Marlford

by Jacqueline Yallop

  The almshouses at the edge of the village remained untouched by the worst of the upheaval. Ellie paused on the path that cut across their prim garden frontage, watching a bee burrow into a spike of delphinium. Its buzz grew shrill for a moment, and then it emerged dusted in pollen, taking flight clumsily. When it had disappeared into the summer light around the nymph, she turned away, seeing nothing else. She could imagine, if she wanted to, that the village was as it had always been.

  She walked behind the row of cottages, crossing a narrow yard. There was a row of back doors, each painted an identical bottle green and fixed with a brass handle. Ellie went to the middle door, which was ajar. As she pushed it further open, she called, stepping inside and calling again, emptying the contents of her shopping basket onto the small kitchen table.

  Finally, Ernest shouted back to her from the sitting room. ‘There’s someone coming. Ellie – there’s someone coming. Up the path. To the front. To the door.’

  A moment later, she heard the rapid knock. She paused, wiping her hands on her skirt.

  The knock sounded again, more resolutely.

  ‘Ellie!’

  ‘Yes, Papa. I hear it.’

  ‘It’s a man. In overalls. A workman of some kind.’

  ‘Leave it, Papa. It’s nothing, I’m sure.’ She could not imagine who it might be. ‘Something about the library, perhaps. But I don’t want to bother with it. Not now.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool. We can’t leave it. He’s seen me. He can see me through the window.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘Very well. But you know we agreed we wouldn’t allow visitors here, Papa. We promised ourselves that.’

  Her father did not reply.

  Ellie went through to the front, leaving the back door standing wide open, a breeze blowing through, an escape of some kind.

  Gadiel was too tall for the scowl of the thatched porch. He had to stoop. Despite this, he stood quite still on the step, smiling with uncomplicated delight.

  ‘I saw you. I’ve seen you once or twice before, just for a moment, coming and going in the village, but I never worked out where you were living. Then I saw you, just now, and I guessed you were living here, in one of these cottages. You are living here, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. With Papa.’

  ‘Yes, I saw him, at the window. That’s how I worked out which door to knock on. That’s how I was sure.’

  Behind and alongside her, the narrow hall was stuffed with library books, neatly stacked, crammed close and high, piled against the walls almost to the ceiling, leaving the slightest of passages, like the cut of a steep ravine.

  She saw Gadiel’s surprise. ‘They’re everywhere.’ She shook her head; it was still a wonder. ‘The house is full of them. They stored them here when they began work on the library. The cottage was empty then. But, after the fire – well, it was the only place we could find and we agreed that if they let us stay here, we’d make room for ourselves, and I’d do some work on the books at the same time, so they’d be ready to go back.’

  ‘Isn’t it cramped, though?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose. A little.’

  Gadiel stepped back, away from the porch. ‘Well.’ He straightened to his full height. ‘The library should be moved today.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I read about it in the newspaper.’

  ‘I’m working with one of the engineering firms.’ He gestured at his overalls as explanation. ‘Just for a while. As experience.’

  ‘I imagine there’s a great deal to learn.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  ‘A great many technical skills.’

  He glanced at her. ‘You’re not interested in that kind of thing, are you? You don’t think it matters.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I do. Of course I do. I didn’t mean to suggest… It’s just not something I understand, that’s all.’ Ellie pushed at one of the piles of books, dropping her gaze.

  ‘No,’ Gadiel said. ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘But it’s valuable, of course, I’m sure it is.’

  ‘I like it.’ He crossed his arms over his chest. The action seemed too deliberate, the ensuing silence too long.

  Ellie rubbed her hands on her skirt again. ‘Can you spare a moment? Would you like to come in and see Papa?’

  ‘Oh, wait – no. No thanks.’ Gadiel grimaced exaggeratedly, in mock horror, and it drew her eyes back to his face. She recognized the sparkle about him, lodged under his skin. ‘Poor old Dan’s still telling stories about his gunshot wound. I don’t fancy another scuffle like that.’

