‘Yes, yes, all right. We’ll be back here at half past three. Goodbye, sir.’
‘Goodbye, Emily. Goodbye, Lucy.’
‘Goodbye, sir.’
As they walked along the pavement she had the idea that he was still standing watching them, and when, at the top end of the street, before turning into the main road, she looked back to see if she had been right, sure enough there he was standing by the horse’s head looking in their direction. And then she did a silly thing. She didn’t know what possessed her, she lifted her hand and she waved. Then she wished for a hole in the ground to swallow her up for being so silly and forward when, after a pause, she saw his hand go up and move twice, and Lucy said, ‘He waved to us!’
When they got into the main street she looked at Lucy and exclaimed, as she shook her head, ‘I should never have done that, steppin’ out of me place like that. Eeh! He’ll think I’m takin’ advantage, and I don’t want him to think that.’ Then, nodding down at Lucy, she went on to explain, ‘You see you’ve got to be so careful, you haven’t got to be your natural self with bosses and masters and such like, ’cos they’re not all like Sep. Sep was different. So don’t you take any liberties because he waved an’ speak out of turn when you get back. Wait until you’re spoken to, as always.’
‘Yes, Emily.’
And as they walked on she thought, I wouldn’t have waved to him this time yesterday, I wouldn’t have dared.
Mary Southern greeted them with open arms, and hardly stopping to take breath, she told them that a school-board man had been there enquiring about Lucy, that Alice Broughton had put him on the scent, but she had put him right off it again by saying that Lucy’s big sister had taken her down to the south of the country and into service there. Finally, she poured out more tea, ladled out more potato hash, pushed the assortment of dirty dishes aside, then, spreading her forearms on the table, leant her breasts on them and demanded to be told all the news.
And Emily gave her all the news, about the house, the farm, the master, Con, Abbie, and lastly her mistress. But about her she gave the slimmest of descriptions, simply saying that she was bedridden and rather hoity-toity because she was a lady, for she knew that if she told her Aunt Mary all she had put up with from her mistress in the past few weeks that big and downright woman would have cried at her, ‘Get yersels out of that; there are other jobs to be had where you don’t have to put up with people like her. To my mind she sounds barmy.’ Yes, that’s what Aunt Mary would have said, because anyone describing Mrs Birch was bound to give the hearer the impression that the woman was barmy. Yet, Emily knew, she wasn’t barmy, not that kind of barmy where you had to be put away, and so she skimmed over her mistress’s character, leaving her Aunt Mary with the impression that in taking this new job she had fallen on her feet.
The history of the farm and its occupants exhausted, Emily now asked the question which was uppermost in her mind. ‘Do you know of a good second-hand shop around here, Aunt Mary? ’Cos we’re both in need of a rig-out?’
‘Second-hand shop around here, lass! There’s nowt else; some good, some bad, and some worse. The clothes you get out of some of ’em, why they’re walkin’, you could put a rope round ’em an’ lead ’em home.’
Now they were all laughing, even the children on the floor joining in.
After Emily had wiped her eyes and taken a gulp of the strong sweet tea, she said, ‘I’d like one or two decent things, Aunt Mary; something different from the usual run of the mill, with a bit of colour in it, you know?’
‘Well now.’ Mary Southern was wagging a fat dirty finger in Emily’s direction as she said, ‘I know the very place over in Fellburn. Mind you, I’ve never been inside the shop meself, it’s much too ah-la for me. Paddy’s Market over the water in Newcastle is more in my line; I can get the whole lot rigged out for ten bob, leading them home or not!’ Again she let out a roar. ‘Have you ever been to Newcastle, lass?’
‘No, Aunt Mary.’ Emily waited patiently.
