The Tinker's Girl

by Catherine Cookson

  She seemed to detect something of relief in his tone as he added, 'But I have it mostly to meself.' Then, he pulled open one of the two drawers in the side of the table, saying, 'Knives and forks and such you'll find in here.'

  'Yes. Yes.'

  At the door leading to the other room he turned and pointed towards the kale-pot that was showing bubbling water, and he explained, 'We keep that going for washing-up and such. But in here' - he pushed the door open - 'other things necessary for all you'll want. It's a big scullery.'

  Facing her was a mangle, and a poss-tub, together with a poss-stick. From where she stood, half of the poss-stick shank was visible, which meant it was resting on soaking clothes. One wall was taken up with shelves, empty except for a large black pan, and a brown earthenware cooking bowl. On the floor was a grease filled frying pan and a griddle plate. Below the window was a shallow brown stone trough with a hole in its centre, from which a pipe led into a bucket beneath. To the side of the trough was a pump and she watched him now put his hand on the handle and press it downwards, so that a spurt of water fell into the trough. She had been wondering about how they would have to get water in when he, voicing her thoughts, said, 'This saves a lot of lugging from the pond. We had it fixed up a few years back.' He again pressed the handle and looked at the contraption as if he was proud of it. Then turning to her, he said, 'This is the part that I never like to explain: up there ... up them steps, is your billet . . .

  where you sleep. It's very low; no use trying to stand up, even in the middle. There's a straw pallet and you can change the straw every week if you like. It's up to you.' Then in an aside he added, 'Some would leave it!

  until it crawled out by itself.'

  She looked towards the stone steps, one side of them!

  bordered by the far wall, the other without a rail of any kind. She saw they were shallow steps with no width,!

  and she thought it was just as well there were not too) many of them else she could fall off. She didn't like I heights, not close heights anyway, the kind that you felt you were going to topple over. Only once had she, experienced such a height and she had a bad memory of it far, far back, when she had a father and he took!

  her on jaunts; that is if, of course, they had been settled in a kindly farmer's field where their belongings were!

  safe.

  She was surprised when Bruce touched her arm, saying, 'Don't look so scared, it's quite comfortable. And

  after all, you lie down when you're sleepin', don't you?'

  He was smiling at her again. She hadn't known she had looked scared.

  When a loud grunt interrupted what he was about to point out next, he looked towards another door which

  apparently led outside; and for explanation, he said,

  'Sow; she's nearing her time. We're expecting a good litter.'

  'Oh.' She returned his smile for she had seen a sow and her litter on the workhouse farm, and, unlike most

  people, she liked pigs.

  'Come and see her.'

  Outside, and passing what she recognized by the smell was the swill-house, he said, 'That's the boiling-up

  -house,' and coming to the pigsty, he looked down Ion a very heavily laden sow and said, 'Still hanging on, are you?' and when Jinnie put her hand over the sty wall and scratched the pig's ear, he exclaimed,

  'You're not frightened of her?'

  'No. I ... I think I like pigs.'

  'Good! Good! That'll be a help anyway. Come on round here.'

  The end of the building presented a surprise. She had imagined the hill to go straight up, almost, as she thought, forming a wall. But there was about a hundred feet of level ground before it rose, and then abruptly. In this area was a long hen run and quite a large, but low barn, and a stable beyond. This was empty, although the floor showed evidence of a horse, and she asked eagerly, 'You've got a horse?'

  'Aye, horse and cart. Me da's got them to market. It's store day once a month; store day.' His face looked blank now and the tone of his voice was one she hadn't heard before: there was bitterness in it as he had added, 'Store day.

  'Over there,' he went on, 'is an outdoor closet, if you want to use it. And along there' - he was indicating beyond the hen runs - 'at the far end is a midden.'

  Then he added quickly, 'We . . . we empty our own slops; but you'll have to see to Ma's.'

  'Aye, yes. Yes, sir. I mean . . . mister.'

  He stopped and, looking down at her, and in his lordinary tone, he said, 'You could call me Bruce.'

