A Bridge in Time

by A Bridge in Time (retail) (epub)

  ‘Now just stop that. I’m away home to get William. I’ll make him go up to that navvy camp and find out where she is and who she’s with. Stop greeting this minute and drink this cup of tea,’ ordered Effie, before she marched out of the cottage in search of her husband.

  After Hannah and Tim went back to their house, they cooked and ate the food they’d bought and then set about making their bed. Tim went up to Major Bob’s and brought back a bundle of thick covers, but they had no sheets and Hannah wrinkled her nose when she felt the roughness of the blankets. ‘My Mam has a box of the grandest big linen sheets you ever saw in your life. I wish I had a pair of them here now,’ she sighed, and then gave a gasp. ‘Oh, my Mam! I’ll have to go home soon and tell her what’s happened. As soon as this snow melts I’ll go.’

  ‘What will you say to her?’ asked Tim with a laugh. Hannah twinkled back at him over the top of their tumbled bed. ‘I’ll explain that I’ve gone stark staring mad and run off with a navvy. But I don’t think she’s going to like it…’ For the last few words her voice became very solemn.

  He dropped his end of the blanket and walked over to her. Taking her hand he asked, ‘Would your mother like it better if you went home and said you’d married a navvy?’

  She looked up at him and he asked again, ‘Would she like it better if you and I got married, Hannah?’

  ‘But I thought you said you’re not a marrying man. You told me that last night before—’

  ‘I thought I wasn,’t, but I’ve changed my mind. There’s nothing I want more in the world than to marry you. I never thought this would happen to me but now that it has I’m not going to let it go. If you won’t marry me, I’ll haunt you.’

  She held out her arms and hugged him. ‘Och, there’ll be no need for that. Of course I’ll marry you, Tim Maquire.’

  They were building up the stove with coal for the night when there was a terrible thumping at the door and when Tim opened it, in the opening stood Hannah’s Uncle William, his eyes flashing and his beard bristling. He drew back a fist and was about to hit Tim on the jaw, when she ran up and cried out, ‘Oh Uncle Willie, don’t hit him. We’re getting married.’

  William was not actually a violent man and he dropped his fist with relief. But his glare was still ferocious as he stared at Tim. ‘When are you getting married?’ he asked.

  ‘As soon as I can find somebody to do it,’ was the reply.

  William’s gaze went into the candlelit room and lingered on the made-up bed. ‘You’d better find somebody soon then,’ he said. ‘Her mother’s in a terrible state. Don’t you go home till you’re married, Hannah. That’s the least you can do for your poor mother now.’

  Then he turned to go but Hannah, in tears, grabbed his arm. ‘Tell her not to worry, Uncle Willie. Tell her I’m all right. I’m very, very happy. But I’d like her to be at my wedding. Can’t I go and ask her?’

  But William looked down on her with hard eyes. He’d always been fond of Hannah, had cast himself in a father’s role for her ever since Alex died, but now he thought that she’d done something completely out of character. ‘I’ve told you, she’d prefer it if you go home with a wedding band on your finger. She’s a very respectable woman, your mother. Don’t go to tell her anything till you’re respectable too – and you’ll only be that when you’re married.’

  The moment William left, Tim began pulling on his jacket again. ‘Come on,’ he said to Hannah. ‘We’ll have to find somebody to marry us.’

  Hannah gasped, ‘So late?’

  ‘We’ll try anyway,’ he said firmly. William’s lecture had gone home with him.

  The minister of Rosewell lived in a pleasant, ivy-covered house near the Abbey ruins. His housemaid, who answered the door, knew Hannah and looked in amazement from her friend to the man beside her. She half-pulled the door to behind herself and whispered, ‘What do you want, Hannah? Mr Patterson is in a bad mood tonight.’

  ‘We want to get married,’ Hannah whispered back.

  ‘Oh dear me, that’s going to cause a to-do. Wait here and I’ll go and ask him.’

  In a few seconds the minister’s voice was heard in the hall and he strode up to the door where he eyed the bedraggled pair. He obviously had no intention of inviting them inside. Hannah he recognised and nodded briefly at, but he eyed Tim up and down suspiciously. ‘Can’t this wait till tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘We’d like to get married tonight,’ said Tim firmly.

