by Val Wood
‘It’s no different for young girls,’ Ellen snapped. ‘They meet lads at work or on neighbouring farms …’ She hesitated. ‘Like I did.’ Then she added, ‘You wouldn’t catch Fletcher going to places like Miriam Stone’s. I warned him off her when he was just a lad.’
Which was what I wanted to know, Harriet thought, but wondered how Ellen would know whether or not Fletcher had visited the place. He wasn’t likely to tell her, and if she had warned Fletcher, why hadn’t she issued the same warning to Noah?
‘Mrs Tuke – Ellen,’ she started. ‘When my child is born, I hope it’ll bring you some happiness.’ She paused. ‘I know you miss Fletcher, it’s onny natural that you’d miss a child when it left home, especially your firstborn, but if Fletcher had been a girl and not a lad she’d have left home to marry by now and you’d mebbe have had grandchildren by her already. I know you’ll never think of me as your daughter, and I can’t think of you as my mother, having had a good relationship wi’ my own …’ she choked back a sob as she remembered her mother and how special their bond had been, ‘but, I hope you’ll be able to care for my child, whether it’s male or female, because it’ll be of your own blood and you’ll be ’onny grandparent, apart from Mr Tuke, that it’ll have.’
Ellen Tuke stared at Harriet with such intensity that Harriet began to feel uncomfortable, and then she saw a range of emotions pass over the contorted face: confusion, uncertainty, sorrow, pain and finally anger.
‘No,’ Ellen hissed. ‘I won’t be able to care for it. I’m sorry for what I’m about to say, and you’ll think that I’m an unnatural, unfeeling woman and I’ll tell you that I wasn’t allus like this, but fate dealt me a nasty blow. I won’t love your child because it is not of my blood. Noah is not my son.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
What? How? Why? With parted lips Harriet silently mouthed the words but couldn’t say them, yet comprehension and understanding filtered through her astonishment at the revelation. It explained so clearly why there was so much discord in this family, explained, too, why Mrs Tuke showed no motherly feeling towards Noah.
‘Mr Tuke?’ she croaked. ‘Is he Noah’s father?’
‘Oh aye,’ Ellen muttered. ‘Can’t you tell?’
Was she not able to carry another child? Harriet dared not ask. But poor Noah. She felt some sympathy for him now – did he know that Ellen Tuke wasn’t his mother?
‘He’s a chip off ’old block all right,’ Ellen went on, her voice tight and bitter. ‘Mr Tuke made sure o’ that. He said I spoiled Fletcher and he wasn’t going to let this son grow up to be a spineless namby-pamby. He wouldn’t let me teach him anything and that’s why – that’s why he’s ’way he is.’
‘So …’ I have to ask, Harriet thought; I’m carrying Noah’s child. ‘So – who is Noah’s mother? Does she see him? Does he know about her?’
‘No!’ Ellen Tuke spat out. ‘He knows nowt. Neither of ’lads do. They don’t know that Mr Tuke turned up with him one night, thrust him at me and said, “Here! Here’s another son for you.”’ She turned her face away from Harriet’s gaze, towards the fire. ‘I was feeding Fletcher and he grabbed him and put Noah in his place. He was about three or four months old and wouldn’t stop crying, and then Fletcher started crying as well because he didn’t understand why he’d been pulled away from me.’
Harriet couldn’t speak, her thoughts were in such turmoil, but Ellen went on in an intense, simmering voice, ‘He said I hadn’t to tell Noah he wasn’t mine and that I was to treat him as if he was, and if I didn’t – if I didn’t, well, he threatened me with all kinds of things, like throwing me out of ’house and – and spreading rumours about me. And I was afraid of what he might do.’
What a dreadful man, Harriet thought. How could she bear to live with him? But she must have cared for him once. What made him change?
‘Could you not conceive again?’ she asked gently. ‘After Fletcher?’
Ellen turned to her and her mouth formed a question. ‘What?’ She moistened her lips. ‘Oh. Erm – no. Fletcher was – over a year old and – and nothing was – no. You might as well know,’ she muttered, ‘that Mr Tuke was allus hanging round me when I worked at ’manor, an’ then, well, he seduced me and got me pregnant; that’s why we married. I had to, you see, or I’d have been outcast. And then – and then Mr Tuke started going out of a night and I found out that he’d been to ’brothel, and after that I wouldn’t have owt to do wi’ him. Well, how could I? When he’d been with those women!’