  Her delay in answering was as if she was considering this personal invitation; then she said, 'Thank you, but it should be "mister";' and she added, 'Miss Caplin would say it should be "mister".'

  'Who's Miss Caplin?'

  'She's an officer in the house, and she was kind to me; very.'

  'Oh, well then, it'll be "mister'

  His chin now slowly drooping towards his chest, he surveyed her for some seconds before he said, 'You're a funny lass, aren't you? But I hope you'll stick it out here, because me ma needs somebody like you. She wasn't always sickly like this, you know. At one time she was spritely and, believe it or not, bonny. That was until this thing got a hold of her. But she's fought it She's very plucky, is me ma. It'll win in the end, though, but until then she'll need help.'

  A great wave of pity flooded her. Strangely, not only for the woman in the bed in the wall, but for her son) here, her caring son; for that's what he had already shown himself to be.

  She answered quickly, saying, 'I'll do me best, mister.

  I promise you, I'll do me best. And I'll clean the place up and brighten it. And I'll cook as best I can, and I'll see to her. I'm used to old people, you know, although she doesn't look all that old. But there were a lot of old people in the house. And I was on the wet ward once; for months and . . .' She ended simply by nodding, and he did not enquire what she meant by wet ward. But he said, 'I'm sure you will. I have a feeling that you will.

  Well, come on; I'll lift the kale-pot off and it'll give you hot water to start on that lot on the table.'

  They were in the room again, and seeing her pulling off her hat and coat, he said, 'I'd take your bundle' - he lifted it from a chair and thrust it towards her - 'and go up where I showed you, and get into something rough.'

  You have another frock, I suppose?'

  'Yes. Yes, a working one.'

  'Well, do that.'

  After she had actually run from the room he stood looking towards the open door, before turning to the

  ,bed and saying, 'She'll do all right, I think, Ma.'

  'I ... I hope so, lad.' Her voice was low. 'It's a pity it's market day though.'

  'Aye. Aye, it is. Well, I've shown her the ropes, and now I'll leave her to get on with it.'

  'Couldn't you give her a hand with that lot off the table first?'

  'Ma, I should have been in the top field an hour ago.

  You know what he'll say when he gets in. And if any of them have got over the hump, God above, we'll go through the same pattern again.

  Not that he'll see to

  any of them himself. Oh no! There's going to be a showdown here, Ma, before long.'

  'All right. But now get yourself away. I'll sit on the edge and tell her what to do.'

  'You'll do nothing of the sort. You can tell her what to do just from where you are.' He leant over her and thrust another bare tick pillow behind her back, saying, 'Now you can see enough from where you are, and you've still got a voice on you.' His own voice had softened and when she answered, 'That's about the only thing that's left,' he said swiftly, 'Now, now! I've told you.'

  'All right, all right.' Her voice had risen. 'Get yourself away. Go on, because one thing is certain, you mustn't be in the house when he gets back. But that's a point... if he comes straight back.'

  'I wouldn't bank on that, Ma. Anyway, now I'm off.' He leaned towards her and touched her cheek gently with his fingers; then, from a nail in the back of the door he pu
lled off an old coat and cap, replacing them with those he had been wearing; then again he glanced towards his mother before hurrying from the room . . .

  She had cleared the table. The crockery had been washed first, the mugs needing to be scoured to remove the old'

  tea stains. As for the pans, she had taken them outside, and, kneeling by the side of an open drain at the end of the building, had scraped off the encrusted soot, Then, after scouring them inside, she had arranged them on the shelf in the scullery room, and the mugs and plates on the rack in the kitchen.

  During her comings and goings the woman hadn't said a word, but had watched her every move. It wasn't until Jinnie said, 'Can I get you something to drink, missis?' that she said, 'Yes, lass; and get yourself one an' all,' for which suggestion Jinnie was thankful.

  'But how do I get the kettle on the fire, missis, with a kale- pot there? I carried it back when it was empty and filled it; but I couldn't lift it off now.'

  'Oh.' The woman pulled herself slowly upwards; then twisting round in the bed to look towards the fire, she said, 'Two of the bars come down and act as a hob. There's a small rake at the side, so just lift them down and they'll hold the kettle.'

