The Memory of Midnight

by Pamela Hartshorne

  Ralph had to die.

  But how?

  Nell was prepared to die to save her daughter, but she would as soon not swing. Meg was only eleven. How could she trust anyone else to look after her?

  Nell fretted at the problem as she sipped at her wine, only half-listening to the hum of conversation around her, until Margery Dixon leant forward beside her.

  ‘What is this I hear of Mistress Clitherow?’ she asked and her question dropped like a stone through the comfortable chatter of babies and servants and husbands.

  There was a silence. The women looked at each other. Margaret Clitherow lived in the Shambles. It was not their neighbourhood, but they all knew of her now. She had reconciled to the old faith and she would not recant. She refused to go to divine service, no matter how many times they imprisoned her. She cared nothing for the law, it seemed. In the streets, they whispered that she concealed priests in her house, though none was ever found when it was searched. They found books and vestments and vessels used for Holy Mass, but of the priest there was no sign.

  When Nell heard that, she thought about the closet in the Stonegate house, the one she had searched for that long-ago day. She wondered if it really existed, if it was ever used. Tom’s mother had been a papist. Nell remembered that everybody knew, but nobody spoke of it. For the most part, folk kept their thoughts to themselves. It was wiser that way. Nell herself went to divine service with Ralph, but since Hugh’s death, her faith had been a feeble thing, and just for show. She admired Margaret Clitherow for her bravery, for her refusal to do as she was bid, but she knew better than to say so to Ralph. Nell herself would not risk so much for the God that took her small son.

  Jane Harrison spoke at last. ‘They are saying she has refused to let her children be called to the court,’ she said, and beside her Isabel Dickinson nodded.

  ‘She will not make them give evidence against her.’

  ‘I heard she was to be pressed,’ another said and a hush fell on the room.

  Pressed. Nell’s hand went to her mouth. So it was true. Ralph had told her the same thing. His eyes had lit up when he described for her what would happen.

  They would strip Mistress Clitherow naked. They would make her lie on a stone and they would place a door over her, and then they would put rock after rock on the door until her ribs cracked and her heart burst.

  Nell’s throat closed. She thought of how it was whenever Ralph had shut her in the chest, how the darkness and the horror had pressed down on her, how she couldn’t breathe.

  For Margaret it would be real. That weight would not be fear. She would be trapped under the door and even if she changed her mind, how would she be able to speak? She would not be able to move or speak or cry.

  She would die for her faith.

  They said there was a child in her womb. That would die too.

  Nell was thinking about Margaret Clitherow as she walked back along Stonegate. She would put her child before her faith. She couldn’t imagine choosing to die. Even in the darkest hours – her wedding night, Hugh’s death – there had been a light inside her that refused to go out.

  She was prepared to hang for Meg, yes. But to choose to be pressed . . . Nell couldn’t conceive of it. To know that her chest would heave uselessly against the dark, and the horror would crowd her head and suck the last breath from her lungs . . .

  She would rather hang.

  But even as she thought it, she shivered. A goose walking over her grave.

  Or perhaps it was just the wind. It was a bright day, but it was only March and the breeze still nipped with the memory of winter. The air was sharp that day, slicing the street into blocks of sunshine and shadow.

  The sun was in Nell’s eyes as she stepped from the dimness of the passage into the yard, and she screwed them up against the dazzle. At first she couldn’t see. She could only sense that there were two figures outside the door, figures who had turned to look at her, and she hesitated at the entrance of the passage, one hand shading her brow, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

  ‘Ah, wife.’ It was Ralph’s voice, with an undercurrent that made Nell tense even as she squinted into the light. ‘See who has come back to York to see us. Fresh off the boat.’

  Blinking, Nell took a step forward, and then her vision cleared like a sword falling and her heart stopped for a long moment before bounding into her throat. She clapped a hand there, afraid that it would burst out of her body and reach for the man standing next to Ralph by the door.

  It was the last person she had expected to see.

