by Glynis Smy
James was frantic, his father would be furious, and James knew he would not hesitate to take his belt to his son. Because of the value of the ewe, James also knew he would be given an extra hiding. The beating he could take, he had become used to them, but the lack of supper did not appeal to the seventeen year old. His father always took great delight in depriving him from a much-needed meal.
By the time he had dragged the injured animal to the top he realised to his horror, that he had dragged a carcass. The ewe had died; fear and injury had overpowered it.
James spent the next hour gathering in his flock, he secured the dog to rope he found along the way. She was not to be trusted with rounding up. He was a fit and able young man, his physical work outside had given him a healthy glow and a muscular body, he draped the dead sheep across his broad shoulders with little effort. The walk home seemed so long and he felt nothing but dread. The knowledge of what lay before him showed in every heavy step he took. The boy vowed that one day he would leave the countryside and live in the city of London. He had noticed his father always looked forward to his trips, and for a day or so his mood was tolerable. James enjoyed those rare and precious moments.
He finished his chores and washed up in the yard. He now felt the sting of the cuts and bruises he gained on his rescue mission. He strode across the stable yard towards the house. He composed his words with care and was ready to relay the mishap. When he opened the kitchen door, his worse fears were met. His father was berating his mother for some small wrongdoing, and his siblings sat quietly at the table. His brother glanced up and gave a weak smile; he then went back to the crop rotation book he was working on. His sister continued shelling peas, with her head down. James guessed she had been crying. No doubt the argument was because of something she had failed to do. His mother probably came to her rescue, and now received a tongue whipping from her husband. James’s news was going to fuel the anger his father already had. Whenever anything happened, his father appeared to thrive on their misery. James moved to the milk pitcher and poured himself a drink. He was biding his time in the hope his father would calm down. Eventually he did and went to his seat at the head of the large pine table. James nodded towards his father and said good evening. He kissed his mother's forehead.
‘Evening, Mama.’
She turned and gave him a weak smile.
‘Evening, Jack.’ His mother only used his pet name when his father had upset her. She appeared to use a term of endearment for her three children as a source of comfort.
James sat at the table. It was time to explain the situation. Thankful for the distraction, their mother busied herself with the evening meal. His father grunted at him, then started the conversation James dreaded.
‘What was the new flock like? Eat well did they?’
James took a deep breath.
‘Yes sir, they were on full form. Grazing well, no loose bowels and the young appear healthy.’
‘Cost a ruddy fortune that lot, so they had better be in fine fettle. Which meadow did you use? I will take them tomorrow and see for myself.’
James took another sip of his milk. Confession time was upon him.
‘I heard there was Ragwort over at Dangers brook, so I took them to Stubbs meadow, near the ravine. We haven’t grazed that one lately, it was full. Good grazing. Talking of the ravine, Bessie played me a dance today. She is not a good herder, not like Tal. I am going to have to take her instead next time. Bessie needs to be replaced.’
His father sat back in his chair, and put his hands behind his head. The movement made James nervous; he had felt those hands come down on him many times in the past. He jumped when his father spoke again.
‘What did she do? You probably never gave the right instructions. Your voice is weak, too namby-pamby if you ask me. What did she do, ignore you? Tried whistling?’
The sneers in his voice irritated James, but he knew he needed to keep calm.
‘I tried it all, Father. But sadly - we lost a ewe. She became skittish and fell down the ravine. I had to pull in the flock myself and tie the dog up to walk home. I brought the ewe back; she is outside by the pump.’
The room was silent; everyone was absorbing what he had just said. James looked to them for support, but got none. He waited for the abuse that was bound to follow the news. He did not have to wait long. His father pushed back his seat, the noise as it hit the floor, triggered tension in the room. He pulled James out of his seat; he fell backwards, but scrabbled to his feet so he could look his father in the face. The man did not hold back with his verbal abuse. For over five minutes he dragged up the weak areas of James’s work. Then came the beating, it was of no surprise to James. Despite his own high fitness ability, his father was stronger, plus he had height to use as an advantage. He pulled James by the hair and lashed out with his leather belt across the top of his thigh. He continued until he had drawn blood. The physical pain hurt, but the humiliation of taking it in front of his brother and sister was far more painful. His father was a bully and his mother was weak. Gentle, kind and loving...but weak.
‘Jack’s had enough now. Leave him be, please. You are hurting him.’
‘Hurt him? The boy has been softened up by you woman. Jacky boy. Jacky baby.’ His father sneered at him.
But James was a man now, Jack the boy had been beaten for the last time. Deep inside, he nurtured a different Jack. A tougher character, the one that kept him focused at times such as this. He listened as his father continued the torment, suppressing his secret Jack, the one that frightened even him. Eventually his father stopped and ordered him to take the carcass out to the barn.
‘Joint the bloody thing. Do not look at me like that, woman. This is my house and if I wish to curse I will. Your children are enough to make me curse.’
James watched as his mother turned her back on them. His father continued to bark out his orders.
‘The boy is not to eat. Serve him no supper tonight. D’you hear me?’
James’s heart sank.
‘But Father. I tried my best. It was not my fault. If the dog-.’
