'Time will tell. But don't forget you've done a bit of near courtin' down in the town; Jeanie Brown, Mary Cotton and Bella.'
They both swung round now as the wife and mother, making towards the house door, said in no small voice,
'Flibbertigibbets, the lot of them! Flibbertigibbets! Here the day and gone the morrow. Anything with breeches on.'
After banging the door behind her she stood for a moment, slightly bewildered as she asked herself: was she, after all, for that girl? No; no. Men. Men. Let her get on with some cooking.
Back in the yard her husband and son were pushing at each other, the while aiming to still their laughter.
Before taking the basket into the cottage, Jinnie gave Max the bottle of elderberry wine; she thought it might be nicer than parsnip. Her immediate greeting from Rose Shaleman was, 'What have you got there?'
'Just some things Mrs Stevens gave me for Christmas.'
'Gave you for Christmas? You? If she was sending anything up here it would be for me. So what do you mean by you?'
'Just what I say, missis. She gave them to me because I offered to pay for the ingredients to make a cake. She wouldn't take it; and she said I had to have these and share them with Max.'
'God in heaven! girl. You'll try my patience too far one of these days. All that lot! Is it butter and cheese?'
'Yes. Yes, it is butter and cheese, and two cakes.'
'And you say she gave them to you?'
'Yes, she gave them to me; and she wouldn't take the money for them. I offered it. And she said I could share them with Max; but I'll share them with all of us.'
After a long pause Rose Shaleman said,' Give me that bottle here.'
Slowly Jinnie picked up the bottle and took it to the bed, and when her mistress demanded, 'What make is it?' she asked, 'Parsnip.'
'Parsnip?'
'Yes; that's what she said, parsnip.'
'It's a wonder she gave you that; it's the nearest thing to whisky, they say. And she only gave you the one?'
'No; she gave me two; one was for Max.'
At this the woman grabbed the bottle from Jinnie's hands, saying, 'For two pins I would hit you with this bottle, girl. A bottle for Max? a whole bottle for Max, and there's two of us here! I mean three if you want your share, and there's only one bottle?'
Jinnie stepped back from the bed and dared to shout at her mistress, 'You're the most ungrateful woman I've ever met in my life. There was nobody as bad as you in the workhouse. If it wasn't for Mister Bruce and the plight he's in, I'd walk out of here the morrow. Do you hear? Yes, I would. And from what I gather, Mrs Stevens would find me a decent place somewhere. So look out, I'm telling you. Look out, missis.' And she swung about.
She did not go to the table but went outside again and along to the stable where Max was seeing to the horse, and without any lead-up, she cried at him, 'You're leaving here, Max, and so would I if it wasn't for Mister Bruce. I'm telling you, so would I. That woman in there is so ungrateful; she's awful, awful.'
'She's sick . . . lonely . . . lonely.'
' She's not so sick and she's not so lonely. If she was lonely she would want friends, and I could be a friend; but she's awful to me. Never a civil word. Oh, Max, how wonderful it would be to work for someone like Mrs Stevens.'
Max went on brushing down the horse while saying,
'Few and f-f-far between, the Stevens.'
She sighed now, and said, 'Perhaps you're right. But the others couldn't be worse than her in there.'
'Go b-b-back. Be sorry for her.'
'Oh, Max!' There was a note of impatience in her voice now. 'It's all right you talking; you haven't got to be in there with her.'
'No.' He gave a small laugh now as he turned to her, saying, 'G-g-go barmy.'
'Well, what d'you expect me to do? I'll go barmy too before long, I'm telling you.' And abruptly she turned about and went back to the cottage; there to be met by the demand, 'Bring me a cup, girl;' and when she reached the bed, instead of handing the cup to her mistress she placed it on the stool that was always to the woman's hand; and when she was ordered, 'Give me a shive of the Christmas cake,' she boldly said,
'I'm not opening that till Christmas; I'll give you a piece of the currant flat cake.'
'You! girl.' The neck of the bottle rattled against the edge of the cup and Rose Shaleman paused for a moment before pouring herself out almost a full cup of the wine.
