The Madness

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The Madness Page 10

by Alison Rattle


  Eldon Cross nodded his agreement.

  ‘Mind you,’ said Smoaker, ‘there won’t be no more wages till we’re back on it. Bleedin’ weather.’

  Round and round the words went; in and out of Marnie’s ears till she wanted to scream. She wanted the weather to calm too. But for different reasons. Noah wouldn’t come to the beach in a storm and she couldn’t turn up at the manor unannounced. All she could do was wait out the days and pray the coming Sunday would bring finer weather.

  Eldon Cross was getting on her nerves as well. Every time she turned around, he was staring at her. Smiling and staring, like he knew something she didn’t. Ma didn’t help matters. ‘Be nice to Eldon,’ she said. ‘Here, look. Take him this pot of beer. And smile, Marnie! You’re so much more pleasing to the eye when you smile.’

  ‘I don’t want to be nice to him!’ Marnie hissed. ‘He makes me skin itch!’

  Ma pushed her face up close. ‘Don’t you think to be too choosy, my girl. He’s a good catch for someone like you. Never thought I’d see the day when any man showed an interest. So you do as I say and be nice to him. You hear?’

  Marnie set the beer on the table in front of Eldon Cross. ‘Ta,’ he said with a wink. ‘That’s very kind of you, Marnie.’ He stroked his tatty beard. ‘I should like to take you for a walk later. If this storm abates.’ He looked at Smoaker, who at once nodded his head. ‘That’s agreed, then,’ said Eldon. ‘Soon as this storm blows itself out, eh, Marnie?’

  Marnie turned away without saying a word. She was boiling inside. How could Ma and Smoaker encourage the man, when Marnie had made it quite clear he turned her cold? It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them about Noah. How good it would be to see the astonishment on their faces when she said, ‘I’ve been bathing with the son of Sir John de Clevedon. I’ve taken tea at the manor. Noah de Clevedon is a friend of mine.’

  They’d never believe her, though. They thought she was fanciful as it was. ‘Don’t you be telling such lies, girl,’ Ma would say. ‘Why would a gentleman like him wish to befriend the likes of you? You’re daft in the head, you are!’ Marnie could just hear it.

  It would take Noah himself to come knocking at the cottage door to make them believe her. And that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Noah had his position to think of. Marnie knew that. But one day, maybe. One day something would happen. And then she’d shock ’em all.

  So Marnie said nothing. Instead she went back to pressing the pile of shirts that were stacked at the other end of the kitchen table. She took a rag and picked up the flat iron that had been heating by the fire. She spat on it as Ma had taught her, and the hiss of her spittle told her it was good and hot. The iron weighed heavy as she smoothed the creases from a shirt sleeve, but Marnie’s arm was strong and she savoured the pull and ache of her muscles.

  She sensed Eldon Cross watching her from across the room and she banged down hard with the iron, wishing it was Eldon’s smug face.

  ‘Careful, girl!’ shouted Ma. ‘You’ll be scorching that in a minute. We don’t get paid for ruined linen, you know!’

  By mid-afternoon the winds had died and although the skies were thick with hard grey clouds, the rain had stopped too. Eldon, who had poked his head out of the kitchen door at least a dozen times during the afternoon, got up from his chair yet again and, on account of one too many pots of beer, walked unsteadily to the door. He opened it and sniffed at the air.

  ‘Ahhh,’ he breathed. ‘The scent of freshly turned earth. There’s nothing quite like it after a storm, is there, Marnie? I think we could chance our walk now.’

  Marnie winced at his words. ‘Ta, Mr Cross. But I think maybe another time would be better. I’ve all this to finish yet.’ Marnie nodded towards the shirts that were still to be pressed.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Ma quickly. ‘There’s no hurry for these. You go on now, Marnie. Don’t keep Eldon waiting.’ Ma snatched the iron from Marnie’s hand. ‘Go on!’

  ‘But Ma!’ protested Marnie.

  ‘I said go.’ Ma nodded pointedly towards Eldon.

  Marnie clenched her fists tight. It was only a walk, she told herself. No more than that. And it wouldn’t be for long. At least she could escape the fug of the cottage and breathe in some sea air. She quickly knotted her shawl around her shoulders and took up her stick. The sea was best after a storm. Its surface rose and dipped like the chest of some great panting beast and the depths of it turned an angry inky black. Marnie imagined she could already smell the salty cleanness of freshly washed shingle.