‘Dammit, boy! It is not the dog’s fault. It was yours. Do you hear me? Yours. You useless fool. Now get out while we eat.’
James left the kitchen. His next task was to be a challenge. Keep Jack under control, and do a good job on the carcass. He needed to get back into his father's good books.
He worked hard in the barn and forgot his hunger. Anger fed him. He prepared the joints and presented it to his father. Unfortunately for James, it was not to his father's standards. Another beating was given without love. Anger rose in James. He tasted the blood where he had bitten his lip to stop calling out during the beating. Bile rose. He needed air and to get away from the situation. He needed to think; he slammed the kitchen door as he left the house and headed for the kennels.
The resentment and anger he had been trying to contain bubbled to the surface. James walked the yard. He thought about his life while he paced up and down. His father had humiliated him yet again. From a small boy all he had ever known was fatherly abuse. He found outlets to release his inner turmoil by accident. Now he knew he needed to relieve them before he lashed out at his parent. The consequences of which would be disastrous. In the past he had tried to contain the emotions, but had always failed. He had noted he usually felt calmer in the butchery. Sharp blades forced through bone and flesh, for some reason calmed his nerves. He had to focus and the more he did the calmer his body became.
James stopped pacing. He knew what he had to do.
He dragged Bessie into the barn; she needed to be taught a lesson. He lifted her by the scruff of the neck, she struggled, and he drew her into his arms.
‘Come on madam. Time for you to sleep elsewhere.’
He laid her on the bench, onto her back, holding her with one hand on her belly; he covered her face with a sack.
‘You really got me into trouble today. I have suffered because of you.’ James pressed his hand firm
er onto her belly as she tried to get up. She yelped and then gave a low growl. The noise angered James even more.
‘Lay still, bitch.’ He hissed through gritted teeth.
He could feel Jack pushing his way to the surface. James was no longer prepared to keep him suppressed.
He picked up a sharp jointing knife. Then with one swift movement he cut her throat. She would have felt nothing; his actions were fast and precise. He was not a novice in the butchery barn. He looked down at her. The flow of blood and the gentle twitching of her body calmed him; he watched each movement until there was no more. He was intrigued by the action of death and how it had affected him. If asked he would never be able to explain how it made him feel, or when he first realised it for the first time.
There was no stopping him now. He needed to complete the cycle of release.
He sliced open the belly from the breastbone downwards. The same action he used when butchering the ewe. With her, he had just gone through the motions, never really taking in the animal form but now he had the urge to learn more.
Slowly he lifted the intestines out; fascinated he continued to study every organ he removed. His temper eased and the sense of fulfilment made him feel good. He enjoyed the power he felt when another died at his hand.
As time went by and gathered years, James knew he trod a path of evil. For every beating or mood swing, no animal was safe, the rabbit in the field, the stray dog, and eventually the year he was twenty, he presented the perfectly prepared spring lamb. That was a memory that would stay with him forever. The Easter feast made his father happy and his family rejoiced on his success a truly rare moment in his life.
James had seen a little respect in his father's eyes for once. He wondered how long the moment would last, knowing his father not for long. Both men knew the relationship between them had shifted slightly. The beatings became less and less. Unfortunately, the scars of what went before were never to be removed and affected James for many years.
Chapter 7
An Unexpected Visitor
William walked downstairs and was greeted by the homely smell of cooking. Kitty had mastered the art of turning out a good meal and the house soaked up the perfume of her labours. Fresh bread and Hock stew, he identified would be his supper and he salivated with anticipation. There would be extra in the pot tonight, both Arthur and Samuel were coming to eat. William enjoyed the company of Samuel, he brought with him various snippets of news from the city, and between them they would put the world to rights. While they were doing so the younger members of the supper group would be going through Kitty's lessons. William was strict when it came to this part of the evening, there was never any time wasted with idle chitchat.
He was proud of his daughter, she had come a long way with her education, and Arthur was teaching her well. He was a little concerned about her worries regarding Arthur's extra visits, he had dismissed them lightly, but he would watch Arthur and see if her concerns were valid. He could not blame the young man, Kitty had become a beautiful woman and would make a good wife, but William was not sure he wanted Arthur as a son-in-law. He was pleasant enough, but William felt he did not have the personality for Kitty.
He looked around the room; the small cottage was his castle. He took pride in the whitewashed walls and ensured they were always clean. William was a good carpenter; he had made several of the wooden shelves and utensils that were in the kitchen. The rugs were a gift from the vicarage when Lilly was in service, and Kitty had made pretty curtains that draped around the kitchen windows, they made a lovely feature as you looked out onto the small yard. The curtains that hung at the main windows that faced the street, were heavy red brocade that Lilly had made from an old bed counterpane many years ago. Every summer, Kitty would insist he took them down. She gave them a good beating and airing in the yard. They always survived the beating and were re-hung, it was a ritual in the Harper home, these were a part of Lilly that both were reluctant to part with.
Thanks to the good wage he and Lilly had earned, they were able to afford decent second hand furniture. When the opportunity to buy the property from their landlord shortly after Kitty was born arose, they scraped the money together and bought it, William always took pride in that fact. It was a cosy home and Kitty held it together well. To him it was worth more than drinking every night in the local public house.
