Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  What torture to sit and watch Timothy focus his engaging smile on her cousin. Damn Gramps, she bristled. I’d like to hear what he’d have to say if it were me behaving all lovey-dovey to Tim. Belle always got her own way.

  That night, lying in her bed, she had to relive the humiliating experience when Belle insisted on waxing for hours over Timothy; what good company he was and oh, how attentive. ‘Don’t you think so?’ pressed Belle when her commendation met with no response.

  ‘He’s all right, I suppose.’ Rosie yawned. ‘If you find his sort attractive.’ She flung herself onto her side and punched her pillow viciously. ‘Now shut up, will you? I’ve had a hard day and I’d like to get to sleep.’

  But she didn’t sleep, she lay awake for ages with a lump in her throat and murder in her heart. I hate you, Timothy Rabb. I hate you.

  * * *

  Throughout the school holidays the girls visited the fruit fields, when the crop was all picked helping to count and invoice the baskets. As he had done on that first day Timothy continued to make a fuss of Belle, helping her to carry her baskets of fruit, she feeding him from the hamper. Rosanna became increasingly sullen, staying well apart from both of them. She asked herself why she came here every day; was it simply to torture herself? And to think that she was the one responsible for Belle being there in the first place. She could kick herself.

  On Friday she was sitting in the barn trying to close her senses to Belle’s enlivened chatter about Tim, when the subject of her cousin’s monologue entered. She started, her cheeks flushed, and for one fleeting moment his eyes locked with hers and she knew, she just knew that all this attention he had paid Belle, all this stupid fandango had merely been done to make her jealous. He felt the same way as she did; she was sure of it. Then his eyes left her and trained their smiling depths on Belle.

  ‘Well, miss, we shan’t be seeing much more of each other after today. I s’pose you’ll be going back to school shortly?’

  Belle’s smile faded. It was quite apparent she was as taken with Timothy Rabb as her cousin. ‘I go back on Monday – at least I’m meant to.’

  The inference did not escape Rosanna who looked at her sharply. ‘I shouldn’t entertain any thoughts about copying my escape,’ came her spiteful warning. ‘Your dear mother would never countenance it.’

  Belle set her mouth, but made no comment. She understood why Rosie was being so hostile; it was because Tim was paying all this attention to her. Rosie was accustomed to being flattered and didn’t take kindly to people who bypassed her. Truth to tell, it had come as rather a surprise to Belle who had always been used to being the butt of people’s curiosity rather than their admiration, but Tim wasn’t like the rest.

  ‘I’ll be sorry to see you go, Miss Belle,’ he now told her sincerely. ‘I enjoyed having such a pretty companion to work with.’ He stole a quick look over his shoulder to check on the master’s whereabouts, then to Belle’s overwhelming delight and Rosie’s horror pressed swift lips to Belle’s cheek. ‘Goodbye. I hope we meet again next holiday.’ Then he was gone.

  Belle’s hand came up wonderingly to protect the spot, her face aglow as she watched his retreating figure stride away across the fields. He loves me!

  For Rosanna this had gone too far. With a mouth that looked as if it had partaken of bitter aloes she flounced from the barn and started to run. She didn’t care where to, only that her feet took her as far away from Belle as was possible. For if she stayed she knew she could not stop her hands from closing round that squat neck.

  * * *

  Naturally, there was no escaping her forever – the fact that they shared a room saw to that – but Rosanna postponed the confrontation for as long as she was able by always having a third party present so that she would not be forced to listen to Belle’s rambling. After the family had dined that evening Belle, well aware of Rosanna’s feelings towards her, gleefully asked her cousin if she’d care to take a walk round the garden before bedtime. ‘I noticed the marigolds need dead-heading,’ she said artlessly. ‘Would you care to help me?’

  ‘That’s the gardener’s job.’ Rosanna chose not to look at her. ‘Anyway, I’m tired, I thought I might have an early night.’ She excused herself from the table and began to rise.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Belle. ‘We’ve worked very hard lately. I think I’ll take an early night, too.’ She began to rise also.

  Cornered, Rosanna addressed her brother. ‘Nick, why don’t you come and tell us how you’re getting on at the store before we retire?’ Giving him no option she grasped his hand and hauled him from his seat to follow her.