  ‘It’ll be fine, really – Papa’s much better here.’

  ‘Even so. I don’t suppose he’d be too pleased to see a squatter again.’

  ‘He won’t mind, I’m sure. He doesn’t even seem to think of Marlford any more. He’s much quieter, without things to bother him, without the worry of the place and the frogs at the mere…’ She stopped and smiled, an invitation. ‘You’d be very welcome.’

  ‘Well. Thanks… that’s kind.’ Gadiel saw something new in the lines around her mouth; he tried to work out what it might be. It was hardly anything – the slightest flutter of expression – but it disconcerted him. He felt as though he had been away a long time. ‘I could step in briefly, if you like. I’m allowed a break from work – twenty minutes or so.’

  ‘Good. That would be nice.’

  He followed her through the alley of books. The almshouse was compact: there were just two small rooms opening from the hallway, the kitchen, at the back, and the sitting room to one side. Ernest was in an armchair by the window of the sitting room, surrounded on all sides by piles of books, uneven in height, pushed into elaborate patterns, like the eroding columns of a limestone pavement.

  He rose, offering a hand to Gadiel. ‘Ah – yes. I saw you coming.’ His voice was too big for the tiny almshouse, too great a challenge to its respectability.

  ‘How do you do, Mr Barton. I’m Gadiel Hampton. I was – I was one of the squatters. At Marlford.’

  ‘Were you?’ Ernest peered at him as though looking for a landmark lost in fog. ‘Not the blighter that Quersley shot?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘No. I thought not.’ But he did not sound sure. ‘You’re the one who knocked me down, then?’

  ‘Yes – I’m sorry about that. It was just a panic… but I’m sorry about the whole squat thing, really. It wasn’t really what we thought… we shouldn’t have—’

  ‘Bloody mess. Best forgotten.’ Ernest shook off the memory and glanced at Ellie. ‘Not that good things didn’t come of it, in the end.’ He reached for his daughter and gripped her hand as she stepped towards him. Regret seeped through the bags of his old skin. It was very calm for a moment, their reconciliation revisited.

  Then Ernest started, as though he had been pricked, slung a nod at Gadiel and pushed past him. ‘I’m going to watch them shift that thing,’ he said, smiling at Ellie. ‘I’ll go the back way and fetch my hat and coat from the kitchen.’

  ‘If you wait, Papa, I’ll come with you.’

  But Ernest had sidled through the labyrinth. ‘Don’t need an escort,’ he called cheerfully, from the hallway.

  They heard him dressing to go out and then the pull of the back door.

  Ellie looked towards the noise. ‘You’ve no idea how cruel a trick was played on us,’ she said, quietly.

  Gadiel was not sure whether he was supposed to answer. ‘A trick?’

  ‘A kind of trick. Mr Quersley led me to believe – well, he turned me against my father. He poisoned my ideas.’

  Gadiel could not measure her tone. ‘Really? You didn’t seem very close, you and your father.’

  She smiled at him, ruefully. ‘No. That’s because of what Mr Quersley told me, because of things in the past. I regret it now. And now that it’s just Papa and I —’

  ‘I wish you’d drop that whole “Papa” thing.’ Gadiel was suddenly nettled. ‘It sounds stupid. Like you’re some Victorian half-wit.’

/>   Ellie frowned. ‘What should I call him then?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He tugged at the pocket of his overalls. ‘I just think – it makes you seem old-fashioned.’

  ‘I am old-fashioned. Look at me.’ She opened her arms to show him the extent of her dress, plain, beige cotton.

  ‘But, Ellie—’

  ‘Oh!’ Her moan seemed involuntary; she looked surprised for a moment that such a wretched sound had been drawn from her, but then went on in a low, urgent tone. ‘I’ve been so unfair to him. All my life I’ve been so wrong.’

