‘By, she’s sharp-eyed,’ Rose said in amazement.
‘Like her mam,’ William smiled.
‘Clever like her dad,’ Rose insisted. ‘Words coming out of her little mouth already.’
‘I want the best for our lasses,’ William declared. ‘I want them to gan to school and learn things - get a good start in life.’
Rose thrilled at his words. How proud she would be to have educated daughters who could read and write and get a good position in an office or marry well like Florrie. They would be shielded from the insecurity of slumps in trade and the fear of the workhouse that hung over the poor like a black cloud. Her daughters would not have to make a living digging or hawking vegetables in the freezing cold like she had, or wearing themselves out skivvying for others like Lizzie. All this, William would give them. How the saints had smiled on her the day she and William had taken shelter in that drab little hut.
She was struck by a sudden desire. ‘William! Let’s go and call on the Liddells. They’ve been good to me - sending treats for the bairns. You’d like them. They’re full of education. Won’t you come and meet them?’
William pursed his mouth and said nothing. Rose knew he felt awkward at the mention of the people she had worked for. It reminded him of a time when he was too weak to look after his own. And he was a devout Catholic, a brethren of St Bede’s, who should not be seen entering the rectory.
‘They’re good people,’ Rose persisted. ‘They’d do anything for Jarrow and working people. And the rector’s canny. His favourite saint is St Bede - just like you.’
William looked at her holding Elizabeth, her face flushed and eager, her dark hair escaping from its coil in the wind and snaking around her large eyes and sensual mouth. She was still as pretty as the young girl who had caught his attention at church eight years ago. He loved her for being the simple country girl that she was at heart. But more than that, he loved her liveliness of spirit, her sudden unexpected whims and her joy for living.
He smiled. ‘Haway then. Take me to see your saintly Liddells, or I’ll get no peace.’
Rose kissed him in delight. They strode off down the hill, William singing and Margaret joining in with her own babyish humming.
By the time they reached the rectory, Rose’s arms were aching with carrying the baby. William pulled at the brass bell handle. They stood and waited. The face of a small boy peered out from the bay window, then darted out of sight.
‘Ring again,’ Rose urged. On the second ring, Jane answered the door and the boy darted out in front of her.
‘Who are you?’ he asked, his dark eyes inquisitive.
‘Don’t be cheeky,’ Jane scolded. ‘Hello, Rose. Is that the baby? Eeh, look at the size of Margaret! Come and give Auntie Jane a cuddle.’
She reached up. William carefully lifted Margaret from his shoulders and handed her to the maid.
‘Uncle Edward’s not in,’ the boy announced, jumping on and off the top step. ‘He’s gone on the boat.’
‘Aye,’ Jane confirmed. ‘They’ve both gone on the Cornelia - be away all afternoon. The mistress will be that put out to have missed you.’
‘I can’t go ‘cos children aren’t invited,’ the boy continued. ‘But I’m going to be a sailor when I grow up.’
‘You were going to be Viceroy of India five minutes ago,’ Jane said, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
William bent down to his height. ‘Good for you, lad. And what do they call you?’
‘Alexander Pringle,’ he answered. ‘What do they call you?’
‘Don’t be cheeky,’ Jane warned.
William just laughed and ruffled his dark coppery hair. ‘William,’ he replied, ‘William Fawcett.’
‘Have you got any boys for me to play with, William?’ Alexander asked in hope.
‘Not yet,’William laughed and winked at Rose.
‘Can we come in for a drink of water?’ Rose asked, feeling suddenly faint. She handed Elizabeth into William’s arms.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked in concern.
‘Just need a sit down,’ she panted, her pulse racing uncomfortably.
‘Come in the kitchen,’ Jane said quickly. ‘Alexander get out of the way! You’ll trip someone up.’
The boy hopped after them. ‘I’m a pirate with a wooden leg!’
They went through the gloomy dark hall smelling of polish, and through to the familiar kitchen. Rose was hit by hot air from the range and sank on to the bench by the table.