  It was Tom.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nell’s body reacted before her mind did. After all these years, still it was as if every part of her was dancing and twirling with joy at the sight of him. There was a ringing in her head, a buzzing in her ears. For one terrible moment she was afraid she might faint.

  He was older, of course, and he had a trim beard, but it was unmistakably Tom. He was taller, tougher, and his mouth was hard now. He was burnt brown by the sun and there were lines at the corners of his eyes, but the blue, blue eyes were the same, alert and alive and able to reach right inside her and squeeze her heart.

  It was Tom.

  Nell’s toes flexed; her heel lifted. The muscles in her thigh bunched. Instinct was about to send her running across the yard to him, but at the last moment before she launched herself forward, her eyes flickered to Ralph.

  He was watching them both, his gaze flicking between them almost hungrily. He was enjoying this, she realized. He liked the idea that this meeting would be painful for her. He wanted her to lose control and give him an excuse to punish her in front of Tom.

  So she lowered her heel and lifted her chin. She could do nothing about the fierce joy surging through her, but she disguised it behind a cool smile as she walked towards Tom to offer a kiss of welcome.

  ‘Welcome home, Tom,’ she said, amazed at the steadiness of her voice. For a fleeting moment, her eyes looked into his, but it was enough. The heat in his expression seared her, and when his mouth touched hers in the accustomed kiss, everything in her leapt and trembled and her heart soared.

  ‘Nell,’ was all he said, but nothing more was needed. He knew and she knew. It was the way it always had been between them.

  Ralph was disappointed that she didn’t appear more shaken, Nell could tell. His expression was peevish as he turned to Tom.

  ‘You should have sent word that you were coming, brother. We would have had a more seemly welcome for you.’

  ‘I hadn’t planned to come,’ said Tom. ‘But I was in Hull and I got talking to the keelboat captain who said he was coming here on the tide, and I found myself thinking of you all. I jumped on before I had a chance to change my mind.’ He smiled easily. ‘I was ever one to look before I leap, as you know.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Ralph with a thin smile. ‘But why have you stayed away so long?’ he asked, clapping Tom on the shoulder, although he must have known why. ‘We have felt you had quite forgotten us.’

  ‘Forgotten you?’ Tom’s gaze rested on Nell’s face. ‘Never.’

  Nell was trembling inside with the reaction she could not afford to let Ralph see. She hid her hands in her skirts and forced a smile.

  ‘Why are we standing outside in the cold? I am a poor hostess. You will be hungry if you have come straight from the staithe,’ she said to Tom, as she would to a stranger. ‘Husband, do you take your brother inside, and I will bring wine and cakes.’

  The bones in her legs had turned to wool. It was all Nell could do to walk towards the kitchen as Ralph and Tom headed up the stairs, and when the door closed behind her, she slumped back against it, pressing her palms to her cheeks which were burning with reaction.

  ‘Mistress?’ Eliza looked up from the table where she was shredding a cabbage. ‘What ails you?’

  ‘Naught.’ Nell straightened, took a breath. She must stay calm, she chided herself, but it was hard when her mind was topsy-turvy. Inside all was con
fusion apart from the one thought that shone steady and diamond bright: Tom is here.

  She warmed the wine herself while Eliza set out cakes on a plate, and together they carried them up to the hall. The murmur of voices told them that Ralph and Tom were in the closet.

  Perhaps it was warmer in the smaller room.

  Or perhaps Ralph had chosen it deliberately because he knew how much Nell hated the closet. She couldn’t step through the door without feeling her throat close. The chest was still there. It didn’t look so big now, but to Nell there was something malevolent about the way it squatted there like a toad against the wall.

  The two men were standing squarely in front of the fireplace. Both had their legs apart as if braced against the world, but there the resemblance between the brothers ended. Ralph toyed with the tasselled purse that hung from his belt. His fur-lined robe and velvet cap were expensive, but next to Tom, he looked grey and shrunken.

  Tom needed no furs or fine cloths. His Venetians were narrow, his doublet plain, the buckles on his shoes unadorned, but he filled the room with his presence. It was as if he had brought in the wind, the salt-sting of the air, the restless surge of the sea that Nell had never seen.

