The River Folk

by Margaret Dickinson

  Mary Ann had agreed. ‘I don’t want to leave here, Miss Edwina. You and Auntie Bessie and everyone in Waterman’s Yard have been so kind to me,’ she said winningly. But the real reason why she wanted to stay in Elsborough Mary Ann had kept to herself.

  During the time that the trial of Sid Clark and the impending death sentence upon him were constantly in the news, there had been no respite from people’s interest in her. Not until the sentence had been carried out could Mary Ann begin to build her new life.

  ‘I want to go, Auntie Bessie,’ she had declared the day before her father was due to be hanged at nine o’clock in the morning at Lincoln prison.

  Bessie had looked at her aghast. ‘Oh love, whatever for?’

  The girl had shrugged. ‘I just need to go. I need to be there.’

  ‘You mean . . .’ Bessie had faltered, for once completely lost for words. ‘You want to see him once more before . . .?’

  At this, Mary Ann had shaken her head vehemently. ‘Oh no, I never want to see him again.’ Her dark eyes had held Bessie’s and her mouth had hardened as she said, ‘I just want to be there to know he’s really dead and never coming back.’

  Bessie had put her arms around her and tried to draw the girl’s rigid body close. ‘Aw love, he’s been found guilty. Even if he was to get a last-minute reprieve and they didn’t hang him, he’s never going to get out of jail again. I promise you, he’s never coming back.’

  It had been Dan who had taken her, very early the following day, to Lincoln. They had stood in the grey, dank morning outside the grim walls of the prison on top of the hill. There was a small gathering and Mary Ann caught brief snatches of the murmured conversations around her.

  ‘They reckon he’s not shown a scrap of remorse at what he’s done.’

  ‘The bastard!’

  ‘Aye, well, he were a conchy, weren’t he? What can you expect?’

  ‘Too cowardly to fight the enemy, eh, but he could batter his poor wife to death . . .’

  ‘There’s a kiddie, isn’t there? A girl?’

  ‘Aye, poor wench. She’ll be an orphan after this morning’s work.’

  ‘’Spect it’ll haunt her for the rest of her life.’

  Mary Ann stood stolidly silent. Not so much as the twitch of a muscle or the flicker of an eyelid betrayed the fact that she had overheard. Only Dan, squeezing her hand in comfort, knew.

  The words went on, floating around her head.

  ‘He’s not long now. It’s gone eight. The chaplain will be with him now.’

  ‘Then he’ll be taken from the condemned cell to a room right next to the scaffold,’ one man said, and added, almost with a note of pride, ‘I’ve seen the place.’ Then he gave a dramatic shudder. ‘By heck! I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes at this moment.’

  Now Mary Ann’s fingers tightened on Dan’s hand, although neither of them spoke or even glanced at each other.

  At a quarter to nine, they heard the distant tolling of the prison bell and then, just as the hour of nine o’clock struck, they saw a black flag being hoisted on the prison tower.

  ‘That’s it, then,’ a voice behind them said. ‘That’s him done for. And good riddance, I say.’

  The murmuring amongst the crowd seemed to grow louder and when, a few minutes later, a warder appeared at the door and attached two notices to a board on the wall outside, the onlookers surged forward. The declaration, signed by the Under Sheriff of Lincolnshire, the Governor and the Chaplain of the prison, stated that ‘the judgement of death was this day executed on Sidney Clark’. Beside it, another notice announced that a surgeon had examined the body and pronounced the said Sidney Clark dead.

  ‘Come on, love,’ Dan said softly. ‘Time we went home.’

  Mary Ann slipped her arm through Dan’s and turned her back on the place where her father had died. She would never, she vowed silently, think of him again.

  ‘Well,’ Nellie Goodrick said, ‘I suppose Clara had better take you up to Miss Edwina’s room.’

  Mary Ann smiled her best smile and even dropped a tiny curtsy. ‘Thank you, Mrs Goodrick,’ she said prettily.

  Clara Dobson was as sour-faced as the cook and took no pains to conceal her resentment of the newcomer. ‘Miss Edwina’s never had a maid before. What she wants to bring you here for, I don’t know. I’ve always done everything for her.’

  For the moment, Mary Ann kept her mouth tightly shut, even pressing her lips together to stop them mouthing the retort that sprang to her lips.