‘Don’t go giving us all a fright like last year,’ Jane cried, pouring her some water from an earthenware jug, Margaret still clamped to her hip.
‘What happened last year?’ Alexander piped up, but no one answered him.
Rose drank the water while William stared at her. She looked over at him. ‘Am I going to feel like this every summer?’ she asked weakly.
‘Like what?’ he asked.
She grimaced at the familiar wave of nausea. ‘Expectin’,’ she whispered.
William sat down quickly. ‘Already?’ he gasped. She nodded.
‘Look at me, William!’ cried Alexander, wobbling along the other bench with his hands outstretched. ‘I’m walking the plank.’
‘Get down!’ Jane gasped. ‘Eeh, Rose, another bairn on the way. Wait till I tell the mistress!’
‘That’s grand!’ William declared, recovering quickly from the shock.
Jane fetched biscuits and handed them round. ‘Here, this’ll stop the sickness.’ Margaret grabbed one and soon had sticky crumbs all over her face and the furniture as she explored around her. Alexander sat on the table kicking his legs.
‘We’re sailing to the Spanish Main looking for treasure,’ he imagined. ‘This is all we have to eat - biscuits in a barrel.’
Rose smiled, feeling better. ‘Where have you come from?’ she asked him.
‘England, of course,’ he answered, and began to climb on the table again.
‘Hoy, down you get, you little monkey,’ Jane ordered. He jumped down and hid under the table. ‘He’s sending me mad. Under me feet all day, never stops with all his questions.’
‘Who is he?’ Rose asked, dropping her voice.
‘Some sort of cousin of the rector’s.’ Jane shrugged. ‘His mam was related - but she died last year. As far as I can make out he’s been shoved from pillar to post ever since. He’s here for the summer - or until the family can agree what to do with him.’
Under the table they could hear him singing some made-up sea shanty.
‘Poor bairn,’ Rose sighed.
‘Has he no father?’ William asked quietly.
Jane leaned forward and whispered, ‘They say his mam ran off with a coachman called Pringle and the family wouldn’t have anything to do with them. Well, her being a Liddell and one of the gentry, they wouldn’t, would they? Now the father’s sent him back to her family - says he can’t afford to keep him.’
‘Look, William!’ the boy called. ‘I’ve found a cave - come and see.’
William handed the baby back to Rose and crouched down to join him under the table. As they played together, Jane continued in a whisper, ‘I think Mrs Liddell would like to keep him - them having no bairns of their own. But the rector says he’d be better off at Ravensworth or with one of the richer cousins. Says it’s too unhealthy here and they’re too busy with the parish. By, the master works himself night and day! The mistress worries about him overdoing it.’
Rose’s heart went out to the little boy play-acting under the kitchen table. She could see how much he needed a father and was enjoying William’s attention. And losing his mother too!
‘Tell Mrs Liddell we came to see her,’ she told Jane, ‘and brought the bairns.’ She stood up and William crawled from his cramped position, insisting on carrying
both the girls.
‘You’ll take it easy, lass,’ he insisted. ‘Ta-ra, Alexander. I hope you find your treasure.’
‘I’m Captain Pringle!’ he cried, leaping out and hitting William on the leg with a serving spoon. ‘You can’t go, I’ve captured you!’
‘Give me that,’ Jane intervened, and swiped the weapon from his hands. ‘Now say you’re sorry.’
Suddenly the boy’s eyes filled with tears and his chin began to tremble. He gulped, ‘Sorry,’ then burst into tears.
William put an arm round him. ‘That’s all right, Captain.’ But the boy struggled free and dashed out of the room, his sobs echoing down the stony back corridor. A door slammed. William and Rose exchanged helpless glances.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ Jane said brusquely. ‘He’ll be back to pester me soon enough.’
‘He seems a canny bairn,’ William said ruefully.
‘Aye, well, the rector’s been schooling him since he came here and the mistress teaches him his manners,’ Jane sniffed. ‘But underneath he’s still a wild Pringle, if you ask me. There’s no escaping your breedin’.’
