re right, Florrie. I can’t abide it, and I’ve thought of a way of putting a stop to it.’ And she nodded at her sister as if there was no-one else but themselves at the table; the rest of them waited, some of them even stopped eating, and after a moment she said, ‘Well, the remedy is for all like-minded women to get together and to dig a hole big enough to take the stocks, and there, one by one, place in them those lovers of cockfighting, and turn it into a real crowdy main by putting down some of the best fighters. Oh, I forgot to mention the important thing, I would plaster the gentlemen with honey then sprinkle on it plenty of wheat, of a good quality you know…’

  Somebody choked. It was Annie. Mary Ellen had to thump her on the back with one hand while still holding her side with the other, the tears of laughter running down her cheeks. After a moment it was John who said, ‘I believe you meant that, Kate.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes, I did, and if I could get a few others of like mind, I would do it.’

  They were all on their feet now, the girls clearing the table and still laughing. The men were laughing too, theirs more subdued and touched not a little with surprise. And it was Gabriel who spoke, saying, ‘You know, you sound quite bloodthirsty, Kate.’

  And she nodded at him, saying, ‘Does that surprise you? All females are bloodthirsty.’

  ‘Where did you get the idea, lass?’ There was a slight reprimand in Hal’s voice now. And Kate, looking at him fully in the face, said, ‘I don’t know, I must have inherited it. It is old as birth. I only know that where the female of the animals are concerned, they are more fierce than the male. It’s the protective instinct in them, I think.’ And with this she unbuttoned the cuffs of her long sleeves and, rolling them up to the elbow and casting a glance at her mother, she said quietly, ‘I’ll make a start,’ and she went out to the side door that led into the dairy, leaving Mary Ellen and Hal exchanging glances. It was in both their minds that Kate was trying to tell them something. But what?

  Maggie’s voice turned their attention from each other saying, ‘That comes from her high-falutin reading. It was bad enough before when she used to go to the bookshop, but since she’s got her American friend…’

  ‘Maggie!’ Mary Ellen’s voice was sharp, but Maggie came back at her mother, saying, ‘All right, Mam. I can open my mouth surely. She’s allowed to say what she likes, why not me?’

  ‘Margaret Roystan!’

  She swung round and looked at her father who was holding the latch of the door in his hand, and he said quietly but grimly, ‘Don’t go too far,’ and with that he went out. And Maggie, glaring at her mother and Annie who were standing together, said angrily, ‘That’s what I mean. You see, that’s what I mea
n. Things are changing here now, you can’t open your mouth before there’s a clamp put on it.’ And she scraped the last of the fat and bacon rind from a plate, scattering it over the wooden table, banged the plate down on top of the stack of others and, lifting them up, marched into the scullery, leaving Florrie with her head bowed, a cloth in her hand wiping up the mess, and Mary Ellen and Annie looking at each other, their thoughts needing no expression…

  A few minutes later Mary Ellen went into the dairy. She stood at one end of the stone slab, took a round of butter and put it under a press that left it engraved with a leaf; then pushing it to where there were a number of similar ones arranged in rows, she said, ‘If this heat keeps up, we’ll have to float these on the burn, or it’ll be oil we’ll be cartin’ to market the morrow. Anyway, it’ll be a nice day for a walk over to the little manor…What embroidery are you taking?’

  There was a moment of silence before Kate turned from the churn into which she had just poured a basin of cream and said quietly, ‘I won’t be going over the day.’

  The was another pause before Mary Ellen said, ‘Oh, Kate, Mrs Boston will be so disappointed. You know how she looks forward to your going.’

  ‘There are three of us go, Mam, not only me, and Mrs Boston would miss Maggie much more than me, because, as you know, Maggie is as good as the newspaper for news and titbits.’

  Yes, Mary Ellen knew that Maggie’s tongue wagged incessantly when she had an audience such as Mrs Boston, but it wasn’t like Kate to put it that way. She trimmed another round of butter before she said as casually as she could, ‘What do you intend to do with yourself then?’

  It was a stupid question for she was asking the road she knew, and she knew it deserved the answer she got, but she was nevertheless hurt when Kate replied, ‘Mam, you know what I’m going to do. I’m going to take the horse and ride out. I’m going to meet my…my friend.’ Kate now closed her eyes tightly for a moment. She had almost said, love, because her heart was overflowing with the word, and beneath her calm exterior there was an urgency that was constantly sending her body racing over the hill. He had said she was like a goddess, and, as one, she saw herself taking the hills in leaps outdoing the deer. In fact, her new mind was presenting her with a picture of herself that she had never seen before, for the simple reason that no-one had ever seen her as he had done. Her bigness, her plainness, had been looked upon as a drawback, even by the members of her family who, in their different ways, loved her. At least they all had till recently, but of late Maggie had turned spiteful.

  Her mother was coming towards her, drying her hands on a piece of muslin, and when she reached her she said quietly, ‘What’s happening, Kate? This isn’t like you. We’re mother and daughter, but we’ve been friends an’ all for years. As you know, I love the others, but I’ve never been able to talk to them as I have to you. That’s until recently. In a way, Dad feels the same about you, you’re very special to him. He’s worried, too, about the change in you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ Kate now hung her head. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t hurt either of you for the world. That is my worry, that I should ever hurt you.’

  ‘Why should you worry about that, lass? Nothing you could ever do would upset us. All we want is your happiness.’

  ‘Are you sure of that?’

  ‘Why, of course.’ Mary Ellen put out her hands and placed them on her daughter’s shoulders, saying now, ‘I can’t understand why you should think otherwise.’

  ‘Mam.’

