by Linda Finlay
Then the door clattered open, jolting the baby awake. As his indignant wails filled the room, the men stood shame-faced on the step.
‘For heaven’s sake, hurry up and put the wood in the hole before we all catch our deaths,’ Rose snapped. As Joshua’s lusty yells reverberated around the kitchen, sending a tabby cat, which was winding itself about Rose’s chair, fleeing for cover, she got to her feet and began rocking the infant back and forth.
‘He was asleep, Ben.’ She glared at her husband accusingly.
‘If it’s any help, my mother always says you should start as you mean to go on,’ Eliza said quietly, and Rose stared at her in surprise. ‘By her reckoning, if a baby gets used to the usual household bustle he’ll ignore it, whereas if you tiptoe around he’ll wake at the slightest sound.’
‘Well, it would help if people were more considerate,’ Rose snorted, and stalked out of the room, the baby in her arms.
‘Shall I see if I can help?’ Eliza asked. Ben nodded gratefully.
Upstairs Rose was pacing the floor, tears streaming down her face while Joshua lay in a beautifully carved wooden cradle, his face bright red, little fists beating the air in anger.
‘He hates me,’ Rose cried.
‘Of course, he doesn’t,’ Eliza soothed. ‘He’s just puzzled by his new surroundings. Don’t forget he’s been swimming around in a pool of warm water for nine months. Now hush, little one,’ she said, lifting him into her arms. The baby’s sobs quietened and he gave a little hic.
‘How did you do that?’ Rose asked, her mouth hanging open in surprise.
Eliza chuckled. ‘Practice. If I didn’t keep the babes quiet at home, Father would hit the roof – or worse.’
Rose looked at her speculatively, opened her mouth to say something but was overtaken by a huge yawn.
‘Why don’t you go and get some rest?’ Eliza suggested.
‘He’ll only start up again as soon as I walk away.’
‘Take off your cardigan,’ Eliza suggested.
‘Why?’ Rose frowned.
‘It’ll smell of you and Joshua needs to be able to recognize your scent in order to settle.’
‘Really?’ Rose asked sceptically, but took it off anyway. Eliza swaddled him in the woollen, then placed him back in his cradle. Humming softly, she rocked it from side to side until his eyelids fluttered closed and the hiccups gave way to little snorts.
‘Well I never,’ Rose exclaimed.
‘Now he’s settled, take a nap,’ Eliza urged.
Rose nodded gratefully and disappeared into a room on the other side of the stairs.
With a last look at the sleeping infant, Eliza made her way back down the stairs. However, her exertions of the morning caught up with her and she caught her twisted foot on the step. Just as she began to fall, a hand reached out and pushed her back onto the landing. Shaken, she stared at the old man before her. With his whiskered chin and kind eyes he reminded her of Grampy.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. He smiled and waved his clay pipe in a friendly gesture. As he placed it back in his mouth, she noticed the tops of the fingers on his right hand were missing.
‘Are you all right?’ Duncan’s anxious face was peering up the stairs at her.
‘I nearly fell but luckily he saved me,’ she explained, gesturing behind her. Duncan frowned and, spinning round, Eliza saw the man had disappeared, leaving behind the faintest whiff of tobacco smoke. ‘He was here a moment ago,’ she added, taking Duncan’s proffered hand.
‘You need a rest and something to eat,’ he said, helping her towards the kitchen. ‘We’ve set out luncheon.’ She saw three plates set with slices of mutton pie and pickles.
‘Won’t the old man be joining us?’ Eliza asked Ben, who gave her a strange look. ‘Only I saw him on the stairs and …’
A piercing wail came from upstairs but as Eliza got up, Ben shook his head.
‘I’ll go, you finish your meal,’ he said, giving a rueful grin and striding from the room.
‘I fear you’ve overdone things, Eliza. Ben’s great-grandfather once lived here but he’s been dead for years.’
