by Val Wood
‘What’s this then? Who’s sent this?’ Mary-Ellen stared at Jack Terrison, who had arrived at the door with a single horse pulling a cart full of logs.
‘Mr Ellis – Mr Joseph, not senior. Where do you want it stacking?’
She viewed him suspiciously. ‘Why’s he sent it?’
Jack blew out a breath. He’d had to jump down and take the reins and urge the old horse up the track; he was the only one that the foreman would let him bring and it had been a slow journey. The animal was getting past it, he decided. He was ready for putting out to pasture or the knacker’s yard. ‘I don’t know,’ he said irritably. ‘I onny tek orders, but he said to bring ’em. Said he’d noticed you were running short when he was here at Martinmas.’
‘Did he?’ Mary-Ellen looked at the load of wood. That would last them over the winter. ‘That’s generous of him.’ She glanced at Jack. Would he be curious enough to question why Joseph Ellis would send them fuel?
‘He’s going to send some over to ’Marstons as well if bad weather keeps up. That’s what he said, anyway.’ He started to unload. ‘Shall I stack ’em for you?’
She gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Yes, please. Have you time for a cup o’ tea? I’ll make it while you’re unloading.’
‘Aye, that’d be grand,’ he said, his spirits cheered by her friendliness. ‘He said to me, no phil— no time wasting, but he didn’t say I couldn’t stop for a cup o’ tea.’
‘He’ll not find out if you don’t tell him,’ she said, giving him a cheeky wink, and went inside to hide her exhilaration.
‘How’s our Janey getting on?’ she asked, when he had finished stacking the wood and come inside.
He blew on the hot tea that she had poured. ‘All right, I reckon, though I don’t see much of her. She spends all her time in ’kitchen fetching and carrying for everybody else, I expect. Do you know Wilf Topham? He’s a year or two older than us. No? Well, he was took on as fifth lad at Martinmas, same time as Janey. He’s allus hanging round ’kitchen door sweet-talking young maids.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘I wouldn’t trust ’im with lasses. And if ’maister caught him he’d be in right trouble. Bit of a chancer, he is, in my opinion.’
After Jack had left, Mary-Ellen put an extra log on the fire, a luxury that she decided they could afford now that they had such a plentiful supply. She drew the rag rug away from the hearth so that it wouldn’t catch any sparks, put on her shawl, and set off to see Aunt Lol in Welwick.
She hadn’t visited her for several days and she knew that her aunt’s child was due fairly soon, certainly before Christmas Day, which was just under two weeks away. When Mary-Ellen arrived at her door, however, it was plain to see that her aunt had already begun in labour.
‘Can I do owt for you, Aunt Lol? Make you a hot drink or summat?’
‘No, nowt.’ Lol’s forehead was wet with sweat. ‘I’ve just got to get on wi’ it. I’ll be glad of a cup when it’s ower. Though mebbe you could run along to Mrs Brown, next door but two, and tell her I’ll be about half an hour if she’d come then to give me an ’and.’ She gave a sudden grunt as a spasm stopped her perambulations up and down in front of her fireside. ‘If I ask her to come too soon, she’ll charge me extra,’ she explained in a breathy voice, and leaned heavily over the wooden table. ‘Our Sally’s tekken ’young bairns out into ’village till it’s done. Can’t be doing with them about me.’
A bead of perspiration clung to her top lip and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. ‘I hope this’ll be me last,’ she said. ‘I’m getting ower old for this malarkey.’ She gave Mary-Ellen a grin, revealing missing teeth. ‘Time for you young ’uns to have a turn.’
‘Not me, Aunt Lol,’ Mary-Ellen told her. ‘I’ve yet to find somebody I want to wed.’
Her aunt grimaced with another pain. ‘I allus thinks of your ma when I’m about to farrow,’ she panted. ‘How she suffered, poor lass. I hope to God you don’t tek after her.’
A few minutes later Mary-Ellen scooted off to fetch the neighbour when her aunt said suddenly, ‘Go fetch Mrs Brown, will you? Tell her to come now!’
Mary-Ellen paced up and down outside the cottage door whilst her aunt with her neighbour’s assistance got on with the business of birthing. She saw her young cousins coming towards the cottage and indicated to Sally to stay away a little longer. The girl turned round and shooed her charges back the way they had come, towards the village. Ten minutes later, Mary-Ellen heard a squalling cry and knew that the ordeal was over.
