Rosa's Island

by Val Wood

  Matthew heard her cries as he was halfway across the field and turned swiftly. He stood for barely a second as he watched her run towards a man, indistinguishable in the gloom and rain, and saw him swallowed up by a rushing torrent of water and disappear. As he sped towards them he saw her stumble and fall.

  ‘She’s in the dyke! Oh God! She’s fallen into ’dyke. Jim! Fred! Hurry.’ He was frantic with fear as he ran, his boots kicking up sprays of water from the flooded fields. ‘Rosa! I’m coming. I’m coming.’

  She was still struggling as he reached her, but then her head went under the water and he could only see the top of her rain hood. He tore off his coat and jumped into the dyke, reaching for her, pulling her up by the hood. He gathered her into his arms and trod water, hampered by his heavy boots, calling to her and crying, ‘Rosa! Rosa. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me!’

  Jim plunged to the ground. ‘Give her here,’ he called, and the water lapped around him as he lay flat on his stomach reaching out his arms. ‘Come on! She’ll be all right Come on! Just tread water. That’s it, this way.’

  Matthew felt that he was dreaming as he did as he was bid, and it was as if he was reliving a former scene, when they had pulled Henry from the ditch. Only this time it was Rosa, his only love, who was being dragged from the deathly waters.

  ‘She’s all right. She’s all right!’ Jim had tears streaming down his face as he spoke, and Matthew knew that he too was thinking of Henry as they bent over Rosa, who was retching up river water.

  The other men had rushed across when they heard the commotion and on seeing that Rosa was safe, turned to reach and recover the other person in the dyke. ‘It’s Mr Drew!’ someone said. ‘We can do nowt for him,’ said another. ‘He’s a goner.’ The men took off their caps and gazed down at James Drew. ‘Was he trying to save her?’ the question was asked.

  ‘No.’ Jim got up from Rosa’s side and left Matthew holding her close. He looked down at his father. ‘I saw what happened. She was trying to save him.’

  The Drew family gathered once more when news of their father’s death reached them. The twins, Lydia and Nellie, came, Flo came with her Tom, and Maggie and Fred came with the baby, bringing Delia and Mrs Jennings with them.

  Rosa hugged her grandmother. ‘I’ve missed you, Gran,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry about the fire.’

  ‘It’s nowt,’ her grandmother said. ‘It’ll soon mend. It’s onny brick and timber. As long as you’re all right. That’s what matters.’ She had heard the details from Fred on his return home to Hedon.

  ‘Maggie and me have got summat to tell you,’ Fred began.

  ‘Not another babby already?’ Flo said slyly.

  Maggie blushed. ‘No, silly! Not yet anyway. But we shall have another bairn.’ She gazed down into the crib where the baby was sleeping. ‘We’re so happy with little Ellen that we want to give her a sister or brother.’

  ‘Go on then,’ Fred urged. ‘Tell ’em ’news.’

  ‘Give Rosa her papers first,’ Maggie insisted. ‘We’re dying of curiosity.’

  Fred handed Rosa a large thick packet. ‘It’s from ’lawyer,’ he explained. ‘He said would I apologize for ’delay but he had a lot of searches to do.’

  Rosa took the packet and, glancing at Matthew and then at her grandmother, she broke the seal and opened it as Maggie started to speak.

  ‘You’ll never guess,’ she began.

  ‘No, we won’t,’ said Flo, ‘so hurry up and tell us.’

  ‘Fred and me,’ Maggie had a big smile on her face, ‘we’re coming back to Sunk Island! Fred’s got tenancy of that smallholding near to North Channel.’

  ‘It’s got sheds and barns where I can work and store all my tools. There’s plenty of work on Sunk Island and we’ll be near enough to Patrington for me to work there as well.’ Fred too seemed pleased with himself. ‘Maggie wanted to come back,’ he said, and looked affectionately at her. ‘Since we had ’babby, you know. She’s wanted to come home.’

  Jim and Matthew were pleased, and Delia already knew about it. ‘We’ll be like a proper Sunk Island family again,’ Flo said with a catch in her voice. ‘Even though Ma and Da won’t be here. Don’t you think so, Rosa? Somewhere we can allus come back to.’