Jinnie was still at the table cutting into the stottie cake when she heard the sharp exclamation and, looking towards her mistress she saw her screw up her eyes while drawing her lips inwards, so demonstrating the effect of her first drink; and when she placed the flat cake on the stool, her mistress was again drinking from the cup. Then her mouth opened and Jinnie could hear the woman's tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth and the sound caused her own nose to wrinkle.
At the same time she snatched up the bottle from the stool; and the yelling of 'Girl!' did not stop her from taking it to the table, from where she looked at her mistress and said, 'It's to be shared. And it was meant for Christmas; and you've already had more than your share.' Then she placed the bottle on the delph rack and placed the cake next to it; the rest of the good things she put in the cupboard.
She had taken off her hat but not her coat; and now she grabbed the hat and went out into the scullery. There she stood for a moment panting with vexation. It was her leave time; she needn't have come back until just afore
dark. Well, she wasn't going upstairs to change her frock and then get started again with the meal; she'd take a walk until the light faded and let that one back there stew in her own bitter juice. She'd walk as far as the pond.
Ramming her hat on her head, she went out and to the stable again.
Max wasn't there, but she could hear him in the hen cree and she called, 'I'm going for a brisk walk.' He had been bending over a hen and he straightened his body and called back to her, 'Oh, good. W-w-walk it off.'
She knew what he meant all right, and she repeated to herself, walk it off; yes, but I've got to go back into it; and still mumbling, she started to climb to the path that led between banks of frozen brushwood to the surroundings of the pool.
She stood looking down into the water. It was very still, but had risen considerably during the past two months, because of the rain and snow. The hill beyond, which lay in deep shadow, was still tinged with frost and this went up to the railings that bordered the short section of the coach road above. The land to the left of the pool rose steeply and in the still clear light she could see a distant rise tinged with snow. It was the rise that Bruce had told her was only the beginning of many more, and if the sheep never went any further than that they were all right. He had brought the last of them to the lower land yesterday and was out there now seeing to them.
Max had said to walk it off, but perhaps she hadn't walked far enough because she was still feeling angry inside, and the pool and its surroundings weren't helping her today. Back in the summer, whenever she could escape for a short while, she had come running along the path to this spot and had sat by the water's edge for a few minutes and dreamed; but as the seasons changed, something seemed to change in her too so that now there was no comfort to be found within herself. She was turning away to retrace her steps back to the farm when a voice, apparently from above, hailed her and she quickly turned to look up the hill to the coach road, to see Mister Richard seated on a horse.
'Hello! there,' he called.
'Oh; hello, Mister Richard. You're back, then?'
'Well, if I'm not' - his voice came to her - 'then somebody's impersonating me.'
She laughed outright, and he called, ' Stay there, and I'll come down.'
'But . . . but how?' She could see no possible way to bring the horse down the hill; and he called to her,
'Further along; there's a cut.'
Yes, she had noticed a narrow cut leading up to the road but had never investigated it, and when she reached the place
it was to see the horse negotiating the cut very carefully, so that it appeared to be dancing.
Then he dismounted and stood before her saying,
'Oh! you have grown. How many months is it since I last saw you?'
'Almost three,' she said.
'Good lord! yes, it is almost three months; but you've certainly grown in that time. How's everybody?'
'Oh now, what can I say, Mister Richard?' She shook her head. 'You do know that the mister died?'
'Yes. Yes, I heard of that.'
'Well, since that, something nice has happened.'
'That's good to hear. Tell me.'
'Well, you know Max? You saw him once; the big fellow. That's what Mister Bruce calls him: the big fellow.'
'Yes; yes, Max, your guardian.'
'Yes; he's always been my guardian. Well, he works on the farm now.'
'Here? With Bruce?'
'Yes, but only for a time: he's got a job in Weardale, and it seems very good. He starts in the New Year.'
'He was in the ... I mean, he's been able to leave the . . .?'
