Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  Erin happened to turn as he was about to clean his fingers with Belle’s tongue. ‘God love us, are ye trying to bring a curse on this house?’ She cast down the cloth she had just that minute folded. ‘D’ye not know what day it was yesterday?’

  ‘Thursday,’ replied Freddie, licking his own fingers.

  ‘It was Michaelmas Day!’ came the stern retort. ‘The very day Lucifer fell out of Heaven an’ landed on a bramble bush. Has your mother never told ye not to eat brambles after Michaelmas Day?’

  Freddie shook his head, teeth clamped on the crust.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose she would, the Godless creature,’ muttered Erin, then flared again as Belle, who was trying to haul herself up Freddie’s leg to reach the forbidden brambles, was shoved roughly away by that same knee and fell bawling to the rug. She swooped forth and took Freddie by the ear. ‘If I catch you doing anything like that again, young man, I’ll skin ye alive. You’re not to push the baby that way. Go on now, away home with ye, the lotta yese. Didn’t ye get what ye came for?’ She shoved them towards the door as Sam came down the stairs.

  ‘Did somebody shove her before?’ asked Freddie. ‘Is that why she’s crooked?’

  ‘No, it’s not. She was born that way.’ Erin tried to push the children out.

  ‘He knows that very well,’ said Vicky, her expression chafing. ‘He’s heard me mam talking about it often enough.’

  ‘Oh, an’ what has your mother been saying?’ demanded Erin, poised to cast them out.

  ‘She says if that babby’d been a kitten it woulda been drowned,’ provided seven-year-old Horace.

  With an exclamation of disgust Erin ejected them from the house and slammed the door. ‘I don’t know why I put myself out, I really don’t,’ she stormed at Sam. ‘There’s me keeping her children from starving while she sits in the pub making horrible remarks like that. I’ve a good mind to stop them coming in.’

  ‘Now you know you wouldn’t get any satisfaction by turning hungry bairns away from our door.’ Her husband calmly adjusted his starched collar. ‘An’ you won’t alter people like Mrs Johnson by pulling your hair out.’

  ‘I like that! You’ll be sat there at Mam an’ Dad’s fuming over what Grandma has to say about Belle – never hear the last of it, I won’t, till it’s time for our next visit – but when I have anything to say about the Johnsons…’

  ‘Oh shurrup wittering, woman.’ He grabbed her teasingly and swung her off her feet. ‘An’ let’s be off.’

  ‘Oh, all eager now, are we?’ She pushed against his chest.

  ‘The sooner we’re there the sooner we get it over with.’

  ‘What a way of looking at a visit to my parents,’ declared Erin with a laugh.

  ‘It amazes me how they put up with her, too,’ said Sam, putting his wife down. ‘I often wonder if she goes on about Belle after we’ve gone home, do you?’

  ‘I do not. I’ve enough catty remarks to contend with without worrying about hypothetical ones. What I do wonder is are we ever going to get there? Go get that pony round or I’ll sit ye next to Grandma for the rest of the afternoon.’ She clicked her tongue at her own remark as she picked up Belle and followed him out. ‘We shouldn’t talk about an old lady so. Sure, ye never know, she might be a little sweeter this week. Well, she might!’ she exclaimed at Sam who had given her a doubting look.

  Unfortunately, no sooner had they arrived than it began. A brief escape on Friday evening when Erin’s parents took her and Sam to the theatre was punished by an hour-long diatribe about the inclemencies of staying out late when they came home for supper. Most of Saturday morning was taken up with Hannah’s complaint that no one had thought to ask if she would care to go to the theatre. When invited to come shopping for clothes with Thomasin and Erin in the afternoon she had snapped, ‘On these legs?’ and had stayed at home to make life as miserable as possible for Sam and Pat.

  Now, at Sunday tea with just an hour or two left of what should have been an enjoyable break from work but was more like hard labour, Sam rolled his eyes over his teacup as his wife’s grandmother harped on.

  ‘I see the child has made little improvement since your last visit, Erin.’ Hannah raised her teacup with trembling fingers. ‘Has she made no attempt to speak at all?’ The old lady, her memory failing, had asked this at least three times during their stay.

  Bearing with her, Erin shook her head and watched Belle sitting on the carpet while Rosanna ran shrieking round and round the chairs. The comparison carved a hollow in her stomach.