  ‘No – Ellie, stop, I’m sure that’s not true. Whatever this Mr Quersley did, whatever he said to you—’

  ‘But I believed it. Exactly as it was told to me. I failed my father; I failed to imagine how it might have been different. I did a terrible thing – arrogant and stupid. If I’d only talked to him. But I was so frightened that I’d be weak, that he’d make me love him, when I didn’t want to, when he didn’t deserve it…’

  Gadiel wanted to comfort her but he felt awkward there, with the books closing in on all sides and her distress so tangible.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be all right,’ he reassured her feebly.

  She did not seem to hear. ‘It’ll take us so long now to know each other. And we don’t have all that much time, do we? A few years, perhaps, that’s all – everything else is lost. Everything that could have been is lost, and we can’t even begin to know what it might have been like.’

  Gadiel realized for the first time that he was intruding: another man had come before him, captivating her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘I’m learning to be his daughter, you see, so that we’re not on our own again, with everything uncertain and no one knowing what to believe. Nothing else matters, does it, other than that – nobody cares about the Bartons or the past or anything. I know that now.’ She blinked, still puzzled by the revelation, vapid and unsatisfactory, unwanted.

  ‘Ellie, I wouldn’t have come after you if you hadn’t wanted to be found.’

  She looked up at him, perplexed, as though she had just discovered him there among the mounds of old books and rotting papers. ‘Oh, no – I’m pleased you came.’ But she sounded rueful, distracted. ‘I didn’t know the squatters had stayed in the village. I presumed you’d gone, straight away.’

  ‘Look, I should probably go back to work.’

  ‘Are you both here? Is Dan here?’

  She gave nothing away with the question. He could not tell what answer she wanted.

  ‘No. He’s out of hospital – he’s fine. But it’s only me here now. He’s gone off.’

  She heard the fragility of his regret. ‘I’m sorry – if you’ve fallen out. I’m sorry that you’re on your own.’

  ‘Oh, no, it’s fine. It was me who… I met one of the engineers in the pub and got talking. They suggested that I helped with the library and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss, so I decided to hang around. When that’s done, well, I’ll go on to another project, if they’ll have me.’

  Ellie took a sharp intake of breath, as though she had been stung. ‘But what about your studies?’

  ‘I think I’ll let them go.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘I’ve told you – it’s not really my thing. The summer’s made me clear on that, at least.’

  ‘No… really? You’ve decided that… since coming here?’ The flutter in her voice suggested a greater tragedy. ‘But that’s terrible, that your visit to Marlford has made you abandon your learning.’

  The mantelpiece clock – a cheap round face in an arched plastic case – chimed the half-hour neatly.

  Gadiel examined the hands sadly, avoiding her disappointment. ‘Look, I’d better go. I’m glad you’re all right, though. We heard about the fire. We went to the house.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘They wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone.’

  ‘I’m not sure it was a great secret. It was just confused, at first, trying to find somewhere.’

  ‘There was a man there, at the house; an official bloke.’

  ‘Yes. Marlford’s being demolished.’

  The words came impassively, but in Ellie’s glance something trembled, a tiny movement, like the ripple of a gnat against a blue sky.

  He stepped towards her. ‘Oh, Ellie – no. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, it’s fine. Really.’ She pulled away. ‘The land can be used for other things. They want to – build. Again.’ She could not concentrate; could not think about Marlford. She felt she was breathing too quickly. ‘But it doesn’t matter. We couldn’t have gone on there, anyway. This way we’ll have money to live on; when it comes through, we’ll perhaps find somewhere else to go – somewhere less cramped.’

  He filled the room, the breadth of his shoulders seeming to stretch from wall to wall. She leaned against the books. ‘Will you tell me, about the library?’ Her question was too abrupt. ‘I’d be interested to hear how the arrangements have been made.’

  ‘Another time.’ He was suddenly annoyed. They were back where they had started. ‘I’d better get back now before they start winching.’

  ‘Yes, all right.’

  ‘And I won’t be able to come again. I’ll be moving on. I’ll have to get lodgings and everything.’

  She nodded, and just her movement softened his anger.