'Yes; yes, sir, he was able to leave the workhouse. He's not simple, or anything like that, far from it. He's what you would call very intelligent.'
'Yes; yes, I understood that from something Bruce said. By the way, how is Bruce?'
'Well--' she turned her head slightly to the side and looked away from him as she said, 'you know he took a long time to get over that dreadful bout; and he would never have got over it if it hadn't been for you.'
'Oh, that's nonsense.'
' 'Tisn't nonsense. Oh!' She now bowed her head and said, 'I'm sorry.'
'What on earth are you sorry for? And why are we standing here jabbering? Let's get to the farm and say hello. Oh, dear.' He was looking along the flank of his horse now and he said, 'The three of us can't walk on this path; one of us has got to ride.'
'Oh, it's all right, sir.'
'No, it isn't all right: I meet a fair maiden who has lost her way. What kind of a cavalier am I to leave her stranded? Would you care to ride on my horse, madam?'
Her head deep on her chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter, she muttered, 'I saw a play like that once back in the house. They used to come at Christmas, and it was just like you said, the hero found this . . .
this lady was lost and he puts her on his horse and took her back to the castle. But,' she now spluttered,
'it was all very religious: I think he was out to save her soul, and he was really an angel in disguise and the castle was heaven.' She now looked up at him, her face wet with tears of laughter. 'Those of us who had laughed got into trouble next day.'
He too was laughing now as he looked down at her, and he said softly, ' Oh Jinnie, that was very funny. I'm sure I would've laughed too. Out to save her soul. Dear, dear.' Then his voice changing, he said, 'But I have found a lady who is lost and I'm going to ask her if she will do me the honour of riding my horse back to her castle.'
The ride the horse?'
'Just sit on the saddle like this.' And before she knew what was happening, he had taken her under the oxters and hoisted her on to the saddle; and still holding her, he said, 'How do you feel?'
'Frightened. It's very high.'
'Hang on to the pommel.' He pointed out the front of the saddle, then assured her, 'Don't worry, you won't slide off. Anyway, if you do, it won't matter because you'll only be trodden underfoot by the horse.'
Oh, he was funny; and so different. She couldn't have imagined that he would joke like this.
When her body began to rock with the motion of the horse she bit tightly on her lower lip; but as they neared the farm she thought, and regretfully, what a pity the path wasn't longer. She had been so miserable, so tired and fed up with everything, and now she was feeling happy, strangely happy . . . that was until they came into the clearing, there to see Max and Bruce standing together, their expressions showing amazement mixed with disapproval, until, bringing the horse to a standstill, Richard said, 'We couldn't walk abreast, so I hoisted her up there.'
He reached up and lifted her to the ground, saying to her, 'Don't expect that to happen every day. Go on with you and get away inside and out of the cold.'
His tone could have been that which he would use to a child, and laughing, she looked towards Bruce and Max, before slowly walking away, and with her departure the look on the faces of Bruce and Max changed. Bruce, thrusting out his hand, said, 'When did you get back?'
And Richard, shaking the hand warmly, answered, 'Last night; and it's good to be back, I can tell you. How are you?'
'Oh, I'm fine. And you?'
'It's a long tale, as usual, but not so much about me as about Mother. She was pretty groggy while we were away, and that kept us stuck in the same place for more than a month.'
'You know Max?'
'Oh yes. How d'you do, Max?' Richard said, although he didn't hold out his hand to the man, whose height and breadth made his own dwindle.
'Well . . . sir, v-v-very well,' Max answered.
'Good. Do you like it here?'
'Oh . . . yes. More . . . more than like.'
'Well, I'm surprised at that,' said Richard, and pointing to Bruce, said, 'working under a boss like him.'
And Max, picking up the jocular tone, replied, 'You're r-r-right, sir. Hard boss. Big stick,' and when Bruce aimed to push him away none too gently, they both laughed, leaving Richard feeling, for the moment, he was being left out of something. What, he could not rightly put a name to, as he witnessed the obvious affinity there was between his life-long friend and this new fellow, this very strange new fellow who, being stuck with such an impediment was nevertheless not without a wit of his own, workhouse product as he was.
