Mary Ellen said nothing to this because it was understandable, and Kate said, ‘I must be off. We’ll all be over as usual when the weather permits. Bye-bye, Mam.’
‘Bye-bye, lass.’ Mary Ellen opened the door for her and closed it quickly again to keep out the driving rain. Back in the middle of the kitchen, she stood drumming her fingers on the table in her usual way when worried. And the tattoo became louder as her mind moved from John to her daughter, and she said aloud, ‘I’ll soon put a stop to that, if it is that.’
During the next three weeks it was noticeable that Mary Ellen, who was to be seen almost daily visiting the byres, the barn, the stables, and tack room, presumably looking for Terry to see that he was all right, was on Maggie’s own particular warpath. And Maggie wasn’t blind to this, but she didn’t think John had noticed anything, until one day when she was making for the barn, he passed her and out of the corner of his mouth he said, ‘Don’t go in there. Mam’s standing round the back.’
She had stopped abruptly, turned and looked to where her brother was going into one of the stables. Then deliberately walking into the barn, she went to the far end where she knew Willy was and in a loud tone she said, ‘Go and give Terry a hand, will you? He’s shifting the pigs. I’ll see to that,’ while she gesticulated towards the far wall of the barn where the flaps let in the daylight, and he, taking her cue, said, ‘All right, I’ll do that. But I told him to leave it. Sure you can manage?’
‘Yes, thank you, Willy, I can manage. But I don’t know how much longer.’ She made a face at him as he passed her. ‘I’m getting tired of being taken for the third farmhand. I’ll be glad when young Ozzie starts. He’d have to go and twist his foot, wouldn’t he?’
When Willy had gone, she did not take up the rake and pull the straw together, but, going to the end of the barn, she put her eye to a crack and saw her mother, bundled up to the eyes with clothes, making her way back into the yard.
A minute or two later, John came into the barn and they stood looking at each other until he said, ‘You want to be careful, Maggie.’
‘You know?’
‘Couldn’t help but. I’m a light sleeper, and I use that door sometimes.’
She bowed her head as she muttered, ‘I don’t care. It’s my life, and…and I love him, and he me. If she kicks up we’ll go off.’
‘You can’t do that, Maggie. She’s alone as it is.’
Her head bounced up as she demanded, ‘What’s in the future for us then? A hole in the corner affair? He’s worth marrying, John. He’s a good man.’
‘I know that. I know that. Things are unfair. If it lay with me, but it doesn’t, so…Anyway, there’ll be hell to pay if this comes out, you know there will. He could be ten times better than he is, but still Dad would send him packing. Huh! It’s funny.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘People change out of all recognition. It must be age. I’ll have to remember that. But he was as low as any cowman at one time, Dad.’
‘Yes, I know that, with not half the brains of Willy.’
‘Brains don’t come into this, Maggie.’
‘How about you?’
‘What do you mean, how about me?’
‘You know what I mean. You know my position and I know yours.’
‘Well, there might be some hope for you, Maggie, but there’s none for me.’
‘Don’t say that, John. I…I’m not going to let them ruin my life.’ She put her hand out and gripped his arm. ‘We all need love. I found it and I’m going to hang on to it, come what may. And you should do the same.’
‘With someone I could have fathered?’
‘Don’t be daft.’ She shook his arm. ‘It happens every day, a young lass and an older man. And she’s not a young lass inside. We both found out.’
‘Well, it’s over, Maggie. There’s no need to worry about me. In her last letter she said she would write no more.’
‘Have you answered her letters?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, John. And she actually said that, she’d write no more?’
‘Yes, she did. So that’s one problem solved. But you look to yours. I don’t know how things are going to work out for you, only be careful.’
He nodded at her and as he turned from her she said, ‘Until I can be careful no longer.’
He was looking at her again, staring into her face. ‘You’re not? You haven’t?’
‘I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter. I hope I am. I long to be able to say I am.’
‘Oh, Maggie. Maggie.’