At the beginning of June, Finder’s Circus came to Jarrow. For several days before the performances, Rose took the girls in the pram to watch the large tent being erected and to view the wild beasts in their cages. Rose was quite alarmed and felt nauseous at the animal stench. But Margaret came home making roaring noises, not the least in awe of the strange sights and smells.
‘Let’s take her when it opens,’ William said, entranced by her mimicry. ‘She really wants to go.’
‘You mean you do,’ Rose teased. ‘I’ll stay at home with Elizabeth.’
‘Haway, Rose,’ William encouraged. ‘It’s not often some’at this exciting happens round here. You deserve a treat. Mother will mind the baby.’
Rose did not need much persuasion.
The day before they were due to go, William appeared preoccupied. ‘I was wondering ...’ he began.
‘What?’ Rose asked.
‘That lad - Alexander. Stuck in that house with no other bairns - no mam or dad.’ He hesitated.
‘You want to take him to the circus,’ Rose guessed.
William looked at her cautiously. ‘What d’you think?’
‘I think you’re a canny man,’ she smiled, and touched his face in affection. ‘I’ve been thinkin’ about the bairn as well. I can call round in the morning and ask, if you like.’
When Rose called at the rectory the next day, Mrs Liddell welcomed her in like an old friend. She seemed taken aback by their offer, but Alexander showed so much enthusiasm that she quickly agreed.
‘I’m going to be a lion tamer!’ he declared, cracking an imaginary whip.
‘Makes a change from being a lion,’ Jane muttered as she poured them out some tea in the kitchen.
Alexander was in a fever of excitement by the time they came to collect him in the evening. They took him by the hand, but he could not keep still and kept dashing ahead. Rose prayed they did not lose him in the crowds. But when they got to the tent, the boy kept close to William and held on to him, suddenly overawed by the press of people and the noise. Rose thought it all magical in the soft flare of lamplight, and gasped in delight at the acrobats. Margaret soon fell asleep while Alexander giggled at the clown. But the animals disappointed him.
‘When will the man get eaten?’ he kept asking, to William’s amusement.
Afterwards they bought him a bag of nuts from a street stall and he talked all the way home.
‘I’m going to be a hunter when I grow up,’ he enthused. ‘I’m going to chase bears and lions and tigers.’
When they handed him over at the rectory, he was tired but reluctant to see them go.
‘Maybe Rose and William would like to bring their children on the church outing to Ravensworth?’ Edward Liddell suggested, appearing in the hallway. ‘Repay you for your kindness,’ he smiled.
Rose was as excited by the idea as Alexander. But William was wary. ‘It wouldn’t be right - us not being from your church.’
‘You’re in our parish,’ the rector said amiably.
‘Please, please!’ chanted Alexander. Rose looked at her husband in expectation. She would love to revisit the place where her grandmother had lived, that dreamworld she had treasured from early childhood memory.
‘It would be canny for the bairns,’ she added.
‘Agreed then?’ Edward questioned.
‘Aye, agreed,’ William smiled bashfully.
Chapter 9
In the end, William did not go on the outing to Ravensworth. He made excuses about having jobs to do at St Bede’s, but he stood up to his mother’s objections to Rose and the babies going.
‘It’s a chance for them to get out in the fresh air - see a bit of the country,’ he reasoned. ‘It’ll do them good.’
On the Saturday, Rose clambered into the horse-drawn brake, a girl on each knee, and settled back to enjoy the journey. She was so entranced by what she saw that she was not bothered about the bumping and lurching of the carriage along the turnpike roads. They turned their backs on the smoky, gas-smelling air of Jarrow and its blackened streets and headed into open countryside. Rose marvelled at the lush green of fields and trees, and the abundance of buttercups and daisies in the meadows. Wild blue and yellow irises sprouted out of ditches, while the hedgerows were overrun with wild briars, their small star-like roses wafting up heady scent as they passed. The distant moors were a haze of purple and white clover, and crowning them all were the forests of the Ravensworth estate. Rose was glad of Jane’s company, for the young maid was in high spirits and helped entertain Margaret on the journey.
