by Val Wood
Tears streamed down her face. She could barely speak, and there was so much to say.
‘I can’t,’ she wept. ‘I’m pregnant.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
And apart from that, Harriet thought, as they walked slowly back down the track, their fingers touching, he’s my husband’s brother and it’s forbidden in scripture and in law. What do the Commandments say? Thou shalt not commit adultery – and what’s ’other one? Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife. So coveting and committing adultery with your husband’s brother must be a hundred times worse. Bound to be, cos women are allus blamed – look at Adam and Eve. She stifled a sob and knew she was wicked because she wanted to; if he’d asked me before to go with him I would have found it hard to say no. But now . . . she swallowed hard. How can I when I’m expecting Noah’s child?
She had told Fletcher that Noah didn’t yet know she was pregnant, that no one knew, and he in turn said that he hadn’t told anyone he was leaving the farm.
‘Ma will tek it hard,’ he said. ‘She won’t want me to go, but I must. If I don’t break away now then I never will. Before you came,’ he said softly, ‘I’d often thought of moving on. This place isn’t big enough for Noah and me, or Da either. I don’t mean in size, I mean because we don’t get on. Da was allus a bully when we were bairns. He used to beat Noah, and me too when he could catch me, but Ma was allus there wi’ a broom handle to flay him, and if it hadn’t been for leaving her with ’pair of them I might have gone sooner.
‘Then when you arrived, I wanted to be here where you were; but I can’t live like this any more.’ He clasped her fingers in his. ‘Not now; especially not now. Harriet, this might sound like a terrible thing, but just once before I leave, I want to hold you in my arms. I’d like to know what it’s like to kiss you and imagine that you’re mine and not Noah’s.’
She had had the same feeling, but had known that it was sinful; but would it be wicked, she asked herself, if he was going away and she might never see him again? Would it be so terrible?
‘Perhaps we could,’ she said, in a shaky voice. ‘I don’t know. Would it be just a goodbye kiss?’
He smiled and dropped her hand as they neared the end of the track. ‘No, I don’t think so. And it might mean that I wouldn’t want to leave.’
They agreed that Fletcher would be the first to tell the family his news: that he was leaving at the end of the month. After he was gone, they decided, it would make it easier for his mother if she knew a child was expected. ‘She’ll like that. It’ll take her mind off ’fact that she’s lost a son.’
He announced it after supper the following day. He stood up from the table and said, ‘I’ve got summat to say and it’s not about ’farm or ploughing or sowing, cows or sheep, or ditches and drains.’
Noah leaned back in his chair and muttered, ‘Is there owt else that’s worth talking about?’
Harriet looked at her husband and felt loathing. Yes, there was, she thought, there was watching the rush of the tide in the estuary when the sun glinted on the water; there was seeing and hearing the hundreds of ducks and geese flying over their rooftop as dawn was breaking. They all had a name, Fletcher had told her. There were the brent geese that she knew by their honking cry, and widgeon and mallard, teal and goldeneye, but as yet she couldn’t distinguish which was which. But she now knew the barn owl as it swooped low over the hedges, and could recognize the kestrel when it hovered in silent flight before plunging to kill; she knew the long-beaked dunlin with its curved bill and its funny running walk, and the orange-legged redshank with its persistent cry that scoured the mudflats at low tide, and now as spring was emerging there was the fresh green growth unfolding on the bare tree branches. Noah’s seen it all before, she thought, and I haven’t, yet it’s as if he’s unaware of it or it’s not important to him.
‘Go on then,’ Noah said. ‘Spit it out.’ He gave a sly laugh. ‘Is it about that heifer you owe me?’
Fletcher’s lip curled. ‘That bet you said you’d made; a heifer for a wife, wasn’t it?’
Harriet didn’t take offence at the remark for she knew what Fletcher meant, but Noah stood up, his fists curling. ‘You know what it was,’ he said. ‘I said as I’d bet you a heifer that I’d have a wife afore you, and I have.’
His father interrupted. ‘You didn’t get one in calf though, did you? You might have to get another!’
Noah raised his fist at his father and his mother broke in in a shrill voice. ‘Stop this. I won’t have this kind of talk in my house.’
