Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  She cast a nervous eye to where she had left Belle in the care of Vicky Johnson – Sam couldn’t possibly carry her while he was scything – but she seemed to be playing happily. Erin turned her energies back to her work, breathing in the sweet smell of the newly-mown hay.

  After approximately three and a half hours’ toil the mowers, with sweat-dampened hair and florid faces, straightened their backs to survey their progress. ‘Not bad. Not bad,’ said Cartwright, nodding. ‘I might just let thee have a bit o’ snap if tha’s nifty about it.’

  ‘What a generous old bugger you are, Tom,’ said Sam, laying down his scythe. ‘Now, yer sure yer wouldn’t want us to work right through? We’d get it done quicker.’

  ‘Eh, Maister, don’t make jests like that wi’ Tom Cartwright. He’ll take thee at tha word.’

  ‘Away then, Dobby, let’s go see what the women’ve got for us.’ Sam walked back along the channel he had shaved in the field to where Erin had spread a cloth and was lifting food from the hamper. ‘Ah, just what I need!’ He sloughed the moisture that dripped from his brow as she brought out a flagon of ale. This was the only alcohol Sam allowed himself. Taking out the bung he put the neck to his lips and drank long and deep.

  ‘What about Dobby?’ Erin reminded him. ‘His tongue’s hanging out to his boots, thinking you’re going to drain the jug.’

  Sam gasped and wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘God, that’s better! There thoo ist, Dobby lad.’ He passed over the flagon and the younger man slaked his thirst.

  ‘Where’s Belle?’ Sam sat down and sank his teeth into a meat pastie.

  Erin tossed a right-handed gesture. ‘She’s over the…’ The hand came up to her mouth. ‘Oh Lord, Sam, she’s gone!’ As quickly as her extra burden would allow she got to her feet, scouring the pastoral scene with shaded eyes. ‘God, if she’s crawled anywhere near those scythes!’ She had started to run towards Vicky who was stretched prostrate on the grass, when Dobby shouted, ‘’S all right, Missus! She’s there, look.’ Stopping to follow his pointing finger Erin saw her daughter playing happily only yards away from where her mother had been sitting, partially hidden in the unmown grass.

  Watching her obvious relief, as she collected the child then rebuked Vicky for her laxity, Dobby observed, ‘T’missus is awful jumpy about that bairn, isn’t she? I mean, Belle were only over there.’

  Sam sighed. ‘Try tellin’ her she’s worrying for nowt, though. I’ve run out o’ words to explain to her that even though Belle’s crippled she can take care of herself. I’m surprised she left her in that little lass’s care, though I don’t suppose she would’ve done if I hadn’t suggested it. God knows what she’ll be like when we get round to buying the youngster these special shoes.’ He savoured another hunk of Erin’s light pastry. ‘She keeps puttin’ that off, too – “I’ve got this feelin’,” she’ll say.’ He shook his head, smiling.

  They fell silent as a flustered Erin returned with the crowing infant under her arm. ‘Honestly, that child!’ and after taking fifteen minutes or so to consume their victuals they sharpened the scythes on the whetstones that hung from their belts and returned to their positions in the cutting ranks. This time Erin gave a stern lecture to Belle’s young minder and told her to be more vigilant.

  Throughout the day the sun beat down on the workers as they sweated and scythed, bronzing forearms, causing the women to rip off their wide-brimmed hats to fan their brows. At Sam’s instruction Erin did not return to her task after the midday break, dismissing Vicky from her post and watching, idly happy, from the edge of the field beneath the expansive shade of a horse chestnut.

  She propped herself on one elbow, surveying the toilers with a slitted eye, the other marking Belle’s progress as she shuffled within the confines of the shaded area. Her free hand ran over the mound of her belly as the child within protested at her position, giving the impression that he was thrusting his heels under her lower ribs and levering with all his might. She moved her gaze to watch in fascination as her belly undulated beneath the thin cotton gown, sucked in her breath as little elbows and knees shoved the hummock out of true. The moment was marred by a tiny thrill of alarm; would these limbs be strong and healthy, or would she bear another child like Belle? This fear had never been far from her mind since she had learnt of her condition. What if she gave birth to another deformed baby? People would say she was possessed of the devil.

  Her thoughts were diverted as Belle started to stray. Erin sat up and called to her daughter who dutifully shuffled back into the shade and continued to play there until teatime when the womenfolk lit a fire to boil the first brewing of the day. Erin investigated the contents of the hamper as her husband collapsed in the shade and used his hat to chase the flies from his face.

