by Val Wood
When she went into the kitchen her father was sitting at the table drinking tea out of his own very large teacup. Bella was shocked at how pale he looked. He was usually so robust.
‘Are you feeling better, Father?’ she asked. ‘Ma said you were poorly.’
‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘It’s that fool of a doctor who said that I wasn’t.’
William took a bite of bread. ‘Why, what did he say was wrong wi’ you?’
Joseph paused for only a second before saying, ‘He didn’t. He said I’d been overdoing it and had to rest for a bit. It was hauling on that barrel of ale that did it. I should have let ’drayman do it like he’s paid to. I’ve pulled a muscle in my chest, I think.’ He looked first at Joe, who was staring into space, and then at William. ‘You two lads’ll have to do more of the heavy work. Can’t expect your ma to do it.’
They both looked at him and then at each other. William said nothing and went on eating but Joe broke out with an exclamation.
‘I already work in ’cellar, Da! I’m forever down there; hardly ever see ’light o’ day.’
‘Then you’d best take a lamp wi’ a longer wick next time you go down cos it’s your job from now on. And,’ his father went on, after a short gasping breath, ‘I’m going to apprentice you both to a trade. You’ll go to John Wilkins ’carpenter, and William to Harry ’blacksmith. I’ve already arranged it and you both start next week so don’t even attempt to argue.’
‘But you just said that we’d have to do more work at home,’ Joe objected. ‘We can’t do both.’
‘Yes, you can,’ Joseph said. ‘Get on wi’ your tea and let me get on wi’ mine. I’ll tell you after what we’re going to do.’
Bella glanced at her mother and raised her eyebrows, but her mother gave a shake of her head and she stayed silent. Only Nell, who assumed her father’s plan had nothing to do with her, hummed a tuneless ditty in between mouthfuls of bread and beef.
‘For goodness’ sake, Nell,’ Bella said at last. ‘Will you stop that din? You’re making my head ache.’
‘It’s not a din.’ Nell pulled a virtuous expression. ‘I’m practising.’
‘For what?’
‘To be a singer.’ Nell buttered another piece of bread. ‘I’m going on ’stage when I’m old enough.’
‘Over my dead body,’ her father said, and as he spoke his face creased and he closed his eyes, and their mother fell into a fit of coughing and hastily got up from the table.
Bella felt a cold shiver down her spine. She looked at her father and saw a shadow on his face: a shadow of grief.
He really is ill, she thought. What did the doctor say to him? It’s serious, and that’s why Ma hasn’t told him about the child. She felt suddenly sick. Her mouth was dry, her hunger gone, and she pushed her plate away. She wanted to cry, to be a child again, like Nell; she wanted to be comforted and told that everything would be all right. But it wouldn’t be; she was grown up or nearly, her childhood gone at a stroke. At thirteen she must put away her dreams. She was an adult.
The chair legs squealed on the oilcloth as she pushed back her chair. She picked up her plate and took it to the sink where her mother was standing facing the small square window that looked out over the yard.
‘Go and finish your supper, Ma,’ Bella said quietly. ‘Go on, and I’ll make a fresh pot of tea.’
Her mother nodded but didn’t answer and turned back to the table. She sat down facing Joseph. ‘We could ask Fred Topham to give a hand wi’ casks,’ she said in a low voice. ‘He’d be glad of ’extra cash.’
‘Aye, and so we’ll be,’ Joseph muttered. ‘No. Draymen can do it. It’s their job to mek sure they’re delivered and stacked.’
‘Will we be paid, Father?’ Joe asked. ‘If we’re to be working extra?’
His father appeared to consider, then said soberly, ‘Well, your ma and me have been discussing that wi’ your board and lodging going up, and wi’ extra for washing and ironing your shirts, it’ll work out that you owe us money, but if you put in a couple of hours more every day it should just about even out.’
Both youths stopped eating and gazed at their father, each wondering if he was joking and each deciding that he wasn’t. William paused for only a second before giving a slight nod and continuing to eat, but Joe stared at his father and then cast a glance at his mother, who simply raised her eyebrows and returned his gaze.