‘He can’t be. He saved me from falling. He had the kindest eyes and was smoking a pipe. I remember clearly, for the tops of his fingers were missing.’
Duncan frowned then got to his feet. ‘Come with me.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To see a picture,’ he said abruptly, striding out of the room.
‘Yes, that was the man who saved me,’ Eliza said, as they stood looking at the portrait of the man with kind eyes and whiskered face. ‘Do you believe me now?’
Duncan nodded. ‘I didn’t disbelieve you, Eliza. You haven’t had time to venture down to this old hall so you wouldn’t have known about those otherwise, would you?’ he said, pointing to the damaged fingers holding a clay pipe.
‘That’s definitely the man who saved me,’ she said, shaking her head in wonder.
‘Apparently, his wife hated him smoking so he used to hide himself away down here and smoke his pipe in peace.’
‘Do you believe in ghosts, Duncan?’ she asked after a few moments.
‘That’s a good question, young un. Ghosts? Spirits?’ He shrugged. ‘What’s in a name?’
‘But you do believe?’
‘I believe something of us – our energy, perhaps – remains behind, otherwise what’s the point of this life?’
‘I’m so pleased,’ she said, clapping her hands excitedly.
‘It means that much to you?’
‘Oh, yes. You see Grampy was the only person who ever really loved me, what with …’ She pointed to her foot and grimaced. ‘Sometimes I feel his presence and find it comforting. He made me this lovely wooden box for my flowers but I lost it in the snow and …’ She came to a halt as they heard Ben calling them.
Back in the kitchen they found him grinning like a demented donkey.
‘It seems I have the magic touch,’ he announced proudly. ‘Picked up the young rascal, threw him over my shoulder and told him who was boss. He did an almighty burp, then closed his eyes again. Rose never stirred. You wait until I tell her how easy this parenting thing is,’ he grinned.
‘I wouldn’t go boasting, my friend. If you sound too capable she’ll have you seeing to him every time he murmurs,’ Duncan said sagely.
Ben frowned. ‘Heavens, that would never do,’ he said, reaching for his mug. ‘Where did you two disappear to?’
‘Duncan showed me the picture of your great-grandfather,’ Eliza answered.
Ben smiled. ‘Old Joshua, for whom our son’s named, was a great chap. He built this place with his bare hands. Having been abandoned as a babe, he wanted his family to have the home he’d never had. Anyhow, he’d nearly finished when the rope on a pulley snapped, trapping his fingers under a beam, cutting off the tips. Friends and neighbours pitched in to help him finish the house. He was so grateful he opened his home to them every Christmas, then after he’d planted the orchard, again at Wassail. They were some gatherings, by all accounts. He even devised his own version of the cider cup for the toast. As the family grew so did the celebrations. Everyone was included, everyone wanted.’
‘How wonderful,’ Eliza murmured, remembering her recent desolate Christmas.
‘The tradition has been carried on over the years, first by Grandfather, then Father and now it’s down to us. Of course, we would have opened the house this Christmas if Rose hadn’t been about to give birth.’
‘Did your great-grandfather have many
children?’ Eliza asked.
‘He had five sons but apparently it was his daughter, Carole, who was the apple of his eye. He loved her so much he couldn’t help giving her the best he could afford.’
‘Oh, how wonderful,’ Eliza exclaimed.
‘She was certainly indulged.’
‘No, I meant how wonderful to be loved like that. Will you carry on the tradition next year?’
‘Indeed, but all this talk has made me realize we should really do something for Wassail this year,’ Ben replied.
‘It’s only a couple of days away so you’ll have to get busy organizing,’ Duncan pointed out.
‘Get busy organizing what?’ Rose asked, coming into the kitchen. She looked brighter for her sleep and Eliza jumped up to pour more water into the teapot.
‘Wassail, my dear. I was just saying, we might not have been able to open Ashcombe for Christmas but we can certainly invite everyone to celebrate Wassail now Joshua’s safely here. We could make it a double celebration,’ Ben said, looking pleased with his idea. ‘And of course we must make the Ashcombe wassail cup to toast the trees and young Joshua.’