  'Oh yes. Yes, thank you.'

  After some trial and error she managed to lift the bars from their sockets to form a flat stand, and on this she placed the kettle and pressed it towards the glowing embers.

  The kettle wasn't all that large, and so by the time she had taken outside the heavy clippie mat that fronted the hearth and shaken it, before turning it upside down and jumping on it to loosen the grit from the hessian backing, as she had been made to do back in the house, the kettle was bubbling.

  She lifted it hastily to the side before going to the bed again and saying, 'What'll I make you? Have you tea?'

  'Yes, lass; in the caddy on the mantelpiece, the left hand one. The teapot's under the rack over there. Put in two spoonfuls. That won't make it too strong, 'cos there's no milk. Bruce brings that over the night. He picks a can up from the wall where one of the farm lads will have left it. It saves him a long trek at the end of a hard day.'

  She mashed the tea, let it draw for a while, then poured out a mug and took it to the woman, who held it between both hands as if warming them before she said, 'Thank you, Jinnie. You did say your name was Jinnie, didn't you?'

  She couldn't remember having said what her name was, and when she didn't answer, the woman said,

  'Bruce must have heard it.'

  When she asked her what she would get for a meal, her mistress again lay back on her pillow as if having to search her mind. Then she pointed up to the ceiling where, attached to a beam were a number of large hooks, from which hung what Jinnie could see were pieces of meat.

  The woman now said, 'There are two hams up there and a shoulder and a leg of lamb. Them two could be a bit high, but the hams are just right. But then it's no use, you couldn't reach them. You'll have to wait until . . .'

  'I could, missis, if I stood on the table.'

  There was again a semblance of a smile on the woman's face and she said, 'Yes, lass, you're right.

  You could if you stood on the table, but you'd have to keep your head bent or you'd go through the roof. Anyway, get yourself up and unhook this end one.'

  Still propped up on her elbows, she watched the frail looking girl climb on to the table and, with shoulders hunched, stretch out her arms and unhook the ham. But the weight of it brought her double and she dropped it on the table.

  On the floor once more, Jinnie laughed and said, 'It's much heavier than it looks, missis.'

  'Fetch it here.'

  She took it to the bed and the woman now pressed her long bony thumb into the top of it, saying, 'That's all right; it'll be nice for frying.' Then she added, 'About six o'clock--' She now inclined her head towards the mantelpiece on which stood a Staffordshire pottery figure of two people holding a round-faced clock in their entwined arms, and she said, 'Around six o'clock, Bruce should be back. He'll lift the kale-pot off and you'll have a big pan ready full of taties. You'll get them out of a sack in the barn. You know, round the corner. You'll put the peelings next door where the boiler is for the pig food. It hasn't been on for a day or two ... the boiler, and she's had to have them raw. But she likes the hot mash, and at this time she needs it. I'll get Bruce to show you how to light the boiler and make her mash. But in the meantime, when you're waitin'

  for the taties to boil, you'll cut six slices of ham off that end' - she pointed to the ham - 'the first four thick, about so--' She now demonstrated the thickness of the required slices, then added, 'The next two not so thick, one for you and one for me. You understand?'

  'Yes, missis.'

  'Well, take it out and put it in yonder cupboard until it's needed.' She was pointing over her shoulder now.

  Jinnie took the ham and made her way to the end of the room, slightly mystified because she couldn't see any cupboard, until she espied what looked like a hatch in the corner next to the chest of drawers.

  Lifting this up she saw a shelf that went deeply into the recess of the wall, and after placing the ham on it, I

  she returned to the bed and, smiling at her mistress, she said, 'It took a little finding; it's a hidey-hole all right.'

  The woman nodded at her, saying, 'Aye, this side of the house is very thick, all of three feet, or perhaps a bit more. Then, of course, they had to build on to there.' She was now indicating the wall behind where she lay. 'They had to do it in order to get a double tick in. Me man's grandfather did it when they built the place.' She now dropped back heavily on to her pillows and sighed. It was an audible sound and had the effect of saddening Jinnie and making her enquire,

  'Is there anything I can get you, missis? I mean, a wash, like?'