  ‘It’s times like this I wish I was a smoker,’ he complained as the flies insisted on resettling. ‘Dobby, fetch your stinkin’ owd pipe over by me an’ get rid o’ these damned flies.’

  ‘I’d let him stew, Dobby,’ said Erin, leaving just enough in the hamper for suppertime and spreading the rest on the cloth. ‘All the unflattering things he’s called your pipe but ’tis fine enough when it suits him. Sit by me, I like the smell o’ baccy.’ It reminded her of her father’s house.

  Dobby settled himself next to the woman. ‘I wonder how Hannah’s gettin’ on. It’d be a right surprise if we got back an’ we had two coos instead o’ one, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I’d rather she waited for me,’ said Sam, giving up wafting the flies to reach for a thick slice of brown bread. ‘Apart from wanting to make sure she gives birth safely I should like to be present at the start o’ my new dynasty. At the risk o’ being classed a sentimental old bugger I must confess it’s a real big thing in my life.’

  ‘I trust ye could display the same sentiment when it’s time for your human dynasty to expand,’ stated Erin wryly, with a wink at Dobby. ‘An’ give me the same consideration as ye show that blessed cow.’

  ‘Oh, I might be there to rub you down wi’ a handful of hay an’ bring thee a bucket o’ water if yer behave yerself.’

  Erin laughed. ‘You’ll get the bucket o’ water over your head for your cheek. Come on now, eat your tea. The sooner ye finish the sooner ye can get back to the love of your life.’

  ‘Well, away, Dobby.’ Sam washed down the meal with his pot of tea some twenty minutes later. ‘I’m sick o’ sat here, being bitten to hell while you’re sat there flyless.’ He scratched his neck as he clambered to his feet. ‘By God, some o’these thunderbugs must have jaws like crocodiles.’

  ‘By, he doesn’t like to see anybody sat doin’ nowt, does he?’ Dobby complained, then rose and prepared to attack the last quarter of the field.

  Shortly after seven the work was completed, save for a few square yards in the centre of the field which had been saved for a special custom. There began a great clamour with women banging sticks on empty kettles and pans, the children squealing with anticipation, the deep baritone exhortations of the tired men, all urging the wildlife that had taken sanctuary in that shivering remnant to come out and take their chance.

  ‘A bunny for yer supper, Maister!’ shouted Dobby and dived in a headlong tackle as a wide-eyed rabbit shot from its hiding place and bounded away across the mown field.

  ‘Sam Teale’s already had his bunny by the look of his wife’s belly,’ shouted Bert Johnson, bringing forth ribald laughter, blushes from Erin and looks of reproach from the women for such coarse humour.

  Sam was about to let the comment pass with a good-humoured jibe, when some creature shot up his trouser leg and lodged in the most inconvenient place. All participants began to roar with laughter at Sam’s frantic efforts to dislodge the culprit.

  ‘That’ll teach thee to fasten yer breeches proper!’ bawled a mower, whose own garment had been secured with string at the ankles to prevent such predicaments.

  ‘Nay, he’s freetened it’ll tek too long to unfasten ’em when he wants to jump on his missus!’ yel
led Johnson.

  Sam, still hopping, took it all in good sport, but after several such comments from Johnson drew a halt to spare Erin. ‘Now then, lads, less o’ this indecent talk. I don’t want my missus upsetting.’

  The men apologised – even Johnson – and Erin accepted goodhumouredly, even attempting a little risque humour of her own to show she could give as good as she got. ‘The looks your good wife is giving you, Mr Johnson, I don’t think ye should even bother to untie the string on your breeches tonight.’

  The men gave noisy appreciation and Johnson, more affable without a gallon of liquor inside him, replied with a sigh, ‘Aye, lass, yer reet – ’twas missus who tied ’em up in t’first place.’

  They all took supper in the mown field, now appearing much larger after its haircut. Had Sonny been present his brush and palette would have found much to capture: the sky, a glorious sunburst of pink and orange, the shorn field bathed in late sunlight, a company of weary mowers beneath the great leafy arms of the chestnut tree. For Sam, wanting to be home to check on Hannah, a brief gaze while he polished off his sandwich was sufficient. He was soon urging Erin to pack up.

  At the fork in the lane they took leave of Dobby, continuing homewards. Erin nursed her side and made a pained face. ‘Sam, love, are your boots on fire? Don’t walk so fast, I’ve got a stitch.’