  ‘I must say you’re not usually so keen to have my company,’ he told her as they arrived on the first landing. ‘And you didn’t appear to be very interested when I tried telling you about the store last week.’

  ‘Oh, I find it riveting,’ enthused Rosanna and pulled her brother into her bedroom.

  Always quick to sense an atmosphere, Nick looked with amusement at his cousin who had trailed in after them and now sat brushing her hair at the dressing table. ‘Perhaps our coz would rather tell us about the glowing school report?’

  ‘Oh, pooh.’ Belle flapped her hand disgustedly and laid down the brush. ‘Do you think I have so little of school that I want to keep talking about it when I get home? No,’ a smile formed, ‘I have more important things to ponder on.’

  ‘Really?’ Nick became alert. ‘Is there something I don’t know about?’

  ‘I’m not certain it would be right to discuss it,’ said Belle coyly. ‘Besides, I should hate to make Rosanna jealous.’

  ‘Hah!’ scoffed Rosie. ‘I’d like to see the day when I’d ever be jealous of you.’

  ‘Then why has your face turned green?’ countered Belle, swivelling on the stool.

  ‘It’s not!’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Not!’

  Nick made a cutting motion with his arm. ‘Look, if you’ve simply coerced me up here to act as a punchbag while you two argue over some man…’

  ‘Who mentioned a man?’ demanded his sister, eyes burning.

  Belle was surprised, too. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t take much working out,’ replied Nick. ‘There’s Rosie been mooning about the house like a lovesick sheep ever since you came home and you, Belle, looking like a cat that’s been locked in a dairy overnight. There has to be a man in there somewhere, it’s pure logic.’ Though the thought of this made him want to laugh. He had never imagined that a cold fish like Belle would harbour romantic feelings – besides she was only a kid.

  ‘Everything’s logic to you, isn’t it?’ answered Rosanna scathingly. ‘You never get emotional about anything.’

  ‘A waste of energy, my dear.’

  ‘I’ll bet you won’t think that when you fall in love,’ retorted his sister, immediately wanting to kick herself for giving Belle this bit of ammunition.

  ‘If being in love involves all this bad blood I don’t think I’ll bother,’ said Nick calmly, and looked upon them both with pity. Rosie, though a little older in months than himself, was much younger in worldly matters. However, it was Belle who deserved most of his pity. Nick had never regarded her as anything other than a member of his family – and a rather detestable one sometimes. He could not imagine that anyone could find her attractive. Oh, she was pretty enough, but that wasn’t adequate compensation for her nature. She was going to be hurt. That wouldn’t happen to Nick. He had found himself a woman – a young widow who, in return for modest financial assistance, provided for his bodily needs – what use had he for love?

  ‘So, let me guess,’ he went on, stretching himself on his sister’s bed. ‘You both fancy the same fellow?’

  Belle affirmed this. ‘Unfortunately, Rosanna doesn’t find her sentiments returned whereas I do. That is the reason for her bad grace.’

  ‘You cat!’ Rosie flew at her, but Nick leapt from the bed and held them apart while she spat her invective. ‘H
e was perfectly happy with me until you came along and spoilt it!’

  Belle addressed herself to Nick. ‘She’s going to be even more jealous when I decide not to go back to school. I think I could coax Gramps to get round Mother…’

  ‘You couldn’t!’ Rosie answered the provocation. ‘God knows your bloody mother makes me mad sometimes but for once I’m thankful she thinks so much of her namby-pamby daughter. She’s so damned obsessed with all this education of yours you’ve not a cat in hell’s chance of being allowed to stay. Anyway, even if you were you don’t think this thing with Tim would last for long, d’you? I mean, you’re supposed to be some sort of genius but to me you’re just plain stupid if you imagine his court is genuine, that anyone as handsome as Tim could possibly contemplate affection for a screwed-up cripple like you. Call yourself pretty? You’ve obviously never looked at yourself in a full-length mirror.’