‘What about Nell?’ Joe asked. ‘Is she to do owt or is she just to swan about like she usually does?’
‘Nell’s onny a bairn,’ his father replied, ‘but she’ll help Bella wi’ some jobs after school. Your ma will be ’innkeeper for a bit until – until I’m able to get back on my feet. After that, well, we’ll see how we get along.’
‘But apprenticeship, Father?’ William said. ‘Why now? We should have started when we left school. We allus thought you wanted us to tek over from you at ’Woodman.’
‘Aye, so I did.’ Joseph took another breath. ‘But things are changing and it’s as well to have another trade at your fingertips. There’s allus a need for a joiner or a blacksmith; there’ll be plenty of work in that direction if ’beer trade falls off.’
William said nothing in reply and Bella, watching and listening, knew that he was thinking of his own plan and realizing that a working knowledge of the blacksmith’s trade wouldn’t go amiss.
‘How long?’ Bella asked her mother, as they stood alone in the kitchen that night after everyone else had retired upstairs. Bella had checked the bolts and locks on the doors and windows; her mother had raked the fire and set the table for breakfast. ‘How long has Father got? I need to know, Ma,’ she pleaded. ‘To prepare myself.’
Her mother sat down abruptly. ‘How is it possible?’ she said in a low voice. ‘How’s it possible to be prepared for such a thing?’ She gazed into the damped-down fire and spoke as if to herself. ‘Your father and me have been married for sixteen years. I never wanted another man, though I had my chances. Now he’s being snatched away.’
‘Doctor might be mistaken,’ Bella ventured. ‘They don’t know everything.’
‘Six months, he said.’ Sarah looked up at her daughter. ‘A year at most. They can’t do anything for a weak heart, everybody knows that.’
‘If he rests,’ Bella said. ‘If we all pull together.’
Sarah gave a grimace. ‘What sort of existence is that for a man like your father? To be an invalid, tied to an armchair for ’rest of his life?’ She got up and absently rubbed her hands together. ‘No. He’ll forget what ’doctor said to him and carry on as usual – and then, and then …’
‘Will you tell him about ’bairn?’ Bella asked.
Her mother shook her head. ‘Not unless he notices.’ She gave a slight smile. ‘And he won’t. Never has done afore, no reason why he should now. I’ll tell him when I’m in labour.’
She turned her head away, and Bella realized that her mother didn’t expect that situation to arise.
They were busy for the next few weeks. The weather was perfect for haymaking and the workers came in after a full day’s work to slake their thirst and enjoy a slice of Sarah’s ham and egg pie or fruitcake. Some of the casual day labourers, who were hired at especially busy times and were not local, couldn’t always be accommodated on the farms and so stayed at the inn. The loft at the back of the building was fitted out as a dormitory and held six beds, though it was rarely completely full. It meant extra money for Sarah, but also extra work; although the room was basic she always fed the men well and provided clean fustian sheets and blankets. Some of them had been coming for years.
Joe and William would normally have been taken on as extra field hands, but instead they were thrust into the busy lives of carpenter’s shop and blacksmith’s forge. Joe rebelled, though didn’t tell his father. He was essentially lazy and clumsy and received a sharp rebuke from his employer on his very first day, which made him irritable and antagonistic. William sweated in the blacksmith’s
forge but didn’t complain, determined to listen, look and learn and turn the lessons to his advantage. Both of them, if they had anything to say or grumble about, chose to say it to Bella.
‘It’s for your own good,’ she told Joe after an outburst. ‘Father’s only thinking of your future.’
‘My future’s here,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll be ’innkeeper one day.’
She wanted to explain; explain that if the doctor’s prognosis was correct, then he would be too young to be a landlord, and if their mother wasn’t allowed to hold the licence for the inn they would all have to leave.
William whispered to her that he couldn’t believe his luck. ‘I’ll be one up when I join ’military. Harry ’blacksmith is a farrier as well as a smith. He’ll teach me to shoe horses as well as meld iron. And I’ll build up muscle, cos I’ve to strike wi’ sledgehammer an’ it’s that heavy you wouldn’t even be able to lift it, Bella.’
