by Mary Wood
They had their own way of getting hold of stuff, and she’d heard tales linking the traveller to that, amongst other things that she’d never thought Seamus capable of. What had happened to bring him back? And, if what folk said was true, why? Why had he changed so much?
‘Bridie, are you alreet? That gypsy hasn’t hurt you or owt like that, has he?’
‘No, no . . . I . . . I – well, I was for hearing of him and . . .’
‘Well, you believe all you hear, cos it’s reet – well, most of it. I don’t know about all of it as – no offence, Bridie – but your folk can stretch a tale. Anyway, when you know he is about, don’t go anywhere near him on your own. Now, I must get on. Like I said, I’m due back at work later. Ta-ra, love.’
Issy hurried away, her head down not only against the cold, but against the onslaught of feelings at the mention of the traveller. She turned her mind to her concern for Bridie. Although they had only known each other these last few months, she liked Bridie – liked her a lot, as it happened – but she had a feeling there was more to Bridie. She’d met her a few times coming from the Irish quarter and had been sure she’d smelt drink on her. She was also very secretive about her past, and about what she did for work before she met Will, and that kind of thing. It was as if they were to base their friendship on the here and now only, with no background – at least where Bridie’s was concerned, for Issy had told her all about herself.
When she reached the gate to the stable yard, all thoughts of Bridie left her and her heart pounded in her chest. Eeh, Issy, give over, lass! Anyone would think you were a young girl, the way you’re carrying on, she told herself, then jumped as Tom called out, ‘Hey, Issy, what’re you doing round here? By, you’ve come to the reet place if you want to see how the other half have to work.’
‘Oh, is that reet? Well, the way I see it, you stable hands don’t know you’re born. Look at Henry – he’s still like a young ’un, he’s had it that easy.’
‘Well, that’s sommat, ain’t it? And you with a job as cook to a household of one! I reckon that takes some beating as a cushy number.’ Issy laughed at this from Henry, and knew she deserved it, with the way she’d poked fun at him just to get back at Tom. She loved the easy banter that she and Tom had fallen into in such a short time, and hoped it boded well for the future.
‘Ha, she’s nowt to say to that, Henry. I could do with taking lessons from you in handling her. It’d be as valuable to me as what you teach me about the horses.’
‘I think you’re doing alreet without me interfering, Tom. Eeh, look at her, she’s blushing! Now that’s sommat as you don’t see our Isabella doing very often. Aye, I think you’ve got yourself a head-start with that one. You can’t do better round here, lad, I’ll say that.’
Henry moved off, chuckling to himself, leaving Issy wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. Tom had turned away and was making great play of forking some hay from the bale into the stable. She had to say something to break his embarrassment.
‘Take no notice of Henry. That’s country folk for you: they speak whatever comes into their mind without taking stock of others’ feelings. Not that they mean any harm. They’re just straight with everything.’
Tom turned and looked at her. She held his gaze, like Bridie had said to. His face broke into a smile. ‘I wasn’t embarrassed on me own account, lass – only as you might think I’d said stuff, like.’
‘No, I didn’t think that. I know Henry and his like. Anyroad, I have to go and see if Ma’s ready. I’ll be in late tonight, so I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.’
‘Do you know what time you’ll be leaving work? Only . . . well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to walk up and meet you – not, thou knows, for any other reason than I likes the air at night. And anyroad, it ain’t reet for a lass to walk home late on her own.’
Issy could have jumped for joy. Despite his justifications, he’d blushed when he’d asked, and she felt sure this was a start. ‘Aye, I’d like that, Tom. Ta. I leave around ten. Me head will rest easy knowing you’re meeting me, as I have a fear of them lanes in the dark.’
As she walked away she thought: Not just in the dark, but any time since . . . No. She’d not think on that. She’d not let anything spoil the anticipation in her or the lightness of her heart. By, if she were a few years younger, she’d skip up the path to the servants’ quarters.