  She pushed past Eldon Cross, still hovering in the doorway, and made her way to the lane in front of Ratcatcher’s Row. Eldon hurried after her, pushing his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. ‘Didn’t expect you to be able to walk so fast,’ he said as he caught up with her.

  Marnie ignored him and set her sights on the end of the lane, where it wound round to meet the esplanade. It was too wet to slide down the embankment, although it would have been amusing to see Eldon get the seat of his britches wet. ‘Here, Marnie, take my arm,’ he said. ‘It’ll be better than that old stick.’

  ‘No ta,’ said Marnie. ‘I can manage well enough.’

  She led the way down the lane, muddied by the rain, and on to the esplanade, with Eldon Cross following silently by her side. She was damned if she was going to talk to him. Let him follow behind like a lost dog if he wanted. She wasn’t going to give him a thing.

  There were several figures walking up and down the esplanade. A couple of village women nodded to Marnie and gave knowing glances towards Eldon. ‘Afternoon,’ he said, as though he’d known them all his life. Marnie didn’t care an inch what they might think; she only prayed that Noah wasn’t out and about. She would die of shame if he were to see her out walking with Eldon Cross.

  She reached the railings that overlooked the beach and gripped the cold iron with her hand. The sea-wind blew in her face and she closed her eyes. For a moment she imagined she was on her own, that the sea and the beach were all hers. Just like it used to be. Then Eldon’s voice came loud in her ear. ‘Are you cold, Marnie? I could put my jacket over your shoulders if you would like?’

  ‘I’m quite warm enough,’ said Marnie stiffly, although the cold of the railings bit into her hand and she wished for deep pockets or a velvet and fur muff that she’d often seen the winter visitors carrying on their daily perambulations. She opened her eyes and saw that Eldon had turned to face the north end of the beach where the pier workings were lying in what looked to Marnie like of heaps of tangled iron.

  ‘Look how light and elegant those legs are,’ said Eldon. ‘Who’d ever believe there was over three hundred tons of wrought iron in ’em. Had to screw the deepest piles into the limestone and mud, you know. A feat of engineering, that pier is. I hope you appreciate what you see being built in front of your very eyes, Marnie Gunn. It’s going to be a thousand feet long by the time it’s finished. Did you know that?’

  Marnie didn’t answer. She let him ramble on and he didn’t seem to notice. She couldn’t care less about the pier. Only that it would be finished soon so she could have her beach back; and the sea. She missed the bathing machines, she realised. She even missed Smoaker’s hut.

  ‘When will it be finished?’ The question was out of her mouth before she could snatch it back. She hadn’t wanted to encourage him in conversation.

  Eldon turned to her and it seemed to Marnie his piggy eyes lit up in triumph. His chest broadened and he rocked back on his feet as if he were the fount of all knowledge. ‘Ah. Won’t be finished till Easter, Marnie. That is if all goes to plan and we don’t have too bad a winter ahead of us. The tides can play havoc when they want to.’

  Easter! That was months away. Marnie wondered how she would endure Eldon’s attentions for that long. For surely he would leave when his work was done? She chanced a glance at him. He was smiling at her encouragingly. Waiting, it seemed, for her to say something more. His smile didn’t make him any more pleasant to look at.
The gesture had made his eyes disappear in a mass of crow’s feet.

  ‘I’d like to go back now,’ said Marnie.

  ‘Already?’ said Eldon. ‘But we’ve hardly walked a few yards.’

  ‘Me leg is aching. I can’t go any further,’ Marnie lied.

  ‘Well, that’s a shame,’ said Eldon. His smile dropped. ‘But I’m sure we’ll have plenty more opportunities for an evening stroll in the days to come.’

  Marnie’s heart sank.

  ‘You must take my arm now,’ said Eldon. ‘Now that your leg is bothering you.’

  ‘I can manage well enough, Mr Cross.’ Marnie took a deep breath. ‘I prefer to manage on me own.’ She stole a last glance at the sea before she turned to go. ‘Where are you when I really need you, Pa?’ she whispered. ‘Don’t be too far away.’

  ‘What did you say?’ asked Eldon.