Bella looked at him and thought muscle would be an advantage to William, being so stick thin, unlike Joe who was broad and sturdy. She herself was plump and curvy and Nell looked as if she would be the same once she had grown out of childhood.
Their father, during his short enforced convalescence, had been filling his time with thinking and organizing, and as soon as he thought he was fit he made an appointment to see the local licensing magistrate.
‘I’ve applied for a joint tenancy licence, Sarah,’ he said on his return. ‘I told Saunders that as you did half of ’work and saw to ’food and accommodation it was onny right that you should be named as landlord as well as me. He agreed and stamped ’licence there an’ then.’ He heaved a sigh of satisfaction. ‘So that’s one worry out of ’way. We’ll get both our names put ower ’door this weekend.’
CHAPTER THREE
DURING THE SUMMER, Bella helped her mother with the housework, and in the evenings served the lodgers with their food and drink. There were three casual labourers staying with them during harvest. As the weeks drew on their skin grew steadily darker and their arms more sinewy and muscular. Sarah gave them an early breakfast in the taproom every day and then served Joe and William at the kitchen table before packing up bread and beef or cheese for their midday meal, or lowance as they called it. When the men had left for the fields and Joe and William for work, Bella dished up breakfast for her father, her mother, Nell and herself.
‘Don’t give me too much, Bella,’ her mother said, but Bella, conscious that her mother was feeding two, put two rashers of bacon and an egg on her plate. Her father had two rashers, two sausages and two fried eggs whilst Bella and Nell each had a boiled egg, which they ate with bread and butter.
‘Ducks have started laying again,’ Bella remarked. ‘I found three eggs under ’hedge yesterday.’
‘Can you be sure they’re fresh?’ her mother asked. ‘Ducks have a habit of hiding ’em.’
‘They weren’t there ’day before,’ Bella told her. ‘I’ll try ’em. I love duck eggs.’
‘If they’re all right, you can mek me a Yorkshire pudding,’ her father said. ‘Shall we be having beef for dinner?’
Sarah nodded. ‘We can do. I’ve got a nice piece of brisket. I was going to put it out for ’customers.’
‘I’ll just have a slice,’ he said. ‘An’ extra Yorkshires.’
He smiled at Sarah, and she commented, ‘I’m pleased you’ve got your appetite back, Joseph.’
‘But you haven’t,’ he observed. ‘You’ve hardly touched your bacon.’
‘You have it,’ she said, forking up a rasher and putting it on his plate. ‘Bella allus gives me too much.’
He cut up the rasher and ate it. ‘You’ll have me as fat as yon pig.’ Then he pushed his chair back. ‘I’ll go and set up in ’taproom.’
‘I’ll come and help you in a minute, Father,’ Bella said. ‘I’ll just clear up ’breakfast things.’
‘Me and Nell will do it,’ her mother said hastily, and frowned at Nell as she began to object. ‘You go and help your father, Bella. Don’t go lifting owt,’ she called after Joseph. ‘You know what ’doctor said.’
‘Damned doctors,’ Joseph grumbled. ‘They know nowt about owt.’
‘Doctor’s all right,’ Bella said, following him out of the kitchen. ‘It’s for your own good, and it’s only until your heart’s rested. You’re not to overdo things.’
‘What do you know about it?’ he grunted.
Bella hesitated. ‘Onny what Ma’s told me. She said that ’doctor says you’ve to rest.’
Joseph leaned on one of the wooden tables, breathing heavily. ‘Aye, well, we’ll all have to rest eventually until ’day ’trumpet sounds. I’m not ready to rest yet.’
‘But we want you to, Father,’ she said softly. ‘We don’t want you going to your final resting place just yet. So can you ease up a bit for our sakes, if not for your own?’
He pulled out a corner of a bench and sat down. He put his elbow on the table. ‘Just what has your ma told you?’
Bella looked at him. His eyes were a greeny-blue, the same colour as hers. She shrugged. ‘Not much.’
‘You’ll help your ma, won’t you, if owt happens to me? You know, if – well, if I’m tekken afore my time?’