‘What is this Wassail?’ Eliza asked.
Duncan laughed. ‘Anyone can tell you’re not a maid of these moors, young un. Here in Somerset, Wassail is when we pay tribute to the Apple Tree Man. He is the spirit of the oldest apple tree in the orchard. In him the fertility of the orchard is said to reside. The idea is to scare away evil spirits, wake the trees, then toast them with the special Ashcombe wassail cup to provide us with a good harvest. Tradition decrees this ritual is held on old Twelfth Night.’
‘But it’ll mean inviting people, then preparing the food and drink. And the house will need to look presentable. When we spoke about this last year, Mother was going to be here to help. I can’t possibly do it by myself, especially with young Joshua needing so much attention,’ Rose moaned, slumping in her seat.
‘I could help,’ Eliza said, then realized she was making assumptions. ‘I mean, I would be happy to assist if you don’t mind my staying on till then?’
Rose brightened. ‘You can stay as long as you like, Eliza. If you’re sure you don’t mind helping with the preparations, then we’ll do it,’ she declared.
‘I’ll break open a bottle of cider to celebrate,’ Ben said, grinning.
‘Ben Ashley, it’s barely mid-afternoon. What kind of example would that be to set our son, and what use will you be for the rest of the day, if you’re worse for wear?’ Rose admonished.
‘I was only thinking of the one bottle, Rose.’
‘You can content yourself with mixing the special Ashcombe cider cup. No doubt you will sample it sufficiently to quench your thirst. Now, we’ll need to make a list,’ Rose said, grabbing a pencil and frowning in concentration.
‘While you girls make the arrangements, Duncan and I will take the harvest cart and spread the word,’ Ben said, getting quickly to his feet.
‘Make sure we have enough cider for the wassail cup, then look out your great-grandfather’s clayen to serve it in,’ Rose told him.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Ben said with a salute. ‘Gosh, she’s getting as bossy as Great-Grandmother,’ he grumbled to Duncan.
‘When did you say this Wassail is held?’ Eliza asked.
‘On the old Twelfth Night, which is the 17th of January,’ Rose said. ‘Why, that’s in two days’ time,’ she squawked. Flinging open the back door she yelled, ‘Ben Ashley, get yourself back in here this very minute.’ But all they could hear was the sound of hooves and the clatter of the cart making its way down the icy track.
8
‘Have you ever made apple cakes before?’ Rose asked Eliza the next morning.
She shook her head. ‘I made apple pie once for a special treat,’ she replied.
‘Well, I’ve no idea how to make them,’ Rose muttered. ‘Worse still, there’s some special ingredient one has to use to make them the Ashcombe way. Apparently this marries with what’s used in the wassail cup.’
‘Is there a receipt somewhere?’
‘Gosh, I am a clod. Great-Grandmother’s book’s kept in the old hall. Come on.’
Eliza followed Rose along the hallway until they came to a halt in front of a magnificent dresser reflecting the patina of age. Pulling down a huge tome, Rose began flicking through the pages, which gave Eliza a chance to look around.
This part of the building had a completely different feel to it. She couldn’t help nodding to Great-Grandfather Joshua on the wall opposite and could have sworn his eyes twinkled back. She was convinced she could detect a whiff of tobacco smoke. How lovely it would have been to have a picture of Grampy on the wall of their cottage, she thought. Then she noticed what looked like a tiny door in the wall to the right of his picture.
‘What’s that?’ she asked Rose.
‘It’s the hidy-hole where Ben’s great-grandfather placed their babies’ first shoes.’ Seeing Eliza’s puzzled look, she continued, ‘According to some ancient custom, bricking up a shoe in the wall brings luck to the household. Of course, Joshua, being Joshua, insisted on placing a pair of each of his children’s shoes in there. He was never one to do things by halves. The tradition has continued down the generations so I guess we’ll have to do the same with Joshua’s first pair.’ Rose shuddered. ‘This hallway gives me the creeps. It feels like a flipping mausoleum. I’m hoping that in time I’ll be able to persuade Ben to rip it out. I quite fancy turning this part into a garden room.’