  ‘Yes, lass?’

  There was a pause before Kate said, ‘There might come a testing time later on. Will you remember what you’ve said?’

  Mary Ellen put her head to one side now and asked, ‘What are you trying to tell me, lass?’

  ‘Nothing at the moment, Mam. I only want you to remember that I love you both dearly.’

  Mary Ellen now drew her hands from Kate’s shoulders and as they hung limply by her sides she said, ‘You’re thinking of leaving, aren’t you? You’re going to your father?’

  ‘No! No! Never! Never!’

  ‘No?’ Mary Ellen’s face relaxed; then she asked, ‘Well, what can it be?’

  ‘Mam.’ Now it was Kate’s turn to put out her hands and, gripping her mother’s, she said, ‘Be patient. Say nothing, please. Do this for me: say nothing, not even to Dad.’

  ‘Eh? Oh, Kate, I…’

  ‘Mam, I ask you to do this for me. Just forget for the time being this conversation, will you?’

  ‘If you want it that way, lass, all right.’ Mary Ellen inclined her head forward before withdrawing her hands from Kate’s and walking out of the dairy.

  Kate, now turning and gripping the handle of the churn, murmured, ‘Oh, God, let things come right,’ while at the same time knowing in her heart that she couldn’t have it both ways: she loved two men and sooner or later she’d have to make her choice.

  Eight

  ‘Darling mine, all right, all right, don’t get upset. I can play any game you want. The only thing, sooner or later it’s bound to come out that I’ve bought the farm. Anyway, forget about that for the moment. Tell me more about your father.’ They were sitting close together by the side of the little table in the cottage, and she said, ‘I’ve told you all I know’—she put her hand up and touched his cheek—‘except’—she smiled now—‘when I looked at his big stomach, I thought, Ben must never grow like that.’

  ‘Oh, my dear.’ He laughed, lowered his head and bobbed hers gently with it; and now, their arms about each other, they kissed once more. And after a moment, looking into her face, he said, ‘You know, it would have been a solution if you had gone with him, I could have then sailed over to France and there our courting could have been open for all the world to witness, except that your father would likely have had you posing for his artist friends.’

  ‘Oh, Ben.’

  ‘Don’t say ‘Oh, Ben’ in that deprecating way. You’ve got to change your way of thinking about Miss Kate Roystan, and if you don’t, you’re going to be in for a hard time when you become Mrs Fraser Hamilton, for then I shall dress you as you should be dressed.’

  ‘Indeed! Is my dress so frumpish now that it offends your eye, sir?’ She assumed an indignant pose, and he answering in the same vein said, ‘I would not say frumpish, madam. The cloth’—he fingered the sleeve of her print dress—‘is good honest homespun, but it lacks colour, and texture. You should always be dressed in velvet or cords in the daytime, silk or satin in the evening, never taffeta.’

  Looking at him critically now, she said quietly, ‘You seem to have had a lot of experience.’

  ‘Well, let’s say I’ve never refused an invitation to a ball.’ Then his face sobering, he said, ‘There was a period when I felt I had just been released from prison and was tasting life for the first time: I rode, I danced, I drank, until’—he shrugged his shoulders—‘they all became stale. But nevertheless, I enjoyed that period while it lasted. And so, madam—’ He again assumed a haughty manner as he ended, ‘I am, in a way, a connoisseur of fashion both American and English, for I spent a month in London before coming here and attended the theatres almost nightly.’

  ‘And so, sir, you would like me to dress like an actress?’

  ‘Not necessarily, madam. No, not necessarily.’

  ‘May I enlighten you on one point, sir?’

  ‘You may, madam.’

  ‘It is just this: I shall dress the way I like, in what colour I like, in what material I care to choose. If my attire doesn’t suit you, then I’m afraid, sir, our acquaintance is at an end.’ Even as she said the last words she shuddered inwardly that she should even joke about such a possibility.

  She was again in his arms, and now he was laughing into her face, saying, ‘Woman of strong will, when I get you into my tepee, I shall skin your hide for you.’

  Laughing she said, ‘What is a tepee?’

  ‘An Indian tent.’

  ‘I should like to see America.’

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nbsp; ‘You could come any time, madam, any time. We could leave this very night.’

  ‘And what about the house you have bought?’

  ‘Oh, that could be sold again.’

  ‘Oh, Ben. Ben.’ Her voice was low, her face sad now as she said, ‘There are mountains of obstacles between us and…’

  ‘There may be mountains and there are obstacles, but they are not between us. Nothing is between us. We’re together on one side, your family on the other. But, remember this, my dear, there is nothing between us.’

  ‘Ben. Ben. I can hardly believe this is true. When I ride away I feel that it is for the last time, or when I am coming over here, I dread that you will have gone.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. That is foolish talk. I’ll never go anywhere without you. During all my life I’ve had to do a lot of thinking and I know now I am much older than my years and so I can say assuredly…’

  ‘That is another thing. I…I am older than you…fifteen months.’

  ‘Terrible, isn’t it?’

  ‘Some people would say so.’

  ‘Some people, some people. You know, that is something I must tell you: I never take much notice of what people say; I’ve got to see a thing happening before I can believe it. That’s why when I read history I always question it, because it’s been written by somebody who wasn’t there, who has taken the facts from somebody else who has read about it and who wasn’t there, and you know there’s no-one in the world who can repeat with their lips the story that they’ve heard through their ears. Because once it gets into here’—he tapped his forehead—‘one’s particular train of thought which depends much on one’s upbringing takes hold of what it hears and presents it through the lips as the eyes of your particular type of imagination see it.’