I will write back and tell him of my clandestine meeting with Marnie. He will be scandalised, of course. I will impress upon him the nature of her rare beauty in the hopes of securing his envy!
26
The Lodger
The week passed by in a blur of suds and stains. Marnie quickly grew used to the new rhythm of the days and the odour of wet wool and sour piss that rose from the steam of the washing tub and settled on her skin.
The weather was dry and blustery and the scrubbed garments dried quickly out on the bushes. In her spare moments, when Ma had gone for her lie-down, Marnie would wander down the lane and watch the progress on the pier. She didn’t mind being at the cottage all day, not now she was bedded down in the kitchen at night and was free to escape to the beach after dark whenever she fancied. The nights were growing colder, but Marnie savoured the touch of the hard, icy waves as they washed her clean from the stench of the day. Creeping past the night watchman stationed in the workmen’s hut and the makeshift shacks of the workers who had chosen to sleep on the beach only added an extra thrill.
It was Sunday now and Smoaker and Eldon Cross were sat in the kitchen supping beer and enjoying their day of rest. Eldon had taken a shine to Marnie. She could tell by the way he kept looking at her. Like now. He was staring at her over the rim of his beer pot. Marnie wanted to poke her tongue out at him. He was so old. At least thirty, give or take a year. And he was ugly with it. Bony face and piggy eyes. He’d be hard pushed to find a girl to look once at him, let alone twice. Marnie knew why he was ogling her. He thought she was like him; an outcast that no one would ever want. Well, he would soon find out how wrong he was. She had a friend now. And not just any old friend. Noah de Clevedon, the son of Sir John de Clevedon, no less. And she was going to meet him on the beach again. Tonight. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, she thought. She glared at Eldon Cross, then turned her back and busied herself with the supper pots.
The shadows were lengthening outside the kitchen window. It wouldn’t be long now. Ma yawned and heaved herself from her chair to light the candles on the mantelpiece. They’d all be to bed soon, thought Marnie. Soon as the sun went down.
‘Fetch your old pa another beer, Marnie,’ Smoaker said. ‘And one for Mr Cross too.’
Marnie pulled a face. ‘Coming,’ she sighed. For reasons of propriety, Ma had instructed Marnie to address Smoaker as Pa, at least while Eldon was in earshot. But Marnie was damned if she would ever do that. Smoaker wasn’t her pa and she wouldn’t pretend he was.
Marnie fetched the beer jug and topped up Smoaker and Eldon’s pots. ‘Ta,’ said Eldon. ‘She’s a good girl, i’nt she?’ he said to Smoaker.
Smoaker grunted. ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Could be worse I s’pose.’
‘Nah, you’re a lucky man. I’m telling yer. To have a daughter like that.’ Eldon winked at Marnie.
Marnie would have loved to have tipped the remains of the jug over his head. Instead she turned to Ma. ‘More beer?’ she asked.
‘Not for me,’ said Ma. ‘I’m off to my bed now. See to the fire, won’t you?’ She untied her apron and threw it over the back of her chair. Then, with a nod to the men, she thumped up the stairs.
Marnie took the jug back out to the pantry. She was glad of something to do. Her insides were jittering around like wasps in a jam jar. In the week since he’d arrived, Eldon had always taken himself off to bed first. But he was growing more comfortable now. Sitting there yarning with Smoaker. Marnie prayed Eldon wouldn’t take it upon himself to be last to bed. She didn’t want to be alone with him in the kitchen. She wanted them all to bed and the time to pass in a wink. She wanted to be on the beach. And to see Noah again.
Marnie dawdled outside to the privy. With any luck the men would have finished their beers by the time she got back. After she’d squatted over the ash pit, she paused in the backyard and looked up at the sky. It was going to be a clear night. There was a nip in the air, but it was still. There was no wind to speak of. It would be perfect down on the beach. She wondered if she could get Noah right in the sea this time. Give him a proper dip. Her belly squirmed in anticipation. This was the worst bit. The waiting.
