He thumped his fist on the table, rattling the cutlery on the plates. ‘There you go again! You’re reducing yourself to nowt more than a feeding trough, a milking parlour. You’re a human being, Erin, you’ve got a life to live outside your baby. Now, I’m telling you, tomorrow morn after you’ve fed her you can rig up some sort o’ sling that I can wear on me back an’ I’ll take her wi’ me when I go fetch cows in for milking. Wrapped up warm she’ll come to no harm. If nowt else it’ll give you a couple of hours’ respite from her bawlin’. Give you chance to get your feet up.’ She had to smile then. ‘Get my feet up? I don’t know what you think I get up to while you’re out all day but it certainly isn’t getting my feet up. Look at this place. It hasn’t had a good bottoming since before I had Belle. There’s the baking to do, the hens an’ geese to feed, the washing, the butter, the cheese…’
‘Erin Teale, here I am giving you the opportunity to put some colour back into those washed-out cheeks o’ yours an’ all you can do is look for work.’
‘It doesn’t take much looking for – besides, I can’t just do nothing.’
‘Whyever not? Where’s t’rule that says a woman must slave from morn till night? I’ll help you wi’ the butter later.’
‘But what will people think if someone should pop in an’ see me sat down amid all this mess?’
‘An’ what would your mam an’ dad think if they called to find you looking like summat outta the cemetery?’ asked her husband. ‘I’m not having nobody call me a slavedriver. Anyroad, what’s it got to do with anyone else? Nosey buggers. It’s what I think that counts an’ I’m not having my wife looking like a worn-out frazzle. Leave all this an’ get some rest.’
‘Oh, and I’d like to hear what you’d have to say when you came in and found no bread on the table,’ retorted Erin playfully, watching Sam collect the plates. ‘And just what d’ye think you’re doing with those?’
He poured some water from the singing kettle into a bucket and dropped in the plates. ‘I’m washing them, that’s what I’m doing.’
‘You most certainly are not!’ She leapt from her seat and tried to push him aside. ‘I’ve still got sufficient energy to do that, thank ye very much. The very idea!’
But Sam grabbed her, picked her up bodily and transported her to the fireside chair. ‘If you so much as move a muscle you’re for it.’
‘Oh, Sam, what will Dobby say if he catches you doing woman’s work?’
‘He can say what he likes. I’m not above dunking Ralph Dobbins in the hoss trough if I get any truck from him. God, anyone’d think a drop o’ dishwater was going to turn me into some nancy-boy.’ A twinkle came to his eye. ‘Though the amount I’ve been getting since Belle arrived I might have to resort to that.’ With dripping hands he came to lean on the arms of her chair, addressing himself to her blushing face. ‘Nay, I’m only joking, lass – but can’t you see I’m worried about you, Erin? Between Belle an’ the housework you’re just wearing yourself away. I don’t want to sound cruel, but you’re a far cry from the girl I married.’ He tugged at a sprig of lank hair. ‘What the hell’s this? I’ve tied up stooks of straw with better stuff. You used to have such lovely hair, Erin, Here, look.’ He reached for a mirror from among the willow-patterned plates on the dresser and held it to her face. ‘Just take a look at yourself an’ then tell me you’re fit to do the housework.’
Erin stared at the mawkish reflection and put a hand to her cheek, genuinely shocked. There had simply been no time lately to look in a mirror. ‘Oh, Sam, no wonder you’re cross with me. I didn’t realise what a state I looked.’
‘There’s nothing you see in there that a decent night’s rest an’ a bit o’ cossetting won’t put right.’ Taking away the mirror he bent to kiss her. ‘That’s why you’re gonna do as I say an’ sit there while I wash these. Then you’re gonna drink the cocoa I’m off to make for us. Then you’re off to come wi’ me up to our bed an’ act like a good wife should.’
‘That’s all you ever think about.’ But it was said with a smile.
‘Aye well, I reckon I’ve done enough thinking for the time being.’ He went to start on the pans. ‘Tonight I’d like some action, if you please.’
Erin watched him work his way through the dirty crocks. Some still had gravy trickles on them when he had done but she said nothing. Her silence caused him to turn and look at her. ‘I promise I’ll be careful. T’last thing I want right now is another bairn.’
She smiled and lowered her lashes in affirmation.