  The other girl grumbled on. ‘You needn’t think yourself above the rest of us. You’ll have to muck in and help with the housework, like everyone else has to.’ Mary Ann felt her belligerent glance. ‘We’re not exactly overloaded with servants here. It’s a big old house and takes a lot of looking after.’

  She’s right there, Mary Ann thought, as she followed the girl. It is a very old house.

  They passed through the great hall, which was the very centre of the medieval house. There was little furniture in the room, but the vast timber arched roof was awesome. Each roof-truss was cut from a naturally curving oak tree and carved by craftsmen long since gone.

  Mary Ann gazed about her. For a brief moment, she felt strangely in awe of the room’s size.

  ‘Through here,’ said her unwilling guide sharply, leading the way up a wooden spiral staircase towards the east wing, where the furnishings gave the old rooms a more modern appearance, along passages that nevertheless still creaked with age, until Clara opened a bedroom door and stood aside for Mary Ann to enter. ‘Here you are, then. You’d best get busy being Miss Edwina’s personal maid. And don’t ask me what you’re to do, ’cos I aren’t helping you. Not ever. So don’t ask.’

  Mary Ann passed close to her, entered the room and looked about her. Whilst the walls and ceilings could not hide their age, the furnishings were pretty and feminine, indicative of the young woman who slept there.

  Mary Ann turned and, with a smile that dimpled her cheeks and lit up her eyes, said in response to the sullen maid’s statement, ‘I won’t, Clara. Believe me, I won’t.’

  Twenty-Two

  ‘How’ve you got on, then? Everything all right?’

  Bessie was waiting at the door for her on the following Sunday afternoon, just like any anxious mother awaiting the return of her daughter for the first time since starting work.

  Mary Ann gave a little skip and ran the last few steps across the yard to throw her arms around the woman she thought of as her mother now. ‘It was all right. I don’t see much of Miss Edwina because she’s at school all day. But I clean her room from top to bottom, just like you’ve taught me. And I sort out all her clothes and tidy all her drawers.’ Mary Ann laughed and the merry sound echoed around the yard. ‘For someone who’s so good at needlework, there’s a lot of her things need mending. Miss Edwina might have shown me how to do pretty stitches, but you’ve shown me how to darn and mend, Bessie, and that’s going to be a lot more use to me now.’

  Bessie hugged the girl to her. She had missed her. Even though she was only a street or two away, the house where Mary Ann now lived and Bessie’s home in Waterman’s Yard were worlds apart. But Bessie knew every inch of the inside of The Hall and she had been imagining Mary Ann’s every move during the days she had been away.

  ‘What were the rest of the staff like with you? And the master and the mistress?’

  ‘I only saw the master striding through the great hall,’ Mary Ann began as Bessie drew her into the warm kitchen and fussed over her. ‘The mistress came into Miss Edwina’s room once to see what I was doing. She seems a nice lady, but she always looks so sad and . . . and vague, somehow. As if she’s not quite aware of what’s going on around her.’

  Bessie’s face was sober. ‘She’s lost her boy. Her eldest son. Her firstborn. Think how I’d feel if I lost Dan.’

  Mary Ann’s eyes were horrified. ‘Don’t, Auntie Bessie. Don’t say such a thing.’

  ‘It’s all right, love.’ B
essie patted the girl’s arm, angry with herself that she had touched on even the thought of a personal tragedy. Mary Ann had already had more than her share of trouble without imagining more. Swiftly, bringing the conversation back to safer ground, Bessie said, ‘What did the mistress say to you?’

  ‘She just asked me if I was all right and that she hoped I’d be happy with them.’

  ‘That was kind,’ Bessie murmured and added, ‘and the rest of the staff. What was Nellie Goodrick like with you?’

  Mary Ann laughed. ‘I reckon her face’d turn milk sour.’

  Bessie chuckled. ‘Poor Nellie. She came as a kitchen maid just before I left to marry my Bert and she was a poor scrawny thing then.’

  ‘And,’ Mary Ann went on, ‘Clara Dobson reckons I’ve taken her job so she’s very unfriendly.’

  ‘Oh dear, that’s a shame.’

  Mary Ann shrugged and there was a tight determination to her mouth. ‘She doesn’t bother me.’

  ‘What’s your own room like?’