‘Noah’s mother? She was one of ’women from ’brothel?’
Ellen’s eyes looked everywhere but at Harriet. ‘He wanted to show me that he was virile and manly and could produce a son – another son – and I was not able to.’ She screwed up her mouth into a sneer. ‘But I didn’t want to. I had a son already. Why would I want another one?’
Harriet was bewildered. Surely having had one son she would have wanted another, or a daughter even? I’d like daughters; you can talk to daughters. And it’s odd that Fletcher isn’t spoiled rotten if she always made a fuss of him and not Noah. There’s no wonder there’s so much conflict between them, and yet neither of them know ’reason why. And this is why Ellen’s so upset over Fletcher leaving home. She’s stuck here with an adopted son she doesn’t care for and a husband whom she apparently loathes.
And then I came on ’scene and upset ’apple cart even more. Now she has a stranger, a so-called daughter-in-law, living with her who is about to produce a child who is no relation to her.
Harriet heaved a breath. What a mess. What a hornets’ nest they’d all found themselves in.
Harriet tried to be nice to Noah, to be kind to him since Ellen never was or ever had been. But at every friendly word he scowled, or viewed her with suspicion, and on several occasions he asked, ‘What’s going on? What ’you up to?’ when she attempted some pleasantry.
He was still going out at weekends and not arriving back until after midnight, until one day at the beginning of December she asked him if he would stay at home in future.
‘Why?’ he asked brusquely. ‘There’s no pleasure here.’
She’d gone outside especially to see him; he was mending a fence and hammering a nail into one of the uprights with great ferocity. ‘Because,’ she said, ‘I think that babby will be here soon, and you’ll need to fetch Mary.’
He stood and stared at her, tapping the hammer into the palm of his hand. ‘Tekken its time, hasn’t it?’
She shrugged and gave a little smile. ‘They come when they’re ready. You’ll need ’trap for Mary,’ she reminded him.
‘Aye, I know that.’
Harriet huddled into her shawl. It was very cold; a wind was blowing off the estuary, just as it had been when she’d first arrived here. She could barely believe that it was a year since that night.
‘Are you pleased?’ she asked.
‘’Bout what?’
‘The child!’
‘Depends,’ he grunted. ‘Shan’t be if it’s a lass.’
‘Oh, come now, a little girl to spoil?’ She was very anxious about the outcome of the pregnancy.
‘There’ll be no spoiling here,’ he said gruffly. ‘Whether it’s a lad or a lass. Fletcher was allus Ma’s favourite; she never had a good word to say to me.’
‘Any bairns we have will be treated ’same; no favouritism.’ She smiled as she spoke, aiming to assure him that this child wouldn’t be the only one, even though he was the last person on earth that she wanted in her bed. She dreaded it. A union without love or caring.
‘We’ll see,’ he said, turning away. ‘If it’s a lass you can do what you want wi’ her. If it’s a lad I’ll decide how he’s treated.’
The words filled her with dismay. Her instinct would be to protect the child be it girl or boy.
‘Now, get yourself inside,’ he ordered. ‘And tell Ma she’s to do all of ’milking now and you’re not to carry any buckets o’ feed or milk pails until after you’re delive
red.’
Harriet walked slowly back to the house. It’s what I’ve allus thought: I’m just one of ’farm animals, a ewe or a heifer or a mare. Just like ’other animals, I’ve to be tekken care of until such time as a lamb or a calf or a colt is delivered, and in my case a male child.
Her instincts proved to be in good working order, for it was only a few days after asking Noah to stay at home and not go out at night that she began in labour. It was early morning and she continued with tasks about the house; in the afternoon she asked Mrs Tuke if she had some old sheets that she could put on her bed. Ellen gave her a swift glance but didn’t comment, and rummaged in a wooden trunk until she found a pair. She also fetched a bar of soap, a large earthenware bowl and a towel and took them upstairs to Harriet’s room.
