A Dinner of Herbs (The Bannaman Legacy)

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘That’s as it should be, lad. That’s as it should be. Bring her over soon.’

  ‘I will. I will. The first fine day I will. Goodbye, Mam.’ He had turned to Mary Ellen, and she took his hand and said, ‘Goodbye, Charles. I’ll come over with Maggie on Saturday.’

  ‘I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her.’

  He went out accompanied by John, and they could hear his voice, as he crossed the hall, high with laughter.

  But the door had hardly closed on them when Hal, bringing the poker from the fire, thrust it into a fresh mug of ale, saying as he did so, ‘That young bugger, brought home on a barrow by that tribe, the Smiths and the Reillys. God, could he get any lower? And there he was on Sunday, butter not melting in his mouth. ’Twasn’t noticeable that he hardly said a word. No, he would be suffering from a thick head. But she made him come, or Ben did. I tell you, woman, something’ll happen to that boy, as sure as I’m sitting here something’ll happen to him. He’s got a curse on him.’

  ‘Stop it! Stop it this minute! Never mind what he’s got on him, what you’ve got on you is another cold, and if you don’t want some days in bed you’ll stay put the morrow.’ Then turning to Maggie, she said, ‘That was good news in a way—don’t you think?—but not so good in others.’

  ‘Why not so good in others, Mam?’

  ‘Well, at her age. She’ll find it hard to pull through.’

  ‘Mrs Pratt, in the cottage over in the dip, they say she was forty-five when she had her last two years ago.’

  ‘Aye, but she’d had plenty of practice; eleven living and half a dozen dead, by all accounts. First are dangerous in any case, I should know. That is when you’re young, but at that age…well’—she sighed—‘we’ll just have to wait and see…Had you got the tea tray ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, bring it in.’

  Maggie went slowly from the room, slowly across the hall, and slowly down the kitchen, and she stood looking down at the heavily laden tray before lifting it and carrying it into the sitting room. When she placed it on the table before her mother and was turning to go out, her mother said, ‘Aren’t you going to stay and have a cup and a bite?’

  ‘No, not on top of hot rum.’

  She returned to the kitchen and there, taking the jar that stood on the cupboard under the delph rack, she scooped out a spoonful of pork fat, put it into a small cup and, lifting aside her apron, she placed it in the pocket of her skirt. Then she went out of the kitchen again and quickly upstairs and made her way to the far end of the corridor. Here, she turned down a narrow passage, passed a side door that led to a storeroom, and finally came to another door with two bolts, one top, and one bottom. They were both black iron, one showing slight rust spots from lack of use. Quickly she withdrew the bolts and rubbed fat in the slots, working the bolts backwards and forwards two or three times until their passage made no sound, then wiped them clean, and returned to the kitchen. She emptied the remains of the fat into the slop bucket, washed out the cup and replaced it on the dresser. Then she went to the fireplace where, her arms outstretched, she gripped the brass rod underneath the mantelpiece and, dropping her head forward, she rested it on one arm, while her teeth clamped down tight on the sleeve of her dress as though she meant to bite through it.

  Mary Ellen had been in bed this past hour. More mulled beer and hot rum during the evening had induced early sleep, and Hal’s snores could be heard on the landing. John, too, had gone upstairs a while ago, for he too had drunk more than was usual for him.

  Maggie took up the lamp and left the kitchen. When she reached the landing she placed it on a small oak table and turned down the wick to a mere glimmer, then went into her room.

  After lighting her candle she took from the wardrobe a thick coat and a pair of overshoes, and, from a drawer, the biggest head-shawl she had.

  Having put on the coat and shawl, and with the overshoes in her hand, she made quietly for the door which she had left slightly ajar; out on the landing she drew it after her but not closed. She then tiptoed over the polished boards to where a narrow rug ran down the middle, and on this she walked, being careful to avoid the part where a floorboard creaked. When she reached the door leading to the back stairs she withdrew the greased bolts. And now she was standing on a narrow wooden platform, the cold night frost cutting into her face like a razor. The sky was high and laden with stars, but there was no moon. She got quickly into her overshoes, then gripped the iron rail and went down the wooden stairs and so into the yard at the back of the house.