‘Let me finish,’ Fletcher roared. ‘This is not about Harriet; this is about summat I’ve been planning for a long time.’
Harriet felt suddenly nauseous and hurriedly rose from the table. She couldn’t wait to hear what he was about to tell them and dashed for the back door and out into the yard where she was violently sick.
She was leaning against the house wall, taking deep breaths and looking up into the night sky, counting the myriad stars, when the back door opened. It wasn’t Noah come to see if she was all right, but Mrs Tuke, and it wasn’t concern for Harriet that had brought her out but her own misery.
‘He’s leaving,’ she said in a low, bitter voice. ‘My son, Fletcher. He’s leaving and travelling to foreign parts. How can he?’ she said hoarsely. ‘What shall I do?’
Harriet expressed surprise. ‘Why?’ she asked.
‘He says he can’t bear to be here any more when there’s so much anger, so much conflict and discontent. Fact is,’ Ellen stood with her arms folded, ‘he’s right. Mr Tuke has always nurtured rivalry between ’em. He’s allus encouraged them to fight.’
‘Why did he do that?’ Harriet leaned her head back and closed her eyes; she felt drained and exhausted.
Ellen Tuke didn’t answer straight away, but then said, so softly that Harriet wasn’t sure that she’d heard correctly, ‘Cos of me, I expect.’
The door opened again and Fletcher stood on the doorstep. ‘Ma? Come on in. I want to talk to you.’ He stepped out and came towards them. ‘Harriet,’ he said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently. ‘I want you to know that I’m leaving. I’m going away, but it’s not because of you.’
She returned the touch of his fingers and then dropped his hand. ‘Your ma has just said. I’m sorry you’re leaving, Fletcher. Won’t you change your mind?’
For a second he held her gaze and then shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t. I can’t live like this any more. There has to be some peace and harmony somewhere and it’s not here.’
His mother suddenly drew herself upright and said, ‘Then go! Mek a new life for yourself.’ There was a sob in her throat and Harriet reflected that she had never before heard any emotion in Ellen Tuke except anger. ‘But come back one day,’ she continued, ‘or write. Let me know that you’re still alive.’
Fletcher touched his mother on the shoulder and Harriet thought of how things might have been, and wondered if Noah might have been tender too if it hadn’t been for Mr Tuke’s wicked and devious ways. But why was her father-in-law the way he was? He seemed to take pleasure in the conflict within his own four walls, and, she considered fearfully, what would he be like with grandchildren in the house?
Fletcher and his mother went back inside but Harriet stayed out a little longer. He’ll not touch my children, she determined. Not Mr Tuke, or Noah either. I’ll stand between them and protect them with my own body, my life, if need be, before I’ll let them be hurt. Then she thought of what Fletcher had said about his mother defending them with the broom handle, and how strange that Noah had been fashioned by that brutality, but Fletcher hadn’t.
She held her hand to her belly, still flat, but all the same containing another life growing inside her. I swear that this child and any other that might come will only know love, not hate. I promise that on my own mother’s memory.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Fletcher, having said that his decision was final and no amount of persua
sion would make him change his mind, told them he would leave after completing some jobs on the farm, and a week later he was ready.
He and Harriet did not have their farewell kiss as each had hoped, for his mother followed him about, checking that he had all he needed, including money, clean shirts, trousers, socks and flannel combinations, for she was convinced that America would have nothing that a respectable man could buy as it would be crowded with gold miners, Irish and Red Indians. No persuasion on Fletcher’s part could convince her that it was a land of opportunity.
After an initial shouting match Noah said little about his brother’s leaving, and what he did say was uttered with a sneer and an attitude of good riddance, but Harriet felt that he was shocked by the announcement and not a little put out, for it meant that there’d be no one on whom to vent his anger.
On the Sunday morning Fletcher shook hands with his father, who said nothing, but reluctantly held out a limp hand. ‘Not wishing me good luck then, Da?’ Fletcher said.
Mr Tuke gazed at him for a moment and then dropped his hand. ‘What you do wi’ your life is your own affair,’ he muttered. ‘Nowt to do wi’ me.’