He was not sure that he wanted Arthur to become a permanent feature here, of that he was certain. William had no choice and would leave time to take its course.
They had many discussions of late. They involved Kitty and her ambition to become the proprietress of a haberdashery shop. She had also mentioned on more than one occasion, that if the opportunity arose, she would want to live above the premises. The last conversation they had about the subject was left that they would discuss it, if and when the time arose. Never once did she speak about wishes to marry. William had private thoughts, he did not want to live alone he was used to a warm kitchen with a friendly face as a companion at meal times. If Kitty married Arthur it would be a way to keep her at home, but he felt sure she was not going to sway into Arthur's arms in the immediate future. A knock at the door startled him out of his daydream, and he rose to answer it.
‘Arthur's here,’ he called out to Kitty.
She had gone to collect her books from her room.
‘I will be straight down.’ She called back.
William opened the door, but it was not Arthur who smiled back at him.
A tall stranger stood in the doorway, he was smartly dressed and clean. A gentleman with funds, by the look of his frock coat and trousers. William raised an eyebrow in silent question as to what the visitor wanted with him. The young man removed his top hat and spoke, he did not have a central London accent, and William took a guess that this was a country gent.
‘Good evening sir, I wonder if Miss Kitty Harper is at home. I understand she lives here. My name is James Lockwood and I need to return something to her.’
The man held out his hand to shake William's.
‘Well, sir, a strange man at the door asking after my daughter begs the question, what is your business. To return something you say?’
James nodded and briefly explained how he and Kitty had met that morning.
William invited him to step inside and as he did so, the inner door opened and Kitty walked into the kitchen. The room went quiet, both men looked at the pretty vision dressed in green poplin, and she in turn stared at the young man, then a puzzled frown went to her father.
‘Mr Lockwood, wh-what are you doing here? How did you find my home?’ Kitty stammered out her words. She moved towards James with her hand held out in friendship. She felt her cheeks flush and hoped they did not glow too brightly; she had a tendency to have pink cheeks when embarrassed. She was thankful she had taken off her apron and tidied her hair before she had entered the room.
‘Forgive the intrusion, Miss Harper,’ James stepped towards her, ‘but when you had your mishap this morning, I noticed that you had dropped a packet from your basket. I made enquiries with one of the traders at the market; they knew you and told me your address.’
He held out a small brown parcel, it was the ribbons she had bought from Nellie Bliss's stall, near to where the boy snatched her book. She had found the ones from the haberdashery shop, but thought she had misplaced the market stall ones when she unpacked her basket. What luck he found them, she would need them for her work the next day.
‘Oh, thank you so much for returning them. I had wondered where they had disappeared to, and thought I had been the victim of light fingers again,’ she smiled at the man who had been on her mind all afternoon.
How a stranger could affect her in such a way was a puzzle, one she was sure she would never solve. Yet here he was and he created the same warm, pleasant feeling she had experience at their first meeting.
‘Could I offer you a drink Mr Lockwood?’ she turned towards her father, she felt flustered and still a little co
nfused. He would need an explanation.
‘This gentleman helped me this morning, father.’
She pleaded with her eyes, for him to say something.
‘Yes, so he was telling me, little children with light fingers took your book, come sit sir, Kitty put the kettle on, or would you like a draft of ale?’
William strode over to his seat near the fire; he beckoned James to do the same.
‘A draft of ale would be most welcome Mr Harper, thank you.’
James was more than willing to sit in the company of Kitty for a while longer. Her petite features and slender waist were good on the eye.
Kitty composed herself and set about her task. She side glanced at their visitor. He was every inch a man. He had broad shoulders and hands that looked strong, like her father's. William and James sat chatting about the docks and James life on his farm. She had been right; he was the son of a farmer and visited the market on a regular basis. He looked so handsome; his dress coat was smart and made from good quality cloth. Both men thanked her for their drinks and continued chatting as if old friends. William encouraged James to call him by his first name, and both men were comfortable in each other's company. This pleased Kitty, she liked the scene set before her.
A few moments later came another knock at the door, and this time it was the expected Arthur and Samuel. Introductions were made and the morning story relayed once again to explain the presence of the well-dressed gent in the room. After a polite length of time, James took his leave. Kitty was disappointed, she had hoped her father would ask him to stay for supper, she did not know why she was keen for his company, but she knew he made her feel feminine and special. He had not gone out of his way to do anything in particular to make her feel like this, but she noticed she did not feel the same with Arthur. This was a different feeling.
With James gone, she turned her attention to Arthur and her lesson. She tried so hard to clear James from her mind. She read a passage from her new book; she enjoyed reading about the March girls, especially Jo. She became absorbed with the family. She loved how their lives were portrayed within the few pages she was able to read and understand. Arthur explained to her about words that were new to her. Dollars she now understood to be the currency of the country they called America. Several of her friends and neighbours had emigrated there to seek their fortune; Kitty hoped they earned many a dollar. Arthur laughed at some of her attempts to pronounce words. Most nights she would have joined him and laughed at her errors, but tonight he irritated her and she could not understand why.