‘Oh, you should go, lass, it’s marvellous. There’s some wonderful places. I never appreciated it when I had the chance. You know I was in place over there when I was eleven. St Thomas’s Square, that’s where the house was, and you talk about swank, my God! Lady Golightly or the Duchess of Fife wasn’t in it with that one. He managed a bank but you would have thought he managed the Mint. There were only four servants, me included, but they had us kneeling at prayers afore breakfast, eight o’clock in the morning. And mind, I’d been up since five; no six o’clock in them days. They took me from the cook when I was fifteen to train me as housemaid. The missis had what she called ladies’ afternoons, and the first time I handed the tea round I spilt some into an old biddy’s lap, an’ that was that. The very next day when I packed me bundle I cheeked the cook an’ she promised a dark end for me. “Every dog has his day,” she said, “and you’ll get bitten afore long.” And you know what I said back to her?’ Again her head went back and her laugh rang out as she spluttered, ‘“Aye, every dog has his day,” I said, “an’ a bitch has two afternoons.”’ Then her chin coming forward, she thrust it towards Emily’s and Lucy’s laughing faces and, flinging her arms wide to encompass the children on the floor, ended, ‘And I’ve had some afternoons, haven’t I?’ And all Emily could say at the moment was, ‘Oh, Aunt Mary! Oh, Aunt Mary, you’re as good as a dose of medicine.’
When the laughter died down, she asked, ‘About that shop, Aunt Mary, the good second-hand shop.’
‘Oh aye, lass. That’s me, I get in a train for Shields and land up at Durham so to speak…Have you ever been in Newcastle station? By! It’s as good as a treat goin’ to Newcastle station. All right…all right…all right.’ She now beat her fist against her head as she cried, ‘There you go again, Mary Southern. Stick to the point for once. Well, now, Emily, about this second-hand shop. I understand the wife gets all her bits and pieces from them on Brampton Hill, an’ there’s some big houses up there, you know, lass, so it’s bound to be good stuff. But she’s pricey. They say, you’d pay as much as five shillings for a coat…Well now, as to where it is, it’s almost at the foot of the hill itself, but across the road on the opposite side and down Bower Street. You can’t miss it. She’s got one or two things in the window nicely arranged like a proper shop, you know?’
‘Oh, thanks, Aunt Mary. And…and would you mind if we got off now because I’ve got to meet the master in the market around half past three?’
‘No, lass, no, get yourself away, but by, I’ve been pleased to see you both!’
When the shilling was slipped into her hand she made loud protest; then she bestowed on each of them a smacking kiss, assured them that they were as welcome as the flowers in May even if they were to bloom every day in the year, and on this she set them to the front door and waved them on.
They were still laughing when they reached Fellburn, and Emily said, ‘Eeh! Me Aunt Mary’s as good as a magic lantern, isn’t she?’ and Lucy replied, ‘You know, it’s funny, Emily, the house is mucky an’ there’s bairns all over the place but I wouldn’t mind livin’ there.’
Emily looked at her for a moment, then asked soberly, ‘More than you like livin’ up at the house?’ and Lucy, returning her gaze, nodded and replied, ‘Aye. Aye, I would, Emily.’
As they walked on in silence now, Emily thought, She’s right; I would an’ all. But—she ended on an inward laugh—that would be after I’d cleaned them all up, me Aunt Mary included.
At half past three prompt they entered Fellburn Market Square each carrying a large brown paper parcel and their faces shining bright.
But as they approached Larry Birch standing seemingly where they had left him earlier by the horse’s head, their steps slowed, and when they stood before him they were silent, and so was he. He stared from one to the other in open-mouthed amazement. Then, his eyes resting on Emily, he began to laugh, and as his laughter mounted and he put his hand over his mouth to quell it the brightness slid from her face.
‘I look funny?’ The statement was quiet.
‘Funny?’ He shook his head. ‘No, no, Emily, you don’t look funny.’ He did not add, ‘No, but you look ridiculous,’ for as extreme as her clothes were and so utterly out of place, either in this dirty market square or for the position that she held, she didn’t look ridiculous, she looked amazing. Why had he laughed? He didn’t know. Perhaps because he had seen a moth turn into a butterfly. But she had never been a moth; no moth ever glowed like she did. And now her glowing had changed into a bright light, a starkly bright light. Nevertheless, he knew that he preferred her as a moth. He looked at the hat she’d replaced, the flat straw one with its two round-headed hatpins protruding like eyes on stalks from its brim. The replacement, too, was straw, but a leghorn straw, and around the front of its brim lay a large blue feather, and at its back apparently was a similarly coloured large bow of silk ribbon, for the ends of the bow were sticking out beyond the brim, and in one place the wire that kept them in place was exposed.
