The Rag Nymph (aka The Forester Girl)

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘What closed school?’

  Millie had come into the room carrying a tin tray, and as she put it down on the table, she looked from one to the other and said, ‘What are you talkin’ about, closed schools? Is the school going to close?’

  In answer, Aggie did not bawl at her but said quietly, ‘Come here, love. Sit down there.’ She pointed to the couch, and when Millie was seated she lowered herself down beside her and, taking her hand, said, ‘You’re frightened of that man, aren’t you?’

  Millie bowed her head and said, ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ She was looking up into Aggie’s face now. ‘Well—’ She thought for a moment. ‘I…I didn’t like his face and…and the way he got hold of my arm that first time,’ she said. ‘And then, when he brought the lady…no, she wasn’t a lady, she was just a woman, and her voice was common and she called me duckie and…and I said to them, “I’m going to scream.” And when there were two men passing he let go of me and I ran. I…I—’ She turned to Ben now, saying, ‘I don’t know why I was afraid, they just made me afraid. They weren’t like…well, ordinary people. I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘I just didn’t like them, nor him. His face was nasty, and he kept smiling.’

  ‘Well, love, you’re nine years old, coming on ten quick, an’ you’ve got a head on your shoulders, so I’m goin’ to talk to you straight. He’s a bad man. A very bad man. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else: your mother wouldn’t have died if it hadn’t been for that man.’

  ‘But…but Mama died of a fever, you said she did.’

  ‘Yes, it was caused by that man.’

  ‘How? How can a man cause a fever?’

  ‘It’s hard to explain. But…but when you’re a bit older I’ll…I’ll tell you how. In the meantime, tell me, has…has he ever said anything to you except askin’ you if you would like to go to the fair?’

  ‘No; but the woman said she would show me some pretty dresses, new ones, not—’ She looked downwards now before she said, ‘Smelly stuff off the cart.’

  There was silence for a moment, and then Millie lifted her head as she said, ‘He…he called me a funny name. I…I didn’t tell you before because it was about the rags.’

  ‘What did he call you then to do with the rags?’

  ‘Rag Niff. That’s what I thought it was at first but when he said it the next time it sounded different, it was nymph, rag nymph, that’s what he called me. “Hello, Rag Nymph,” he said.’

  ‘Nymph?’ Aggie was looking at Ben, and he looked questioningly at Millie as she said, ‘A nymph is a kind of fairy, I think. I’ve read about them in one of my stories. They live in woods and dance round toadstools.’

  The almost simultaneous intaking of breath by both Ben and Aggie was audible; then, again taking Millie’s hand, Aggie said, ‘Listen carefully, child. That man is bent on takin’ you away from us. He is an evil man, bad, very bad. Now neither Ben there, nor me, can watch you every moment of the day. You go to school. Ben takes you there and he brings you back, but there are the in-between times, and evil men are clever. And then there’s the time with the cart when you stand, like this mornin’, lookin’ after it and the pony. Well, you know, if you hadn’t been quick and run in to me he could have caught up with you. And what then? Now, I want the best for you, the best that I can give you, because in a way you belong to me now, and Ben there.’ She put her hand out towards him. ‘And we both…well—’ She could not bring herself to say ‘love you’, but instead said, ‘care what happens to you. So, we think for a little while ahead you should go to a school where you’ll be looked after; I mean, where you can sleep, and where he won’t get at you.’

  ‘I…Oh! Mrs Aggie, I don’t want to go to a school where I won’t be able to get out and come home. Why can’t you tell the police about him?’

  Aggie looked helplessly at Ben and he, moving forward and dropping on to his hunkers, brought his face level with Millie’s as he said, ‘He…he hasn’t done anything yet. He hasn’t run off with you. There’s what you call no case against him, not at present, anyway. Aggie’s friend knows about him, but, as he said, they can’t pin anything on to him; they’ve been tryin’ for a long time. But he’s got to be caught in the act. You understand?’

  ‘Yes’—she nodded at him—‘I understand. Oh…oh, Ben, I…I don’t want to leave, I mean’—there was a break in her voice now—‘I don’t want to go away. I…I love it here; and…and I keep everything clean, don’t I?’ She turned towards Aggie, who had to turn away and look towards the fireplace.

  It was Ben who answered for her, saying, ‘Aggie knows that. You’ve got the place like a little palace, or a big palace.’ He grinned now. ‘It’s never been so clean in its life. You’re a marvellous worker; and what’s more, you make the best currant buns I’ve ever tasted. Oh, love.’ He now put out a hand and stroked her cheek. ‘I’ll miss you; we’ll all miss you. But you see, you’ll come home for the holidays, Easter and Christmas; and they have holidays in the summer an’ all, don’t they, Aggie?’

  Aggie mumbled something in her throat; then, hastily pulling herself up from the couch, she said, ‘Well, now we all know where we stand, so let’s eat. I’ve never had a bite since mornin’,’ which made Ben exclaim on a laugh, ‘I can’t believe that. Never! Can you?’ He looked down on the bent head, but there was no response from Millie. And now he put his hand on her hair and stroked it, saying, ‘It’ll be all right. You’ll see, it’ll be all right. And you’ll be what they call educated. Oh aye, and you’ll come home and you’ll cock a snoot at us.’

  ‘I never will. I never will.’ The tear-stained face was turned up towards him now. ‘I’ll never turn my nose up at you, and never at Mrs Aggie. Never!’