‘I’ll keep ’kettle on ’boil,’ she muttered. ‘Do you want him to fetch Mary?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harriet said hesitantly. ‘Yes – I think so. Before it gets dark. I’ll give him a shout.’
She opened the back door and found Mr Tuke looking about him, whistling tunelessly.
‘Mr Tuke,’ she said. ‘Do you know where Noah is?’
He turned and looked her up and down. ‘Yeh. He’s in ’barn. What ’you want him for?’
‘I need him to fetch Mary,’ she said.
‘Is it your time?’ He continued to scrutinize her.
‘Yes.’
He grinned and she noticed he had lost another tooth. ‘I’m going to be a granfer then?’
Harriet gave a low laugh. At least he seemed to be pleased, unlike his wife. ‘Yes, I hope so. So can you fetch him, please? Ask him to go now.’
He nodded and ambled across the yard, and she called after him, ‘And tell him to hurry!’ He quickened his step and broke into a trot and she mused that she had never seen him so agile.
She didn’t think it was urgent, but how could she know? She wasn’t in a great deal of pain: an ache in her lower back, a heaviness in her limbs, a feeling of breathlessness and she was sweating slightly, but apart from that she felt calm and as ready as she could be to face the challenge of bringing a new being into the world. And the greatest feeling of all was happiness, which was a sensation that had been missing from her life for quite some time.
Her thoughts drifted to Fletcher. She was pleased that he wasn’t here when she was giving birth to Noah’s child. He might have turned against her. His feelings for her might have changed if he’d seen her with his brother’s child; might still change when he heard about the birth, if he ever did. And he wouldn’t ever know that she cared for him more now that he was gone from her life than she had in the short time they had lived in the same house.
She stifled a sob as she went back indoors, but Ellen heard it. ‘Are you all right? Do you want a drink? Tea? Cool water?’
‘I’d love a drink, please. Water will do – if it’s fresh,’ she added, smiling a little, and Ellen gave her a nod as if she too recalled that first meeting.
Harriet took the cup of water that Ellen had poured from the kettle. It was lukewarm and comforting. ‘I think – I’ll go up,’ she murmured. ‘Will you listen out for Noah going, please? I asked Mr Tuke to tell him.’
Then they both heard the rattle of the cart as it went out of the yard, and Ellen commented, ‘He won’t tek long. It’s not that far an’ Mary will be ready. She’s very reliable.’
She doesn’t say how she knows that, Harriet mused. Not once has she mentioned that Mary attended her when she gave birth to Fletcher, nor how she cried at his birth. I won’t cry, she thought as she went up to her room. Fletcher’s room. Because I’m happy to be having a child. I wonder why Ellen wept as copiously as Mary said she did?
She undressed and slept in her shift for a little while, and woke up feeling decidedly uncomfortable. She got out of bed and reached for the chamber pot just in time. Her waters had broken. She rinsed her hands and face in the washbowl and thought that maybe it wouldn’t be long now. Walking up and down the small room and occasionally looking out of the window, she saw that the sun had almost set and the surface of the estuary, reflecting the dark sky, looked like a sheet of shining metal.
Someone knocked on her door and she opened it cautiously. It was Mary, her face red as if she had been standing over the washtub. ‘My word,’ she panted. ‘That husband o’ yourn was in a hurry to get me here. I told him that first bairns tek their time, but he wasn’t having it, and bundled me into ’cart afore I could get my breath. Just hope it’s a lad you’re carrying, cos that’s what he’s expecting.’
‘I hope so too,’ Harriet said. ‘I’d be happy with a girl, but …’
‘Aye, that’s men for you,’ Mary agreed. ‘They allus want a son and heir, even if there’s nowt for them to inherit.’
‘I’ve got – whoo.’ Harriet winced. ‘A bit o’ pain. Whoo.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘Yes, definitely summat’s happening, Mary. Hah!’
‘Get on to ’bed,’ Mary ordered, shoving a pillow under Harriet’s back, ‘and let’s see what’s going on. Oh, my word, this little mite’s in a hurry! Come on then, m’darlin’, one big push and – Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Here ’babby comes and that’s as quick as I’ve ever known! And a boy just as ordered. Oh,’ she said again, ‘and he’s beautiful, and with – lovely black curly hair.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
That he was beautiful there was no doubt whatsoever. Harriet took him from Mary and gazed in awe. He’d yelled as Mary had gently tipped him upside down and patted his bottom, then carefully wiped his eyes and nose and cut the cord that bound them.