  When one of the dogs growled she whispered quickly, ‘All right, Cass, all right, ’tis me. Lie down.’ And she went towards the kennel where the two dogs were housed. Cass was standing outside and she put her hand on his head and spoke to him again, then pushed him back into the warmth of the straw where his mate, Bessie, lay, too old now to bother about night noises.

  In blackness, she groped her way along the back of the barn wall, but once clear of it the night seemed to become lighter. At one point there was a squeal and a scurry round her feet as she inadvertently walked into a chase. She wondered if she had saved the pursued or not, or whether that was its death cry? Nature was cruel. The whole world was cruel.

  When she came in sight of the cottage there was no light in the window. He generally stayed up late reading, at least so he said. But she was looking on to the front of it; he might be in the back room and she wouldn’t be able to see his candlelight from here.

  She was within two feet of the door when she stopped and put her hand tightly over her mouth. Her hand was dead cold, her face was cold, she was shivering from head to toe. She was mad, this was awful. But what other solution was there? He couldn’t come to her. Did he want to? She had to find out, even if she was shamed to death in the so doing. And if she was shamed, what then? Oh God! God! She didn’t know. Finish it perhaps. Aye, yes. And it wasn’t the first time she’d thought of that. She couldn’t go back, she couldn’t. Her hand went out towards the door. She heard a distant cough and it seemed to smother her gentle tap. She waited, and when nothing happened she knocked again, harder this time. She heard movement in the room; then the door was pulled open, and there he stood, in a long flannel nightshirt, the brass candlestick held head high, the flame guttering in the night air.

  ‘In the name of God!’ He thrust out his hand and pulled her into the room. Then closing the door quickly, he tugged her towards the banked-down fire. He said nothing more; nor did she speak until he had taken the glass from the lamp and lit the wick from the candle, replaced the glass, turned up the wick, then looked at her where she was standing visibly shivering. He did not say, ‘What is the matter? Why have you come?’ but he took her hand and pressed her down into the wooden chair; then dropping on to his knees, he took up the bellows and blew vigorously on the fire.

  The fire, which had not been long banked down, flared up and added its light to the room. Still on his knees, he now swung round and caught her cold hands. ‘Oh, Maggie!’ he said.

  ‘I had to come.’ Each word was uttered on a tremor. ‘I…I had to know why…why…where I stood.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, my dear, dear Maggie.’ He now dropped his head on to her hands and pressed them over his face. Then looking up at her again, he said, ‘You know where you stand with me, always have done. I love you, you know that, you must know it, but what chance have I…I mean, what could I offer you? Even if I had dared to ask, a place not much bigger than this’—he rolled his head taking in the room—‘and a smallholding somewhere, all poky. You’ve been brought up ladylike.’

  At this her whole body moved in protest and she muttered, ‘Ladylike, Willy? Ladylike? Don’t be silly, man. Since Kate and Florrie left I’ve had to work like three bonded women. Two outfits a year and a money present at Christmas and my birthday. Do you know how much I possess for all those years, Willy? Thirty-four pounds…thirty-four pounds. A shilling a week maid would have gathered more. Oh! Ladylike, Willy? And me with me apr
on hardly ever off?’ She now put her hands on his face and, her voice a whisper, she said, ‘I…I love you. I know I’m older than you by five years and I’m a set woman…I’ll never be young again. As my mother is always hinting, I’m ready for my black bonnet and bead cape.’

  ‘Oh, Maggie, Maggie, be quiet. Don’t talk so. You’re beautiful, every bit of you, and for the last two years I’ve ached to do just this.’ And getting quickly to his feet, he pulled her upwards and into his arms, and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss at first and she lay against him quiet, even bewildered for a moment. Then, her arms about him, she returned his kiss and, entwined, they stood swaying, she conscious of the heat of his body coming through his nightshirt.

  When it was over, she did not withdraw from him but dropped her head on to his shoulder and let it stay there for a moment before he pressed her from him. He then quickly unknotted her headshawl which had fallen on to her neck, undid her coat which he threw to one side, pressed her down into the chair again and took off her overshoes. His back bent, he lifted his head and his eyes on a level with hers, he asked quietly, ‘Will you marry me, Maggie?’