  The minister sniffed when he heard the Irish accent. ‘What religion do you adhere to, young man?’

  ‘If I’m anything I’m a Papist,’ stated Tim.

  Mr Patterson stepped back as if he’d been told his caller was carrying the plague. ‘You’d better leave now. I’ve no intention of marrying a girl who I know is a member of the Church of Scotland to a Papist. And I’m surprised at you,’ he added, turning his head to Hannah.

  She opened her mouth to protest but Tim pulled at her sleeve. ‘Come away, Hannah, come away. He’ll not help us.’

  Their next call was at the lodgings of the priest who ministered to the navvy community. When he opened his door he smelt strongly of spirits but ushered them inside with an affable expression. On discovering that the would-be bride was a member of another church, he did not seem too put out and only asked, ‘Are you prepared to convert?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it but I don’t think my mother would want me to and she’s not going to be happy about this in the first place,’ demurred Hannah.

  The priest patted her hand. ‘You go away and think about it. If you’ll convert, I’ll marry you. But if you won’t, I won’t either.’

  It was pitch dark and all the shops where they’d made their joyous purchases were shuttered and dark when they found themselves back in Rosewell Square. Linking arms they trudged through the snow up the steep hill back to the navvy camp and Benjy’s. ‘I wish I could go home and tell my Mam what’s happened but she’s not going to let me into the house unless I’ve got a bit of paper to say we’re married,’ groaned Hannah.

  ‘I didn’t think it was going to be so difficult. I should have told lies to that minister. I should have said I was a member of the same church as you,’ sighed Tim. He put his arm around Hannah and hugged her close as he whispered, ‘It doesn’t matter to me that we’ve not got any papers, though. I love you paper or no paper.’

  She laughed and snuggled closer. ‘It doesn’t matter to me either. Aren’t we awful?’

  They were near the camp-gate when a tall dark figure in a billowing cape overtook them. Looking back over his shoulder Gentleman Sydney recognised Tim and laughed, ‘This is an unusual sight, Black Ace in thrall to a woman. What’s happened to you? I thought you were the original woman-hater.’

  Tim chuckled back, ‘You were wrong, then, weren’t you? This is Hannah Mather. She and I have been down in Rosewell trying to get married, but nobody’ll do it for us.’

  ‘Oh trust you, Black Ace. Never a man to do anything by halves, are you? It’s marriage now, is it? Who did you ask to marry you?’

  ‘The Minister at the parish church and the priest,’ said Tim in reply.

  ‘We want a proper certificate to show my Mam, you see,’ explained Hannah.

  ‘But I could give you that,’ said Sydney.

  ‘I know you can do lots of things,’ joked Tim, ‘but you’re not an ordained clergyman, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you. In this country it’s legal to be married without a priest or a minister. All you need are three witnesses.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s legal?’ asked Hannah suspiciously.

  ‘Perfectly legal, and if I was one of the witnesses I’d even give you a certificate – better than anything you’d get from that drunken whisky priest, anyway.’

  Tim glared at Sydney and said, ‘I hope this isn’t one of your jokes.’

  ‘On my word, old man, it isn’t. I’ve a cousin who ran away and married at Gretna Green
in the blacksmith’s shop and my uncle couldn’t do a thing about it. That’s how I know.’

  ‘You said we need witnesses. Who will we ask?’

  Sydney was greatly taken with the idea and suggested, ‘What about Major Bob?’

  Tim shook his head. ‘Not her. She’ll be drunk by now anyway. Go and find Naughten and Frying Pan – they can be the witnesses. Bring them to Benjy’s. Hannah and I are there.’

  ‘You’ve anticipated the starter’s flag, then?’ Sydney grinned. ‘All right, I’ll come to Benjy’s with the witnesses in ten minutes.’

  Their little house was warm and comforting, with a red glow in the half-open gate of the stove. Hannah rushed about putting out food while Tim stoked up the stove again, and they hadn’t finished their tasks when the door opened to admit Sydney with the witnesses. Naughten was beaming broadly and hopping about from foot to foot like an imp. In his hand he carried a bundle of pencils and a roll of paper. ‘I’ll make you a good certificate,’ he chortled, waving the paper at Tim.