But it was her coat that was most astonishing. It was green and its collar was made of fur; its sleeves were voluminous and each fell in three cape folds to the elbow. The coat followed her slim waistline, then swung out into a gored skirt heavily trimmed with braid. It was a coat such as any lady of the city would wear for an occasion, the launching of a ship perhaps or when being the guest at a ladies’ afternoon in some fashionable apartment. In certain parts of Newcastle it would have gone unnoticed. But this wasn’t Newcastle, this was Fellburn, which boasted of only one select area and that on Brampton Hill.
His eyes moved down to her feet. She no longer wore her sturdy top boots which he had noticed were well down at the heels, but had on now a pair of shoes which were, he imagined, a size too small for her but were very neat, yet too pretty for everyday use. Moreover, her new attire, bought apparently from a second-hand shop, had, in the matter of an afternoon, turned her from a young girl into a young woman. She looked at this moment near twenty. And that was a pity.
But Lucy…Lucy, dressed in a thick grey, but pretty, coat with blue cuffs and collar and a blue hood, itself lined with the coat material, looked warm and snug, and not out of place.
‘You…you think I’ve been silly?’
‘No, no, Emily, I don’t. Believe me I don’t.’ He was eager to reassure her now because there was no longer any gladness in her face. ‘It…it was only that you went away a short while ago like a young maid, and now you come back like a young lady. The clothes are…beau…beautiful. How did you come by them?’
‘My Aunt Mary told me of this shop. It’s a very good shop; they…they only deal with the best.’
‘Oh’—he looked solemnly at her now—‘I can see that. That coat must have cost a small fortune in the first place.’
‘But you think I should have got something a little plainer; I know I should, but…but I’ve never seen a coat like this afore.’ Her chin drooped now while at the same time she stroked her hand lovingly over her waist.
‘You weren’t silly, you did right. And how you spend your wages is your business. Now come on, up you get, both of you.’
They got up, and they sat at their side of the trap and he at his, and every now and again he turned his head and looked at them, more often at Emily, and smiled, but the nearer they got towards the village he had the irrepressible urge to say, For God’s sake, take that hat off before we go through there. But he had already dampened the glow in her face and he wouldn’t risk putting it out altogether. Yet he knew what would happen once they drove up that street.
And it did happen.
On the two previous occasions she had driven through the village no-one had taken much notice of them. True, there hadn’t been many people about, but those who had been had merely glanced up at the trap and then gone about their business of walking or talking. But now not only did the village people turn and stare at them, but a group of miners, about ten in all, who were on their way home from the Beulah pit outside of Fellburn and whose pit cottages were situated behind the village, stopped and gaped, and one or two of them laughed and shouted something.
Emily knew that miners were rough customers, worse than dockers when they got going, for they cared for neither God nor man and seemed to fear nobody, and when one shouted, ‘Some poor cock’ll be cold the neet without its tail,’ her hands went instinctively to her hat, to freeze there as Larry Birch’s voice growled through lips that hardly moved, ‘Leave it be!’
The trap joggled up the main street towards the blacksmith’s shop and it was the blacksmith’s wife who made the last comment. She was standing at the forge door and as they passed her she shouted over her shoulder; ‘Begod! Sandy, come and look at this!…Fine feathers make fine birds, so they say, an’ who said you can’t make a peacock out of a partridge? Well! Well!’
Larry Birch remained silent until they were nearing the gates of the house, when, without looking at her, he said, ‘You know something? The next thing you’ll hear is that I bought you your rig-out, so be prepared for that, won’t you?’