‘What about you, Noah?’ Fletcher turned to him. ‘No hard feelings?’
Noah gave a grim laugh. ‘I reckon you’ll be back in a twelvemonth wi’ your tail between your legs, but don’t expect owt from me. This’ll be my farm, not yourn.’
‘Hey!’ their father roared. ‘I’m not dead yet. And I’m not planning on going anywhere.’
Noah turned and looked at him and Harriet gave a little shudder at his formidable expression.
‘Walk me up to ’top of ’track, Ma,’ Fletcher said, hoisting his pack on to his back. ‘Mebbe you will too, Harriet?’
‘Harriet’ll stop where she is,’ Noah commanded.
Harriet glared at him. ‘I’ll walk up wi’ your ma,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s ’least I can do, if you won’t. It’s not every day a son leaves home.’
Noah stared back at her, grunted, and turned away.
Harriet and Ellen walked one on each side of Fletcher. It was a fine bright morning and the air was full of birdsong. Then his mother cleared her throat and asked croakily, ‘How do you know which way to go? Which road to travel on?’
Fletcher smiled. ‘I’m going to Brough,’ he said. ‘I’m hitching a ride on a barge with a mate. He’ll tek me to Hull and then tomorrow I’m catching a train to Liverpool.’
‘You could have caught ’train from Brough, couldn’t you?’ his mother said tightly. ‘No need to go to Hull.’
‘They put on special trains to Liverpool, Ma. A lot of immigrants arrive in Hull from Europe and they’re not allowed off ’ship until early Monday morning. I want to be ’first in queue to mek sure I get on ’train and find a seat. It’s a long journey, six or seven hours at least.’
‘So where will you sleep tonight?’ she asked, her voice strained.
‘Wherever I can find a place to lay my head,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
‘That’s what my brother said,’ Harriet said in a small voice. ‘And we never heard from him again.’
He touched her fingers. ‘You’ll hear from me,’ he said quietly. ‘Sooner or later.’
‘How long will it take to sail to America?’ she asked.
‘If I can get a steamship, a week to ten days, but if they’re full then I’ll tek a sailing ship and that can tek four or five weeks, depending on ’weather. But a sailing ship’ll be cheaper. I’ll tek whatever’s on offer.’
They reached the top of the track and Fletcher bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. ‘Go back now, Ma. Tek care of yourself,’ he said softly.
‘Aye,’ she said on a breath. ‘Nobody else will,’ and turned to retrace her steps down the track. ‘I’ll not watch you go.’
But he watched her, a small figure, her head bowed as she walked away, and then he turned to Harriet. ‘Kiss me goodbye, Harriet?’
She put her face up to his and felt as if her heart might break. She closed her eyes. ‘Come back one day,’ she whispered.
He kissed her lips. ‘One day,’ he said softly. ‘And then I’ll find you wi’ a houseful o’ children and you won’t want me.’
Harriet drew away from him. How could she answer that? She didn’t know what the future held. She would have changed, that was for sure, as he would too.
‘Who knows?’ she whispered. ‘I know that I’ll miss you, but who knows what’ll happen or what life has in store for us? Our paths have crossed, Fletcher, although perhaps they shouldn’t have.’
He gazed down at her. ‘I’ve felt sometimes that it would’ve been better if we’d never met, and yet having met you I’ve felt uplifted. Life has tekken on a new meaning and I swear, Harriet, that one day I’ll come back and claim you.’ He kissed her again, and gently pushed her away from him.
Unlike his mother, she watched him make off along the Brough road, and knew she would always remember the way the wind tossed his long hair, the angle at which he held his head, the breadth of his shoulders and the stride of his long legs as he walked away out of her life, and the fact that he didn’t look back.
Mrs Tuke withdrew into herself for over a week. Harriet did most of the milking, fed the cattle and the two goats, let out the hens and shut them away at night, gathered eggs and prepared food for their meals, whilst Ellen, her face expressionless, silently made pastry and baked bread, cooked meat or fowl and served it up, but didn’t eat any of it.