‘It’s a lad,’ Mrs Brown said, on opening the door. ‘So that’s a blessing. She says for you to come in.’
Mary-Ellen’s eyes filled with tears when she saw her aunt propped up in bed with the new babe in her arms. His face was pink and wrinkled and he had a mass of black hair. ‘He’s lovely,’ she choked.
‘Aye,’ Lol said wearily. ‘He’s grand. Let’s hope he survives ’winter, and then he can look after me in me old age. You can shout our Sally in now,’ she added, ‘and they can tek a peek at him. I wish I could get word to Janey. She’ll be wondering about us.’
Mary-Ellen thought of Jack Terrison, who had left earlier to go back to Skeffling. She wouldn’t be able to catch up with him now, even if she ran. ‘I’ll go,’ she said impulsively. ‘It’s onny just after midday, and I can be there and back in an hour. I’ve cooked some soup ready for when Da gets home, and built up ’fire.’
‘Nay, lass. Tomorrow’ll do soon enough.’
‘But if I go now, they might let Janey come home tomorrow for an hour or two.’ She was filled with the need to go now, to see the house where Jane worked and Joseph Ellis lived.
‘Dost think they would?’ Her aunt was doubtful, but Mary-Ellen could see that the idea of Jane’s coming home was pleasing to her.
Mary-Ellen flung her shawl around her. ‘There’s onny one way of finding out,’ she said. ‘I’ll go right now.’
It was a dry bright day, and bitingly cold, but she soon became warm as she strode out, occasionally slithering and slipping on icy patches. The snow hadn’t yet melted and was piled so high on either side of the narrow road that she couldn’t see over the top of it. She saw no traffic and no other person as she walked through the hamlet of Weeton towards Skeffling, and it was as if she was walking through a white tunnel.
The heavy farm gate had the name of Burstall House nailed on it and Mary-Ellen turned up the woodland track. This too was lined on each side with piled-up snow which someone had shovelled aside to make a way through. Sand had been sprinkled over the cleared surface and wheel tracks and hoof prints were embedded in the thick ribbed ice.
It was very quiet and she saw no-one as she approached the three-storey house from the side, which led her to assume that the front of the house faced the river. It was built of grey brick, with a single-storeyed side wing of stone and boulder. She approached this wing, thinking it would lead to the back of the house, and found herself in an enclosed stable courtyard. A young lad was scurrying across the cobbles and he stopped when he saw her.
‘I’m looking for ’kitchen door,’ she said, and he pointed to where he had just come from.
Mary-Ellen gave the message to the maid who answered her knock, and the girl told her to wait. She stepped into the lobby as she was bid and glanced round. Rubber boots and heavy shoes, walking sticks and water pails were all stacked neatly. Outdoor coats and hats were hanging on brass pegs on the wall.
The inner door opened and Jane came out. Her cap was askew and she wore a coarse grey apron over a black skirt. She was flushed and glad to see Mary-Ellen. ‘Is Ma all right?’ she asked in a whisper, when she was told of her new brother. ‘I wish I could see him. If Cook wakes up in a good mood I’m going to ask if I can have tomorrow afternoon off.’ She dropped her voice further. ‘I’ll say Ma’s had a bad time and needs to see me.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I’ll have to go. Thank you for coming, Mary-Ellen.’ Her eyes flooded with tears. ‘I do miss everybody. I don’t like being at wor
k. I’d rather be at home.’
‘I know.’ Mary-Ellen nodded. ‘But you’ve got to make ’best of it, Janey. We’ll see you at Christmas, anyway. You’ll get ’day off, won’t you?’
‘I think so, but I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Cook won’t say yet who can have it off.’
Mary-Ellen closed the door quietly behind her. She was glad that her father wouldn’t allow her to go into service. I’d not hold a job down, she thought ruefully. I wouldn’t like taking orders the way Janey has to. She walked swiftly across the courtyard, rounded the corner and crashed headlong into Joseph Ellis.
CHAPTER NINE
He had been thinking of her, and there she was. Joseph grasped Mary-Ellen’s arms as she cannoned into him. Her shawl had slipped from her head, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone green with shades of sea grey and sky blue as she gazed up at him.