‘But you didn’t, and I’ll deny…’
‘You can deny it until your heart stops for want of breath, me girl, but they won’t believe you. That village is inhabited by people who want to believe what they want to believe, and in this case, they’ll tell you they believe the evidence of their eyes. You pass through there at noon a serving maid, you come back at evening dressed like—’ he now turned and looked her up and down then said with heavy weariness, ‘like nothing they’ve ever seen before.’
When she felt Lucy’s hand creep into hers she had a great desire to cry, but instead, her head bowed, she said, ‘I could leave.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense!’
It was the almost scornful note in his voice that caused her to flare. ‘I could! I will!’ Her head was up now, and she was shouting at him. ‘You can’t stop me! I’m not bonded. Neither is she.’ She jerked the hand within hers. ‘And I’ll tell you this much. I don’t care what they think in the village; I don’t care about them, they’re nothin’ to me; I don’t care what anybody thinks, them or me mistress, or old Abbie, or…or…’
When she hesitated he put in quietly, ‘Or me?’
And now she nodded at him fearlessly as she said, ‘Aye, you an’ all; I’m not beholden to anybody. As long as I’ve got two hands on me I’ll get a job. An’ I can always go to me Aunt Mary’s until one turns up. I don’t have to put up with all this. I’m not tied to that house like you…’
Her eyes were wide, her mouth was wide. The cold evening air was rushing into it down her windpipe and into her stomach, yet she was hot, sweating. What had come over her? Eeh! To talk to him like that. To tell him he was tied to the house…Well, he was, and to that mean bitch lying in bed up there…Eeh! What was the matter with her?…She was angry, that’s what was the matter with her, and she was a fool. She had been a fool to spend her money on these clothes, on this damned hat, and this coat and the dress underneath it…But no, the dress was bonny. It was plain, but bonny.
The dress was made of a soft woollen material, pink woollen material. Never had she seen anything like it in her life before.
She’d keep the dress, but she’d burn the coat and the hat…No, she wouldn’t. When she left she would take it and give it to her Aunt Mary. She would wear it. Aye, she would, an’ the hat an’ all. She’d cause a riot of laughter in the street, and she’d enjoy it, and everybody with her…The whole pound she had spent on herself wouldn’t be wasted after all…But it was winter, jobs weren’t two a penny in winter. Don’t let her forget that.
‘Yes, I am tied to the house; you have spoken the truth there.’ There was no scorn in his voice now. He wasn’t speaking to her as if she were a numskull.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, you needn’t be.’
She looked at him through the fading light and again she had the impression she was sitting with Sep for again she was sensing the same need in this man as she had d
one in Sep. But this man was playing two parts, and because of his double role he had become an upstart. Yet, strangely, she understood his need to be an upstart, which after all only meant that he wanted to be different, to get on, rise in life. She didn’t know from where she drew the perceptive power to recognise the need in people, she only knew she could tell. She had known that Sep had needed something, someone; but she had also known whom Sep had needed. Herself. But she didn’t know whom this man needed; she did know though that the need wasn’t new in him, that she herself hadn’t awakened it, but that someone else had. Was it Mrs Rowan’s daughter, the one called Lizzie?
He was speaking again, quietly now as if he were very tired. ‘I thought we had come to an understanding this mornin’. I told you then I needed you in the house, and I’m telling you again, so let there be no more talk of packing up.’
He jerked the reins which made a motion like waves rolling towards the horse’s head. He drove through the gates, past the front of the house and into the courtyard, and as he jumped down from the trap and put out his hand to help her from the high step Con opened the kitchen door.
She saw him standing tall and straight like a faceless shadow against the light of the lamp from behind him in the kitchen, but as they approached him he moved back and the expression on his face was one of wonder. Then stepping hastily towards them again, he grabbed the parcels from both their arms and hugged them to him as he looked from one to the other, from Emily standing in her fur and braid-trimmed magnificent coat, and now holding the big hat with the bright blue feather and outsize bow between her two hands, to Lucy, appearing at this moment like some fragile child who had stepped out from an expensive storybook, and he exclaimed on a high note of awe and admiration, ‘Oh! You look lovely. Lovely.’
The Tide of Life Page 15