Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  Something became anchored around her neck, threatening to drag her back under. She struggled. ‘Erin!’ Sam shouted in her ear. ‘Keep calm! I’m here, it’s all right.’

  But the panic had made her deaf and she continued to writhe in his grip, still clutching Belle, frenzied of eye and jaw. There was nothing else he could do. Making the punch as merciful as possible he lashed out, made contact, then towed his semi-conscious wife and their screaming baby to the bank. Depositing Erin on the bank he comforted the distraught baby, pressing her bare skin to his and very soon overcoming her distress. The child calmer, he sat astride Erin to pummel the water from her until she started to gag and vomit. Finally she turned onto her back to look at her rescuer. Recognition brought back her anger and she flew at him, nails gouging at his face, pinching and slapping wildly at his bare chest.

  ‘Whoah, Erin! It’s all right, it’s me!’

  ‘You left her! Ye wanted her to drown!’

  ‘No!’ He shook her dripping shoulders. ‘I was only a few feet away, hidden by that shelf o’ grass. She was quite safe.’

  She didn’t hear. ‘That water’s freezing! She could’ve caught her death.’

  ‘Rubbish! It’s lovely an’ warm if you’re moving about, splashin’ an’ that.’

  ‘I hate you! You left her to die!’

  ‘You don’t think I’d leave a little child in t’water alone, d’yer?’ he threw at her. ‘I were there all the time I tell yer, teachin’ her to swim.’

  ‘She wasn’t swimming,’ sobbed Erin, clawing handfuls of his skin. ‘She was drowning. Couldn’t ye see she was terrified?’

  ‘Of course she was! But not o’ the bloody water – of you. She was perfectly happy before you came along screamin’ at her. It’s seein’ you like this that made her cry. Look, she’s started again. Come on, woman, pull yourself together.’ Releasing his wife he went to pick up Belle, but Erin leapt to her feet and knocked him aside.

  ‘Get off her! I won’t let ye touch her. Ye wanted her to die!’

  Sam’s fingers curled around her arm, spun her to face him while his other hand descended like a whiplash, catching her full on the cheek and nearly taking her head off with it. ‘Don’t you ever say a thing like that to me again. Ever! I was the one who stopped her from being smothered at birth like a runt puppy – remember?’ He shook her savagely, not the gentle, easygoing Sam she knew. ‘Remember? Remember?’

  ‘Yes, yes!’ she shrieked, then fell against his chest and sobbed unrestrainedly.

  Sam pressed her gently from him only to pick up Belle and held both his women while they shed their pain and terror, kissing each alternately, whispering endearments. They stood there, dripping, for quite some time until a cool breeze made Sam shiver. ‘Come on, we’d best get home an’ get you two in front of the fire before yer catch yer death.’ He helped to dress Belle, then clothed himself, laid one arm over his wife’s shoulders, his child in the other, and walked them home.

  * * *

  Erin curled her hands round the mug of tea and let forth a sharp laugh of embarrassment. ‘I’ll bet Mrs Wood takes me for a right pratie, getting into a panic just ’cause you were late for your dinner. It’ll be all over the village tomorrow. God, I feel so stupid! I get these notions in my head – I thought something had happened to you an’ Belle. I really believed it. When I saw her in the water…’ She shivered.

  Sam noticed the wild look still in her eye. ‘There’s no call to go over it again. She’s safe. She was never in any danger.’

  ‘I know that, Sam. I know ye’d never really let her come to any harm, an’ I’m sorry I said the things I did. It’s just… I get so worried when she’s out o’ my sight… even when she’s with you. I can’t help it. I’ve been this way since I had her. Sometimes, like today, it gets out of all proportion.’

  He patted her hand. ‘Aye well, happen you’ll grow out of it when you’ve got another bairn to occupy yer mind. Pass us one o’ them biscuits, will yer please?’

  Erin handed him the plate, then gave a biscuit to Belle who crouched in her little corner by the fire. ‘Well, if one good thing’s come out of today it’s to show me what I’m gonna do,’ munched Sam. ‘I’m gonna start again like you suggested. Build another herd.’

  She was delighted. ‘Oh, Sam, I’m so pleased. I know how much the cows meant to you an’ how badly their loss affected ye. Tell me, what changed your mind?’