Noah and his father didn’t comment on her demeanour or the fact that she wasn’t eating, but Harriet worried that she’d fade away. It was, she admitted to herself, a selfishness on her part, for she was thinking that without her she wouldn’t be able to cope alone, especially not now that she was pregnant. She hadn’t yet told anyone, but knew that she must do so soon, for most mornings she was sick, although as she was now first downstairs she could escape outside unseen and heave the contents of her stomach into the ditch.
Mrs Tuke was now the first to bed in the evening, simply departing from the supper table as soon as she’d served the meal and going upstairs without a word. In the morning she rose after Harriet and Noah, but before Mr Tuke, whom she virtually ignored.
Mr Tuke, having made several snide remarks about Fletcher’s departure, which fell on deaf ears, now said very little about anything, but placed himself in the same chair at the table at mealtimes and sat waiting with a knife and fork clasped at the ready.
At the beginning of the second week after Fletcher had left, Mrs Tuke came downstairs one morning at her old time, just as Harriet came back inside from the yard, wiping her mouth.
She looked at her. ‘Are you not well?’ she asked.
It was as good a time as any, Harriet decided, even though she hadn’t yet told Noah, and she thought that Ellen might cheer up at the news of a grandchild.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, raising a weak smile. ‘Been bilious for ’last day or two.’
‘Ah.’ Ellen’s expression remained blank. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘How are you feeling now?’ Harriet murmured, and heard Noah’s footsteps in the bedroom above.
‘As if someone had died,’ she answered abruptly. ‘How else would you think I feel?’
‘He said he’d come back one day,’ Harriet said, though Fletcher had said it to her and not his mother.
‘He said he’d write,’ Ellen muttered. ‘Not that he’d come back.’
Harriet hesitated. The news of her pregnancy hadn’t appeared to register with her mother-in-law and she tried again. ‘Will ’thought of a grandchild help?’
There was a deep pain in Mrs Tuke’s eyes as she answered, and Harriet was hurt and astonished by her answer.
‘Why should it?’ she said. ‘It’ll be your child, not mine, and how would you feel if one day you lost it?’
Noah barging through the door saved Harriet from answering, even if she could have thought of an answer, which she couldn’t.
He looked round the kitchen. The table was laid for breakfast but the tea was not yet made.
‘What’s going on?’ he said brusquely. ‘Where’s my cup o’ tea? Come on, Harriet, look lively. Some folk have work to do. There’s onny me now to do everything, you know.’
‘You’re up early,’ she said. ‘I was just going to mek ’tea.’ The kettle was gently steaming, the teapot was warming on the side shelf and she went to pick it up.
Ellen forestalled her. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said dully. ‘You’d best tell your husband ’news he’s been waiting on for ’last few months.’
Noah looked from one to the other. ‘What?’ he said. ‘What ’you talking about?’
Harriet stood in front of him. ‘I’m pregnant, Noah. Carrying ’child that you wanted.’
He looked her up and down. ‘About time,’ he said. ‘What’s tekken you so long?’
Ellen put the teapot on the table next to the milk jug. She looked at Harriet. ‘I knew he’d be pleased,’ she muttered.
Dismay swept through Harriet. It seemed that nothing would please this man she’d taken for her husband. Nothing. He was incapable of feeling happiness or delight, she realized, and she was therefore surprised when he turned towards her and pointed a stabbing finger.
‘It’d better be a lad,’ he barked. ‘Don’t go giving me any daughters.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Melissa woke early. She thought she’d heard a cuckoo, and got out of bed to open a window, the better to hear the elusive bird. She looked across to the woodland at the edge of their land where she thought it had probably nested, having robbed some poor dunnock of its young. She hummed an old tune remembered from her childhood, ‘Summer is icumen in’, as her eyes travelled across the lawns towards her rose beds, which now in June were beginning to flourish.
She saw Harriet Tuke walking up the long drive and then stop, and although she didn’t walk on the grass Melissa could tell that she was looking at the roses. Then she turned and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Melissa frowned slightly: Harriet seemed to be weary and was walking slowly, which was odd, Melissa thought, as she was usually so very brisk. Then Melissa straightened and her eyebrows shot up. There was something different about her bearing. Is she pregnant? She was suddenly dismayed, not on Harriet’s account but on her own.