  In the acute silence Belle’s face drained of colour, her nostrils pinched and white. ‘You bastard,’ she breathed. ‘You wicked, horrible bastard – and I mean that in the most literal sense…’

  ‘Belle.’ Nick tried to put an arm round her but she thrust it away.

  ‘Do you understand that? Have I put it in simple enough terms for a ninny like you to grasp? You dare go on about my mother… well, she may be guilty of a lot of sins but at least she could register my birth as legitimate – which is more than your mother ever could. So when I call you bastard you can be very sure it is not just an empty insult but deadly accurate.’

  Rosie was less sure of herself. ‘You’re just baiting me.’

  ‘I can assure you it’s true,’ replied Belle nastily. ‘My mother told me all about it. You’re the daughter of some dirty tinkerwoman and Grandfather rescued you. Your father isn’t your real father at all.’

  ‘No!’ Rosanna covered her ears, gave one agonised look at Nick, then flew from the room, sobbing, ‘You freak!’

  ‘You shouldn’t’ve done that to her, Belle,’ accused Nick, losing any sympathy he might have had for her.

  ‘Why not?’ Belle spun on him. ‘After what she said to me?’

  ‘That doesn’t make it right. It was stupid and cruel, and you shouldn’t use words like bastard so freely.’

  ‘Well, while you’re being so pompous and siding with her,’ was Belle’s splenetic reply, ‘here’s something else for you to be clever about – you’re one, too!’ She rushed out and slammed the door.

  * * *

  Rosanna hurtled down the staircase, across the hall and out of the house. Her grandparents in the drawing room heard the door slam, tutted, but were unaware of the crisis until a sombre Nick entered and asked if he might talk to them.

  ‘’Course ye can, boyo.’ Patrick pulled in his long legs to make room, though there was plenty already. ‘Sit ye down. How’s work at the store progressing? Does your grandmother find enough for ye to do?’

  ‘Thank you, yes, but it’s not about the store, Grandfather,’ said Nick seriously. ‘It’s Rosie and Belle.’

  ‘Ah, been having a little difference of opinion, have they?’ replied Pat. ‘I thought I heard raised voices.’

  Nick had no use for prevarication. ‘Belle’s gone and told her about Father not being our real father – if you see what I mean.’

  Patrick and Thomasin exchanged taken-aback glances, then the former said to Nick, ‘Ye don’t sound too surprised yourself.’

  ‘No.’ Nick leaned on his knees and stared at the floor between them. ‘I’ve known since I was seven. I picked up snippets from what Grandma Fenton used to say…’

  ‘Damn that woman!’ exclaimed Patrick, before remembering she was dead and looking chastened. ‘An’ ye’ve never told anybody, son?’

  Nick shrugged. ‘I saw no reason to.’

  ‘Ye don’t seem unduly concerned if I might say so,’ said his grandfather.

  ‘I’m not. I can’t see that it matters a great deal. Father’s always been Father and always will be. I would be interested to know the full story sometime, though. Belle and Grandma mentioned something about a tinker.’

  ‘Erin had no right to tell that child,’ cut in Thomasin annoyedly. ‘It was no concern of hers – and what brought Belle to tell Rosie?’

  ‘Oh, you know how they argue,’ evaded Nick, not wishing to worsen matters by mentioning Tim. ‘Was the tinker my mother too?’

  Patrick looked at his wife. Her expression agreed that it was time the boy knew the truth. He shook his head. ‘No, the woman who you knew as your mother, the one who died in the fire – remember?’ Nick nodded, though the memory was vague; perhaps because she had not visited the nursery often enough to imprint herself on the young mind. His earliest memory saw only Josie. ‘Well,’ continued Pat, ‘she was your real mother, but Sonny isn’t your natural father. Our other son, he was your father. ’Tis very complicated…’

  ‘What abour Rosanna? Isn’t she my real sister, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ answered Pat. ‘The same man – our son – fathered you both. But Belle was right about the tinker. Ye see Dickie – that’s our other son, the one who died saving ye – he tended to go a bit overboard where women were concerned. The tinker girl he seduced died giving birth to Rosie. Me and your father – I mean Sonny – we kidnapped her an’ brought her home. I didn’t want my grandchild being raised in that fashion.’ Thinking of the bonny little thing brought his mind back to Rosanna’s dilemma. ‘How did she take the news?’

