Rosa's Island

by Val Wood

  ‘No.’ Jim leaned on his spade. ‘He was onny casual anyway.’

  ‘Then he’s no right on our land.’ Matthew picked up his spade again. ‘I’m going to see him off.’

  ‘He’s not on our land!’ Jim attempted to placate him. ‘If you use your eyes you’ll see he’s on ’road. You can’t stop him from being there.’

  ‘I’m going anyway.’ Matthew slung his spade into the nearby cart. ‘I want to know what this is about.’

  He was consumed with jealousy, not least because Byrne had his hand tucked beneath Rosa’s arm. As he walked towards them, Rosa faltered and her eyes blinked rapidly as she saw him.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ Byrne said pleasantly. ‘A cold damp day for ditching, is it not?’

  Matthew ignored him. ‘Rosa! Is this fellow bothering you?’

  She hesitated. ‘I – er, no. No, he’s not, Matthew. You need have no fear of that. I – I’m just showing Mr Byrne the extent of your father’s land.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked bluntly. ‘Why should he want to know about our land?’

  ‘Why – Matthew! It is Matthew, isn’t it? Yes?’ Byrne gazed at him languorously. ‘I’m from farming stock myself. I’ve not always been a ditcher, you know. No, I’ve worked the land. I know of ploughing and sowing and reaping the harvest. And I know of the potato harvest – or rather I don’t know of the potato harvest, for there wasn’t one in Ireland when I was a boy. It failed! You might have heard?’

  There was a sneer in his voice and Matthew knew instinctively that this man had many axes to grind. ‘And soon,’ Byrne seemed to be speaking almost to himself, ‘and soon there was no land either, for my mammy and daddy were turned off theirs. The English, you know – they did that.’

  ‘I do know,’ Matthew said decisively. ‘I do know that the Irish countryman had a difficult time, just as the English and ’Welsh, and ’Scots did too – as they are still having.’

  ‘And that is why,’ Byrne continued in the same soft voice, ‘that is why I am looking over your father’s land and thinking how very lucky you are.’ He gazed at Rosa and said meaningfully, ‘I think I shall have to find me a farmer’s daughter to marry and settle down in this fine country.’

  He then turned to Matthew. ‘Well, if you will excuse us, we must be on our way. I want to get Rosa home before dark. Though sometimes,’ he playfully pinched her cheek and she turned her face away, ‘the naughty girl stays out late. Come now, Rosa,’ he added with a smile, as she drew in a quick breath. ‘You know that you do!’

  Matthew turned his back and marched away. So that was where she had been that night! Meeting him! He didn’t speak to Jim, who stared as he passed him, but rushed along the road towards Home Farm.

  ‘Cup o’ tea, Matthew?’ Mrs Jennings called as he stormed in through the kitchen. ‘I’ve just made it.’

  ‘No thanks.’ He charged upstairs two steps at a time and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

  ‘What’s up wi’ him?’ Mrs Jennings stood with the teapot in her hand.

  ‘Can’t imagine.’ Delia had a satisfied smile on her face. ‘Somebody’s upset him. I wonder who?’

  He didn’t come down to supper and after everyone else had eaten, Rosa climbed the stairs and knocked on his bedroom door.

  ‘I said I didn’t want any supper.’ His voice was harsh and Rosa opened the door a crack and said quietly, ‘I haven’t brought you any. I just wanted to talk to you.’

  He was lying on his bed, his hands behind his head. He sat up as she stood in the doorway. ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he said bitterly. ‘Jim said that you were walking out with Byrne and Delia confirmed it.’

  ‘I’m not walking out with Byrne.’ She was angry. ‘Don’t even think it. They’re quite mistaken.’

  He swung his legs off the bed and faced her. ‘Then what were you doing with him? Jim said that Byrne asked Da if he could walk out with you.’

  Her face flushed. How could she possibly explain? And Byrne would be coming back again tomorrow. ‘I can’t tell you why,’ she said simply. ‘I can only ask that you trust me. Something has happened and I became involved. But I’m not walking out with Byrne,’ she repeated.

  He frowned and got up off the bed and came towards her. ‘Summat happened? What? Does Da know? Does Jim?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’ She gazed at him pleadingly, but his eyes pierced hers as if trying to discern what lay behind them.

  ‘Then if you can’t tell me I’ll find out for myself.’

  ‘Don’t, please.’ She put her hand out to him and he took it and drew her into the room and towards him.