‘Oh, you mustn’t,’ cried Eliza. Then, when Rose stared at her in amazement: ‘You’re so lucky having all this family history around you. I’ve never experienced that.’
‘Whatever’s gone on in your past can’t be changed. However, the future lies ahead. When you marry and have children you’ll be able to create your own memories, won’t you?’ Rose pointed out.
Eliza snorted and pointed down to her heavy-booted foot. ‘No man’s going to want me with this.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Rose said.
‘My father told me so,’ Eliza muttered.
‘Well, I think he’s wrong, Eliza. You’re an attractive young woman, you know.’
Eliza stared down at the baggy rough shirt and ill-fitting serge trousers, and both women burst out laughing.
‘Why are you wearing those dreadful clothes anyway?’ Rose asked.
‘Fay lent them to me. It’s so cold in the hobble and I only had one thin dress with me.’
‘Oh, they’re Fay’s clothes. I might have known. Well, just because she goes around dressed like a man doesn’t mean you have to. Once we’ve found out how to make these hecking apple cakes, we’ll sort you some decent clothes to wear. It’ll be ages before I’m back into my nice things,’ she said, grimacing down at her still-rounded stomach.
With a sigh, she resumed her search for the receipt and after a few moments yelled in triumph, ‘Here it is!’ However, her delight was cut short by the wailing baby. ‘Damn,’ she muttered.
‘Shall I see to him or go back to the kitchen and make a start?’ Eliza asked.
‘Here, take this,’ Rose said, thrusting the heavy book into her hands. ‘Joshua will need feeding, so I’d best go. Don’t know why I bother, though. No sooner do I put it in one end than it comes gushing out the other.’
Eliza chuckled, remembering how her mother had said the same thing.
Back in the kitchen, she made sure the table was clean, then carefully set down the ancient tome. She was methodically going through the list of ingredients when th
e door opened and Duncan appeared. He smiled warmly at her and she beamed back, realizing she’d missed him in the short time he’d been away.
‘Hello, little un. How are you feeling today?’ he asked, rubbing his hands and holding them to warm beside the range.
‘I’m much better, thank you. And guess what? I’ve got a room all to myself and a real bed to sleep in,’ she enthused.
‘My, my, we’ll have to be calling you “my lady” soon,’ he quipped. ‘You know, Eliza, life here suits you. You’ve already got more colour in your cheeks.’
Eliza felt herself blushing at the compliment, pleased beyond words at what he’d said.
‘By the way, I looked in on Fay earlier.’
‘How is she?’
‘Coming to terms with Woody’s loss in her own time and way.’
Eliza nodded. ‘It probably helps not having me around.’
Duncan smiled. ‘Peace is her solace at the moment, little un. Now, Ben’s sent me in to see if there’s any tea in the offing.’
She gestured to the pot, then turned back to the receipt, hardly noticing when he went out again.
Cream golden butter with the richest of sugars ye possess. Raise arm and sift ye flours from yon highest place.
‘Crikey, I feel like one of the blinking cows this morning,’ Rose said, rubbing her chest as she came back into the kitchen.
‘That’ll be your milk coming in fully,’ Eliza said.
‘You mean he might go longer between feeds?’ Eliza nodded. ‘Blimey, thank heavens for that. Good job you’re here; you’ve much more idea than me. I could never discuss such things with my mother. Oh good, you’ve brewed tea. I’m parched. Let’s go through the ingredients whilst we have our tea.’
‘This receipt looks quite straightforward,’ Eliza said glancing down at the page again.
Beat in freshest eggs and apples finely smashest.
‘Here, don’t keep it to yourself, let me see,’ Rose said, leaning across the table.