  Rosa looked up from the papers. Her head was in a whirl. The lawyer had apologized for the delay in his letter which was enclosed with the original documents. He explained that he had had the papers translated and that it was a last Will and Testament of her father Decimus Miguel Carlos, which left all his worldly goods, including his ship, the Rosa Maria, to his wife, Mary Carlos, formerly Jennings, or on her demise to any children which they might have. There was also a letter within the documents which gave details of his family in Spain, with the request that they should be told of his death if they did not already know.

  ‘I have been informed by the Customs and Excise department,’ the letter went on, ‘that the ship was requisitioned and then sold, some years ago, and the balance of money raised from the sale is deposited in a bank account. Proof of identity is required in order to release this money, which I do not expect will be difficult in this instance.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rosa said vaguely and cleared her throat. ‘I’m so pleased for you, Maggie, and for you too, Fred.’

  They will be a whole family again, she thought, just as Flo says. Maggie and Fred will be the head of the family, even though it will be a different name. She looked at Mattthew, who was gazing at her. He hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight since the flood. Jim seemed to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders and was more sure of himself, making decisions and carrying them through, though he was quiet in her presence as if his conscience was still troubling him. Only Delia seemed to be pensive since her return home from Hedon and Rosa saw her now looking down at the baby Ellen, with a sort of longing on her face.

  There was to be a triple funeral today, for there had been three inquests and three bodies were to be conveyed to the churchyard. Firstly Mr Drew, who had taken many secrets with him, those which were known to some members of his family never being spoken of. Secondly John Byrne, escapee from the law, with his face so blackened that he was hardly recognizable, who had drowned with no family to mourn him. His brother Seamus had gone, no-one knew where, but Rosa had guessed, when Harry had come in just after the flood and remarked that he had seen something he had only ever seen twice before, even though he had lived all of his life by the river.

  ‘What’s that then, Harry?’ Jim had asked.

  ‘I saw a ship with its sails scandalized!’

  ‘What’s that mean then?’ young Bob had asked.

  Harry had drawn himself up in self-importance at imparting knowledge. ‘It’s when a seaman drowns,’ he said. ‘They let all ’sails hang loose and fly ’flag at half mast. It’s a form of respect. I saw a cutter doing that down at Stone Creek on day after ’flood. I reckon somebody was lost overboard during ’storm.’

  Rosa had said nothing but gazed into the fire. She had been sitting by its glow for hours, contemplating in silence the past events. It must have been Seamus, she thought, mourning his dead brother.

  They had found another body too when the waters had receded. At least, they had found skeletal remains. Those of someone who had died long ago. Too long ago to be identified. The discovery had been made near Marsh Farm, close to where the ditch had collapsed, and at the inquest it had been decided that it was the missing Spaniard, Carlos, whose body had lain undetected at the bottom of the ditch until it was washed up by the river water. Today he was to be buried again, in a Christian manner, next to his wife where he belonged.

  ‘So what’s ’news, Rosa?’ Flo asked curiously.

  Rosa took a deep breath. It was a big decision, but one she was determined to make. One she had to make, otherwise she would never really know who she was.

  ‘The news is,’ she said, and dared not look at Matthew for she knew for sure that she would see only shock and dismay. ‘The news is – t
hat I’m going to Spain to meet my father’s family.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  SHE LEFT BEFORE winter began. Before the ghostly vapour of November mist hung over the fields and before the roads out of Sunk Island became an impassable morass through rain or snow. She also wanted to leave before she changed her mind, before the look of misery on Matthew’s face persuaded her that she shouldn’t go.

  Jim had come up to her on the evening of the funeral and with his head bent had muttered, ‘I’m sorry, Rosa. It’s because of me that you’re leaving. Because of what I did.’

  But he had already told Matthew of what had happened all those years before, a great outpouring of his grief and regret that he hadn’t been man enough to speak out, and Matthew had told Rosa, and she in turn had remembered what their mother had said about trying to forgive should she discover something which caused her pain. She had put her arms around Jim’s waist and hugged him. ‘That isn’t ’reason I’m going and I know now that it wasn’t your fault. It’s finished now, Jim. We must put the past behind us.’