  ‘Rosa,’ he said, his breath warm on her face. ‘I have to know.’ He suddenly bent and kissed her urgently on her mouth. ‘If anyone should harm you or put you in danger,’ he whispered vehemently, ‘they’ll have me to reckon with – be it brother, father or Irishman.’

  She drew away, alarmed at his passion. ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she whispered.

  ‘You shouldn’t be anywhere else.’ He gripped her arms. ‘You belong with me, Rosa. You always have. I’ve tried to keep my distance, to treat you as a sister, to give you your freedom. But it doesn’t work. I need you as I need breath. I’m nothing without you and when I saw you with Byrne—’ The words choked in his throat.

  She knew. She had always known and she wanted nothing more than for him to take her in his arms and for her to feel safe. But there had always been a question mark hanging over her. Some mystery buried in her past which had to be resolved before she could make a commitment.

  ‘John Byrne means nothing to me. I hardly know him. Trust me, Matthew, but I have to see him again.’

  ‘No!’ He clutched her fiercely. ‘There’s summat wrong. I know there is and by heavens, I’ll find out what it is.’ He stared at her. ‘You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?’

  She didn’t answer, but closed her eyes so that he wouldn’t know her feelings. Yes, she was. She was afraid of Byrne, and so she thought was Jim.

  ‘Look at me,’ he demanded. ‘You’re afraid of him?’ he repeated.

  She opened her eyes for him to see. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I am.’

  Matthew resolved to speak to Jim first thing in the morning, for when he went downstairs Jim had gone across to Marsh Farm and his father was nowhere to be found. Delia had a smirk on her face and started to say something detrimental about Rosa. He cut her short. ‘Keep your nose out of this, Delia,’ he said bluntly. ‘It’s nowt to do with you what Rosa does.’

  Mrs Jennings, who was darning socks by the light of the oil lamp, looked up at him and gave a whimsical smile. ‘She’s had her nose put out o’ joint.’ She nodded over to Delia. ‘She thought ’Irish fella had a fancy for her, didn’t you, lass?’ She turned the sock round and rethreaded the needle with wool. ‘But I’ve warned her. She must watch out. Besides,’ she put down the darning and gazed into space, ‘there’s summat not right about him.’

  ‘What do you mean, Mrs Jennings?’ Matthew turned to her. ‘Not right?’

  ‘Well, he’s got a fanatical light burning in him. I’ve onny seen him a couple o’ times but I’ve noticed it each time. Mebbe it’s because he’s Irish and feels he’s been hard done by, but on ’other hand,’ she pursed her lips and continued her darning, ‘I’m probably just a silly old woman, but I think he’s got a thorn in his breast – an old grudge mebbe, and somebody’s got to suffer for it.’ She looked up at Matthew again. ‘So I’d be happier if our Rosa wasn’t in his company. If he was asked to leave Sunk Island – if you get my drift.’

  The next morning as they were eating breakfast there was a hammering on the back door. A young boy had a letter in his hand. A trap drawn by a mare stood in the yard. ‘A message from ’blacksmith,’ he said. He wiped his red nose with the back of his hand. ‘It’s been a long ride. Is there chance of a sup o’ tea?’

  The letter was addressed to Mr Drew, who gave it a cursory glance and then handed it to Rosa. ‘Maggie’s been delivered o
f a daughter,’ he said briefly to the family in general, but to no-one in particular. ‘She needs some help, but you can’t go, Rosa, as she asks. Delia, you can go.’

  Delia’s face crumpled in dismay. ‘I can’t go. How can I when I’ve just lost my own bairn?’

  ‘Why can’t Rosa go?’ Matthew confronted his father. ‘Maggie would be glad if she went.’

  ‘She’s needed here.’ James Drew finished drinking his tea and got up from the table. He had a red spot of colour on each cheek. ‘Delia can go, she’s well enough.’

  ‘I’ll go.’ Mrs Jennings came in from the back kitchen where she had given the boy some cold bacon and bread and a beaker of warm milk. ‘She’ll be missing her ma, poor lass, and though I’ll be a poor substitute I can mebbe help her with ’new babby.’

  ‘Thank you, Gran.’ Rosa gave her grandmother a smile of gratitude. She would know exactly what to do for Maggie, and it would save any explanation as to why she couldn’t go herself. She glanced at Matthew. His face was as dark as thunder as he stared at his father, but Mr Drew looked stricken as if he had received a great blow.