Later, they sat side by side drinking the cocoa that Sam had made for them, staring into the glowing logs, each with different thoughts. Sam opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind. Erin noticed the motion.
‘What were ye going to say?’
He closed the book that rested on his lap – Coates’ Herd Book – and moved his face to watch her as she raised the cup to her lips. It was difficult to phrase. ‘You… oh, it’s nowt.’
‘No, go on,’ said his wife.
A long deliberation, then, ‘You do still feel the same about me, don’t you, Erin?’
Immediately she put the cup on the hearth and gave him her full attention. ‘Why, of course I do! What a question.’
‘Is it? What with you not having much time for me lately… well, a bloke gets to wondering.’ He took a swift sip from his cup to mask his anxiety.
‘Aw, Sam! Here, put that down.’ She took the cup from him, also the book, placing both on the hearth, then leaned over to put her arms round him. ‘If I’d known you were entertaining such mad fancies… pfff! Of course I feel the same way about you. I always will. ’Tis just that I never seem to get the time to show it these days, what with the baby. I know it must seem like I’m concentrating all my love on her, but it’s not so. I love you as much as ever, Sam – more. But I can’t help the way I feel about Belle. God knows, if a mother can’t lavish attention on her there’s no one else will.’
‘You’re still feeling guilty, aren’t you?’ Sam smoothed back the wisps of greasy hair from her pale face.
After a pause she nodded. ‘I’ve tried not to, but ’tis no use. If only I could talk to somebody who was in the same position as me… but everyone I seem to look at has a healthy child.’
‘Aye well, it’s no use my going over old ground. What you need is someone who’s not involved to convince you. What about Father Kelly? Next time we go to Mass you could have a chat with him. If anybody can put your mind at ease it’s him.’
‘Yes, I must make an effort… I’ve never been to Confession in ages.’ There was no Roman Catholic church nearer than York, but this wasn’t what had stopped her going to Confession – she had in fact attended church several times since Belle’s birth, but her feet always stopped short of the confessional. She was afraid to admit her thoughts.
‘Erin, I said a chat. There’s no need for purging, just a private little talk with the Father.’
‘No, I’d feel better if I got it off my chest the proper way.’
Sam sighed. His wife still saw Belle’s disablement as some sin on her part. ‘As you like. We’ll go on Sunday.’ He reached down for his cup, drained it and stood to bank the fire up for the night. ‘Well, my lady, ist thou coming to my bed?’
She smiled and, standing, linked her arm with his, pressing her face to his shoulder. Like this they climbed the creaking oak staircase, Sam bearing a candle aloft to light their way. Taking her nightgown from beneath the pillow she stole a peep into the silent cot before undressing. Sam sat on the bed to pull his stockings off, privately cursing the groaning bedstead. Stripping off the rest of his clothes he inserted himself gingerly between the cold sheets to watch his wife brush her hair – probably for the first time that day. ‘Hurry up, lass,’ he whispered eagerly.
Erin put the brush down, padded to the bed and slipped in beside him. Whence, he enclosed her in an enthusiastic hug, burying his face in the hollow of her neck, pressing fevered lips to her moist skin. She accepted hi
s overtures willingly, if not with mutual passion, stroking his hair and clasping him affectionately. His calloused hands found the hem of her nightgown and tugged at it until the feel of linen against his body was replaced by that of warm flesh. His lips found her breast. There was the familiar hardness pressed between their two bodies, the urgency, ‘Oh, Erin, I do love you,’ … and then came the snuffling from the cot – a truculent whine which, however hard Sam tried to ignore it, soon rose to a full-blooded yell.
Erin immediately stiffened and Sam’s hands paused in their frenzied caress. The hardness shrivelled to nothing. With a great sigh, inaudible above the child’s wail, he rolled off her and grasped the iron bedrails above his head in frustration. ‘Damn!’
Erin was already up and tucking her hands into the crib to lift the tearful infant. ‘I’ll take her down and feed her by the fire so’s she won’t disturb you,’ she told her husband. ‘Go to sleep if you’re tired.’ With this unpromising suggestion she was gone. Only the soft musk of her body remained on the sheets to drive him almost senseless.