‘Hello,’ Harriet whispered into his sweet little ear. ‘How lovely, how handsome you are. Where did you get hair like that? Not from me, that’s for certain.’
‘He’s a bit jaundiced, I think,’ Mary said over her shoulder as she washed her hands in the bowl. ‘You’ll notice his skin colour’ll change in a day or two, after you’ve fed him.’
Harriet smiled down at her new son. I don’t think it will, she thought. I think your grandfather might have something to answer for and I don’t know what your father will say. But I don’t care. She was suffused with love as she kissed his cheek, and knew that she would love him for ever.
‘Thank you, Mary,’ she said. ‘I’m so grateful that you were here. Is it always so quick?’
‘No. Think yourself lucky,’ Mary said as she dried her hands. ‘I’ve known a labour go on for days.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you want me to tell your husband to come up and see his son?’
Better get it over with, Harriet thought. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘But you’ll have a cup of tea afore Noah teks you home?’
‘Aye, I will. And in a day or two I’ll walk over to see how you’re coping,’ Mary said. ‘No need for your husband to collect me unless there are any difficulties, and I don’t think there will be.’
Harriet tucked the babe into the crook of her arm and waited for Noah to come up. She greeted him with a smile. ‘Here he is,’ she said. ‘The son you asked for. Isn’t he handsome?’
Noah sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the child and then at her. ‘Do all bairns have hair as dark as that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harriet admitted. ‘I’ve never seen a newborn afore. I think some are born without hair, or very fair. You and I are both dark-haired; but his is very curly, isn’t it? Not a bit like ours.’
Noah frowned, and said bluntly, ‘If I hadn’t known you were a virgin I’d have said you’d been wi’ a foreigner. I’ve seen men on Goole dockside wi’ hair like that, so where’s it come from?’
Harriet shook her head and breathed an inward sigh of relief that he hadn’t lost his temper, nor had he noticed that the first time he’d forced himself upon her she wasn’t a virgin. Neither had he accused her of infidelity, or mentioned the fact that she hadn’t conceived straight away, for she was certain that if she had he wouldn’t have believed it was his child.
‘Mebbe from somewhere in our background?’ she suggested. �
��Grandparents, or great-grandparents? I don’t know who mine were.’ She carefully deflected any fault from either of them.
‘Folks’ll talk, and they’ll blame you. You realize that, don’t you?’ He glowered. ‘They’ll say he’s not mine.’
‘But we know that he is, don’t we?’ she said softly. ‘How could he possibly belong to anyone else?’
He was floundering. He needed someone to take the blame, someone close at hand, and there was no one.
‘Ma’s fairish,’ he grunted, ‘but Da was dark-haired afore he went white.’
‘As you are. You’re like him, more than your—’ She broke off. ‘You definitely favour him in every way.’
‘Aye.’ He looked down at the child. ‘What name’ll you give him?’
My choice then. ‘I thought Daniel Miles,’ she said.
He scowled. ‘Why burden him wi’ two names? One’s enough.’
‘Onny that Miles was my family name, and there won’t be anybody else to carry it on.’ She thought of her brother and doubted that she’d ever see him again.
‘No.’ He stood up. ‘Daniel’s enough. It’s a good name. You can call ’next one Miles.’
‘All right.’ She smiled and conceded that it was half a battle won, and that she might not have thought of giving her surname to the child if it hadn’t been for Ellen’s giving Fletcher her own maiden name.
He left then, saying he’d take Mary home, and she asked him to ask his mother if she’d like to come up and see the baby, but a few minutes later she heard the heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs and knew it wasn’t Ellen, but Mr Tuke.
She covered her shoulders with a shawl and pulled the sheet up high, leaving the baby’s head uncovered. She called for him to come in when he knocked, and he put his head round the door.
He lifted his eyes to stare at her and muttered, ‘Mrs Tuke says she’ll be up in a minute. She’s mekking you a drink. Noah said for me to come up.’
‘Would you like to see ’babby?’ Harriet asked him. ‘I’m not superstitious about anybody seeing him.’