And thinking on that, she couldn’t believe how everything had changed. She never thought to be walking towards Hensal Grange to meet her ma. The Grange had only employed time-served staff in the past, and the likes of her, Ma and Jane – self-taught and rough around the edges – wouldn’t have got a look-in. Now Jane and Ma both worked there! And she’d never seen her mother happier, working as she was in the job she loved more than anything: looking after people when they most needed her. It was grand to think of the difference she’d made in Miss Dvina. And she felt certain it had been Ma’s doing, as Miss Dvina’s babby was nearing full-term, and Miss Dvina herself looked well. She’d lost a lot of her extra fat and shone with happiness again. And, best of all, Jane had told her Mr Harvey seemed better with her mistress once more, even visiting her chamber and sleeping there all night two or three times a week! Now that was something, though she couldn’t really put that down to her mother’s influence, could she? The thought made her laugh. Cos if Ma had those kinds of powers, she’d be asking her to work them on herself and Tom. Oh, Tom . . . Tom!
‘Will, I’m thinking it’ll be a shame to move from here. But then, it might help us to be more accepted.’
‘And how do yer make that out, Ma? Anyroad, I think we already are, by most.’
‘Well, some, I know; but living amongst the other miners’ families, instead of down this lane where the land workers live, is bound to make things easier. It’ll help us get to know them more.’
‘Aye, you’re reet. By, it doesn’t seem like six months since we arrived, does it? Mind, I’ve been up to the site and there’s not much building going on with this weather.’
‘I know. But thou knows: that young man as has taken the groom’s position won’t want to stay long in lodgings. And this is his cottage, by rights.’
‘Oh, don’t be worrying your head over him. Henry tells me he’s got himself settled with Issy and her ma. Henry’s hoping for a match to be made there, as he thinks Issy is a lonely lass.’
‘Aye, and a nice one an’ all. I like Issy. And her mother, come to that.’
‘Where’s Bridie, Ma? She is in, ain’t she?’
‘She is. She’s been out a while and came back with the smell of gin on her. I think she’s getting it from them Irish. Eeh, lad, it’s a worry. She’s upstairs lying down. She ain’t looking well of late.’
Will went through to the back porch and peeled off his sticky, coal-black work shirt. A bowl of hot water waited for him on the side, and clean clothes hung on a peg behind the door. As he went about the business of cleansing himself of all the coal grime, he pondered on this last.
Bridie’s need for the drink was the only thing marring their happiness. It wasn’t that she got drunk – she could hold her drink, could Bridie – but he had a bad feeling about how she got it, and wished to his heart she hadn’t the taste for it. He didn’t like the thought of her going up town to the Irish. He’d heard stuff about them: about the things they got up to. And a lot of it they proved right, by the way they acted at times. Still, he didn’t like to say anything, as it was her only fault, and he knew it helped her to cope with her past.
Pulling his belt to the last notch, he thought about the news he had to tell her, and he couldn’t wait. Ma should be pleased with it, too, but he wanted to tell Bridie first.
‘Anyroad, it’s all turned out alreet, despite a lot of them in the Miners’ Row being a bit cautious of us.’ His ma carried on the conversation as though no time had lapsed in between. ‘But thou knows, these are good folk, and I don’t want Bridie’s antics to put us in a bad light. You should spe
ak to her, Will.’
‘Don’t start, Ma. I’ve told you – it’ll take time. She can’t just come off it like that. You should have patience; she’s come a long way as it is.’
‘Time don’t come into it, when it affects what we have in the pot. She should get some work. They’re setting on at the big house, and Issy’s mother told me they want a scullery maid . . .’
‘Don’t think for one minute you and your precious pot will come between me and Bridie, Ma. Now give it a rest. I’m going up to her. I’ll have me tea in a bit.’
The stairs led off the kitchen and straight into the small room his mother used. Their room was at the end of the landing, and he lifted the latch as quietly as he could. For a moment he stood trying to get used to the darkness inside. He could hear Bridie’s soft snores, some of them released on a snort as her lips flapped together, but he couldn’t see her. He turned and picked up the oil lamp from the small recess at the top of the stairs. Now he could see her, curled up into a ball at the top end of their bed. The stale air in the room had a faint whiff to it. He ignored it.