  He took the wine Nell offered and lifted the goblet to her and then, as an afterthought, Ralph. ‘It is good to be home again,’ he said.

  As if sensing that standing next to Tom did him no favours, Ralph threw himself into the turned chair.

  ‘So, brother, tell us what you have been doing with yourself since you abandoned your master. Sit, my dearest,’ he added to Nell, who was still holding the jug of wine. ‘I am sure you would like to hear what Tom has to say too.’

  He wanted her to struggle to contain her feelings. He wanted her to be hurt. He wanted her to feel that Tom had abandoned her.

  Nell smoothed her expression and sank onto a stool. If only Ralph had known that it would have been much harder for her to have left. Right now, it was enough to drink in the sight of Tom. She had not realized until this moment how much she had yearned for him over the years. She had not let herself wonder if he was alive or dead, but now he was there she was raw with longing for him.

  What did Tom see when he looked at her? Was he shocked by how much she had changed since he left? Could he see anything of the loving, laughing girl she used to be? She had grown thinner, she knew. Her gown might be made of the finest scarlet, her kirtle might be satin and trimmed with velvet, her sleeves slashed to show her embroidered smock, but she had lost her bonny glow. Her eyes were guarded now, her body braced for the lift of Ralph’s hand.

  ‘I have sailed around the world with Captain Drake,’ said Tom, as if it were no more than riding out to the white stone cross on Heworth Moor, but his eyes lit with an achingly familiar gleam at the memory of where he had been. ‘Sir Francis, I should say,’ he remembered. ‘The Queen’s Majesty dined aboard our plucky Golden Hind, and she knighted him. Little enough in return for the riches he brought her!’

  ‘Drake? That upstart!’ Ralph’s mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘They say he is little better than a pirate.’

  ‘The Spaniards certainly think so,’ said Tom. ‘He is a man of great daring, that is for sure.’

  ‘So you have been to the New World?’ Nell said wistfully.

  ‘I have been further than that, Nell. I have sailed through waves as tall as houses, and across an ocean so wide we thought there was no end to it. But then we came to the Spice Islands and we filled the ship with cloves.’ His laughter bounced off the wainscot and warmed the room. ‘I can smell them still! But we had to jettison most when we ran aground. We stood on the deck and poured sack after sack of them into the sea. Aye, it hurt but it had to be done. We would still be fixed on that reef else, but we trusted the Captain to bring us home safe, and so he did.’

  ‘And how long do you plan on staying?’ Ralph was regarding his brother with dislike.

  ‘Well now, brother, that depends.’

  ‘If you have come in the hope of money, I will have to disappoint you,’ said Ralph. ‘It was your choice not to finish your apprenticeship.’

  ‘And I hate to disappoint you,’ said Tom, ‘but I have made my fortune with the Captain. There has been plunder aplenty.’

  ‘I see.’ It was obvious this was unwelcome news to Ralph.

  ‘Perhaps I will buy a house in York,’ Tom went on, Nell suspected deliberately to provoke her husband. ‘I may settle down and establish myself as a fine gentleman.’

  ‘But then,’ said Ralph silkily, ‘you would need a wife, would you not?’

  There was the tiniest of pauses. Nell hurried to fill it.

  ‘You would be bored before the week was out,’ she said. ‘You are used to the open seas now, Tom. I fear York would be too tame for you.’

  ‘Sail across an ocean on a small ship and you soon learn a new meaning to bored,’ said Tom. ‘But if there is one thing I have learnt on my travels, it is that there is interest and excitement to be found everywhere.’ His eyes rested on her face. ‘Even in York.’

  Ralph took his time with Nell that night, excited by the thought of Tom lying in the back chamber. He strapped her wrists to the bedpost and he lashed at her with a switch until she bled. ‘You are mine,’ he grunted as he thrust into her at last. ‘Mine.’

  Nell just turned her face away. She could bear the pain. Tom was alive and Tom was there. For now, that was all that mattered.

