Her thoughts were interrupted by another sobbing scream upstairs, and then Dorcas shouting down, ‘We’ll have that water now!’
Martha looked around her for a cloth – the handle was too hot to carry as it was – and found a knitted kettle-holder hanging from a nail. She was in the act of disengaging it, when the back door flew open and Ephraim sidled in, accompanied by a large stout lady in a button coat. Martha had never had a midwife attend her in her life, but she knew at once that she had met one now.
‘Where is the patient?’ The woman sounded urgent, crisp, but not unkind. A shriek from upstairs answered her. Ephraim gave an anguished look and hurried out again.
‘Go on up,’ said Martha. ‘Her aunt is there with her. I’m her mother. I’ve just boiled the kettle – I was going to take it up.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said the woman, and put out her hand for it. Martha gave it to her and meekly stood aside while the woman went upstairs. She sat down at the table, wishing she had taken Dorcas’s advice and made a cup of tea. Waiting was dreadful. Was this how fathers felt? There was a sudden shriek, another, and then a sobbing moan. Then there was silence.
Martha went to the bottom of the stairs, hoping to hear the crying of a child. But there was nothing. The bedroom door was shut and there was no noise from within. Silence was far worse than all the screams had been.
She could bear it no longer. She hurried up the stairs – just as the woman came out of the room, bearing a bowl of something with a towel over it. Martha looked enquiringly at her, but the midwife shook her head.
‘You can go in now, she is weak – she’s lost a lot of blood – but give her plenty of beef tea for a day or two and see she stays in bed, and she should recover, well enough. Whether she’ll ever have another child is quite another thing.’ She gestured to the washstand bowl that she was carrying and Martha realized, with a lurch, what it contained.
‘Poor Pattie!’ she murmured, though now that there wasn’t any urgency she led the way downstairs to show the midwife out. ‘Poor Ephraim, come to that.’
The woman surprised her. ‘I’m not sure the girl is going to mind,’ she said, turning in the kitchen to look Martha in the eye. ‘Says she lost it falling down these steps, but there’s no bruising on her like there would have been if she’d gone over stairs. I think she might have lifted something heavy, on purpose, possibly.’
‘To bring it on?’ Martha was horrified. ‘Never!’ Pattie had already given way to sin, she thought, but interfering with God’s plans for human souls would be mortal wickedness.
The woman shrugged. ‘Otherwise, why tell that tale about a fall? Though of course she would deny it – and she’s got a husband, so perhaps I’m wrong. But you would be surprised. I’ve seen such things before.’ She shook her head. ‘I never understand young woman, nowadays. How can’t they live with what the good Lord sends? And as for wanting votes and driving motor-cars – it isn’t natural. Though what is, with this war? Now, here’s the husband coming. Can you dispose of this?’
She gave the bowl to Martha, who stared stupidly at it as Ephraim came into the kitchen from the yard.
‘What’s happening?’ He looked expectantly at each of them in turn.
Martha was relieved that the midwife took control. ‘I’m afraid your wife has lost her little son, but she herself is out of danger now. I’ve left instructions – nourishment and rest – and done what I can for her,’ she told him briskly. ‘So I think I’ve finished here. You can go upstairs, she should be decent now – but don’t stay long, you mustn’t overtire her. I’ll see myself out. Remind me to whom I should address the bill?’
Pattie was lying back on pillows, looking pale and weak, her long hair lank with perspiration round her cheeks. Dorcas – or somebody – had bundled up the bloodstained clothes and sheets into a heap, dropped them on the floor and replaced them all with clean ones from the cedar chest, so Pattie looked respectable enough. When she looked up, though, her eyes were expressionless and dull.
‘I killed it, didn’t I? All that and it is dead?’
‘You didn’t mean to,’ Dorcas comforted. ‘You fell downstairs, that’s all. An unhappy accident.’
Ephraim reached out and took his wife’s two hands. ‘God moves in a mysterious way. Perhaps it is His will that this burden has been lifted, and we should start again.’
Pattie pulled her hands away and put them to her face. Tears came seeping through her fingers as she began silently to cry.