  ‘It certainly looks as if my prophecy at her birth was well-founded,’ sighed the old lady. ‘The child is an idiot.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can bring yourself to say such a heartless thing about your own great-grandchild, Hannah,’ said Patrick. ‘Just look at the expression in those bright little eyes. That’s not the face of an imbecile. Anyway, I’m sure we’ve heard enough debate on her shortcomings for one day.’ He, too, was sick of the repetitive slander visited on the child by his mother-in-law.

  ‘Please! Will somebody deter that child from running amok?’ cried Hannah.

  ‘She’s only excited because her dad and Josie are coming home tonight,’ said Thomasin. Sonny had been home from Paris for well over a year now but his painting commitments had delayed the couple’s marriage plans. Recently, he had been granted an exhibition at the Royal Academy – a great honour which made them all very proud.

  This weekend, he had taken Josie down to London to share in his glory. They would be returning tonight.

  ‘I don’t care! Her manners are atrocious. It’s time someone took her in hand.’ Collecting her decorum, Hannah went on, ‘I’m sure I didn’t wish to cause Erin and Samuel further distress than they already bear, Patrick, but it seems to me that I am the only person in this room who is not afraid to voice the patently obvious. Isabelle makes no effort to talk or even walk. Not a sign. She just sits there, looking. Isabelle! Isabelle, come to Grandmama. See? Not a glimmer.’

  ‘Perhaps it’d help if you used her proper name,’ muttered Sam.

  ‘What’s that, Samuel?’

  ‘I said she’ll do both in her own good time, Grandmother.’ Sam spoke impatiently. ‘If people would only give her a chance.’

  ‘Sometimes I’m rather glad she can’t walk,’ confided Erin distantly. ‘I have a hard enough time keeping track of her as it is. She’s into everything.’

  Sam confirmed this. ‘Yes, if you want proof of her intelligence, Grandmother, you only have to come and see the way she tackles the cupboards. She can worm her way into anything.’

  ‘I never know what she’s likely to get into next,’ added Erin.

  ‘You must forbid it,’ announced Hannah to Sam. ‘You mustn’t allow her to tax your wife’s health. Erin is looking decidedly peaky.’

  ‘Oh? I was just about to comment on how much better she’s looking,’ interceded Thomasin, holding out her hand. ‘More tea, Mother?’

  ‘Well, I claim that her life of stagnation in the country is beginning to reflect in her looks,’ insisted the old woman. ‘It is ridiculous to permit the child to add to her drudgery. I can’t think why she doesn’t employ a maid. Besides which, children should be taught their place in life – and that applies to another ill-behaved brat I could mention.’ She glared as Rosanna came rather too close to her painful legs. ‘Do take care, child! Remember my rheumatics.’

  Rosanna, almost six now, continued to dance, skirts twirling, hair wrapped around her pert face.

  ‘Such a naughty child,’ opined Hannah. ‘At least, Erin, you can be grateful you will never have to put up with this. As for Isabelle’s expeditions to the cupboard, I suggest you secure her in a chair where you can keep an eye on her.’

  ‘But she has to explore, Grandmother,’ argued Sam. ‘How else is she to gain knowledge?’

  ‘That’s as ridiculous a statement as I’ve heard,’ replied Hannah. ‘That child has not the tiniest capacity to learn. She has proved tha
t by her unresponsiveness. Her reasons for rifling the cupboards are of no more significance than that she is hungry. You must try giving her more to eat to curb her adventurous spirit.’

  ‘But the very fact that she goes to the cupboard when she’s hungry displays her intelligence!’ Sam’s voice was rising. Erin wished Grandmother would shut up. ‘She knows that she’ll find food there.’

  ‘Just as a dog knows he’ll find crumbs under the table,’ snapped Hannah. ‘It is nothing more than habit which drives her.’ The lined face softened. ‘Samuel, by allowing your daughter to go unrestrained you are placing a greater burden on your wife, not to mention the danger to the child herself. She could crawl into the fire or anywhere. One envisages a hundred possible areas of harm.’ She shivered.

  ‘There’s danger everywhere if you came to view life that way,’ contradicted Sam. ‘Normal children have to face it some time or other. Their mothers can’t protect them forever. Why should it be different for Belle?’