‘Don’t worry about me, John. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life before. I’m living, for the first time I’m living. And if you were wise, you would too.’
‘We can’t all be wise, Maggie. No, we can’t.’ Now he turned from her and went out. And she, standing straight, put her hands on her stomach and looked down towards it, and, closing her eyes for a moment, she said, ‘Please God, let it be there.’
Eight
It was the beginning of April when Maggie knew with absolute certainty that she was carrying a child. The monthly do’s, as Mary Ellen referred to this quirk of nature, had always been erratic in Maggie’s case, but for the past three days her condition had been confirmed when she awoke in the morning with a feeling of nausea and the reluctance to rise from her bed at half past five.
It was four nights now since she had last visited Willy, and as yet he knew nothing about her condition. The uncertainty of it, together with a feeling of shyness, and also the fact that he might not receive her news in the same way as it was affecting herself had stopped her from hinting at it during the spasmodic conversations they were able to indulge in during the day.
The reason she hadn’t been to the cottage was not on account of the weather and the last heavy fall of snow, but the fact that her mother had taken to staying up late. It had been half past ten when she had gone upstairs these past three nights, and it was an understood thing between her and Willy that he had not to expect her after eleven o’clock at night.
Anyway, she had made up her mind, if it was twelve o’clock tonight, she was going to see Willy.
It was a quarter to eleven when she left her room. Her mother had come upstairs rather earlier. John had been in his room this last hour. As she passed her parents’ bedroom door, she heard her father’s snoring end on a snort. She did not need a light to find the bolt. Her hand went immediately to it, but as she began to withdraw it, she gave a violent start when a light illuminated the passage, and there, coming out of the storeroom, was her mother.
A lamp between them, they stared at each other, both their faces white with suppressed anger.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Why ask the road you know?’ Maggie’s voice was a low hiss, and her mother’s was equally low as she now said, ‘You’re a slut, that’s what you are, a slut. A cowman? You’ve got no shame.’
Maggie was gulping in her throat now and she had to force the words through her teeth as she said, ‘Then I take after me mother, don’t I? You should know all about it.’
When Mary Ellen’s hand came upwards, Maggie’s voice rose as she cried, ‘You dare, Mam! Just you dare, and I’ll walk out of here the morrow, and him with me. Think on that, him with me. Because not even three Ozzie Taylors and another one can make up for what Willy does. And inside the house you’d need a couple of maids. Aye, and you’d have to get your hand in more than you do now to keep things spruce as you want them. So be careful, Mam, don’t attempt to hit me, because although I won’t give you blow for blow, I’ll hit you where it hurts most, your pockets, because you’re as bad as Dad in that way. Now if you’ll move aside I’ll be on me way across to the cottage where I’ve been going this many a week.’
‘You bitch! You dirty bitch!’
‘Be careful, Mam. I mightn’t even wait for the blow. Just be careful. Remember what I said, I take after you.’
‘If…if you go out that door, you won’t get back.’
‘Well, I’ll leave that to you. If I don’t get back I stay in the cottage just long enough to get me things together, then we’ll both go off. Think on it. I’ll be gone about an hour, just think on it.’ With that she shot the bolt back not too quietly and went out, leaving the door wide behind her, knowing that her mother’s infuriated gaze was on her.
She was shaking from head to foot when she reached the cottage. Willy jumped up from his seat beside the fire and came towards her. But as soon as he saw her face he said, ‘What is it, love? What is it?’
She fell against him, muttering incoherently.
When he raised her head sharply upwards, he demanded, ‘What happened? What happened?’
‘She…she caught me coming out, and…and said things, called me names, and…and I called them back. Oh, Willy, Willy.’
He took off her coat and shawl and led her to a chair and, pulling another towards her, he sat by her side, holding her hands tightly, as he said, ‘Well, it would have had to come out some time. Better now than later. I’ll know where I stand and what I’m to do. I’ll have a talk with the Rector on Sunday, although I want no church wedding. And neither do you. But he’s a wise and kindly man, he’ll direct me. And lass, don’t look so down. Look at me.’