Martha could bring herself to say nothing comforting. The dreadful secret weighed on her like lead. ‘Pattie’s tired. What she needs is rest.’ She went into the corner and scooped up the bloodied clothes. ‘Best thing I can do for her is take this washing home. Ephraim, can you find something I can put it in? And there’s a bowl of stuff downstairs that wants disposing of.’ She hesitated. This was difficult: Strict Adherents, unlike a lot of sects, held that the human soul entered the body with the breath – on the principle that after God made Adam from the dust, He ‘breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and man became a living soul’ – in that order and not the other way about. Ephraim had preached homilies about it more than once. So he might object to what she had to say, but she went on anyway. ‘You might want to bury it a bit decently somewhere, where the dogs won’t find it, and say a prayer or two.’
Ephraim simply nodded, to her great relief. ‘I’ll be back to see you, Pattie!’ He bent to kiss his wife’s cheek but she turned away from him, and he allowed himself to be escorted reluctantly downstairs.
He found a piece of canvas to wrap the washing in, and a piece of twine to tie the bundle up but he did it slowly and mechanically like a man who was walking in his sleep. Nor did he ask about the contents of the bowl, though Martha saw him with it, a little later on, out at the enclosure on the hill where (as Strict Adherents were not entitled to a churchyard burial) several of his forefathers had been laid to rest. He was digging a small hole there. Martha turned away.
Finally when she and Dorcas had finished cleaning round and Patience was – at last – exhaustedly asleep, Martha began to think of going back home again. There were eight other daughters there who needed her, and Toby – and Pru and Vee at least – would have to be told that the baby had been lost.
‘Nothing more that you can do for Patience, for the moment anyway,’ Dorcas said, consolingly, as they walked home together across the fields, she with her basket and Martha with the parcel of washing. ‘You heard the midwife. What she needs is sleep.’
‘And beef tea!’ Martha snorted bitterly. ‘Where does the woman think I’m going to get that from, with meat the price it is? Haven’t seen beef dripping in our house for a year – let alone a piece of steak. Wonder that she didn’t suggest a drop of brandy, too!’
Dorcas laughed. ‘Might have done, at that, if I hadn’t warned her that talk of alcohol would give Ephraim fifty fits. But don’t worry about beef tea, lover, sieved rabbit stew will do. Easy to drink and build her up a bit. I’ll make some up tonight – and no!’ – seeing that Martha was trying to protest – ‘it’s easier for me. You’ve already got ten mouths to feed. I’ve got one man’s wages coming in, and only two of us. So let me see to this. Besides—’ she gave a rueful smile – ‘I’ve had a soft spot for your Pattie, in particular – same age as my own would be, if he’d survived.’
Martha (who’d had all the children she had wished – and more) knew when to retreat. ‘Thanks, Dorcas. Bit of rabbit stew will do her good. That midwife would be pleased.’ And never mind what Ephraim, Toby and Grandfather might think about ‘consorting with backsliders’, she added inwardly.
Dorcas opened a gate to let her through. ‘Give that woman credit, though, she knew just what to do. Gave Pattie something to bring things on at once – and staunched the bleeding, more or less, when I was floundering. Most likely saved her life – though it’s a shame about the child. Your first grandchild and all.’
Martha stood stock-still and looked
at her. ‘Might be a blessing, Dorcas, in disguise. Don’t look so shocked – you must know what I mean. Pattie was well on – much more so than I thought – otherwise she wouldn’t have had the trouble that she did. If that child had lived, nobody in Christendom would ever have believed that it was conceived in wedlock. As it is …’ She shrugged.
‘It’s just unfortunate? Lost her first one, like a lot of women do?’ Dorcas nodded to show she understood.
‘No one’s to know that she had such a time of it – without you telling them, and I don’t suppose you will. Wonder what he makes of it?’ She nodded to the hill, where the distant form of Ephraim could be seen, methodically filling in the hole that he had made, then taking off his hat – prayerfully burying someone else’s unborn child.