  ‘For God’s sake, Theresa, what’s wrong with you?’

  Tess was jolted back to the present by Martin waving an irritable hand in front of her face. Her eyes snapped into focus, and she put down the cup with shaky hands.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, moistening her lips. ‘What were you saying?’

  ‘What was I saying?’ Martin echoed incredulously, looking injured as only he knew how. ‘I’m doing my best to make amends here,’ he said. ‘I’m doing everything I can to save our marriage. I’ve arranged an extremely expensive second honeymoon which would have most women squealing with delight, but you, you can’t even be bothered to pay attention!’ His face crumpled. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Theresa. I really am.’

  Tess set her hands flat on the table. They burned and throbbed as if ripped raw. ‘We’re not having a honeymoon,’ she said as calmly as she could. ‘I’ve left you. I want a divorce.’

  At that his expression changed, and his hand shot out to grab her wrist, and Tess couldn’t help flinching. ‘Is there someone else?’ he demanded, low and cold. ‘Is that it? Have you been fucking around? Who is it? Is it that Ralph you talked about on the phone?’

  She jerked back at the name in spite of herself, and Martin’s grip tightened. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’ Tess had a wild desire to laugh. If only Martin knew!

  ‘Then who?’

  She ran her tongue over dry lips. ‘There’s no one.’

  ‘In sickness and in health, Theresa, that’s what you promised. For better, for worse. Remember? I am your husband. Remember that?’

  ‘There’s no one,’ she said again.

  ‘You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Theresa?’

  Her wrist was hurting, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to pull her hand free. Her mind flickered to Luke, and then away. ‘I’m not lying.’

  ‘Good.’ A final cruel squeeze of her wrist and he sat back, satisfied, smiling, once more an ordinary husband having tea with his ordinary wife. ‘Then the sooner we get back to normal, the better, hmm? We’ll go and get your things right away.’

  A headache was jabbing behind Tess’s eyes. How was she going to get out of this? The conversation was taking on a nightmarish quality. ‘I need to go and get Oscar, Martin,’ she temporized. ‘He’s with Vanessa.’

  ‘Your friend in the flash four-wheel drive?’ he said knowledgeably and she stiffened.

  ‘You have been watching me!’

  ‘Darling, of course I have. At least, I’ve had someone watch you for me. You should have ex
pected that,’ he said, raising his brows at her expression. ‘You’re my wife. I needed to know no one was taking advantage of you, like that sweaty joiner who’s always going in and out.’ His eyes sharpened. ‘That’s not Ralph, is it?’

  She had to be very careful. ‘No. His name’s Luke, and he’s been building some shelves for the owner of the flat.’

  ‘Yes, that was my information too,’ Martin acknowledged as if disappointed not to have caught her out. ‘At least I could sleep easier knowing that you were safe,’ he said, and Tess felt the welcome anger seeping back.

  ‘I haven’t felt safe, Martin. I’ve been frightened. You’ve been breaking into my flat, messing with my things.’

  He pouted. ‘I just wanted you to know that I was there for you. You’ve been so stubborn, changing your phone, not answering my calls . . .’ His face darkened. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

  ‘You were supposed to leave me alone.’ Wearily, Tess rubbed at her temples, and he leant forward in concern.

  ‘Darling, aren’t you feeling well?’

  ‘I’ve just got a headache.’

  ‘I hope that’s all it is.’ Martin looked sombre. ‘I hope you’re mother’s not right.’

  ‘My mother?’ Tess jerked back. ‘What’s she been saying?’

  ‘Now, now, there’s no need to be so touchy. She implied that you were under a lot of strain, and I can see that for myself. For a few moments just now, I watched you tune out. It was as if you weren’t here.’ He shook his head, his brow creased in concern. ‘No wonder she’s worried about you. She says you’ve been getting involved in a lot of hocus-pocus and she’s afraid you’re having some kind of nervous breakdown. I told her you were just being a bit naughty, but now I’m beginning to wonder if she was right all along.’