His voice was hoarse and she guessed that it had taken some effort to speak on the subject. She also thought that he was more worried than he claimed.
‘Course I will,’ she said. ‘But you won’t be if you slow down a bit; tek a rest in ’afternoon now and again.’
‘That’s what owd men do, Bella. Not men of my age.’ He shook his head unbelievingly. ‘I just can’t …’
‘We want you to be an old man, Father,’ she said quietly. ‘We want you to grow old.’
He laughed wryly. ‘You’ve got an old head on your shoulders, Bella. I know you’ll do what’s right and expected of you.’ He heaved a breath, and when he continued it was as if he was already planning what would happen once he had gone. ‘Your ma will need you here. Our Joe will onny look out for himself, and William – well, he’d be all right, but he’s got other fish to fry, I reckon. But Nell. She might give you trouble. She’ll want to do things her way and it might not be ’right way.’
Bella fell silent. She couldn’t envisage being responsible for Nell; surely that was her mother’s role. And what about the new bairn, if it lived? Was she expected to be responsible for this child of whom her father was unaware?
‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured. ‘How can I be?’
Her father frowned. ‘She’ll look up to you,’ he said. ‘An older sister.’
‘Wh-what?’ Then she realized he was still talking about Nell. She shook her head. ‘She doesn’t listen to me, Father.’
‘She will, though, as she gets older. She’ll listen to you as well as your ma.’
‘Don’t let’s talk about it, Father,’ Bella implored. ‘Please!’
She moved across to the bar, rummaged beneath it and brought out a duster and a tin of beeswax, then began to polish the counter, busying herself with the job in hand so that she didn’t have to think about the future; about her broken dreams or life without her father. He hadn’t asked if she had plans of her own. He’d simply assumed that as the eldest daughter her place was at home.
She polished the wooden tables and dusted the chairs and benches, and took the boxes of dominoes out of the drawer and put them on the tables.
‘Go on, Father,’ she said. ‘Go and talk to Ma. There’s nowt for you to do at ’minute, not till later.’
When he had slowly got up and gone back to the kitchen, Bella sighed and placed clean towels on the shelf below the counter and set out tankards and glasses, the tankards for darker mild or bitter, the glasses for gin or pale ale. Then she stood gazing round the room. A shaft of sunlight streamed through a small window, alighting on a polished table and highlighting dancing dust motes, disturbed by her vigorous cleaning.
The room looked inviting and would look even more so later in the day when the newly laid fire
was lit. Annie had polished the brassware when she was last here and the kettles and horse brasses gleamed.
When Joseph had first taken on the tenancy of the Woodman, the casks were stacked in the taproom and the ale drawn straight from the barrel. Five years before, at his own expense, he had taken a chance on fitting a hydraulic beer engine to draw up the beer from the cellar. Although it was not an entirely new invention and many public houses in the towns had them, it was expensive and the owner of the Woodman was unwilling to pay the price.
However, now that the casks had gone from what was still called the taproom, the extra space was filled with two extra tables and benches to take more customers, and the rich colour of the mahogany casing, the polished brass taps and the blue and white ceramic pump handles behind the counter were Joseph’s pride and the envy of other local publicans.
Bella sighed again. It was home, well loved, all she had ever known, but she had longed for more; not to go away for ever, but to explore other towns, enjoy other opportunities, which education would have allowed her to do. If I’d been born a lad, she thought, I could have gone. I could have learned a trade just like my brothers. Father would have been pleased with that. But I’m not. I’m an innkeeper’s daughter. I can do nothing but serve food and drink, and what kind of occupation is that!
The labourers, at their own request, ate their meals in the taproom, for they said they didn’t want to intrude on the Thorps’ family life. Bella served them their supper that night with pints of dark stout pulled by her father. When she had finished, he called her over to the counter.
‘Come round here and I’ll show you how to pull a pint with a good head on it. That’s what ’locals like on their stout, a thick creamy head.’
He pulled another into a tankard, carefully drawing on the pump handle so that the liquid rose to a satisfying head. ‘Have a taste to know what you’re serving,’ he said.