She raised her head and he smiled now as he said, ‘I haven’t let the grass grow under me feet these past few weeks. I’d heard about a little place as soon as it came on the market. ’Tis over near Corbridge in the valley there, and the ground is lush. There’s twenty acres and a good little house, three byres, two stables, and a loft. I never mentioned it afore because I didn’t want to jump the gun, but now I can go ahead. The price will likely be around fifty or sixty pounds because the house has been let go. The old man’s been on his own and past it for years. I hear he’s going to live with his daughter. If I could get it for that, I have a little bit to start the stock, and I know who’d give me a helping hand if I asked him, and that’s Mr Hamilton. He asked me a while ago why I didn’t think of starting up on me own. Funny, it was shortly after that your dad gave me a shilling rise. I wondered if he had had anything to do about it.’
‘No, no.’ She shook her head. ‘That was John.’
‘Aye, of course, it would be. He’s a good fellow, John. He’s not happy, you know that, lass, don’t you? He misses the little French lass. Funny, isn’t it? Well, that’s not the right word, you know what I mean.’
‘Willy.’
‘Yes, my love?’ He now moved closer and put his arms about her.
‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Aye, well, I’m listenin’, and always will be, ready for your words.’
She stared into his face while her eyes became moist, and the sight brought a fear to him. And now his hold tightened on her as he said, ‘You’re not going to go back on me?’
She actually put her head back and laughed saying, ‘Aw, Willy!’ Then looking at him again, she said quietly, ‘I’m carrying.’
‘You’re…carrying? You mean…?’
‘Yes.’ She made a deep obeisance with her head, then found herself pulled roughly upwards. And now he was waltzing her round the narrow space between the fire, the chairs, and the small table. And when they fell against the table, he took her face between his hands and kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. Then, of a sudden, becoming still, his voice gentle, he said, ‘You happy, Maggie?’
‘So happy, Willy, nothing matters, only you and me, and it.’ She patted her stomach. And he placed his hand on top of hers, and now, his voice serious, he said, ‘You’re not afraid?’
‘Afraid?’ She pulled in her chin and screwed up her eyes and repeated, ‘Afraid?’ And her voice firm, she said, ‘No, no, Willy. I am not afraid. I’m strong and healthy. I know it might be the wrong age, but I’ll have your child if it’s the last thing…’
His hand came tight across her mouth as he said, ‘Don’t finish that. Don’t say, if it’s the last thing you do, because if it’s the child or you, it’s you. Always you. Know that, will you? Know that, lass. I want you. If we have a bairn, well and good. If we don’t, still well and good, as long as I have you.’
‘Willy! Willy!’ The tears were raining down her face now, and gently he held her while her crying mounted and he became concerned. But then taking her by the shoulders, he shook her gently, saying, ‘Look, lass, it’s too soon for the waters to break.’ And at this she spluttered and her tears turned to laughter that rang through the cottage, and all she could say now was, ‘Oh! Willy, Willy. Willy, Willy.’
An hour later when she mounted the back stairs she found the door open and, locking it, she quickly made her way to her room, and when she got into bed she took a pillow and, hugging it to her, she buried her face in it and went to sleep.
Mary Ellen was seething. She did not speak to Maggie the following morning, nor even look at her, but she was aware of her every movement, and she told herself that she couldn’t stand this. Nothing, she imagined, could upset her more than she was at this moment. The thought of a daughter of hers lying with a cowman like Willy was nauseating, and for that daughter to say she was a pattern of herself had aroused an anger in her that was still raging. Her own mistake had occurred through one incident only; and then she had the excuse of having been a young lass with the fires of curiosity and need posing under the name of love. But in Maggie’s case, this dirty underhand business must have been going on for God knew how long.