  He grinned. ‘Belle. I watched her swimmin’ about this morning, having a whale of a time, not a care in the world, an’ I thought what a hypocritical bugger I am, telling you we mustn’t let Belle give in then doing exactly that meself. If that wee lass can bear her burden cheerfully then surely I can stand the loss of a few cows. So, I’m gonna dib into that compensation money and I’m off to market. It’ll take a damn sight longer than last time to build up a good herd – but I’m ready to try.’

  ‘I’m sure however long it takes you’ll manage it, dear,’ said Erin.

  ‘Aye well, it’s all thanks to… oh hell, look at her!’

  ‘Belle, come out of that coal bucket!’ Erin put down her cup and, sighing, rose to deter Belle from her new game. ‘Just look at ye.’ She tried to wipe off the coaldust with a cloth but made no impression. ‘Oh, ’tis no good, ye’ll have to go in the tub. Sam, will ye fetch it in for me? I daren’t let her go else there’ll be black fingermarks all over my clean covers. Grrr!’ She shook Belle playfully. ‘I’m going to call in the nuisance inspector for you, child.’

  Sam filled the bath with water from the kettle and, topping it up with cold, swished it around while Erin stripped Belle.

  ‘Let’s see how ye like your swim this time.’ Erin held the child over the bath and began to lower her.

  The moment Belle felt the water lap around her buttocks her small body went rigid and her eyes rolled with terror. She set up such a screaming that Erin was forced to take the infant on her knee and leave the task for a while.

  ‘It’s just the memory of this morning,’ Sam comforted his wife. ‘She’ll be right as rain tomorrow. She really loved it, yer know.’

  But the following day the performance was the same. It took days of coaxing before Belle would allow as much as a wet rag near her face without yelling. Indeed, the fear of water that Erin had instilled in her daughter that day was to remain with her for the best part of her life.

  Chapter Seven

  Sam decided it was more sensible to postpone the rebuilding of his herd until the spring came round again. Hence, Christmas was spent in more leisurely vein than usual – a week with Erin’s parents, a week with his, for once the really bad weather arrived, it might be a couple of months before they met up again. While they were away Dobby was given the task of caring for the remaining livestock – the fowls and the dogs. Sam felt guilty at having nothing more for the fellow to do, but Dobby seemed to be getting by on odd jobs in the village.

  After the prolonged festive season the couple seemed to spend the next two months in isolation. For Erin, being indoors all day made little difference – there was always some chore or another to be done. But Sam grew itchy. Waiting for the spring was always a bad time, but it was more than that; his current idleness meant that he had more time to study his wife and what he saw concerned him. The improved health she had been enjoying of late was gone. Just what had caused this neither of them knew. It could be the adverse weather or simply the strain of looking after Belle, now more adventurous than ever. Whatever the source, it had stripped the weight from Erin, rendered the roses and cream complexion the colour of whey. Sam, on being presented with her waxen face on yet another morning when he came down to breakfast, told her she must go and see the doctor. ‘You can’t keep soldierin’ on like this.’

  ‘I’ll be all right tomorrow,’ came the pat answer as she moved dreamlike round the kitchen, getting his meal.

  But Sam had heard that too many times. ‘Yer keep tellin’ me that but you never are. If yer won’t go to t’doctor I’m off to brin
g him here.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll be most grateful for that, I’m sure.’ Erin sagged down into one of the chairs at the table, hand over mouth. ‘Ye’re meant to be dying before Doctor Wrigglesworth makes a call. God, I feel so wambly.’ She flattened her forearms to the table and laid her weary head on them.

  ‘That settles it!’ Sam spoke through a mouthful of bread. ‘Directly I finish this I’m hitching t’hoss an’ taking you down to the village.’ He waited for another objection but none came. That in itself showed how ill she was.

  But on the return journey from the village there was little sign of their previous mood. ‘A babby!’ Sam roared with laughter as he drove them home through a snowstorm, blinking away the flakes that settled on his eyelashes. ‘Oh, Erin – aren’t we a pair? I never gave it a thought, did you?’

  She hunched up to him, happy face held in defiance of the swirling flakes. ‘Sure, you had an excuse for your naivety, you’re a man. I should’ve known better. What a dimwit!’ The feeling of lethargy had been overridden by joyous anticipation.