  ‘Do I have to repeat the obvious, Samuel?’ retorted Hannah, then sighed with despair. ‘Samuel, Erin dear, is it not time you faced up to the fact that you’re never going to be able to make anything of Isabelle? Don’t imagine that I don’t admire your perseverance but instead of directing all your energies on her why do you not have another child? It has, after all, been two years. It would take your mind off things.’

  ‘I don’t want my mind taken off Belle, thank you, Grandmother,’ replied Erin. ‘I love her, whatever her limitations. I can’t say we wouldn’t like to add to our family,’ she glanced at Sam, ‘but sometimes things don’t happen the way ye plan.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure we don’t want to go into too much detail with all these little ears wagging,’ murmured Hannah. ‘It would be most unseemly. But have you seen a doctor? You’re not getting any younger.’

  ‘There’s nothing the matter with me, Grandmother. When God wills that we should have another child I dare say He’ll send us one.’ She passed her cup to Thomasin for refilling.

  ‘Then let us hope He is more discerning this time, dear,’ said Hannah and turned to Rosanna who was sniffing noisily. ‘Go and blow your nose properly, child.’

  ‘But my nose doesn’t need blowing, Grandmama,’ answered Rosanna, still sniffing. She said it politely, calling the woman Grandmama and not Grandma which would have earned a rebuke – though she often used the latter in private.

  ‘Rosie, be a good girl and come sit by me like your brother,’ commanded Thomasin who appeared to be having trouble with her new Langtry bustle. It was meant to fold up when one sat, but a rib had come astray and was threatening to pierce her bottom.

  Rosanna obeyed, seating herself primly on a footstool, and was quietly observant for a moment before announcing in a loud whisper, ‘I think Grandmama needs to go to the nessy, Nan.’

  ‘Thomasin, I demand that you instil some manners into that child!’ Hannah’s arms shot out for assistance from the chair and with Pat and Sam’s compliance she limped stiffly from the room, trying to hang onto her shattered authority.

  There was clandestine laughter which Rosanna noted but could not comprehend; weren’t they quick to tell her when she needed to go?

  ‘Well, that’s the last we’ll hear of Mother for today.’ Thomasin wheeled on Patrick in a flash, adding, ‘Did I hear you say thank God?’

  ‘Sure I never said a word,’ chuckled her husband and reaching for Rosanna swung her onto his lap. ‘Oh, Rosie, ye do have a knack of saying just what’s needed. ’S a pity it didn’t come a wee bit sooner.’ She didn’t understand him, but snuggled into his tobacco-scented embrace, enjoying the feel of his scratchy chin on her cheek. Patrick released her and nodded at Nick, who now had his face buried in a book. ‘Now why do we never see you like that, Rosanna?’

  She screwed up her nose. ‘Boring old Nick, he’s always reading.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ murmured her brother, possessing the cuteness that enabled him not to miss anything in the conversation whilst seemingly immersed in something else.

  ‘Yes, you are. You never want to play with me.’ She looked down as Belle started to complain at the lack of attention. ‘Will she play with me when she’s bigger?’

  ‘Well, she’s not as strong as you,’ explained Patrick. ‘She might get hurt in your rough an’ tumble.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she walk?’

  ‘Because one of her legs is shorter than the other an’ if she stood up she’d keep tipping over,’ he answered honestly.

  Rosanna digested this, then said thoughtfully, ‘I once saw a man with one little shoe and one big shoe. Was that ’cause he had one leg shorter than the other?’ Patrick nodded. ‘Then we could buy her some of those shoes, couldn’t we?’

  ‘Ye’re right, we could. She’s a bit young yet, but next year when she’s a bit stronger we could have a pair o’ special little boots made to help her to walk.’

  Sam praised the child’s perception. ‘I must be getting addled in me old age. It takes a six-year-old to suggest the obvious. Belle’s hardly going to attempt to walk if she keeps cockling over, is she?’

  * * *

  This thought cheered him as he drove his wife and child home on that still-light evening. Added to the jollity over Rosie’s faux pas, it made the journey happier than it had been on many previous occasions.

  ‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ quoted Sam, leaning on his knees and watching the horse’s round hindquarters roll slowly towards home. ‘It never even entered my head about shoes. By, that Rosanna, she’s wick all right. Always good for a laugh.’ He chuckled for emphasis. ‘I can still see your grandmother’s face. Oh, but what a load o’ tripe she does spout.’