  Sydney threw off his cape, put his hat on the bed and eyed the pair of lovers sternly. ‘I hope you’ve both thought about this very seriously, that it’s not just a sudden whim and that you’re not going to repent tomorrow. Most of all I hope that neither of you have ever been married before, or this won’t be even half-legal.’

  Tim spoke first. ‘We’ve thought about it hard – it’s no whim. I love Hannah and I think she loves me. And you know perfectly well I’ve not been married before. You called me a woman-hater, didn’t you?’

  Sydney nodded, and turned to Hannah, who whispered softly as she stared at Tim, ‘I love him. I’ve never been married before, either.’ Then she smiled gently and reached for his hand.

  Sydney said very solemnly, ‘In that case, tell each other that you’ll marry and that you’ll stay together for as long as you live.’

  ‘I’ll marry you and I’ll stay with you forever,’ came Tim’s voice with ringing conviction. Tears spangled Hannah’s eyes as she watched his face and then she repeated the words without faltering.

  ‘Good. Now tell each other that you’re man and wife,’ said Sydney.

  ‘You’re my wife…’

  ‘You’re my husband…’ They grasped hands and stared at each other as if there was no one else in the room. Naughten, standing by the door, shuffled his feet in embarrassment as he looked at them.

  Sydney broke the spell by becoming very brisk. ‘That’s that, I think. We’ve all heard you say it. You’ve taken each other as husband and wife: you’re married. I’ll write you out a certificate and we can sign it.’ Then he anxiously asked Frying Pan, ‘I didn’t ask if you can write. Can you?’

  The big rough man flushed. ‘I can write my name, if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘Good, good. Now come on, Naughten, let’s have that bit of paper and we’ll write all this down.’

  While Tim and Hannah held hands like people entranced, Sydney leaned over the table and rapidly penned words on the large sheet of paper Naughten produced. ‘What’s your name, my dear, and where do you live?’ he asked Hannah over his shoulder and she told him. He didn’t take long and quickly handed the paper over for them to peruse. It read:

  ‘This is to certify that on this day December 24th, 1853, Timothy Maquire, bachelor, of the house called Benjy’s in the navvy camp above Rosewell, in the presence of myself as chief witness and the other witnesses here-signed, took Miss Hannah Mather of the stone cottage next to the farm at Camptounfoot in the county of Roxburgh, spinster of that parish, as his wife. Signed Sydney George Frederick Algernon Godolphin.’

  When Tim’s eye reached the bottom of the sheet he looked up at Sydney with disbelief. ‘That’s never your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Believe me, it is. And none of you had ever better let it out. I’ve spent years living it down,’ was the sharp reply as Sydney shoved a pen into Frying Pan’s fist and pointed to the foot of the page. ‘Sign there where it says Witness…’

  The navvy’s signature was a scrawl of awkward-looking capital letters, but Naughten’s was a flourish of carefully-penned italics. When he had completed his elaborate signature to his satisfaction, he looked up at Tim and said, ‘Let me make a drawing along the top for you.’

  Tim was anxious to secure the precious paper and put it in his pocket but he agreed. ‘Oh all right, but nothing fancy – just a little one.’

  ‘That’s right,’ laughed Sydney. ‘Do something quick. Can’t you see they want us out of here as quickly as possible? Have a little tact, man.’

  Naughten dashed away with his coloured crayons and when he stood back, they all leaned forward to see what he’d done. Along the top of the paper was a frieze of lover’s knots, rosebuds and crossed shovels. Sydney threw back his head and laughed, ‘Navvy’s prayer books. Very appropriate!’

  The reason why Tim and Hannah were anxious for their guests to leave was not as Sydney had jocularly supposed. Tim knew that Hannah was worrying about her mother and as soon as the door closed behind their witnesses, he urged her. ‘It’s not too late. The snow’s melting and we can go to Camptounfoot now. It’s better to get it over.’

  When they went out again, the air was sharp and crisp.