  Mary Ann, like all the other servants at The Hall, was obliged to live in. She pulled a face. ‘All right, except that I have to share with Clara and neither of us are happy about that.’

  ‘And, er . . .’ Bessie seemed hesitant now. ‘And what about Mr Randolph? Have you met him yet?’

  ‘No. He’s away.’

  ‘Ah. Now, you just be careful of him, love. He’s got a bit of a reputation where pretty young housemaids are concerned.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, Auntie Bessie. I can take care of myself.’ Mary Ann put her head on one side and listened. Hearing no other movement in the house except for the sounds in the kitchen, she said, ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘Bert’s upstairs on the bed, snoring his head off after the big Sunday dinner I’ve just given him. By the way, I’ve saved you a plateful if you want it, love.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘They’re off out somewhere. Don’t ask me where.’

  ‘And Dan? Where’s Dan?’

  ‘So you’re the new little maid?’

  Mary Ann, sitting in a window seat, her back to the latticed, leaded window, her head bent over her needlework, looked up to see a man standing a few feet in front of her. Without doubt, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Handsomer, even, than Dan, she had to admit. He was tall with smooth fair hair and a broad forehead. His nose was long and straight and his jaw strong and square. Indeed, his features were so well balanced they could have been carved by an artist’s chisel. His mouth curved in a mocking smile and he held his head slightly on one side, one fair eyebrow raised in a sardonic question.

  He moved closer. His voice was rich and deep as he asked her, ‘And what is your name, young lady?’

  She stood up, laid her work aside and bobbed a little curtsy. ‘Mary Ann, sir. You must be Mr Randolph.’

  He laughed softly. ‘So you’ve heard about me?’

  ‘Miss Edwina has spoken of you, sir.’

  This was quite true, for Edwina had said only that morning before leaving to go to her school, ‘My brother returns today.’ She had smiled and added, ‘He’s a handsome devil, Mary Ann, and unfortunately he is only too well aware of it. He’s also a shameless flirt with pretty young girls. You, my dear, fall into that category, so please be warned.’

  Her words had been spoken with humour and yet there had been an underlying caution in them and they had echoed Bessie’s earlier warning. Standing before him now, Mary Ann could see why. Young though she was, she could see the interest sparking in his eyes as his glance travelled slowly and appraisingly up and down her slim body. Mary Ann returned his stare steadily, not in the least fazed by his interest in her.

  ‘You’re a bold one,’ he murmured. ‘New maids usually blush and simper on meeting me.’

  Mary Ann smiled, knowing that her own brown eyes were full of mischief.

  He moved closer still and reached out, touching her chin with his forefinger. Nearer now, she could see that his eyes were a startlingly bright blue.

  ‘We shall have to become better acquainted, Mary Ann.’

  ‘Randolph.’

  He let his hand fall away as they both heard Edwina speak behind them. She entered the long room and came towards them smiling. ‘Now, now, you leave my little Mary Ann alone. Besides, unless I’m much mistaken, Mary Ann has eyes for no one but Dan Ruddick. Isn’t that right, Mary Ann?’ Without waiting for confirmation or denial, she continued, holding her face up to Randolph for his brotherly kiss, ‘And he’s a big burly skipper of one of Mr Price’s keel boats that goes up and down the river. So you’d better beware.’

  She patted her brother’s chest playfully and then moved to pick up Mary Ann’s needlework.

  ‘That’s very good, my dear. Excellent, in fact.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘I think you’ll achieve your dream one day of being able to embroider a banner for the church. What do you say, Randolph?’ Edwina held out the circular embroidery frame, which held the stretched piece of peach-coloured satin upon which Mary Ann had been working in coloured silks.

  Randolph cast a disinterested glance upon it. ‘Yes, very nice. Well, I must be off. I’ll see you at dinner, Edwina.’ Then he turned and strode away down the room.

  For a moment both young women stood watching him and then Edwina touched Mary Ann lightly on her arm and said, ‘Come, it’s time I taught you how to outline this silk work with gold thread.’

  Together they sat on the window seat, their heads bent over the delicate embroidery, but before her eyes, all Mary Ann could see was the handsome face of Randolph Marsh.

  Randolph filled The Hall with his presence.