  ‘Look, Ellie – I just wanted to say… to ask…’ He did not know, now, what it was that he could ask. He felt the crush of the books around him, the heavy scent of discarded paper; he looked away from them, out of the window. There were glimpses of activity at the end of the street, construction vehicles gathering, the lines of the houses blotted by equipment. Noises reached them, grating.

  ‘I should go after Papa,’ Ellie said.

  ‘He’ll be all right, won’t he?’

  ‘But I want to see, anyway; I want to see the library moved. It should be quite an occasion.’ She went to the window and leaned against the glass to look towards the nymph. She felt the soothing coolness against her cheek and pulled away.

  ‘I stayed because of you.’ Gadiel spoke quietly.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Yes, you do, Ellie. If you think about it. If you let yourself.’

  She laughed briefly, tightly, tapping one of the books at her side. ‘Have you read The Elmridge Chronicles? It’s here somewhere.’ She scanned the room quickly, the merest suggestion of a search. ‘Well, anyway – I don’t suppose you have. It’s not a well-known book. It’s not a classic or anything; it’s long out of print. We might be the only library that still keeps a copy. And the plot is silly really, not very credible. But the point is… well, you see, the point is…’

  But she could not think what the point was. It was slipping from her.

  ‘I don’t want to bother you, Ellie. If I’m stepping out of line… if you’re not interested…’

  ‘No, but you see, in the book, there’s an incident in the narrative… there’s a girl… Oh, I can’t remember. I had it in my head, and it’s gone.’

  It was his fault, gazing at her in that way, filling the room as if nothing else existed. She looked despairingly at the evidence of learning wedged against the walls.

  ‘Just tell me, Ellie.’ He was encouraged by the tears she did not seem to have noticed. ‘You can explain about the book later. For now, just tell me how you feel. That’ll be enough; that’ll be fine.’

  It was such a singular request. It was too much; it sapped her strength.

  ‘Just look at me, Ellie.’

  She raised her eyes to his.

  ‘I couldn’t leave Papa,’ she said. ‘Not now.’

  ‘No, I know. That’s fine. I’m not asking that. I only want us to spend some time together, that’s all. I want to get to know you.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Why not? Don’t you like me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, steadily. ‘I do like you. Very much. But it’s not as easy as that.’


  ‘It could be.’

  ‘No, Gadiel, I’ve been telling you – my father isn’t the man I thought he was; he’s a good man. An honourable man, who loves me. And I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m not some kind of accidental life, just clinging on, like I thought I was, at Marlford, by chance. I’m his daughter. He wants me, as his daughter.’ She looked at him gently, knowing she could not explain so that he would ever understand. ‘I’m sorry. Everything is confused. I have to work it all out.’

  She felt the tears now and pushed them softly from her cheeks, looking at the gloss of damp on her finger.

  ‘And I do like you.’ She smiled, but without looking at him. ‘And if I’ve been hard on you, or unfriendly…’

  ‘You shouldn’t wait for Dan.’

  ‘No, no. I know. I’m not. I’m not waiting. I know that was just… that was nothing. I was foolish, that was all.’ But tears again came, nonetheless, flowing more quickly at the memory.

  ‘I’m not crying about him – really, it’s not that. But when Mr Quersley left too… I’ve been lost, that’s all – there’s just so much…’

  Gadiel was kind. ‘We heard about the farmer. He took Dan’s van.’

  ‘I know.’ She dropped her head, and picked at something under her nails. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said, finally. ‘If my father had done wicked things, like I thought he had – if he’d been a bad man, like the men made out… well, then, I suppose I could have started again. But now, without all that – I don’t know who to be.’

  ‘Just be Ellie.’

  ‘But I don’t know how. I don’t think I’m like you. I can’t just begin from here. There’s too much from before.’

  She looked at him, understanding the gentle way he leaned towards her and the sincerity in his eyes. She felt submerged, all of a sudden, as if caught by a riptide, clinging fast to something – a rock or a post. She felt she had been holding on for a long time – for ever perhaps – forcing herself to keep her grip, concentrating above all else on not giving in and being swept away; until her hands were numb, her skin rubbed away, her arms stiff with pain.