She thought of Pa. Out there somewhere in the world. Was he any closer to coming home? What would he make of it all? she wondered. A new pier. A new friend. ‘You’d like him, Pa,’ she said. ‘I know I didn’t at first … but I was just angry about the pier. He’s kind to me, Pa and … and I’ve told him about you. I’ve never told anyone about you before.’ Marnie turned back to the cottage. ‘So you’d better hurry back so he knows you’re real,’ she finished quickly.
Marnie held her breath as she walked back into the kitchen. Her heart lifted. There was no one there; only two empty beer pots on the kitchen table. She let her breath out, slow and long, and crept to the pantry to fetch her bedding. She had sewn an old sheet together and Smoaker had brought her some new straw to stuff it with. It smelled good and fresh. With her blanket tucked around and with the dying warmth of the fire to lie in front of, Marnie was as cosy as a rabbit in a burrow. She blew out the candles and settled down.
The cottage creaked. She heard Ma turn heavily in bed and Smoaker complaining under his breath. She looked across the kitchen at the door to her and Ma’s bedchamber, where Eldon was sleeping. There was no light coming from the crack underneath. Good. He was settled too. Now all she had to do was rest awhile and listen out for the bells of St Andrew’s to strike half past ten.
27
The Journal of Noah de Clevedon
Clevedon. SEPTEMBER 13th 1868, Sunday
I have just returned from the beach. My hair is damp and stiff with salt. My sea-logged clothes are lying in a heap in the corner of my room and, despite my dressing gown, I am shivering with cold from head to toe. I fear I may have left puddles all through the hallway downstairs.
But I have never felt so exhilarated! My blood is rushing hot around my veins. Even the tips of my hair seem alive. I don’t know how Marnie persuaded me in. She just seemed so at ease, with her skirts billowing out around her and her hair trailing on the surface of the water. I took off my frock coat, silk vest and boots and before I knew it, I was up to my knees in the sea.
‘Just a little at a time!’ she called out to me. I waded out to her, my breath ragged with the shock of the cold. She swam around me; glided, almost. She was so graceful. ‘Shall I dip you?’ she asked. I was about to decline when I felt her hands on my shoulders and all at once she pushed me right under. I cannot express the great fear that took hold of me in that moment. It was like nothing I have ever experienced before. I thought I should never breathe again. But then she lifted me to the surface and, once I had filled my lungs and recovered my senses, I was overcome with the most wonderful feeling of well-being.
Then she apologised. She said it was something that had to be done quickly before I had too much time to think on it. She said she hoped she hadn’t offended me. She looked so serious, I could not help laughing. It was a ridiculous situation; the both of us wet and bedraggled and acting so polite! She soon saw the fun in it too.
She says she will teach me to swim next time, and I am to bring a dry set of clothes. It was most unpleasant having to walk back to the manor looking and feeling like a drowned sailor.
I will sleep well tonight. I know it.
28
Clevedon Manor
By the end of September the weather turned bleak. It was too wet for the washing to go outside any more, so it was hung around the kitchen on string that was nailed to the ceiling beams. It took an age to dry and sent Ma into the foulest of tempers. Marnie kept out of her way and worked quickly and quietly, willing the hours to pass. The never-ending damp of the cottage got inside her head, settled on her hair and skin and made her own clothes reek of mould. Even the straw inside her mattress had begun to rot. But Marnie barely noticed. She had her weekly meetings with Noah to look forward to now. And at long last it was Sunday again.
Marnie lay
in front of the dying fire listening out for the church bells. The wind had whipped up outside and it crossed her mind that Noah might not come out on such a night. But she didn’t dwell on the thought. Instead she imagined how wild the sea would be. Churned into a frenzy of spitting waves. She loved it like that, when it was full of life and anger. It made her feel like she could do anything in the world. She wanted Noah to see it too, and to feel what she felt.
Over the last couple of Sundays Noah had taken so well to the sea that he could manage a few strokes in the shallows now. He had got into the habit of bringing a flannel shirt with him, which he would change into behind a rock. Their rock; the one he always waited by.