  ‘Tomorrow, Willy.’

  ‘That’s good enough for me.’

  She did not stay his hands as he unbuttoned her dress, but stood as a child might, quiet and docile, until he reached her bodice and last petticoat. Then he said softly, ‘Come, Maggie, the bed’s still warm.’ And she went with him and lay down by his side in the narrow bed and knew for the first time in her forty years what it was to be loved.

  Seven

  The last week in February and the first week in March it snowed, thawed and froze repeatedly, and it wasn’t until a real thaw set in that communications were opened up again.

  Mary Ellen hadn’t seen Kate or any of the family during this period, so when Kate rode in through a drizzle of cold rain, she exclaimed loudly, ‘Oh, I am glad to see you, lass. It was as if all of you were dead. But you’re wet through.’

  ‘No, only the top of me. But I thought I’d better come when the going was good, because all the signs show we’re in for another bout.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Anyway, how are you all?’

  ‘Oh, same as usual I suppose. Get your things off and I’ll make a drink.’

  ‘I cannot stay long, Mam.’

  ‘Ben bad again?’

  ‘No…no, he’s come through very well this winter, surprisingly well.’

  ‘The bairns all right?’

  For answer, Kate said, ‘Harry’s doing splendidly at school. You know, he was fourteen last Tuesday.’

  ‘Aye, I know, and I’ve got a present for him.’

  ‘Well, Ben was delighted by his school report. He passed everything with flying colours, and he’s going into one of the best schools in Newcastle in the autumn, as a boarder…’

  ‘My! My! That will please Ben. But does the lad want to go?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Oh, yes. He loves his books. He’s like Ben in that way.’

  ‘Pity the other one hasn’t a similar taste. Have you had any more trouble with him?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean. Being brought home drunk.’

  There was a silence for a time, and Kate, from where she was now sitting at the end of the settle, looked at her mother’s back as she bent over the fire, and after a moment she said, ‘Bad news travels fast.’

  ‘Oh, lass’—Mary Ellen turned her head towards her—‘the whole countryside knew about it, and was laughing. Anything the Reillys or the Smiths get up to takes on headlines, you know that.’

  ‘He’s not bad, Mam, only a bit wild.’

  ‘I’d like to think that, too, lass.’

  ‘Well, you can think it. And he’s working well. He’s taken to the farm work. He’s as good as any hand, and Dawson says that an’ all, and it’s something for Dawson to praise a hand.’

  ‘Perhaps he knows which side his bread’s buttered on.’

  ‘Oh, Mam. Mam.’

  ‘I’m sorry, lass. Anyway, let’s change the subject.’

  ‘Yes, Mam. I agree with you there, once and for all, let’s change the subject about Fraser. It’s bad enough Dad feeling towards him the way he does without you going along that road too.’

  ‘I’m only thinking of you, lass, and Ben.’

  ‘Well, you needn’t. We can manage our own affairs. Now, now, I’m not meaning that nasty, Mam, but just leave it, please. Anyway, where’s Maggie?’

  ‘Maggie.’ And now Mary Ellen’s words came slowly: ‘Maggie was, at least the last time I saw her, supposed to be cleaning the sitting room. But when I went in, there she sat warming her knees at the fire. What’s come over her lately, I just don’t know.’ Her voice dropped and, poking her head towards Kate, she went on, ‘I think it must be her time of life, you know.’ She nodded. ‘She was always moody, you know that. Could go without speaking for days. Well, she still has her moods, but not so often, and when she’s not in them she chatters like a magpie. Well, I suppose, that’s how it takes some people. You know how it is.’

  At this Kate laughed and said, ‘I don’t yet, Mam, not yet.’

  ‘No? It hasn’t happened?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is you’re lucky, because it can be a nasty time. Anyway, you’ll have it to come.’

  ‘Thanks, Mam, thanks. It’s something to look forward to.’ Kate rose, saying now, ‘I’ll slip through and have a word with her.’