  'No, lass. As for the wash, I had the flannel round me face this mornin'. Bruce sees to that. But if you'd bring me the po, it's under that bit curtain there' - she indicated the bottom of the bed - 'where the curtain drops to the floor.'

  Following these directions, Jinnie saw a piece of ragged curtain hanging from a frame attached to the wall beyond the bed and, lifting it, she saw another shelf, on which was a china chamber-pot. The smell that wafted over her was almost a stench. She closed her eyes for a moment and bit on her lip in order not to show her repugnance.

  After handing it to the woman, she was surprised to hear her say, 'I know it smells, lass; I haven't been able to scald it for months; but come the better weather I might be able to get on me feet again and . . . and go to the closet.'

  'Oh, it's all right. It's all right, missis,' Jinnie was quick to reassure her; but the woman paused before thrusting the pot underneath the bedclothes and, looking into Jinnie's face, she said, 'You've got the makings of a good lass. I only hope you'll be able to stick it.'

  'Oh, missis, I'm sure I will. I won't mind looking afti you.'

  'Oh,' the woman said, and closed her eyes tightly!

  for a moment: 'there's more to put up with than met But anyway, let's wait and see.'

  A few minutes later, Jinnie said, 'Where do I empty; it, missis?'

  'There's a bucket outside the door. Put it in there until it's full, and then you take that to the middens.

  It's round beyond the hen crees. But you won't have to do that often, as Bruce sees to it, except when they're lambing and times like that when he's up all night, or . . .' She stopped abruptly.

  It was some time later when she was washing the grime off the window that her mistress said to her,

  'You hungry, lass?' and she answered quickly, 'Yes, am a bit, missis.'

  'Well, it'll be some time afore they're in. So, look!

  in the cupboard in the scullery. You'll find pig's fat there and the remains of a loaf, so Bruce says. But; you'll find it as hard as flint; the other one couldn't bake.'

  On Jinnie's enquiring look, she said, 'It was the lass

  . . . No, she was no lass, she was a woman, but she was as lazy as she was long. Use
d to public-house work behind a bar, I think, most of her life. And why she put in for this job, God knows; or, at least, I've got an idea.; But she found nothing doing in that quarter.' And there; being no following up of this enigmatic statement, Jinnie went into the scullery, and there in the pantry found a

  jar of pig fat. She spread some on a slice of the dry bread and sprinkled it with salt. It tasted good; and as she cut a second slice she told herself it would make a lovely meal if the bread was toasted . . .

  It was about two hours later when the woman, pulling herself well up in the bed, said, 'Go to the door and see if you can hear a cart coming.'

  After doing what she was bid, Jinnie came back to the bed and said, 'No, missis, I could hear nothing. It's quiet out there, and there's no wind either.'

  The woman's hands were gripped together tightly against her chest as she said, 'Well, lass, when my man comes in, I'd ask you not to take any notice of what he says, 'cos he'll likely be ... well, you'll find out sooner or later. He'll be in the drink. Of course, that's nothing unusual, but he ... well, he always seems to go for it in a big way on market day.'

  During those five weeks she had been in service in Newcastle she'd also had some experience of a man in drink. More than once the master of the house had come in very cheery, and twice he had talked to her and joked with her in the kitchen. But on each occasion the mistress was out. He had questioned her a lot about the workhouse and herself, and she had liked him until the night he crawled into the cupboard and got on top of her. She had been sound asleep and she had screamed.

  So yes, she knew what men were like when in drink.

  She had set the table for three with the rough cutlery and, having found a well-washed tray cloth in the chest of drawers, she had put it on the tin tray set ready for her mistress's meal. And whilst waiting for the men's home-coming, she re-filled the coal scuttle, bringing the coal in a shovel at a time, because she could hardly lift the brass container when empty, let alone when it was full of coal. Then she banked up the fire and blew it into a blaze with the bellows, so that the flickering light from it gave a softness to the room.