  ‘Wasn’t talking to you,’ said Marnie and she walked off, leaving Eldon Cross standing there with his mouth open.

  ‘Back so soon?’ exclaimed Ma as Marnie walked back into the kitchen. Eldon Cross followed sullenly behind.

  ‘Her leg was bothering her,’ he said, gruffly.

  Ma scowled. ‘Oh, was it indeed? Well, you’d best get to finishing these then, my girl.’ She threw a fresh pile of linen on the kitchen table.

  Marnie couldn’t help smiling as she picked up the iron. Ma couldn’t realise that she’d rather press a mountain of washing than spend one minute more in the company of Eldon Cross.

  Besides, the skies over the horizon had looked clear and promising. Tomorrow would be fine. She was sure of it. Smoaker and Eldon Cross would be back to work and in two more days it would be Sunday again. Then Noah would be waiting for her by their rock on the beach. The iron felt as light as a feather in her hand as it flew through the pile of shirts, collars and bed sheets.

  33

  The Journal of Noah de Clevedon

  Clevedon. OCTOBER 18th 1868, Sunday

  What grey and miserable weather we have had the last two weeks. Mother, Clarissa and I have stayed huddled around the fire in the library, our heads buried in our books. To see Mother with the energy to read again is a complete joy! Sally has furnished us with nourishing broths and hot toddies, so it has not been an altogether unpleasant experience. I am just happy that Mother is away from her bed. She is so improved that I believe Father will hardly recognise her when he sees her next.

  I received word from Arnold again yesterday. He informed me that Cissie Baird flushed to the roots of her raven hair when he passed on my kindest regards! He implored me to come back to London for Christmas. ‘My dear fellow,’ he wrote. ‘If I have to come and fetch you myself on horseback, I will have you back!’ Ah! If only he knew how welcome that would be!

  The skies seem more settled today. I noticed a patch of blue over the woods when I took Prince for a romp earlier. I think I may go to the beach tonight and see if Marnie is there. I am in need of entertainment, and who better to provide it than my spirited young friend? I have not seen her since ‘the night of the banisters’ and I confess I have missed her a little. I am convinced Hetty saw nothing that night. I questioned her the following day and she seemed only puzzled by my enquiries. Nevertheless, I shall endeavour to be more discreet if I am to bring Marnie to the manor again.

  34

  A Pot of Tea in the Kitchen

  It was gone eleven o’clock on Sunday night before Marnie managed to escape from the cottage down to the beach. If Noah had come at all, she was certain to have missed him. She cursed Eldon Cross for loitering after supper and keeping Ma and Smoaker from their beds with his tales of working on the railways. The candles had burned to stumps by the time they bade each other goodnight. Marnie waited for the light under Eldon’s door to be snuffed out and for the cottage to still before she dared to ease the kitchen door open as quietly as she could.

  As she hurried along the esplanade Marnie spied a figure leaning over the railings. She slowed, not wanting to be seen by any villager or drunken worker still about at this time of night. But then the figure turned and she recognised the tilt of the hat and the neat set of shoulders. She knew at once it was Noah and she couldn’t help but smile widely.

  ‘I had given up on you coming,’ he said, when Marnie reached him. ‘I thought you had grown bored with our rendezvous.’

  ‘Never!’ said Marnie fiercely. ‘I had some bother getting out, is all.’

  ‘Well, I am glad you came, Marnie. I have missed you these past weeks.’

  Marnie’s eyes widened. ‘I’m sure you have better things to do than miss me,’ she said. But inside she was brimming over with smiles. If only Eldon Cross could see her now!

  Noah laughed. ‘You are a breath of fresh air, Marnie Gunn. You really are. Come.’ He held his arm out to her and without hesitation she took it and he guided her down the stone steps and on to the beach.

  The sea was flat and calm and the moon shone a gentle yellow on its surface. Noah took himself behind a rock to change into his flannel shirt and Marnie pulled off her boots and stripped to her shift. Then Noah held on to Marnie’s hand and they walked into the sea together, sucking in their breaths. The water was hard and bitterly cold, but they sank into it without a murmur. They swam side by side, not speaking or making a splash. After a while Marnie felt the blood rush hot through her body.

  She sighed. ‘It’s perfect, isn’t it?’ she whispered to Noah. He didn’t answer. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. But she was glad anyway. She felt they were caught in some strange magical world – just the two of them – and talking would have broken the spell.