His lips parted as he searched for words, but he could find none. In a moment of utter madness, he bent his head and kissed her mouth, warm beneath his. He saw her momentarily close her eyes, but then she pulled away. ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘No!’
‘What … are you doing here?’ His words were stammered like those of a love-sick youth. He still held her by her elbows, which were cold beneath her shawl.
‘My cousin – she – I came to tell her …’ He could barely hear her whispered words.
‘Have you walked?’ Still he kept his eyes on her soft moist mouth. His voice was low; he could barely speak.
Mary-Ellen blinked and it was as if she had just woken up, wondering where she was. She pulled away again, but this time more urgently. ‘Course I’ve walked.’ Her voice was firmer now and he could hear the cutting edge to it. ‘How else would I get here?’
Joseph shook his head. ‘I’ve wanted to see you, Mary-Ellen.’ He felt like a jelly turned out of its mould, quaking and quivering in front of her.
She tossed back her hair. ‘Well, now you’ve seen me I’ll be on my way.’
He thought he sensed a tremble in her voice and on her lips. ‘Don’t go,’ he pleaded. ‘At least …’ He saw the lift of her eyebrows and the twist of her mouth. ‘Let me take you home.’
‘In your carriage, Mr Ellis?’ she said cynically and he knew he had to seize the moment or she would be gone, out of his life for ever.
‘No. Wait. Please! Let me saddle up my horse and I’ll ride you back. Please!’ Joseph gazed at her imploringly. ‘We can ride along the river bank. It’s perfectly safe. I’ve been out this morning.’
She looked at him, and then glanced back at the house as if checking whether they had been observed.
‘Go down the drive,’ he urged. ‘Halfway down on the right, there’s a gate leading into the wood. Go through it and you’ll come to a track that takes you to the river bank. It’s ours. The villagers don’t use it.’
He saw the misgivings written in her expression, the battle that was evidently going on in her head, but he knew no hesitation, no faltering over right or wrong. No matter what the outcome, no matter what fate had in store. ‘There’s no help for it,’ he muttered. He was resolute. He had to be with her. His heart told him he must.
She turned away and disappeared round the side of the house. He had no idea if she would do as he asked or continue to the main road and back towards Welwick Thorpe. She had given no answer to his muttered words, but merely looked at him with her cat-like alluring eyes, her lips parted on a breath.
He ran to the stable and with fumbling hands and shaking fingers saddled up Ebony and sprang up on his back. Will she wait? He was filled with an urgent need, as restless and mettlesome as Ebony, full of fire and ready to burn. She must. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and cantered out of the yard. She must or I’m destroyed.
She’s not here. Joseph dismounted as he reached the river bank. He felt the energy draining out of him in his disappointment as he glanced up and down the bank; then a movement near a thick scrub of hawthorn came into his side vision and he turned sharply. There she was.
He saw how she pulled in her bottom lip with her teeth and chewed on it; saw the tip of her pink tongue and the nervous swallow in her throat. She stared at him but said nothing.
‘I thought—’ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. ‘I thought you hadn’t come. I thought you’d gone back the other way, along the road.’
She slowly shook her head. ‘As you see, I didn’t. Though I don’t know what madness made me come this way. If ’horse should slip we’ll all three end up in ’river.’ She kept her eyes on his. ‘We could ride on ’road just as well.’
Then her head came up in the haughty way he now recognized so well as her particular trait. ‘Though p’raps you don’t care for folks to see me riding up behind you?’
Joseph came towards her, trailing Ebony’s reins. ‘I don’t really care who sees us, Mary-Ellen,’ he said softly. ‘But I reasoned that you might. We can go back by the road if you prefer. If you’re afraid.’
‘Afraid? Who says I’m afraid?’ Her eyes glinted tauntingly. ‘Of what? Of falling in ’river?’
‘No.’ He came up close. ‘Of me!’
Up came her head again, but she wet her lips with her tongue and glanced away. ‘I’m afraid of no man,’ she said. ‘Unless he’s stronger than me and means me harm.’