  ‘D’yer still feel terrible?’ he asked solicitously.

  ‘Yes.’ She clutched her stomach. ‘But wonderful terrible.’

  After a couple of weeks the ‘terrible’ bit faded, leaving her just ‘wonderful’. Sam, too. Now he had something to salve the indignity of labouring for someone else.

  By the spring of ’seventy-eight he felt able to implement his plan of rebuilding his herd. One crisp morning in April, his thirty-fourth birthday, he set off for market with Belle as usual perched on his shoulders.

  Five hours later Erin heard his voice calling her name as she knelt tidying her herb garden. Dusting the soil from her hands she heaved her thickening body up and made her way up the steps to the gate where Sam’s smiling face proclaimed his success.

  ‘How d’you like her, then?’ His sparkling eyes held her face as she came into the lane to inspect his purchase. ‘I thought I’d just do a bit o’ swankin’ before I put her in t’shippen. All right, eh?’

  ‘She’s really pretty!’ Erin appraised the Jersey cow smilingly whilst stroking the attractive dished face with its dark muzzle. ‘Thought ye’d have a change this time, did ye?’ He told her his reason – he couldn’t even bear to look at a Shorthorn nowadays. Her hand moved over the fawn, convex belly. ‘Oh, an’ in the same condition as myself if I make no mistake.’

  He gave a pleased nod. ‘I reckon she’s two months further on than you. Come summer an’ we’ll have two instead o’ one. Keep your fingers crossed for a girl.’

  ‘A girl?’ Erin raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought your heart was set on a little boy?’

  ‘For me, aye,’ grinned Sam. ‘I’ve already got my little girl.’ He gestured at Belle astride the cow’s back. ‘She’s definitely taken to her new form of transport. It gives my poor old shoulders a rest anyroad. Tell Dad what you’re riding on, Belle. Moo cow. Belle, say it.’ The only response was a row of milk teeth. ‘Tsk! Not a peep. Ah dear, I wonder if she’ll ever be able to talk, Erin.’

  ‘Maybe when the new baby comes it’ll make her feel more inclined.’

  Sam had ideas of his own about that. How would Belle, a spoilt child – he recognised this fact even though he did his best to curtail his wife’s overindulgence – how would she react to the young interloper? There would be no Ma at her beck and call then. Erin just wouldn’t have the time. He could picture the awful tantrums… But then, happen it could go the other way, too. It might just allow Belle to unleash the independent spirit that Sam knew was there if Erin would only recognise it.

  ‘Right then, I’ll just take Hannah down to t’shippen.’

  ‘Hannah?’ queried Erin.

  Sam winked. ‘The truck I’ve had from this crusty old cow on t’way home I thought it were a suitable title.’ Erin laughed as he set off, then waddled back down the path to check on the contents of the oven.

  In the time it took Sam to drive the new cow to the byre and return with Belle, the table had been laid with new bread, bowls of steaming potatoes, vegetables from Erin’s garden, a joint of mutton and a pungent sauce. After devouring all on his plate Sam took a deep breath and showed his appreciation by patting his stomach. ‘Well, that were smashing, lass – I don’t think I’ll bother to sell you after all. Belle’s enjoying it too, aren’t you? Look at her trenching away there.’

  The mother smiled fondly at her child. ‘Yes, nobody can fault her appetite, an’ she’s a lovely little eater, isn’t she? She’s never thrown her food about like ordinary babies.’

  ‘She’s got more sense than that, haven’t you, Belle? Her mam’s cooking’s too good for chuckin’ at walls.’

  Erin waited for Belle to finish, then stacked the plates and took them away. Shortly she took something from the cupboard, her back hiding whatever it might be from Sam’s view.

  ‘Yer mam’s up to summat,’ the man whispered to his daughter.

  Erin cast a secret glance in his direction, then went on with her task. The smell of melted candlewax wafted around the kitchen.

  ‘Happy Birthday, Sam!’ When she turned she bore before her a rich fruitcake, in the middle of which burnt one candle. Placing the cake on the table she bent over and kissed him heartily.

  ‘Where’s all t’other candles then?’ he asked playfully.