  ‘I’ve mashed the tea.’

  ‘I won’t be a minute.’

  She was five minutes, and when she returned to the kitchen Mary Ellen greeted her with, ‘Well, what was she doing? Sitting on her backside again?’

  ‘No, she was on her knees polishing the floor. But, as you remarked, Mam, she’s changing. Funny, but…’

  ‘Funny, but what?’

  ‘Well—’ Kate put three spoonfuls of sugar into her mug of tea before she added, ‘It’s a funny thing to say about our Maggie, but she seems happy. She looks pleasant, in fact like she used to look years ago. If that’s the change on her I won’t mind when it’s my turn.’

  ‘Happy?’ Mary Ellen pushed her head back into her shoulders as if in enquiry. But she didn’t voice her next thoughts which were: Why should she be happy? What’s making her happy? And she looked towards the slush-covered yard and gave herself the answer to her unspoken question with a loud, No! No! in her mind, emphasised with an Oh, no!

  ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘He’s gone round with John seeing what damage has been done to the bottom fields. If we have another bout of this, it’s bound to put the ploughing back.’

  ‘Is John all right?’

  Mary Ellen now took a seat opposite her daughter and, after sipping her tea, she said, ‘Kate, there’s nobody in this house seems all right at the moment.’

  ‘What’s wrong with John?’ There was concern in Kate’s voice and Mary Ellen answered, ‘Nothing that anybody can put a finger on, but he’s like a bear with a sore skull. He’s had three letters in the last month from…well, you know who.’

  ‘She writes to him?’

  ‘Oh, aye, aye, and he must write back to her. I’ve never seen him give anything to the postie at this end; he’s become secretive, and that’s not John you know. I’m worried, Kate.’

  ‘What do you mean, you’re worried?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, lass. I’m worried about him and her.’

  ‘John?’ Now Kate’s face was screwed up in disbelief, ‘John and that little piece? He could almost be her grandfather.’

  ‘He couldn’t, Kate. She wasn’t sixteen, she was nineteen.’

  ‘Nineteen?’ Kate’s voice was small. ‘Why did she say she was sixteen? Or just coming up seventeen?’

  ‘It was your father, apparently, who thought it up, in case I wouldn’t take her under my protection, if she was a young woman. That was the idea. But it strikes me that that one can ta
ke care of herself. She did from the beginning. She seemed to have an old head on young shoulders, although I couldn’t understand what she said most of the time when she was talking that French gibberish.’

  ‘John and her? Oh no, Ma, John wouldn’t.’

  ‘John would, lass, and that’s what I’m afraid of. He’s been acting funny lately, not himself. There’s a pair of them, Maggie and him, both at the wrong age for this kind of thing to happen to them. Women go daft about this time, but men go clean barmy. I’ve seen it afore. Remember Jimmy Braithwaite? Forty-five he was. As solid as a rock, everyone thought. He had looked after his father and mother for years, and when they went what did he go and do? Marry a lass of twenty-two. You pass the place every time you come in here. She’s got a squad around her, seven, and full with another. ’Tisn’t decent. But it happens, you see, lass.’

  Kate was on her feet now, pulling on her gloves as she said, ‘I know it happens, Mam, but not John and her. Knowing the relationship, he wouldn’t do it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him, Kate. I wouldn’t put it past him. But oh my God! To think of that lass in this house all the time, it would drive me mad. I couldn’t put up with it, I just couldn’t.’

  ‘What does Dad say?’

  ‘Nothing, because he doesn’t seem to notice anything. And anyway, he wouldn’t mind her, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind her. He seemed to cotton on to her, like most men do, an’ he’d put up with anything rather than lose John. It’s been a kind of secret fear with him that John, like Tom, would marry into a farm and go off. And where would we be then?’

  Kate’s voice had changed when she said, ‘He’d have to be like other people, Mam, and hire hands. It’s been done you know. You can’t make use of your family all your lives. And both John and Maggie have got a life of their own to live. But, oh’—she shook her head—‘not John and her, because I’m like you, Mam, I didn’t like her. I wouldn’t, would I? It’s understandable.’