  Noah was the first to swim back to the shore, and although she could have stayed in the sea all night, Marnie followed him out. He looked a sight standing on the beach, dripping wet and shivering furiously in his flannel shirt. ‘Hurry and get your dry clothes on,’ she said. ‘Then you can take me back to the manor for a warm.’ She was sure she saw him pause for a moment and open his mouth as if to say something. But then he was gone, behind a rock to change. Marnie took off her wet shift and pulled her frock back on. By the time Noah came back, she had her shawl tied around her shoulders and her boots on. Noah came behind her and gathered her hair in his hands. He twisted it and squeezed the seawater from its length.

  ‘There,’ he said. Marnie’s breath caught in her throat and her heart thumped hot and hard under her ribs.

  They walked up the road to the manor in companionable silence. Marnie held on to Noah’s arm and he matched his pace to hers. As they reached the entrance gates he bent his head to her and said, ‘There will be no sliding down the banisters tonight, Marnie. I cannot risk waking Mother. She’s been doing so well lately.’

  ‘A pot of tea in the kitchen will suit me just fine,’ said Marnie. She wondered why Noah seemed more nervous than usual. He ushered her around the side of the manor and in through the servants’ entrance, his fingers to his lips the whole time. The kitchen fire was burning low and the whole room smelled of warm bread and sweet things. ‘Sally has been baking today,’ said Noah. ‘I will see if I can find us one of her cakes in the pantry.’

  ‘I’ll make the tea, then,’ Marnie called after him. There was an assortment of teapots on a shelf by the fire next to a stack of cups and saucers. The kettle was on the hearth. When Marnie lifted it she found it still heavy with water. She put it to boil, then looked about for the tea. A silver caddy was on the kitchen table. Marnie picked it up and opened the lid. She sniffed at the black perfumed tea inside. It smelled wonderful, a world away from the cheap sawdust they had at home. As she glanced around for a spoon, a door opened behind her. Thinking it was Noah back with the cake she said, ‘I’ve found everything. Been making meself quite at home, I have.’

  ‘I can see that!’ said a voice.

  Marnie whirled around. It was Hetty, glaring at her from across the room. ‘Who the bleedin’ hell are you?’ she asked Marnie.

  Before Marnie could answer, Noah came back into the kitchen carry
ing a plate of cake. He darted a warning look at Marnie as he walked past her towards the maid.

  ‘Hetty!’ he said. ‘I am glad you haven’t taken to your bed yet. Would you wrap a portion of cake for this young girl, please? She called at the side door just a moment since, begging for food. I have taken pity on her and granted her a warm by the fire and promised her something to eat.’

  ‘Oh, sir. I see, sir,’ said Hetty.

  Marnie slowly put the tea caddy back on the table. What was happening? She suddenly felt like a thief caught red-handed. She looked to Noah. Surely he was playing games? He would burst out laughing in a moment and tell Hetty that everything was all right; Marnie was his friend from the village, he would tell her. He had invited her to the manor and she was welcome. But Noah didn’t look at her. He turned his back and poked at the kitchen fire while Hetty cut a chunk of the cake and tore a piece of newsprint to wrap it in.

  There was silence in the kitchen, save for the scrape of the poker and the crackle of the paper. Marnie wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time, but the stiff set of Noah’s back told her somehow that she must keep quiet.

  ‘Here.’ Hetty thrust the parcel at Marnie.

  ‘Much obliged,’ murmured Marnie.

  Noah turned from the fire and Marnie saw his face was flushed redder than it should have been with only a feeble flame in the grate. ‘Thank you, Hetty,’ said Noah. ‘I will see the girl out. And Hetty?’

  ‘Yes, sir?’ said the maid.

  ‘Please do not trouble yourself to mention this to anyone else. I do not wish Lady de Clevedon to be disturbed by the thought of beggars at our door.’

  ‘Of course not, sir,’ said Hetty. She curtseyed lightly, then, after flinging a look of contempt at Marnie, she left the kitchen.

  Marnie stood frozen, though her head was bursting with rage.

  Noah smiled at her tentatively. ‘I am sorry for that, Marnie,’ he said. ‘But thank you for playing along with me.’

 

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