‘Bridie. Come on, sleepy-head. What’s this carry-on? Your man comes in from his shift and you’re away to your bed again.’
Bridie stirred and turned towards him. She had a mark on her face. She said, ‘Will, is that yourself, home from work already?’
‘Aye, are you alreet, love? Look, you’ve lain on your locket and left an impression on your face.’
A smile lit the beauty of her as she took the locket from his hands. He must have read the words on it every day since he’d given it to her on their wedding night. Always it reminded him of the way her eyes had looked at it in wonderment, and how she’d read out the engraving on the back of the solid silver locket: ‘To Catch a Dream’. She’d said, ‘Oh, Will, me heart is singing for joy, so it is, because ’tis that we have caught our dream, my love. We have.’ Since then she had never taken it off.
‘You’ll have to let me have it back one day, thou knows, Bridie, as I plan to have a miniature done of our wedding-day picture and have it put inside. Maybe for our first anniversary. How would that be?’
‘I’m for not wanting to take it off ever, Will. Can’t you get the pictures done, take a drawing of the size you want and then we can be after fixing it inside ourselves?’
‘Ha, yes, of course I can. I’m glad as it means that much to you, me little lass.’
‘Lie on the bed a while with me, Will. That’s right, cuddle up to me.’
‘Are you feeling alreet, love? Only Ma said . . .’
‘Oh, take no notice of her. Sure she makes a powerful fuss over nothing. I’m for being grand, Will.’
She kept her head away from him, no doubt trying to hide the smell of drink on her. He knew it shamed her and she tried to keep it from him, but he had heard the slur on her voice and already caught a whiff of the alcohol on her. Still, she was trying to take less of it, and he’d do no good going on at her. Instead he’d try to love her away from it: make her feel safe and happy, so she’d have no need for it. ‘Come on, back yourself towards me, let me feel you where you belong, lass.’
‘Are you not for thinking that could be leading to other things, Will? And Janet with your supper on, ready to serve to the table?’
‘Aye, I hope so, lass, as I have a need on me. I have good news, and I can think of no better way to celebrate than to have me wife wrap herself around me and reward me with the best thing in me life.’
She turned in his arms. ‘Is it that you have done something deserving of a reward, then?’
‘I have. I’ve got a promotion. Shift supervisor of the gang as is to work the new seam. We’re nearly through to it now, and it’s going to be a cutting separate from the others. Eeh, lass, we’re on the up. And Mr Harvey has said we’re to have that corner cottage when they finish building it, and he’s seeing to it as the workers get it done as soon as the weather lets up. Thou knows the one, lass. The one you liked the look of, the day we took a walk around the site.’
‘Oh, Will. That’s grand as owt!’
They both laughed at her mimicking his way of speaking, until his kissing of her lips brought them to a different place, and he lost himself in taking all the pleasure she had to give him.
22
Andrew
March 1881
A chance encounter
‘You can come up, Mr Harvey. It’s wonderful news: everything is fine.’
‘Oh, thank God. Is the baby born? Is it a boy? Is Dvina all right?’ By the time he’d asked all these questions he was in the bedroom and could see the answer to the last one. Dvina sat up in bed, grinning more widely than he’d ever seen her do before. In her arms she held a baby swaddled in a white blanket. ‘Your son, Andrew,’ she said. ‘Meet Jeremy Edgar Isaac Harvey.’
They had long since decided on calling their son after these three very important men in their lives. Andrew thought of each one: Jeremy, courageous and one of the nicest men he’d ever met; Edgar, who’d made his mother so happy and had generously provided for him; and Dvina’s father Isaac, a man of principle and easy to love. All had contributed to the wealth they now had, and which their son would one day inherit. The only sorrow was that none of them would ever meet Jeremy Jnr.
A proud happiness warmed his whole body as he leaned over and looked into the wrinkled face of his son . . . HIS SON! It sounded so wonderful that he wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
Dvina’s hand reached up to him, and he took it in his as he said, ‘Well done, you clever thing. I knew you could do it.’