  ‘Yes. Yes, you go, Mrs Jennings,’ he faltered. ‘And tell our Maggie – tell Maggie that I’ll come and see her when I can.’ His head nodded vaguely. ‘She was very close to her mother.’ He compressed his lips. ‘She would have been glad about this bairn, I expect,’ he murmured, and they all fell into silence at this first show of emotion they had ever seen from James Drew regarding his wife.

  Mrs Jennings quickly packed a few things and set off with the boy in the cart. ‘I’ll tek ’reins,’ Rosa heard her say. ‘I know you young ’uns, you’ll get hoss into a lather and have us tipped over into a ditch.’

  ‘Nay, missus,’ he complained as she pulled away. ‘I got it here right enough without any bother.’

  Rosa smiled as she closed the door. The turnpiked road to Ottringham was completed and strangers need no longer fear for their lives as they came into Sunk Island. In the meantime, the other tracks into the island were potholed and deep with water after rain, and it was easy enough to get a cartwheel stuck if you were not careful.

  ‘I suppose you’ll be skiving off this afternoon?’ Delia’s voice came from behind her. ‘Your lover will be calling.’

  ‘He’s not my lover, Delia. Please don’t say that he is.’

  ‘What is he then?’ Delia faced her. ‘Why does he call on you?’

  ‘It’s a private matter,’ she said, and refused to be drawn further. ‘We’d better get on. There’s a brace of pheasants waiting to be dressed, and pastry to be made for dinner. Gran’s not here to help us.’

  Delia gave a great sigh. ‘I’m sick of this. There’s never a minute to yourself,’ and Rosa nodded thoughtfully and wondered if Matthew was right when he’d said that Delia would be off as soon as she was feeling well again.

  John Byrne didn’t call that day, nor the next, and Rosa felt a sense of reprieve. On the morning of the third day, Harry came bursting in with the news that there had been a riot in one of the inns at Patrington.

  ‘Young Greg Brown had a knife stuck in him. They don’t know if he’ll mek it or not. His da’s threatening he’ll declare war on every Irish in Holderness if he dees.’

  ‘Irish?’ Rosa asked. ‘Were they involved?’

  ‘Oh, aye.’ Harry warmed to the story. ‘They reckon that ’Patrington lads accused ’Irish of tekking a young lass’s virtue.’ He ran his fingers through his beard. ‘Though if you ask me, he might not have tekken it so much as been given it on a plate. Aye, I can well remember her mother being a bit free with her favours—’

  ‘Harry!’ Rosa warned.

  ‘Oh, beg pardon, miss. Yes, well, seems like there was a big fight between ’Irish and Holderness lads, which spilled out onto ’street. Then somebody called ’constable, not that he could’ve done much on his own, but when it had all died down they found young Greg in an alley wi’ a knife in his belly.’

  Jim came in for his morning break as Harry was talking. He had already heard the news from one of the farm labourers. ‘He’s dead,’ he said, his voice flat. ‘I’ve just heard. They’re saying it’s murder. There’s a group of vigilantes out searching for perpetrator already.’

  Rosa felt a coldness draw over her. ‘Do they know who they are looking for? There’s a lot of Irish in Holderness.’

  ‘Aye, they do.’ He looked quickly from her to Delia, whose eyes were wide with curiosity. His glance flicked from them to Harry, who was looking disgruntled at being behind with the news. ‘Constables have issued a warrant. They’re looking for a man called John Byrne.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  THE PATRINGTON CONSTABLE came to warn the farmers of Sunk Island that a dangerous villain was at large. ‘It’s doubtful that he’ll come across here,’ he said, when he came to Home Farm. ‘For there’s nowhere to hide on Sunk Island, but keep your doors locked just in case.’ He looked at Rosa and Delia. ‘He’s ruined one young woman and there’s others coming forward to accuse him, but apart from that he’s wanted for murder.’

  ‘But you don’t know yet if he did it,’ Rosa said. ‘Is there proof?’

  ‘Proof! Proof? There’s a fine young fellow lying dead and this villain has disappeared. What more proof do you want than that? Besides, somebody saw him arguing with Greg Brown before ’fight broke out.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a bad business. Very bad and there’ll be more trouble if vigilantes find him before ’law does.’ He got up from his chair. ‘So if you don’t mind we’ll tek a look over ’farm buildings and mek sure he’s not hiding anywhere, same goes for Marsh Farm as well.’