  At the burial service, as she watched her father’s remains being placed with her mother’s, she had felt a great sense of peace that they were finally together, her mother no longer searching and her father found at last.

  Towards James Drew she felt a numbness and wondered how someone who had appeared so God-fearing and righteous could have been so hypocritical and callous, with total disregard for others, paying only lip service to his religious beliefs. For John Byrne she felt only sadness that he had lived a tormented embittered life, and had offered up a silent prayer for his repose.

  When the family realized that she wouldn’t change her mind about going away, they had insisted that it was too dangerous and improper that she should travel alone, and she had replied that she didn’t intend to, that she would advertise in a national newspaper for an experienced travelling companion.

  This she did and had three replies. One, which she accepted, was from a man and wife, Mr and Mrs Bennett, who were travelling to Spain to visit their son who was a teacher in Zaragoza, and who was to be married to a lady of that country. They would be glad, they wrote, if she would care to accompany them, though they explained that it would be a difficult and hazardous journey, especially at that time of year. ‘Our son is to be married in May,’ they wrote, ‘and we would therefore wish to be across France and at the foot of the Pyrenees, where we will wait for the winter snows to melt, before continuing our journey.’

  Matthew drove her down the long straight Ottringham road, towards Hull, where she was to catch the London coach the next morning. He had wanted to stay overnight at the inn to see her set off safely to London where she was to meet her companions, but she insisted that he return home. ‘This will be the least hazardous part of my journey,’ she said, ‘and I must become accustomed to being self-reliant.’

  He remained silent until they reached the boundary of Sunk Island, then he drew the mare to a halt and staring straight ahead, said, ‘I haven’t tried to persuade you not to go, but I can’t let you leave without saying that I shall feel as if I have lost my arms and legs and soul when you have gone. I shan’t be whole again until you return.’ He turned towards her. ‘You will return, Rosa? You will come back to me? To Sunk Island?’

  She gently touched his face. ‘I’ll miss you, Matthew. But I have to go. My gran once said that I had built a protective shell around me and I think that she was probably right. Half of me belongs here on Sunk Island, but I don’t know where the other half belongs. I must go away to find out. I must break open that shell to find out who I really am.’

  ‘I love you, Rosa,’ he said, and her heart went out to him.

  ‘And I love you,’ she whispered. ‘As I always have. You must hold that knowledge in your heart.’ He kissed her then and she saw tears glisten in his eyes, but hope dawning too, even though she had made no promises of when she would return.

  It was a bright sharp morning and the sun shone over the fields, giving the clear brilliant light which was so special to Sunk Island. There were no rain clouds and here and there where flood water was still held in pools and dew ponds, the sun caught it and cast a reflected scintillating dazzle across the land.

  ‘Look,’ Matthew said, with a break in his voice as he remembered her fondness for the long-legged wading bird. ‘There’s your heron. He’s left his nest to see you off.’

  A grey heron stood with its head hunched into its shoulders near to a dip in the land which was filled with water. Then, as if disturbed, it lifted its long neck and pointed its yellow bill towards them and in awkward flapping flight lifted off and flew across the meadow towards the marshland and the river.

  One spring had passed and now there was another and she was on her way home. She had written to give an approximate date of return, but the journey had gone well, much better than the expedition out, when she had seen more snow than she had seen in her life before, and she arrived in England earlier than expected. She bade goodbye to her companions, who were returning at the same time, and travelled by coach from Dover to London then Hull, where she hired a horse and trap and set off alone to Sunk Island.

  The weather was warm and the fields and meadows of Holderness were dry, the greening corn swaying and rippling like a gentle tide, and she decided that rather than take the road from Ottringham she would travel on towards Patrington, and cross the bridge over onto Sunk Island.

  Her heart beat faster as the horse clip-clopped over the bridge and she could see before her Marsh Farm, her old home. The barn was rebuilt and there was smoke curling from the farmhouse chimney. She smiled, Jim must have turned over a new leaf, or maybe Gran has been in and made it like home again. She urged the horse on and stopped at the farm gate.