Marnie thought about last Sunday. It had been the best so far. She and Noah had got carried away in the joy of it all and had forgotten to be quiet. They’d made so much noise, whooping and hollering in the waves, that they’d woken one of the workers. He’d come out of his shack, waving a lamp across the beach and shouting, ‘Who’s there?’
Marnie and Noah had ducked down in the water so the waves lapped their chins. The lamplight crossed inches in front of their faces. They gripped each other’s hands under the water and stifled their laughter until eventually they heard the man’s footsteps crunching back up the beach. Then they snorted water from their nostrils and shushed each other as they waded back to shore. They’d dressed quickly, Noah behind one rock and Marnie behind another. They didn’t speak until they were back on the esplanade.
‘That was close,’ Noah had said, his face flushed with excitement. ‘Imagine if he had seen our faces peering at him from between the waves! He would have thought we were a two-headed sea monster, or a couple of lunatics from Bristol Asylum at the very least!’ He giggled like a small child.
The adventure had warmed Marnie through to her bones. She knew Noah felt the same way too. His eyes had sparkled at her. ‘You are so different when you are in the sea, Marnie,’ he said. ‘I have never seen anyone look so alive. It is as though you were born to it.’
Marnie looked at him solemnly. ‘But I was born to it.’
Noah laughed and bowed deeply. ‘Indeed! Now, I must go. And so must you.’
Marnie watched him as he walked away. She rested on her stick, her heart full of something she couldn’t name. Then Noah had suddenly stopped and shouted back at her, ‘Are you sure your father didn’t catch you in one of his nets, little mermaid?’ She heard him laughing to himself as he strode off back to the manor. She stayed, gazing at his figure until it disappeared into the distance.
Marnie turned to face the sea. ‘Is it right what he said, Pa?’ she had whispered, careful not to wake another worker. ‘Did you catch me in one of your nets?’ She liked the thought of that. She liked that Noah talked of Pa too. It made him seem real, and it made Marnie more certain than ever that he would be coming back to her soon. Pa would come home. She just knew it.
The distant toll of the church bells brought Marnie back to the present. She lay still on her mattress, counting the ten strikes. Not long to go now. All was quiet in the cottage and she knew she would have no trouble sneaking out.
It was wild down on the beach. The towering steam-crane creaked as the wind battered its body and the workers’ shacks shivered in protest. As she walked past the half-built pier she spied the dark figure of Noah, his hands buried in the depths of a long overcoat. Her hair lashed across her face as she hurried to meet him.
‘Not a night for swimming, surely?’ he shouted to her above the roar of the wind.
‘Maybe not!’ she agreed. ‘It’s best to leave the sea be when it’s in this mood.’ She turned her face to the sea-wind and the full force of the elements took her breath away. ‘See how magnificent it is!’ she hollered.
Noah came to stand by her side. ‘You are quite mad!’ he said, laughing. He held his arms out and the wind caught under his coat and blew it open. It sailed behind him like a cloak. ‘Whayyy!’ he shouted. ‘I feel I am riding an unbroken stallion!’
They stood in silence for a while, and Marnie marvelled at how much her life had changed. Having a friend like Noah made everything seem so good. He didn’t care about her leg. He seemed to like her for who she was, not what she was, and that meant everything to Marnie.
Noah nudged her. ‘Come back to the manor with me.’
‘What, now?’ said Marnie.
‘Why not?’ said Noah. ‘It is time you saw something of my life.’
It was an effort for Marnie to walk up the old road that led to the manor. It wound uphill, out of the village, and was strewn with small rocks and peppered with potholes. After she’d stumbled a couple of times Noah came to her side, and without saying a word, he offered her his arm. Marnie wasn’t used to being helped and although she was grateful, she couldn’t bring herself to thank him. They walked in silence. An owl hooted in the distance and the wind blew through the trees that lined the road.
‘It is not far now,’ said Noah. ‘Look. Can you see the light burning in the south porch?’
Marnie looked up, and sure enough there was a yellow haze glowing softly through the trees. They walked through an open pair of tall iron gates. Marnie saw the bulk of the manor in front of her, silhouetted against the night sky.