'Come on,' Bruce said; 'let's go into the barn out of this wind; I want to hear all your news.' Then, turning to Max, he said, 'Walk Mister Richard's horse for a time. We won't be long.'
At the far end of the barn they sat on upturned boxes facing each other, and, laughing now, Bruce said,
'Privacy. We never could talk indoors, could we, either here or at your place?'
Except for the death of his father, Bruce's news was the same as always. He was unable to speak of the change of feeling between his mother and himself, and so he ended his short recital with, 'Now, what's yours?'
'Well; first of all,' Richard said emphatically, 'I'm not going to be pushed into this marriage. All right, I shall marry some day, and it will likely still be Lillian.
And yet, I have to wonder what difference marriage would make in our lives anyway - we'd never be free of either family. You've no idea, Bruce, of the closeness between them; it's extraordinary, even though they are of different religions. Even the recent papal declaration of the infallibility of the Pope on his personal immunity from error in faith and morals hasn't loosened the tie, as would have been expected. You know, Father and Mother were as excited about it as Lillian's people were. They all went to Mass together that morning. I was conveniently unwell. I can't help but say it, Bruce, but I think it's weird.'
'About you being unwell: how are you these days?'
'Oh, as fit as a fiddle. I always am when I'm back here in the hills.'
'No, you aren't.'
'Well, most of the time. There's only one other place I'd like to be, Bruce; that's in Paris. There's a marvellous quarter there for painters; and they're so helpful to each other. I think it's the only place in the world where you could live on a pittance. By the way, I heard a bit about your father absconding with the money. How're you fixed now?'
'Oh, I'm all right,' Bruce said; 'we'll survive.'
'Jinnie tells me you're soon to lose your new hand.'
'Yes; and that's one thing I'm sorry for. But I can't employ him. The fact is, he's working for nothing now, but he insisted on staying under those conditions.'
'Working for nothing? Not many in his position would do that today. The farm workers are at it again, you know. They're gathering strength as they get tog
ether.
Not that it'll do them much good; but I'm sorry for them. It wouldn't be so bad if they were provided with decent living quarters.'
Bruce laughed, saying, 'Such as I provide for mine?
Max is sleeping in the swill-room; from his own choice, I may say.'
They were outside the barn now, and they stood looking to where Max was walking Richard's mare up and down by the cottage, and Richard said, 'Look; I know we've been over this before but, on this occasion, why don't you accept a little help? I've had quite a bit from my godmother; I don't have to depend entirely on the powers that be, so who's to know? And you could keep him on.'
'Yes, Richard; we've been over this before, and I have to say again that it's more than kind of you, but as I've also said, I'm not starting on that tack; I value too much what is between us.'
'Well, you don't value it any more than I do; but in a matter like this I don't see why you can't accept just a little help; in fact, treat it as a loan: you could pay me back later if it niggled you so much to be beholden to me.'
'Oh, don't be silly. It isn't a case of that, and you know it; but look ... all right, when I reach rock bottom, I'll yell for help. As it is I've worked out that I can manage until my two lady friends and her husband decide to supply me with another litter. There's quite a market, you know, in that direction.'
Richard sighed and said, 'I'm not so ignorant of farming as not to know it'll be a matter of months before you could rake anything in from them,' to which Bruce had no answer; and so they walked to where Max was now holding the horse still.
When Richard took the reins from Max, he did not address him but just nodded to him; but once mounted, he looked down at the big fellow and said, 'Goodbye, Max;' and Max replied, 'Goodbye, sir.'
'And the best of luck in your new position.'
'Th . . . thank you, sir.'
Bruce walked alongside Richard's stirrup until they were well past the cottage; and then looking up at him he said, 'You intended to go this way?'
'Yes; I've been out for some time. She's had enough.'
He patted the horse's neck; then looking down at Bruce, he said, 'You will miss Max when he's gone.'
The Tinker's Girl Page 22