And not one word of apology had she spoken, thought Sam emptily, not one crumb of regret; leaping up and seeing to the babe, belying all she had said that evening about loving him the same as ever. It was as if she had been waiting for the child’s cry to save her from some repugnant act. He slammed his fist against the mattress and flung himself over onto his side. He loved Belle – she was his child, part of him – but so help him, he was not going to let her ruin all their lives.
* * *
Erin’s anxious face bobbed at his shoulder as he made his way up the garden path, Belle strapped securely to his back. ‘Ye promise ye’ll have her back on time, love?’
‘Never fear, I’ll have her back half an hour before breakfast. That’ll give you time to feed her then sit down at the table wi’ me.’ One way or the other he was going to fettle this child. ‘An’ I’ll bet you five bob she comes back a different person. We’ll not hear a peep out of her all morning.’
‘You’re not thinking to let her cry an’ cry?’
‘No, I shan’t let her cry herself daft – but I’ll not be at her every whim neither. Now, get back into that house and sit your body down.’
Opening the gate she saw him through it. ‘I’ll sit down later. I want to wash my hair and have a bath.’
‘Lord a’mercy! A bath in t’middle o’ the week. Whatever next?’ He kissed her and marched off down the lane. Erin stood on tiptoe watching him until he disappeared then, feeling at a loose end, wheeled to survey the lie of the garden.
The gate by which she paused opened onto a path which veered away from the tree-shaded road and sloped down to meet the small stone cottage, built a century ago. Its length was bordered, at differing seasons, by the great bobbing heads of crimson paeonies, violent swathes of Sweet William, foxgloves, larkspur, hollyhock. The upper leaded lights of the cottage were in danger of being obscured by the creeping fingers of wisteria that had invaded the front wall over the years. Beneath the lower windows were beds of lavender whose fragrance crept over the sill to perfume every room. Here and there, terracotta urns spilled over with herbs… as if you’ve time to stand looking, Erin told herself and, hugging her arms about her body, ran down the slope and into the cottage.
Sam strode down the lane that led to the field where he kept his herd, the dog at his heels. Glancing down, he smiled at her as she snapped at the pup that had been linked to her with a piece of rope, in order for it to learn its trade – only a good idea if the parent had no faults. ‘That’s right, Nip, you keep that lad o’ yourn in line an’ we’ll have him bringing t’cows in on his own in no time. He’ll soon learn t’game if you keep givin’ him plenty o’ that – like this’n o’ mine. We can’t have the young’ns running the show, can we? Hold on.’ He stopped and bent to extricate the yapping pup’s leg which had become entangled with the rope. ‘By, he makes good company for my lass. Shut your whining an’ get on wi’ yer.’ He strode on.
It was very early. The hedgerows still glistened and the air was heavy with that silent quality that only occurs at this hour. It was mornings such as this that lightened one’s mood and made the troubles of the previous night seem less significant. He’d been a bit of a dog to his wife over the babe. He decided to pick her some flowers on his way home to make up for his badness.
When he reached the field Dobby was already waiting for him, perched astride a stile and devouring a crust of bread. Seeing Sam he jumped down, pushed the last of the crust into his smiling mouth and dusted off his hands, tugging his curly forelock as he came up to the other man. ‘Mornin’, Maister Teale, tha’s late. These ladies’ve been complainin’ summat awful.’ He retraced his steps and prodded the herd of cows away from the gate in order to open it.
‘Don’t talk to me about moaning women,’ grumbled Sam goodnaturedly. ‘I’ve enough o’ that at home.’
The young man, solid of build and friendly of face, laughed and slapped Sam on the back, then jumped back in alarm as a squawk pierced the quietude. ‘Jesus save us! What the ’ell you got in your sack, Mr Teale?’
Sam rolled his eyes as Belle shrieked her annoyance at the rude awakening. ‘That there, Dobby, is what you might call a noise-box. A very noisy noise-box.’ He bobbed up and down, shushing the infant.
Dobby cocked a worried face at the other man’s odd stance. ‘Has summat happened to Mrs Teale?’ he asked concernedly, having great liking for Erin. She always gave him sup when he visited her kitchen. It had not passed Dobby’s notice that she hadn’t looked too well lately. He would be most upset if she were seriously ill.
‘Why do you ask that?’ Sam continued to jig up and down.