‘We will go around the side. To the servants’ entrance,’ said Noah. ‘The Grand door will be locked by now.’
Marnie saw a couple of lights burning in the upstairs windows. ‘Who’s up at this hour?’ she asked.
‘That will be Mother,’ said Noah. ‘She has trouble sleeping these days. She is most likely reading.’
‘And the other window?’
‘Clarissa. She is Mother’s lady’s maid. She won’t be sleeping if Mother is not.’ Noah pointed to a bigger window in the centre of the upper floor. ‘And that is my bedchamber,’ he said. ‘I have the best view of any room. I can see over the village and right out to sea. If I had a spyglass, I imagine I could even see you on the beach.’
It was a strange notion and Marnie fell silent again. She could scarcely believe she was about to enter the mysterious Clevedon Manor. The de Clevedons had lived at the manor for hundreds of years, although it had lain empty for as long as Marnie could remember. Until Noah and his mother had come back, it had been many years since any of the family had paid a visit. Marnie knew of no one who had ever been inside. The manor’s servants were sent to the village for goods, but kept themselves to themselves and never gossiped with the locals. The villagers talked of the de Clevedons in hushed tones, as if they were royalty or something. Marnie was awestruck. She felt as though she was about to enter the palace of Queen Victoria herself.
Marnie followed Noah to a small wooden door, set deep in the old stone walls. He opened it and motioned for her to follow him. Marnie held her breath. She pictured velvet curtains, carved oak furniture, huge fires and jewelled treasures; riches beyond her wildest dreams. It was pitch black inside. The air was musty and cold and Marnie’s stick clicked on the stone floors. She shivered. It wasn’t how she imagined it at all and disappointment flooded through her. Then, as if he’d read her thoughts, Noah whispered to her, ‘This is only the screens passage. The oldest part of the manor. It leads to the kitchens and the buttery and the larder. But I will take you through to the Great Hall first.’ He pushed open a door to his side and Marnie immediately smelled a change in the air; a smoky warmth of candle wax and burnt logs.
‘Wait here and I will see if there are enough embers in the fire to light a spill,’ said Noah. She heard his footsteps cross the hall and as she peered into the shadows she saw a flickering light growing bigger and bigger. Noah’s face, lit up by the flame of a thick creamy candle, came towards her. ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Come and see the Great Hall!’
Marnie saw nothing at first but shadows and shapes. Then, as Noah busied himself lighting more candles, the Great Hall gradually revealed itself to her. It was vast; the vaulted ceiling so high, the top of it disappeared from view. There were beautiful tapestries hanging
down the walls and a whole gallery of portraits. The stern faces of dozens of men and women stared down at Marnie from within their gilt frames.
‘Who are all these people?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘Mostly my family,’ said Noah. ‘My grandfather, great-grandfather, even my great-great-grandfather! Some of their wives too, and cousins, of course. There are some friends here too. Have you heard of Tennyson, the poet, and William Thackeray, the celebrated writer?’
Marnie shook her head.
‘You have not heard of Vanity Fair?’
Again, Marnie shook her head. ‘What’s a Vanity Fair?’ she asked. ‘Is it like a May Fair?’
Noah laughed. ‘No, you silly thing! Vanity Fair is the title of Thackeray’s great novel. He is famous throughout the whole of England for it.’
Marnie flushed furiously. ‘Well, he’s not famous here, is he? And why should I care about such things as that, anyway?’
Noah’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘Calm yourself,’ he said. ‘I only answered your question as to who is in these portraits.’
Marnie turned away from him and walked towards the fireplace. She hadn’t meant to be sharp with Noah, and it wasn’t his fault she’d been made to feel stupid. She wasn’t sure what to feel at the moment, or how to act. All of this had stunned her and knocked the wind from her sails. Being inside the manor was astonishing enough, but seeing all those faces looking down at her, and knowing that Noah had such a family, filled Marnie with envy. What must it be like to go all the way back in time and know exactly where you came from and who you belonged to? Marnie wished she had a picture of her pa. The tiniest miniature would do. Just so she could look into his face.
The Madness Page 8