Joseph reached out to take her hand, which was clutching her shawl. ‘I don’t mean you any harm,’ he whispered, drawing her near. ‘Never!’ Without taking his eyes from her, he hung Ebony’s reins on a shrubby branch and brought his hand to lightly stroke her cheek. ‘Never,’ he repeated. ‘Never would I hurt you.’ He bent his head and kissed the other cheek, then turning over her hand he pressed his lips to her palm. He felt her fingers touching his hair and when he looked up he saw a cloud of confusion on her face.
‘What then?’ she whispered on a breath. ‘What is it that you want from me? You’re a gentleman and I’m a nobody—’
He put his fingers over her mouth to hush her. ‘Don’t say that. Don’t say that you’re a nobody. Of course you are somebody. You’re beautiful and vivacious.’ He gave a tender smile. ‘And you’re feisty and spirited and afraid of no-one.’ He felt her lips part beneath his fingers and he traced their shape: the slight cupid’s bow of her top lip, the fullness of the lower lip, the sensation of moist velvet smoothness as his fingertips gently explored. ‘I’m lost, Mary-Ellen,’ he murmured and closed his eyes as he was filled with thirsting desire.
She gazed up at him, then bent her head against his chest. ‘You’d best take me home,’ she whispered. ‘This is no place to be.’
He put his hand to his head. ‘Yes,’ he said breathlessly. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He began to shiver. It was so cold and here she was clad in just a thin dress and shawl. He started to unbutton his coat. ‘You must put this on,’ he muttered. ‘You’ll freeze.’
Mary-Ellen stopped him. ‘No. I’m used to being cold,’ she murmured. ‘But warm my hands.’ She slipped her hands inside his open coat and round his waist. He put his arms about her and held her tight, then she lifted her face to his. ‘Kiss me again,’ she breathed. ‘On my mouth, like you did back there in ’stable yard, when we bumped into each other.’
He looked down at her. They were so close. He could feel the shape of her body folding into his. He lowered his head and this time felt an ardent response as their lips touched and she returned his kiss.
Mary-Ellen raced down the track towards home. She slipped several times and picked herself up, not minding the knocks on her elbows and knees, but anxious to be back before her father came home. Would he notice her agitated state, her flushed cheeks or her tender throbbing mouth where Joseph’s urgent lips had sought her fervent consenting ones? She flung through the door and threw a log onto the fire, then seized the pan of soup and placed it over the low heat, spilling it and making the wood sizzle.
It would have been quicker coming along the road for they would have come without stopping for fear of being noticed,
but on the river bank he kept drawing up each time there was a wider space where they could jump down, to hold and kiss, touch and cling and kiss again. Her heart had pounded, and still did, at the thought of how he had run his hands over her breasts and waist; but he didn’t lift her skirts as she thought he might have done, but pressed her hips hard beneath his fingers and groaned. ‘Mary-Ellen,’ he’d moaned and closed his eyes tight and she knew how much he wanted her.
As I want him. Her body throbbed and the pulse in her throat pounded. She felt elated, excited, all the things she knew she shouldn’t feel. A sweet and aching incautious desire. This is unfamiliar territory, she told herself. Tell him no. Tell him to find somebody of his own kind. She sat down on the chair by the fire and put her head in her hands. But I am his kind, she meditated. I knew that first day I saw him in Patrington that he was the one I wanted. No good will come of it, that I know. She lifted her head and stared into space and it was as if she was listening and looking elsewhere, into the unknown. ‘But it can’t be helped,’ she muttered. ‘It’s meant to be.’
CHAPTER TEN
There were days when the weather was so bad that there was no fishing and Isaac couldn’t go out. Mary-Ellen fretted and fumed, was restless and tense, for she knew that Joseph would be waiting on the river bank. It’s impossible, she agonized. He must forget me. Find somebody else to whisper endearments to. Not me. How can we meet when I’m shut in here?
Her father frowned at her fidgeting, and, edgy because of his inability to go to work and make money, he would shout at her, telling her that she was ill tempered and useless. She in turn would retaliate, telling him that she was worth more than being a drudge in a hovel. Sometimes after an altercation he put on his hat and coat and slammed out of the door to trudge to the nearest hostelry. But ten minutes later he would come back, apologetic though he wouldn’t say so, muttering that the snow was too thick and the cold too bitter to go anywhere.