It was towards dinner time that she decided she would have to talk to someone, and the last person she could open her heart to about this thing was Hal. So she would go and tell Kate. She was forgetting that Kate had once visited a man week after week, going in all weathers into the hills, supposedly to exchange books with him…
It was two o’clock in the afternoon, dressed in her second-best bonnet and a similar coat, that she mounted the trap and took the reins from John’s hands, saying, ‘See your father gets his three o’clock tea, won’t you?’
He did not say, ‘Maggie always sees to that, doesn’t she?’ because he had already guessed there was a storm raging between them. What he said was, ‘Enjoy your ride, but get back before it’s dark if you can.’
‘Light or dark, the road’s no stranger to me. You should know that.’
She put her horse into a trot and he stood watching after her until she turned it out into the road before he moved away and went in search of Maggie. She had an empty coal bucket in one hand and a wood skip in the other. He turned with her and re-entered the kitchen. He had not taken his boots off and she looked down at his feet as she said, ‘You took a risk, didn’t you?’
‘She’s gone.’
‘She could have popped back just to see what I was up to. I suppose you know all about it?’
‘I know nothing. She hasn’t opened her mouth to me. What is it, anyway?’
Maggie opened the kitchen door and put the bucket and the skip outside. Then closing the door again, she went to the sink and washed her hands, and as she dried them she turned and leant her buttocks against the stone, saying, ‘She caught me going down the back stairs last night to visit Willy.’
He made no reply, just stared at her, and she went on, ‘It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last, as long as I’m here. We’re going to find a place of our own. Has he said anything to you…Willy?’
‘Yes. He said he’s got his eye on a place. He’s thinking of going and taking you with him.’
‘Surprised?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘I mean that I should leave and go with him?’
‘I said, no, not at all. Can I tell you something? I wish it was me.’
‘Oh, John.’ She threw down the towel and went to the table and, sitting down, she looked up at him. He now pulled a chair forward and he too sat down, and when she said, ‘Somehow, I couldn’t imagine you being any place else but here, you love the farm,’ he broke in, ‘That shows, Maggie, how little you know of me. Where have I been in my life?
How far have I been, I ask you? To Newcastle, aye. Durham, aye. Carlisle, yes. I would have loved to visit Edinburgh. And it’s only a few years now since I stopped meself dreaming, knowing there was no purpose in it. But I used to long to go off, just to walk out and go off. Do you know, I can understand young Frag. Oh, yes, I can understand him all right. There’s something in one when you’re young that makes you want to bolt for it, like a foal, you don’t want to be tied. And in my case that urge went on till…oh’—he shook his head—‘four or five years ago.’
‘Why didn’t you do something about it then?’
‘I nearly did. At one time I nearly did. Then Gabriel pipped me. It was when he decided to go and join Hugh. He had the feeling too. He said as much to me. ‘What future,’ he said, ‘is there for me here? Dad won’t let the reins go until he draws his last breath. And then there’ll be you, John. And I’m not like Tom, I don’t want to marry a farm.’ That’s what he said. And where did that leave me? Could I walk out then? Tom gone, Hugh gone, Gabriel gone, Kate gone, Florrie gone. What was there left? You, Maggie, for indoors, and me for outdoors. And although Terry was able to do a day’s work then, things pile up on me. And remember the two hands we got one after the other but they wouldn’t stick Dad? So, I ask you, could I get up and go? I made the best of it. This was my life, I thought; when Dad eventually goes, the farm will be mine, that’ll be some compensation. When Willy came things were a lot easier. I began to feel settled. Well, I told myself there was nothing else for it. Although in between times there was Betty Pringle and Mary Braithwaite. Did Mam welcome either of them? No. But it didn’t matter very much. Until one day a man arrived here with a girl that I’d never seen the like of before in me life, except—’ he turned his head away from her, as he quietly added, ‘sometimes at night in me dreams. But she was sixteen and I played father to her until she said she wasn’t sixteen, she was on nineteen, and a young woman. And from then on in me mind I stopped playing father. And the comfort of even that was gone, until came the day when I said goodbye to her on the station.’
A Dinner of Herbs (The Bannaman Legacy) Page 69