  There were pigs in the pen and piglets squeaking, and around the yard hens were scratching and there was a dog lying by the door. It barked when it saw her and ran to the gate to greet her. The door opened and Matthew came out. He stood in amazement for a moment and then rushed towards her, sweeping her out of the trap and into his arms.

  ‘Rosa – oh Rosa! Why didn’t you say – I would have come to meet you.’ His words tumbled over each other in his joy to see her.

  ‘I wanted to come on my own,’ she said. ‘I wanted to savour the moment when I stepped onto Sunk Island again. To feel its peace and tranquillity.’

  He held her away from him, ‘Is it really you?’ She seemed to have a warm glow about her, the effect of the Spanish sun he supposed, and she was wearing a red travelling outfit and not the dark one she had worn on her outward journey. Then he smoothed his hands over her glossy black hair which was knotted behind her head and held with red braid and a sparkling comb. ‘Or am I dreaming as I have done so many times before?’

  ‘It’s me,’ she smiled. ‘Just ’same as before.’

  He rushed back to the house to close the door and told the dog to stay and jumped into the trap with her, taking the reins to drive to Home Farm.

  ‘So where’s Jim?’ she asked. ‘I saw ’smoke coming from the chimney.’

  ‘He’s out in ’fields somewhere. We’ve been lighting fires every day.’ He shrugged and shuffled in the seat as he spoke. ‘Keeping it aired as Gran Jennings says we should. You’d notice ’barn has been rebuilt?’

  She nodded. He seemed different, or was it that she was looking at him through different eyes? Through grown-up eyes which had seen so many other sights on her travels, and not the familiar eyes of a girl who had grown up with him. He was more mature, more handsome, more vital than the boy she had known. His face and arms were sun-browned and his back and shoulders seemed broader, and she felt a curious excitement just looking at him.

  ‘You must tell me all that has been happening,’ she said, and as she looked around saw that the fields had dried from the flood, although some had been left fallow and where there were some wet patches, clumps of yellow kingcups and pennywort were growing. She gazed across towards the embankment and saw
that it had been rebuilt.

  ‘Oh, we go on much the same,’ he said softly, turning towards her. ‘Nothing much happens here on Sunk Island as you well know. We plough and sow and reap and go about our business, just as always, and the river keeps on flowing.’

  She made no answer but gazed at the vast open landscape of fields and meadows, at the scattered farmhouses and cottages, and the infinite expanse of sky with pale clouds drifting across it. She heard the trilling cry of curlews as they swooped and glided towards the estuary, she saw a kestrel hovering high over the dykes and the flight of a sparrowhawk as it dipped low over the hedges, and knew that she was glad to be home.

  The next morning she was well rested from her long journey and came down to breakfast which Delia had prepared, and ate with Jim and Matthew. Her grandmother was busy in the back kitchen, preparing the midday meal for the labourers who were laying new drains on the land. Delia kept glancing at her and said eventually, ‘Weren’t you scared, Rosa, travelling all that way to a foreign land?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied honestly. ‘I was, and on that first night in the inn in Hull, I almost changed my mind about going.’

  She glanced at Matthew and remembered their poignant goodbye as he had left her there. ‘There were so many strange noises in the inn, footsteps on ’stairs and people talking, that I was very nervous of being alone, and I locked my bedroom door and lodged a chair against the knob in case anyone should try to come in. I could hear such a clamour of people, dogs barking and clattering of carts and carriages outside my window, that I could hardly get to sleep, and I determined that ’following morning I would leave a message with the London coach that I was unable to travel, and get ’carrier back to Patrington.

  ‘But the next morning was bright and sunny and ’coach was waiting, and the coachman so friendly and obliging, that I decided that at least I would travel to London as my seat was already booked.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘And I enjoyed the journey, even though the coach was very rocky; there were so many things to see and towns to pass through, and then Mr and Mrs Bennett were there to meet me at my destination, and I could tell immediately that they were very experienced travellers and so assured of what to do that it made it easier for me to decide to go on after all.