‘Proper stricken, by the look of him,’ her sister said. ‘Strange man, always has been, but I’ve come to the conclusion from what I’ve seen today that he’s genuinely fond of Pattie in his peculiar way.’
‘Bless you, Dorcas,’ Martha said impulsively, as they parted at the gate. She aimed an awkward peck at her astonished sister’s cheek. ‘You don’t know what a blessing you have been.’
Because – she realized with amazement – what Dorcas said was true. Ephraim did care for Pattie in his fashion, though it was clear that Pattie didn’t feel the same way in return. Perhaps she’d learn to, given time. And there’d be time enough. When he married, Ephraim Tull had ‘put his hand upon the plough’, and nothing on earth would make him let it go again. Whatever happened he’d do his best by her.
That was a crumb of comfort to carry through the day.
Verity’s mind was only vaguely on the mission to the shed. She really shouldn’t be there, she should be on her way to work – but when Mrs Dawes insisted that she should come and look, and was taking such an interest in her tale about the man, it would have been ill-mannered to refuse. Just a quick glance to be polite, she told herself – though Mrs Dawes was right. She was so late already that five minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Her hostess was exclaiming over something now. Vee put on a politely interested face. ‘Where are these dust-marks you were telling me about?’
But her hostess shook her head. ‘Never mind the dust-marks. Look what’s over there!’
‘You mean that cardboard box?’ There was one in the corner standing on its own. It looked innocuous enough – the sort of box that any grocer used – and loosely tied with string, like a big order ready for the delivery boy to take.
But Mrs Dawes was staring at it as if it might explode. ‘Exactly! It isn’t mine, and it wasn’t here a day or two ago. So what is it, and how did it get here? Something to do with your suspicious bicyclist, I think.’
Verity felt a little shiver of excitement down her back, but she shook her head. ‘He didn’t put it there. His hands were empty, I told you that before. And there was nothing in the basket of his bike.’ She walked over to the box. ‘But, as you say, it’s strange that it should be here. I wonder what it is? Perhaps we’d better open it and have a look.’
‘Oh, don’t do that – you never know …’ Mrs Dawes cried in alarm. ‘It might be explosives smuggled from the mine, or anything …’
But Verity was already pulling off the string. ‘My dear life! Look, there’s another box inside. And would you believe it, it is one of ours! One from the dairy factory, I mean – the kind I pack myself. Twenty tins of powdered milk for the army, it should be – I recognize the size. Yes, see, it says so on the side. And there’s the wire round it, so it can be dispatched.’ She picked it up and rattled it. ‘You know, there was a lot of stuff went missing a little while ago …’
Mrs Dawes was frowning. ‘From the factory? What sort of things? Tools? Oil? Machinery?’
‘Heavens no – just food. The things that we produce. Powdered milk, whey powder, cheese, all sorts of things intended for the troops, including tins of powdered milk just like this … The police were called and for a while it stopped. I thought that it was somebody I knew, but it can’t have been, because she’s gone and recently there’s been a few things missed again. You don’t suppose …?’
Mrs Dawes was nodding. ‘I think you might be right. I had it back to front. Your man didn’t come to put anything in here, he came to pick it up. Though perhaps he stole it to begin with, and hid it here meanwhile – that seems quite probable.’
Vee shook her head again. ‘Can’t see how he can have done anything like that. The stuff’s going missing before it leaves the factory – between the packing station and despatch, when they come to load the carts they find the order’s short. Mind, I don’t know how anybody could have managed that. Not with the new security they’ve introduced – everything has to be double signed for, all the way along. It’s a system Sergeant Jeffries put in place. Worked very well at first. Wonder what they would say, if they knew that this had turned up here?’
‘Well, I think you should tell them,’ Mrs Dawes replied. ‘You’re going there anyway. Take it with you and explain where it was found. Go to someone in authority. I think Sergeant Jeffries will take an interest in your man, too, after this! Might even earn a commendation for arresting him – stealing food is a serious offence, especially when it is intended for the troops. Under the DORA regulations, there’s a hefty penalty, I’ve heard him say as much.’ She smiled at Verity. ‘So there may be a reward – if so, you have it, all of it. No need to mention me. You were the one that first raised the alarm.’