  ‘Sorry, love.’ He put his arm round her, fingers curling onto her distended stomach. ‘Dobby’s right, I do give more consideration to the cow than me wife.’

  Erin looked at Belle cradled in his other arm. ‘Poor babe, she’s dog-tired. So am I, come to that. I’m glad there’s no meal to cook when we get in; we can go straight up.’

  ‘Eh, an’ that from somebody who’s been sat on her bum half o’ day.’

  ‘I’ll crown you!’ Erin tapped him on the head. ‘A woman in my condition can’t be expected to slave all day in the burning heat.’

  ‘I’m only having you on. Ah, home sweet home!’ Sam unlatched the gate and escorted his wife and child into the house. ‘D’you mind if I just nip over to t’shed an’ see how Hannah is? I don’t suppose owt’s happened but I’ll never sleep for wonderin’.’

  The bitch who had greeted them at the gate now yapped excitedly. ‘Shush!’ said Erin, then to Sam, ‘she thought when you said “nip” you meant her. Thinks you’re off to the field.’

  ‘She can come wi’ me.’ Sam lit a lantern. There was no need for one outside but the shed where Hannah had been confined for the imminent birth would be in darkness.

  ‘Don’t be long,’ yawned his wife, taking Belle off to bed. ‘And don’t be fetching any cowclap into my kitchen. I’m not scrubbing floors at this time o’ night.’

  Sam stepped outside, the lantern swinging at his side, the bitch and her son at his heels, and made for the small outbuilding. ‘Well, I’ll go to… Hannah, my little beauty. Out, dogs, out!’ Shooing the bewildered dogs from the byre he hung the lantern on a hook, its soft beam illuminating the mother and child. Hannah lowed and held a protective head over the wobbly creature who tottered and beheld Sam with mild surprise. ‘Don’t fret, little lady, I won’t harm her,’ muttered the man, feeling the surge of achievement rise in his breast. He must fetch Erin to share this moment. Pulling the door to, he left the cow to lick her still-damp offspring, reappearing with a sleepy but curious Erin.

  ‘Oh, Sam!’ was all she could utter, gazing at the spindly, doe-eyed creature.

  ‘See! I said our bad luck would come to an end, didn’t I?’ Sam’s arm supported her. She felt his energy. ‘This little lady’s brought us back the good times.’

  Erin’s hand went automatically to her child-filled abdomen as the mother’s rough tongue moved over the damp curls. Standing there, she felt such empathy with this animal. There was hope. There was.

  * * *

  ‘Oh, merc’, I ache all over!’ Sam groaned as he rolled from the bed and put his feet to the floor.

  ‘Lack of work.’ Erin, already dressed, had come to tell him his breakfast was on the table.

  He took a casual swipe at her and stood to dress. ‘Aye well, with a bit o’ luck my idleness has ended. I shall have milkin’ to do of a morning, even if it is just the one cow.’

  ‘You’re not going to take that poor child away from its mother already, are ye?’ demanded his wife, leading the way downstairs.

  ‘I’ve not gone to all this expense to have her suppin’ all t’milk that could be earning me brass.’

  ‘Ye’d not be so cruel for the sake of a few coppers?’ Erin spun to confront him at the foot of the stairs, hands on hips. ‘I’ll not let ye.’

  ‘Well, you can have your way today an’ two more days, then I’ll have to separate ’em. Yer don’t make money by being soft-hearted; yer mother’ll tell yer that.’

  Erin smiled knowingly as he took his seat at the table. ‘Listen to him, Belle, making out he’s hard. Wait till his precious cow keeps him awake all night bawling for her baby. Your nature won’t allow ye to do it, Sam Teale. I’ll put money on it. Look at all the other times.’

  Masticating his bacon he shook his head. ‘It might’ve been that way with the last lot, but I’m gettin’ to learn that sentiment doesn’t mix well wi’ farming. If the calf’s bawlin’ worries yer there’s plenty of rags to stuff in yer lugs.’

  ‘Ye callous monkey!’ Erin picked up a knife to add weight to her argument.

  ‘Well, ’appen she can have four days,’ relented Sam, then wagged his own knife. ‘Don’t think you frighten me, mind.’

  ‘Terrified he is, Belle.’ Erin, victorious, went about her work.