When they reached the village of Lamesley, Rose cried, ‘There’s the church! I remember watching the wedding sat on that wall. It doesn’t look half as high now,’ she laughed.
She saw again in her mind’s eye the procession of carriages and the wedding party in their grand dresses and uniforms, and felt once more the excitement of that far-off golden day. She never thought to see the place again, yet here she was with her small daughters, about to drive up the magical road that snaked into the trees from where the wedding party had emerged. It was every bit as beautiful as she remembered. Rose hugged Elizabeth to her in anticipation as at last, they turned up the steep hill that led deep into the woods.
They entered a dark tunnel of overhanging branches and the children went suddenly quiet, overawed by their surroundings. All except Alexander who shouted, ‘This is my castle! I’m a knight and I’m going to chop off all your heads!’ Christina Liddell hushed him and tried to sit him on her knee, but he struggled from her hold and flung his arms around Uncle Edward.
‘Look, Alexander,’ he coaxed, ‘see who can spot the first tower.’
They drew up sharply under a vast archway and called for the gatekeeper. He emerged from the lodge and pulled back the heavy gates to let them through. As they trundled up the drive, straining for a sight of the castle, Rose was struck by the resinous smell of newly cut logs.
Suddenly it loomed ahead out of the dense trees -a vast array of gleaming towers and golden walls caught in the sunshine. Myriad windows winked in welcome. The passengers gasped and the children shrieked in delight at the enchanted castle. Before it lay soft green lawns and flowerbeds bursting with colour. The visitors passed under a huge archway with a clock tower and into a warm open courtyard lined with stables and outhouses, where they all piled out. The children had to be restrained from disappearing in all directions at once, eager to explore. Edward took Alexander by the hand.
‘Follow us,’ he smiled broadly. ‘We know where the food is! We’ll take it out on to the lawns.’
Jane swept up Margaret, and Rose hurried behind with Elizabeth.
‘Let me.’ Mrs Liddell appeared a
t her side and reached out for the baby. ‘You shouldn’t be carrying her in your condition.’
Rose said, ‘I’m used to it.’
‘I know, but today we’re going to spoil you,’ Mrs Liddell answered, taking the baby in her arms. The two women exchanged smiles.
As they walked around the high walls, Rose mused, ‘Me granny used to work here in the kitchens - she was full of stories about the place. But I never thought I’d see it meself.’
‘Well, what’s the use of the rector having grand relations if he can’t put them to good use?’ Mrs Liddell whispered conspiratorially.
‘It’s like stepping into Heaven,’ Rose enthused, as they followed the others down a pathway towards a lake. Fish jumped in the clear water and butterflies fluttered out of the long grass in front of them.
‘It’s a good break for all of us,’ the rector’s wife sighed in contentment, watching her husband up ahead, directing some of the children to help lay out the picnic.
Rose was filled with a strange sense of belonging. Here her ancestors had lived and worked for generations, courted, married and died. Had fate taken a different turn she might have been living here too, just like her grandmother. What pleasure it would give her to see her own daughters growing up away from the dangers of the town, breathing this clear air.
But had she grown up in Lamesley she would never have met her beloved William, Rose reminded herself. Jarrow, with all its teeming, noisy, precarious life, was what gave William a living. Jarrow was her lot. Perhaps one of her daughters would return to Ravensworth one day and live out her dream, Rose mused, stroking Elizabeth’s soft cheek. If not her, then one of her family.
Rose said impulsively, ‘I wish me sister Lizzie could work somewhere like this.’
‘Is she not happy in South Shields?’ Mrs Liddell asked.
How typical, Rose thought, that she should instantly remember where her sister was in service, though she had never even met her.
‘She doesn’t complain,’ Rose confided, ‘but the Flynns are moving back to Ireland and soon she’ll be out of a job. Do you think . . . could you ... ? I know I shouldn’t really ask.’
THE JARROW TRILOGY: all 3 enthralling sagas in 1 volume; The Jarrow Lass, A Child of Jarrow & Return to Jarrow Page 11