  The world had become very still and peaceful, sleeping under a night sky that was spangled all over with thousands of stars. The dark outlines of the three guardian hills loomed on the southern horizon like a theatrical backdrop when they crossed the stone bridge, and the lights of Camptounfoot could be seen strung along the ridge ahead of them as they walked towards it, following the course of the river that glittered beside them like a silver ribbon.

  Tibbie was sitting by her kitchen fire when she heard her daughter rapping gently on the window-glass. She knew who had come so late. The door was unlocked and Hannah slipped in. ‘At least she has the grace to look abashed,’ thought her mother, as she stared up stony- faced. They gazed silently at each other for a few seconds until Tibbie said, ‘You’ve lost your place at Bella Vista, you know.’

  Hannah nodded, her glorious hair glittering in the candlelight. ‘I know. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter? It was a good place.’

  The girl stepped into the circle of light cast by the fire in the unlit room. ‘I’m a married woman now, Mam.’

  Tibbie dropped her head into her hands and moaned, ‘Oh, not to a navvy! Have you any idea what these men are like? They’re animals.’

  ‘Tim isn’t an animal. He’s a fine man and I love him, I really love him. You’ve got to believe me.’ Hannah’s voice was anguished as she pleaded.

  Her mother’s look was still stony. ‘That was quick work – you didn’t even know him yesterday. And does he love you? Where is he? Has he sent you back here on your own?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t. He’s at the door waiting. And I did know him yesterday. I’ve known him for a long time really. I met him at the dance the day the Queen came.’

  Tibbie flinched. ‘That railway has a lot to answer for. Craigie was right: it’s made my lassie a navvy’s whore.’ Her voice was bitter and she said a word that she would not normally have used, but the strain on her was intense.

  The effect it had on Hannah, however, was to make her angry. ‘Don’t call me a whore! You’re my mother and you know I’m not that. I’m telling you I’ve married a man whom I love, just as you married father because you loved him. Remember what that was like, Mother.’

  Tibbie looked up, stricken. Already she was beginning to regret the violence of her reaction. ‘But does he love you, lass? These men leave women behind them wherever they go,’ she groaned. She loved Hannah dearly. There had only been the two of them together for so many years and she knew in her heart that no matter what her daughter did, she would never repudiate her but she was angry, as much at the fact that this had been sprung on her as anything else.

  Hannah saw how her mother was softening, and knelt by the chair to ask, ‘Can I bring Tim in to speak to you, Mam? Then you�
�ll see that he’s not what you think.’ Tibbie neither said yes or no. Instead she fixed her dauther with a sharp eye and asked, ‘When you say you’re married, who did it? I can’t think any Minister round here would marry you without asking me what I thought first.’

  Hannah stood up. ‘Tim’s got the certificate with him,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring him in and he’ll show you.’

  It did not really surprise Tibbie that the man her daughter brought into the room was the same one as had saved Mr Wylie, the bridge contractor, from being shot by Craigie. There seemed to be a strange inevitability about what was happening. She felt she was being carried along by a force she could not control. He stood in the middle of her kitchen floor with his queer-looking hat in his hands and she asked him, ‘I hope you’re not playing around with my lassie?’

  He shook his black head. ‘I love Hannah, Mrs Mather.’

  Tibbie was not softened. ‘She says that you’ve got married but I can’t see how that’s possible. Have you a proper certificate?’

  He handed over his precious paper which she read with a wrinkled brow, sceptically eyeing the decoration of flowers and spades. ‘This doesnae look very legal to me.’

  He stepped forward to assure her, ‘But it is. The man who signed it there says it’s a perfectly legal irregular marriage. That’s what they call it…’

  She snorted. ‘Irregular! That’s about the word for it. What’s his name - God what? It sounds as if he made it up. Where did you find him?’

  ‘Godolphin, his name’s Godolphin.’

  ‘What sort of a name is that?’ It was obvious that Hannah’s mother suspected the whole thing was a pretence. She turned to her daughter to demand, ‘And what are you going to do about Bella Vista? Are you going to ask them to take you back?’

  Tim and Hannah looked at each other and the same question was in their minds: ‘Has all this taken only twenty-four hours to happen? Have our lives been turned outside down in such a short time?’

  It was Tim who answered. ‘Hannah won’t have to go back to Bella Vista. I earn enough to keep her.’