  ‘Belle, tell your daddy if I’d got sufficient candles to match his age the cake would never’ve taken the strain.’

  ‘She’s got a talent for flattery, has your mother, Belle.’ Sam blew out the candle and screwed his eyes shut. ‘I wish… I wish for us all to be as happy as we are today.’

  ‘Ye’re not meant to tell,’ accused Erin, slapping him. ‘’Twon’t come true now.’

  ‘Oh, yes it will.’ He pulled her arms around his neck and stroked them, ‘I don’t need such a fragile thing as a birthday wish to make sure I’m gonna be happy wi’ you, Erin Teale. I know, ’cause I’m gonna make it happen.’

  ‘I do love ye, Sam.’ She tightened her embrace and looked fondly at Belle over his shoulder. ‘You an’ Belle, an’ your son when he comes. This is all I ever wanted.’

  ‘Me, too,’ answered Sam, kissing her. ‘I don’t think I could ever be happier than I am today.’

  * * *

  It was commonplace at haymaking time for all the villagers to take part – mainly because, from the poorly-paid farmworkers’ point of view it meant the chance of a few rabbits. Erin and Sam were no exception. Indeed, neither of them would miss it, even though, this year, it occurred at the time the cow was due to calf.

  ‘I don’t think she’ll have any trouble,’ Sam told Dobby when the question of their attendance at haymaking arose. ‘The calf’s lyin’ normal. Even if she gives birth while we’re away she’ll get by without any help. She’s an independent madam, I can tell thee, not like the old Shorthorns.’

  ‘I could sit with her till you come back if you like,’ offered Dobby.

  ‘Nay, lad, I’m anxious about her but not so worried I’d rob thee of a good day’s work. I feel responsible for you being poorly off at the moment, cows dyin’ on us, like.’

  ‘Nav, you’re not to blame! Anyroad, I’ve been earnin’ a few bob with Old Harry. We’ve not been starvin’.’

  ‘Nevertheless, the minute I’ve any work for thee yer’ll be back here where you belong. Now then, est comin’ up to house an’ see my missus for some breakfast before we join t’others? She’s missed your smilin’ face she tells me, though I can’t see no beauty in it missen.’

  Dobby followed Sam home. ‘How’s Mrs Teale feelin’ now?’

  ‘Oh, champion, Dobby, thanks. She’s gettin’ quite plump. I haven’t made me mind up yet whether to keep her on as a wife or auction her off for Christmas fare.’

  Erin had just finished packing the hamper when they entered the kitchen. ‘Ah, there you are! I thought I was going to have to eat breakfast alone. Hello Dobby, nice to see ye. Will ye be coming to haymaking with us? I’ve packed plenty of food.’r />
  ‘That’s very kind o’ yer, Missus.’ Dobby took off his hat and flapped it against his thigh.

  ‘Kind, my foot,’ said Sam. ‘She simply wants yer to carry t’hamper.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose there’ll be any offers from anyone else,’ chided Erin amicably. ‘Now hurry up, both of yese. Eat your eggs an’ we’ll be away. ’Tis a lovely morning.’

  When the clock that stood on the oak mantel chimed six they were not there to hear it, already two miles away and setting up in the sun-kissed hayfield with the others.

  ‘Right, everybody!’ The owner of the field, Tom Cartwright, issued instructions. ‘I hope them scythes are nice’n sharp. I want a good acre out of each of thee afore it rains.’

  ‘Nay, there’s not a cloud in t’sky!’ scoffed one of the mowers.

  ‘I remember t’last time you said that, George Hawksby. You’d no sooner opened yer gob then it siled down. Away, yer’ve spent enough time jawin’. I want to see t’sun glitterin’ on them blades.’

  ‘Bit o’ sun makes him go all poetical,’ said Dobby, then lined up with Sam and the other mowers. They began to work their way through the ripe grass, swinging their scythes in harmony. The women gave them a few yards’ leeway, then slowly followed, shaking out the mown grass for drying. One of the men broke into song and after the first line everyone joined in. There was a great sense of community, everyone working together. Even the Johnsons had dragged themselves from their beds to assist. Erin wondered what it was that produced this feeling, for every other day of the year, Christmas and Harvest apart, most of the participants were at each other’s throats.