  Immediately he rose from breakfast Belle’s arms stretched out to be picked up. ‘Aw, I’m sorry, Tuppence.’ Her father picked her up but only to kiss her. ‘I can’t take you wi’ me just now. I’ve a whole load o’ shishamagrawdy to move. Your mam really will take the knife to me if yer come in stinkin’ o’ violets.’ He put her back in her chair and had not reached the door before the tears started. ‘Belle, I promise I’ll come back in half an hour. Watch that clock… eh, Erin, did yer see how she looked straight at that clock? She knows every word I say. Right, Belle, shush now, watch that clock an’ when t’big hand gets round to there,’ he touched it, ‘that’s when I’ll have finished. All right?’ It wasn’t all right as far as Belle was concerned but Sam left anyway.

  Belle wouldn’t be pacified and her screams continued to grate on Erin’s nerves for a long time after Sam had departed.

  Outside, Sam called to the dogs then went off to clean out the cowshed, marvelling at the perky creature that greeted him, a seemingly different beast from the previous night. ‘You two’ll have to stop out there,’ he told the dogs, whose presence made the calf skittish and the mother uneasy. ‘There’s not enough room in here an’ I can’t have this little lass breaking her leg. She’s gonna be a champion, isn’t she, Mother?’

  After hanging the lighted lantern on the hook he bolted the doors against the dogs, grabbed a pitchfork and sang his way over to the cow. ‘Now you two’ll have to shift yerselves over there while I gi’ thee a new bed.’ He untied the cow from the iron ring and left the halter rope to trail. ‘Away, lest yer want pitchfork up yer arse.’ The cow gave a moo of protest then ambled out of his way, the calf hugging her side. Sam hummed as he tossed the straw about. The place seemed alive again. That big empty shippen would soon have all its stalls occupied. He’d maybe take another trip to market today and see what was for sale.

  ‘Right, is that to madam’s satisfaction?’ he asked the cow on completion. ‘Fine. Then we’ll have you tethered an’ see to them moaning dogs.’ He leaned the pitchfork against the wall and surveyed his work. ‘Mebbe just a bit more straw over there.’ Taking another bale he began to shake it over the floor. ‘Come out!’ he told the calf. ‘You’re in the way. Come out, I said.’

  It could have been high spirits that persuaded him to make the error, or maybe he was simply daydreaming. But as he worked his way round with the straw
he suddenly found himself between the cow and her calf and his back against the wall. ‘Easy, girl,’ he coaxed in an even voice as he realised his idiotic mistake. ‘Away now, gimme room.’ The cow sensed his apprehension and, fearing for her calf, began to lean on him. ‘Hannah, back!’ He slapped at the warm flank. The calf slipped from behind him and ran to join her mother. Sam tried to squeeze past too, but the cow had him completely imprisoned now. The fingers of his only free hand crept along the wall, groping for the handle of the pitchfork, so stupidly discarded. He reached over the cow’s finely-skinned rump, stretching, stretching. She moved in closer. It was beginning to hurt. ‘Oh, Christ!’ His ribs started to bend under the assault. ‘Hannah!’ The urgency in his voice transmitted itself to the dogs outside. Another mistake, he thought dazedly; the dogs could have saved him. Now his only hope was in that pitchfork. His arm tortured itself to its full reach, fingers curling, grasping, their tips inching out his agony along the wall, almost making contact, just a little further… stretching, yearning… another half inch and it would be in his grasp. Once more his fingers reached, tickled the wood… the pitchfork fell. ‘Oh, Jesus!’ Sam began to scream at the pain from his crushed ribcage. The cow pressed her body against his in a deadly caress, grinding him into the ancient brickwork. Something snapped in his body; he heard it, felt it. Pure agony. Never had he experienced anything like this. He couldn’t get his breath. His mouth gaped, trying to suck at the air, but his lungs refused to expand. There came a terrific explosion of pain in his chest. He tasted blood on his lips. He wanted to shout to her: Erin! Erin, I love you! but there was nothing left. A warm curtain was descending across his brain. His ears began to ring. The last sound…

  * * *

  ‘Belle, will ye stop your wailing!’ scolded her mother. ‘I’ve enough on with listening to that yapping dog. What the devil’s wrong with all of yese?’ She tutted exasperatedly and waddled to the door to admit a frantic Nip. On entry the dog went wild, leaping in the air and snapping at her. ‘Goodness, the dog’s off its head! Nip, stoppit, stoppit!’ But the dog leapt at her relentlessly, catching her apron in its teeth, running back and forth in front of the door, imploring her to follow.