  ‘Whenever he comes into the house,’ Mary Ann told the Ruddick family one Sunday afternoon when she had been working at The Hall for several weeks, ‘it’s like a whisper runs through the house. “Mr Randolph’s home, Mr Randolph’s home.” And everyone scuttles about like he’s some god.’

  They were all sitting around the table for Sunday afternoon tea. It was a family ritual that they all enjoyed. They exchanged their news, reported what had happened to them in their working life the previous week. Told funny stories or found sympathy and, often, advice for their problems too.

  ‘His mother indulges him,’ Bessie remarked, as she poured the tea from the huge teapot and handed the cups around the table. ‘In her eyes he can do no wrong. And since he’s a chip off the old block, as they say,’ she smiled and explained, ‘just like his father was when he was that age, well, Mr Bertram isn’t going to find fault with him either, is he?’

  ‘That’s not always the case, though, is it, my angel,’ Bert remarked. ‘Sometimes when a son is exactly like his father and they’re both strong characters, then there can be a clash of personalities.’ His grin widened as he winked at Mary Ann. ‘Mind you, with my lot, I know my place.’

  Mary Ann smiled back. Bert Ruddick was what she would call a lovely man. Kind, generous, sensible and down to earth, but when it came to strength of character, then there was really only one member of the Ruddick parents’ incredible partnership that could be called ‘strong’ and that was Bessie. But Mary Ann was beginning to realize that Bessie was a wise woman. Whilst she took the lead in almost everything, she always acted as if she deferred to her husband’s wishes and she never allowed anyone to voice the notion that it was she, and not he, who wore the trousers in their house.

  ‘You’re quite right, Bert,’ Bessie was saying now. ‘But your boys respect you, don’t they? I’m not sure that Mr Randolph respects anyone.’

  ‘He seems very fond of Miss Edwina,’ Mary Ann put in. ‘He’s always very kind to her.’ She wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully. ‘In fact, he treats Miss Edwina better than anyone else. Even better than his mother. He’s a bit . . . a bit . . . sort of . . .’ The young girl sought for the right words to express what she felt. ‘Offhand with her. Do you know what I mean?’

  Bessie nodded, her mouth tightening for a moment. ‘I do. It’s because Mrs Marsh
is so soft with him – always has been – and he knows it. Miss Edwina, now, she stands up to him. She sees right through him and won’t stand for his nonsense. So,’ Bessie shrugged at the perverseness of human nature, ‘he respects her far more than he does his indulgent mother.’

  ‘Do you think Miss Edwina will ever get married?’ Mary Ann asked.

  Before Bessie could answer, Duggie said, ‘Didn’t you know? She’s waiting for me. Tall, dark and handsome. I’m just what she’s looking for.’

  Bessie’s laugh rang out. ‘Dark, I’ll grant you. But as for the rest, well . . .’

  Duggie laughed the loudest of them all. He was the shortest member of the Ruddick family, but his shoulders were broad and strong from his work on the wharves along the river. He was not conventionally good looking; his nose was a little too large, his jaw slightly too square, but his dark eyes sparkled with mischief and good humour. His black curly hair, an unruly mop, coupled with his weather-beaten skin gave him a gypsyish appearance. ‘I never liked school when I had to go,’ he was saying now. ‘But if I could go to Miss Marsh’s, I’d go back tomorrow.’

  ‘Aye, and it’d do you some good an’ all,’ his mother teased. ‘Mebbe you’d have got that apprenticeship at the engineering works you’re always going on about, if you’d worked a bit harder at school, m’lad.’

  There was a moment’s silence around the table and Mary Ann held her breath, but then Duggie adopted a hangdog expression and pressed the palm of his hand over his heart. ‘Aw, Mam, cut me to the quick, you have.’ Sitting next to Mary Ann, he pretended to dissolve into tears and hid his face against her shoulder.

  ‘The truth sometimes hurts, lad,’ Bessie said.

  Duggie raised his head, gave an exaggerated sigh and then grinned amiably. ‘Yeah. You’re right, Mam. Of course, you are.’ He glanced at Mary Ann and winked. ‘It’s me own fault if I’m going to have to work on the river all me life.’

  ‘You could do a lot worse.’ At once, Bessie sprang to defend not only Bert, but Dan too. ‘If truth be told, lad, I’m proud that you do work on the river. Much better than being in a smelly old factory.’