‘Well… you bringing the babby out, like. I thought summat must be up wi’ the missus.’
‘There’s nowt wrong wi’ my wife, thank you, Dobby,’ replied Sam firmly. ‘Now let’s be having that gate open. We’re behind enough already as it is.’
Dobby grinned as he unlatched the gate and hitched a ride on the lower bar as it swung open. Nip dived through, dragging her yapping offspring. She dashed around the rear of the herd, barking orders, taking an occasional hold on a dawdler’s heel. Sam watched the cows jostle their way through, then followed the swaying red and white rumps back along the lane.
‘What’re you grinning at, Ralph Dobbins?’ he challenged the younger man without looking at him, though his severity did not ring true.
Dobby knew this easygoing chap too well. He shrugged and brought his stick down on a straggler. ‘Oh, nowt, nowt, Mr Teale.’ He started to whistle nonchalantly.
Belle had stopped crying now. She eyed him from the warm cocoon on her father’s back.
‘Come on, if you’ve got summat to say spit it out,’ ordered Sam. ‘I’m not puttin’ up wi’ sly looks all morning.’
‘Well…’ Dobby forced back a laugh. ‘I’m just a bit worried about that growth you’re developing on your back, Maister.’ He could hold back his amusement no longer and let loose a guffaw.
‘I can’t see what’s so funny about a man bringin’ his child to work with him,’ replied Sam evenly. ‘If she were a few years older an’ a lad I doubt the sight’d spur your hilarity.’
‘Aye – but a babby, Maister!’ laughed Dobby. ‘I reckon you’ll get some pretty queer looks when we go past the Johnsons’ place.’
‘Johnson couldn’t look owt but queer if he tried,’ answered Sam, but shrank as the herd neared the said residence and hoped Johnson would still be in bed. The man was not a favourite of Sam’s who had no time for a person that spent more money on drink than food for his family. Though Sam had little benevolence for Mrs Johnson, either. She was a slattern who left her children to fend for themselves and if truth be known, was as big a drunkard as her spouse if she could filch a florin from the insensible Johnson’s breeches.
His heart sank as Belle set up her caterwauling just as they drew level with the Johnsons’ house. The man was sat on his front step, idly sharpenin
g a knife. Slitting his eyes against the sun he watched the lowing herd pass, then his eyes fell on Sam with the bellowing infant on his back, and his unshaven jaw twisted into a grin. Coming out of his squat he stepped up to the gate and leant on it to watch the procession.
‘Somebody got out o’ the wrong side o’ bed an’ put her husband’s clothes on by mistake. Momin’, Mrs Teale!’ He uttered a coeliac laugh and beckoned his wife. ‘Ey, Sadie, away an’ look at this.’
Mrs Johnson stepped into the fresh morning, wiping her hands on a grubby towel. Catching sight of Sam before he passed she cackled appreciatively and, along with her spouse, began to hurl jokes by the score. Their ill-tended brood wandered out into the lane to see what had caused the merriment. Sam ignored them all and carried on past, but the Johnsons, with nothing better to do, came beyond their boundary and tagged onto the procession.
‘Eh! I don’t think you heard me. I said, good mornin’, Mrs Teale.’
‘Hop it, Johnson,’ said Dobby, glancing at Sam’s determined face. The lack of title from the younger man showed that he had no respect for Johnson, either.
‘Ah, you’re her bodyguard, are yer?’ smirked Johnson, keeping step with them while his wife pirouetted alongside Sam. ‘What’s she doin’ for you, then?’
Sam stopped dead, causing Mrs Johnson to bump into him. ‘Just leave it, will you, an’ allow us that choose to work to get on with it.’
Johnson threw up his hands and observed amazedly to his wife, ‘Goodness gracious! It isn’t Mrs Teale at all. Well, well, well. I allus knew he were a bit of an odd sort, that Sam Teale, but I didn’t think he had the equipment to be a wet nurse.’ He reached out to feel Sam’s chest. ‘Nay, I don’t know how I could’ve mistaken him for his missus. Fine pair she’s got.’
Sam knocked the hand away. ‘It’s a good job for you I have more respect for a woman than you have, Johnson. You can thank your wife’s presence that you’re not flat on your back.’ Pivoting, he strode to rejoin Dobby who had kept up with the herd.
Erin’s Child Page 6