  James Drew had kept quiet until now, but then said, ‘Don’t bother yourself. We’ll do that, my lads and me. I don’t want my winter feed ruining with your men tramping all over it, or my livestock disturbing.’

  ‘Why, we’ll not do that, Mr Drew!’ The constable was most indignant. ‘We’ve looked over other farms and nobody has complained.’

  ‘We’ll know if owt has been disturbed,’ Jim broke in. ‘And we’ll send for you if we think it has. And we’ve allus got our guns wi’ us, there’s a lot o’ waterfowl flying in just now,’ he added.

  ‘We’ll go and look right now.’ Mr Drew rose to his feet, effectively dismissing the constable. ‘It’ll save you ’bother. There’ll be nobody here on my land without me knowing about it.’

  Later that morning Rosa tied a warm shawl about her shoulders. ‘I’ll go and dig up a row of potatoes,’ she told Delia. ‘Will you mend ’fire, it’s getting low?’

  Rosa looked about her as she went to the tool shed and, reaching for her garden fork and picking up a bucket, went down to the bottom of the garden and started to dig up the last row of potatoes. She didn’t think that John Byrne would come here. As the constable said, there was nowhere to hide; but, she thought, what about the smuggled goods? And where are they hidden? He would want his share of the money from those, he wouldn’t want Mr Drew to have it all. Ah, Seamus, she remembered. He would probably make the arrangements to be rid of the goods, and she felt a great sense of relief that maybe they had seen the last of the two Irishmen.

  Delia had pulled a face behind Rosa’s back as she went out, and when Rosa called, ‘And better lock ’door after me, like ’constable said,’ she had blown a rasp of derision.

  ‘I’ll do as I like,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll not tek orders from you.’ But she brought in the wood basket and built up the fire, but perversely didn’t lock the door and she didn’t hear it as it slowly opened and John Byrne slid inside.

  Delia had her back to him and he sidled up to her, putting one hand on her mouth and the other on her breast. She drew in a deep breath and turned her head, her eyes opening wide as she saw him. He took his hand from her mouth and turned her towards him.

  ‘They’re looking for you,’ she breathed.

  ‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘Silly people. I didn’t kill the lad, but they had to blame someone. So I ran.’ He pushed her against
the kitchen wall and pressed himself against her. ‘Where’s the old woman?’

  ‘She’s not here.’

  ‘Good, for I couldn’t go without saying goodbye, Delia.’ He put his parted mouth against hers, forcing it open with his tongue, and explored her moist and warm mouth.

  She gasped. ‘Somebody will come! Rosa! ’Door’s not locked.’

  ‘I know it’s not locked.’ He smiled, and, keeping hold of her, reached towards it and turned the key. ‘There,’ he murmured. ‘Now it is,’ and he pulled up her skirt and petticoat, lifting them above her knees and putting his hands beneath them.

  She took deep gasping breaths as his hands touched her bare flesh and gently stroked her buttocks, then moved round towards her belly. ‘Oh! Oh! If somebody should come,’ she panted.

  ‘No-one will come,’ he softly assured her. ‘They’re all out searching for me.’

  His fingers gently tantalized her flesh and, utterly intoxicated, she pushed her hips towards his body, making low moaning sighs. Then he drew away.

  ‘Don’t stop.’ She ran her tongue around her lips, then took his fingers into her mouth and sucked on them greedily. ‘I want you!’ Gone was her resolve not to fall again to a man’s desires.

  ‘Ah! I must go, my darling.’ He took his hand away and kissed her mouth. ‘Listen,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll come back for you. Sure, we’ll run away together. Yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said huskily. ‘Yes. Yes! When? I’ll get my things!’

  ‘No. Not yet, we must wait till the chase dies down. Listen to me.’ He ran his hands around her face and neck and she felt weak, as if she could hardly stand. ‘I’ve found a place to hide. Pack me some food, bread and cheese, or meat. I’ve not eaten for two days, and I need some money, however much you’ve got. Then when things are quieter, I’ll come back for you. Be quick now, there’s a good girl. Rosa will have dug up that row of ’taties by now.’

  Rosa! Yes, yes, of course. She’d be back any minute. She didn’t know what to do first she was in such a fluster, and he smiled and said, ‘Bring it out to me in ten minutes. I’ll be behind the woodstore. If I’m not there, just leave it and I’ll find it. Don’t let Rosa see what you’re doing.’ He blew her a kiss and slipped out of the door as silently as he had come in.