  Erin laughed with him, then said more seriously, ‘’Tis not all rubbish though. It would be nice for us to have another child. I’m getting a bit concerned about that.’ Sam brushed this off. ‘Nay, what’s to worry about? It’s as you said yourself: God’ll send us one when He’s ready. Your hands are full enough at the moment, don’t be wishin’ any more on yersen. Besides,’ he shuffled closer to her, ‘I’m enjoying my bit of unrestricted lovin’.’

  She laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Men, you’re all alike.’

  He arched his brows. ‘Oh aye, an’ how would you be knowin’? I hope that Ralph Dobbins hasn’t been sniffing round while I’m out tending me cows.’

  She laughed and wrapped her free arm around his back. ‘He’d be within his rights if he did. Sure, he pays me more attention than you ever do. Didn’t he bring me a fine bunch o’ flowers on Friday morning?’

  ‘Oh, he did, did he? I can see I shall have to have words wi’ Mr Dobbins.’ He steered the horse into the final stretch of lane, then became alert, spotting a figure further ahead. ‘Why, I’ll go to Pudsey if it isn’t the very bloke I want to see. Oy!’ he shouted to the youth sitting at the roadside. ‘I know I said I’d pay thee when I got back but I’d be grateful if you’d let me get in me gate afore I get me hand down. By God, there’s not much chance o’ me escaping, is there?’ This to Erin. ‘I hope you haven’t been slackin’ here all day, Ralph Dobbins. I don’t want to get home an’ find that scabby beast that Robson has the neck to call a bull making a nuisance of himself wi’ my young ladies.’ This was said jokingly; had Sam thought the young man incapable of looking after his prize cattle he would never have entrusted them to him for three seconds, let alone three days.

  Dobby had, on hearing the initial shout, scrambled to his feet and now came to meet the cart as Sam hauled in the reins. His face was unusually serious.

  ‘What’s up, lad? I know I’m a few minutes later than normal but you don’t have to have a seizure, tha’ll get thi brass.’

  ‘Maister, Missus.’ Dobby pulled off his billycock hat and screwed it through anxious fingers. ‘It’s not my wage I’m bothered about…’

  Sam made the sign of the Cross. ‘Erin, will you get down an’ feel this fella’s head?’

  ‘Please, don’t joke, Mr Teale.’

/>   ‘Nay, I’m sorry lad, I’m full o’ the devil tonight. Away then, hop into the back an’ tell us what’s made your face like this horse’s backside.’

  ‘Maister, it’s coos.’ Dobby tortured the hat. ‘I’m worried on ’em.’

  The older man sobered instantly. ‘What’s amiss, Ralph?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know, but one or two on ’em ’aven’t been right since I went to milk ’em on Friday eve, ’aven’t been eatin’ nor didn’t seem in very good mettle all round.’

  ‘Jump up, Dobby,’ ordered Sam immediately, and urged the horse on towards his field.

  ‘I split ’em up, Mr Teale,’ shouted Dobby over the rumble of the cartwheels.

  ‘Good lad, Dobby. You did right.’

  Nothing more was said until they reached the pasture. The scene they came upon had the deceptive appearance of tranquillity. A shimmering disc of sun hung low in the sky, spraying the verdant acreage with its warm light. Clouds of midges performed their evening dance above the hedgerow. All calm. Too calm. Sam jerked on the reins and jumped down, a spot of acid beginning to gnaw at his stomacb.

  ‘Who’s that?’ He pointed to the figure silhouetted by the sun, who moved from one recumbent cow to the other.

  ‘It’s the vet’nary, sir. I thought it best to go for him when they didn’t get no better.’ Dobby knew Sam would never trust his herd to a primitive cow doctor. He followed Sam who was now moving across the field, leaving Erin to cuddle the child, her eyes misted with apprehension.

  The veterinary surgeon stood as Sam drew alongside to stare down at the stricken cow. The hair beneath its apathetic eyes was stained with discharge, the muzzle slimy and sore-looking.

  Sam squatted and ran a hand over the roan hide, his face disbelieving. ‘Poor old Sukie,’ he crooned to the cow, rubbing the poll between her horns. Her breath came in laboured puffs. ‘Poor old girl.’

  Dobby hurt for his master, knowing more than anyone what these creatures meant to the man. Squinting up at the vet Sam finally posed the question to which he dreaded hearing the response. ‘What is it, sir?’