  ‘Like someone hit her behind the knees with the edge of a spade,’ replied Nick.

  ‘Ah, I’d best speak to her,’ decided Patrick, rising. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s nowhere in the house, that’s for sure, and I’ve searched the garden.’

  Patrick sighed. ‘Oh Jazers, then she could be anywhere. Nick, we’ll have to go look for her. Tommy, will you telephone Sonny? He’ll have to know.’

  Thomasin said she would. ‘And I’ll also have a few words to share with our daughter about that child of hers.’

  * * *

  Exhausted from her non-stop dash, Rosanna reached the barn and hurled herself at the door. It was locked. She thumped out her frustration on it, then broke down and sobbed her heart out. She cried until the tears ran dry and her throat felt scoured, then sank down in a heap to lean her back against the unresponsive wood. What was she going to do? How could she go back there? Belle would be gloating. The worst thing in all this was not the slur of illegitimacy, nor the fact that her father was not her real father – though this was terrible enough. Strangely, most of her concern was centred on Patrick, dear Grandfather – and now he wasn’t – wasn’t her grandfather at all. That’s why, she realised now, he’d always seemed fonder of Belle; she was his real grand-daughter. It didn’t seem to matter that there were three other little girls who came into this category; Rosie loved her sisters… oh God! they weren’t her sisters. Just when she had assumed she could cry no more the thought produced a fresh batch of tears. This time she was not racked by sobs, but simply lounged there propped against the door, staring into the distance through a blur of desolation. A shadow descended to cut out the light. Overwhelmed by the density of her unhappiness she imagined the presence to be just an extension of her mood, until it spoke her name. Alarmed, she dashed her reddened eyes with a sleeve to stare up at the culprit. ‘Tim! What’re you doing here?’

  ‘There’s a fine welcome,’ he answered casually. ‘I left something behind.’ Then more carefully, ‘What’s amiss?’ She became surly. ‘What do you care?’

  ‘I don’t. I was only enquiring because I thought you might be in some sort o’ trouble. I’ll just get what I came for an’ be on my way.’ Yet he still stood there.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, you go!’ she snapped. ‘I realise my unhappiness means nothing to you, you’re more concerned with my cousin.’

  ‘She’s a very pretty girl.’ He put his weight on one leg, hands in pockets, still watching her misery.

  ‘She’s also sp
iteful and wicked.’

  ‘I can’t believe that.’

  ‘No! No one can,’ she declared loudly. It was obvious he was waiting for more. She sniffed and glared up at him, looking for that spark in his eye, the one that had misled her into thinking he cared. There was nothing. If she had seen any warmth before it was because she wanted to see it. He interrupted her thoughts.

  ‘If you’re going to make accusations about folk you’d best be able to back them up.’

  She hesitated, then decided it couldn’t matter to tell him, he didn’t want her anyway and it might help to voice her hurt. ‘She’s just informed me I’m a bastard.’

  He laughed. ‘People’re calling me that every day.’

  She showed that his amusement was not shared. ‘In my case, apparently, it’s not just a groundless insult.’

  His expression altered. He stared down at her momentarily, then came to squat beside her. She could smell him; it smelt good. ‘D’you want to talk about it?’

  ‘That’s just it,’ she said helplessly. ‘I don’t know any more, just that I am one.’

  ‘How did all this come out?’

  ‘We were angry with each other. People think Belle is all sweetness and light but she can be really horrid. I…’ she felt a hot flush of shame, twisting the material of her skirts through her fingers, ‘I suppose it was my own fault. I said some cruel things to her. Some might say I deserved all I got. Oh but, Tim!’ She couldn’t help herself and turned to him passionately. ‘She gets me so angry, going on about you and how she wasn’t going back to school. I was so afraid…’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Afraid… you liked her more than me.’

  ‘I do like her,’ he said, causing her to drop her eyes, then he put up a hand to stroke the hair from her damp, miserable face. ‘Ah dear, if there’s a villain in this piece I guess it’s me. I was using her like I thought you wanted to use me. I thought ye were just playing games; the lady looking for her bit of rough.’