‘The best mother we’ve ever helped, wasn’t she, Dr Payne? Like she were born to it.’
‘Yes, yes, Mrs Harman. Spare Mr Harvey the details and Mrs Harvey the embarrassment, please.’
Mrs Harman grunted at this, and both Andrew and Dvina laughed. He’d had the Devil’s own job to persuade the doctor to allow Issy’s mother to be present, and yet he remembered Isabella telling him how glad the doctor usually was to leave her mother with the non-paying patients. Because of this, he felt the need to stick up for Mrs Harman and said to her, ‘I’m sure that was all down to your excellent care of my wife, through the pregnancy and during the birth. We are very grateful, Mrs Harman.’
‘And to you, Dr Payne,’ Dvina added. Andrew felt her hand squeeze his in a gesture of approval, which also showed in her smile.
‘Yes, of course. Now I think the doctor and I will partake of a nice, strong celebratory drink. Doctor?’
Andrew floated on air as he glided down the stairs. A son. A son! No matter how often I say it, I still cannot believe it.
He showed the doctor into the withdrawing room. Not feeling inclined to share his news with the staff in the presence of the pompous doctor, Andrew resisted the urge to ring the bell to summon Jameson, but instead excused himself and went off in search of the butler. When he found him in his downstairs pantry, he asked Jameson to gather the staff together. As he waited to make his announcement, he had a longing for this to have happened at Tarrington House. How much more wonderful it would have been to announce it to the staff there, many of whom had known him since he was a boy! But he would have that pleasure later – he would ride over to tell his mother and would ask her if he could announce it to them then.
Having visited Dvina and his son again and found both fast asleep, Andrew changed and strode out to the stables. The new groom, Tom Grantham, met him.
‘Good afternoon, Tom. Did you get my message to saddle a mount for me?’
‘Yes, sir. Goldboy is ready and champing at the bit. Very lively, the lad is. He could do with having the freedom of his rein.’
‘Well, he’ll certainly get that, as I am feeling the same.’
‘Yes, sir. I heard the news. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. How are you settling in? Mrs Harman seems taken with you, but what about Isabella? Is she making you welcome?’
‘Aye, she is that. I’m very comfortable.’
A su
dden idea came into his head: Tom and Isabella, now that would be a good match! Isabella could do with a good steady man in her life, and he wondered if she had healed from losing Denny. He hoped so.
Mounting Goldboy, Andrew looked down at Tom – not that he had to look far, as Tom stood six feet tall. He’d found him a pleasant fellow to deal with, and what he lacked in knowledge, Henry had said he picked up very quickly on instruction. Andrew would call him a handsome man, in a rugged way. A widower with no issue, he had looked for a complete change of scenery, and had heard of the job they offered through the grapevine that runs from estate to estate. Yes, the more he thought about it, he was sure Tom was just the right man for Isabella.
‘Well, I must away. I’m glad you are settled. The weather has delayed the work on the new cottages, but they are taking shape now, so it shouldn’t be more than a couple of weeks before you can move into yours.’
‘Oh, I’m in no hurry. I’m finding me feet at the moment.’
Andrew hoped that once Tom did find his feet, as he put it, he would think about getting them under the table – another saying they used around here. That would be a very good outcome for all.
Setting a good pace, he rode off down the lane. He had a feeling of being at one with his horse and his world. His promised abstinence from Lilly added to his sense of well-being. That he hadn’t given in to making a visit to Bridlington – where Lilly had finally settled – to see how she fared added to his pride. He’d kept to his word, even when it came to the very strong sexual urges that he experienced, and Dvina would regain her health soon enough. In the last three months she had reduced her weight considerably, and when he cuddled up to her he could feel the old urges that she used to awaken in him. Though he wouldn’t want her too thin – not nearly as thin as Lilly. Dvina didn’t give him what Lilly had, but what she did give was very special, and he felt sure it would be enough for him once they could resume proper relations. Lost as he was in his thoughts and feelings, he didn’t see the young woman coming out of the gate of the groom’s cottage until it was too late.