Verity gave her an uneasy look. ‘But suppose they don’t believe me? You’ll speak up for me?’
‘In that case, Miss Tregorran, naturally I will. But of course they will believe you. You’ve got proof now, haven’t you?’
Verity nodded. That was true, of course. And – if she could point the finger to the thief – maybe they’d even pay her for the hour she wasn’t there. She scooped up the carton. ‘I’ll be off then, Mrs Dawes!’
‘Can you carry that?’ Mrs Dawes was anxious. ‘Bit heavy isn’t it?’
It was so funny that Vee laughed aloud. ‘I’m used to it. At the factory we do it all the time. Bigger packs sometimes, depending what it is. No, don’t worry, I’ll manage easily.’ And to prove it, she set off along the path towards the lane.
‘Take care, then,’ Mrs Dawes called after her. ‘And whatever happens come and let me know!’ And she stood waving and watching at the gate.
It wasn’t all that easy carrying the box, though it was not the weight so much, it was the awkwardness. There was nothing to catch hold of, now the string was gone, and Verity had to carry it in both arms, like a child.
That thought reminded her of Patience. How was she getting on? Was the baby born yet, and was it a girl or boy? She was so busy with her thoughts she did not hear the cart until it was upon her, and someone shouted, ‘Hey! You there! Mind out of the way!’
Verity turned and looked up with relief. She knew that voice, it was Mr Grey again, clearly on his way back to the factory. ‘Mr Grey!’ She smiled up at him.
The smile was answered only with an anxious frown. ‘Of course, you’re from the factory. One of the Tregorrans. I recognize your face. What are you doing out here at this time of day?’
‘On my way to tell you why I’m late,’ she said. ‘Me sister’s taken bad and I was sent for help. And then—’ she nodded at the box – ‘I wanted to see you about this anyway.’
Mr Grey craned forward and took a closer look – it was too heavy for her to lift up for him to see – and instantly his manner altered totally. ‘Where did you get that from? What’s it doing here?’
He sounded shaken. Poor man, Verity thought sympathetically. He was responsible for second-signing things – he’d likely be in trouble, for not being vigilant. ‘You’d never believe it, but I found it, just a moment since, in the garden of a cottage just along the road. And I think I know who it was put there for, as well. There’s a strange man on a bicycle I’ve seen hanging round – I’m sure he would have picked it up if no
one was around. You’d know the man, in fact – I heard you having an argument with him once out on the cliffs – something about him getting in your way …’
But Mr Grey was looking furious. ‘I don’t remember any such event. I think you made it up. And as for the story about discovering the box, I never heard such tripe. Caught you red-handed with it, haven’t I, you thief! Always knew it was someone on the staff – though I never imagined it would be anyone like you. And you a Strict Adherent!! Well – we’ll have you on the cart – come on, get up.’ He reached out and grasped her roughly by the arm. ‘And we’ll see what your parents have to say about all this.’
He tried to pull her bodily up onto the cart, but Verity resisted. ‘But you don’t understand. I didn’t take it – I just found it – honestly I did. And I daren’t be any later into work than I already am.’
Mr Grey gave an unpleasant laugh. ‘Work, is it? Well, young lady, you can think again – you don’t suppose the factory will continue to employ a thief? You can consider yourself immediately dismissed. And that sister of yours too. Nothing but trouble, all the lot of you.’
‘Dismissed?’ A shock of dismay ran through her like a thunderbolt.
‘What else do you expect? Caught you red-handed with a box of stolen milk. I shall have to tell the bosses and they’ll inform the police – and count yourself lucky if you don’t end up in jail. Now, give me that box and be on your way.’
He tried to grab at it but she eluded him. ‘But Mr Grey …?’ She wailed, still hoping to persuade him of her innocence.
‘Let go of it, you vixen!’ He got down from the cart to wrest it from her, brandishing his whip. Vee screamed and backed away. He followed, there was a moment’s tussle – and then a figure on a bicycle came pedalling round the bend.
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