  ‘No, I know you won’t, me dear. That’s one thing I’m sure of. But come on, set the table. Here’s another one that’s as hungry as a hunter. We’ll leave the tea till after, to wash the chitterlings down. I love chitterlings, don’t you?’

  ‘Not very much.’

  ‘Go on with you! Go on! The dish is in the pantry. Go and bring it.’

  He let her leave the room before going across to Aggie, who was standing now looking down into the fire, and he patted the back of her shoulder, saying, ‘You’re doin’ the best thing, Aggie, the only thing. That kind of education will take her back likely to what she was; I mean, what she could have been. ’Cos you know somethin’?’ He bent his head forward and whispered now, ‘She hasn’t got past the “bloody old cow” stage completely. The other day I heard her come out with a “bloody”. When Laddie kicked over a bucket of mash, she said, “You bloody silly donkey.”’

  Aggie turned quickly towards him now, saying, ‘She didn’t!’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘Well’—she straightened her broad shoulders –‘perhaps everything’s turning out for the best then. Let’s pray to God it is, anyway.’

  ‘Oh Aggie, that’s a daft thing to say. As if He’d have any time for us with the mob of Holy Joes He’s got to see to. You might as well hope to get manure from a rockin’ horse’s backside as help from Him.’

  Her hand came out and she thrust him backwards on to the settle.

  And that’s how Millie saw them when she entered the kitchen again, carrying the plate of chitterlings: the two people she cared for most, and who were about to lose her, laughing their heads off.

  The queer feeling came over her, that choking feeling in her throat which she experienced in the night, when she was lying awake trying to recall and piece together dim, fleeting memories of another time in which she had lived, when things had been both happy and sad, when angry broken sentences would not meet and so explain the odd pictures that formed in her mind. It was then that the lump in her throat would break and spill the tears from her eyes and cause her to make choking sounds which she did not try to prevent, knowing they would not penetrate Mrs Aggie’s deep snoring.

  But the sound she now made in her throat brought bot
h Aggie and Ben’s eyes on her, and as she turned and fled from the room and Ben made to go after her, Aggie’s voice halted him, saying firmly, ‘Leave her be! She’ll cry over more than that before she’s finished.’

  Two

  The House of Christ the Saviour was situated in the better-class district of Benton Fields. Aggie had passed the grounds many times and noticed that the stone wall was topped with broken glass and that there was a double wooden gate with an iron bell pull attached to its side. She’d had no idea what the house looked like until she was going through that wooden gate when, holding Millie by the hand, she espied it in the distance.

  The nun who admitted them appeared to be covered from head to foot apart from her eyes, nose and mouth, for after she had bolted the gate behind them she tucked her bare hands into her sleeves, then led the way up a gravel path, on either side of which a lawn extended as far as a further high stone wall, its top also embedded with glass. Judging by the front of it, the house was quite large, for it showed three windows each side of the front door, the same above them, and a row of small windows jutting out from the roof.

  Without a word, the nun ushered them through the broad, thick oak door and into a tiled hall, there to be confronted by a statue of the Virgin Mary with the Child in her arms, and above her on the wall a large crucifix hanging at such an angle it appeared that Christ’s bent head was viewing Himself as a child in His mother’s arms.

  There were numerous doors leading from the hall, and the nun approached one, knocked, and when bidden to enter, she thrust open the door, stood aside and proclaimed in a low voice scarcely above a whisper, ‘Mrs Winkowski, Reverend Mother.’

  It was so seldom that Aggie heard herself addressed by her surname that she turned and looked at the nun, but the woman’s eyelids were lowered as if in shame; then she inclined her head towards the woman sitting behind the desk before turning and closing the door quietly behind her.

  ‘Sit down, Mrs Winkowski.’

  Aggie recalled that Constable Fenwick had said that the Mother Superior, as she was called, was a bit of a foreigner, half French, he imagined, but a nice woman for all that, and very holy.

  Aggie sat down on the wooden chair and drew Millie close to her side as the woman at the far side of the desk smiled gently at her, saying, ‘I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs Winkowski. I understand you wish to put your ward in the care of the house.’ She did not say ‘in my care’ but added, ‘Which will be in God’s care, too. How old is she?’ She looked down at the sheet of paper on her desk. ‘Ah yes; you are ten years old, Millie, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes; I am ten years old, but only lately.’

  The tone of the voice seemed to surprise the Mother Superior just the slightest, and she said, ‘You have a clear speaking voice, child. That is good; you will be open to education. Which school did you attend? Was it the Church of England Sunday School?’

  ‘Yes, partly.’ Millie nodded towards the woman. ‘But that was only on a Sunday. Mrs Aggie’—she turned and glanced at Aggie—‘paid for me to go to the penny school.’

  ‘Oh, was that the Wesleyan or Methodist? It wasn’t a Catholic school, was it?’

  ‘No, ma’am; it wasn’t a Catholic school, it was the Methodist.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes.’ The Mother Superior was now addressing Aggie. ‘So she knows nothing whatever about religion?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that, ma’am. The Methodists preach religion and so does the Church of England.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course; but I mean the Catholic religion.’

  ‘No, nothing. Why should she? I mean, how could she? She wasn’t brought up a Catholic to my knowledge.’

  ‘You, I understand, have been her guardian for two years?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘And I’m sure you found her a very biddable little girl?’ She now turned her smile on Millie, but she received no answering smile, only a stare from what she thought were those very odd grey eyes. A very odd-looking child altogether. Too beautiful for her own good. Oh, yes, from what Father Dolan had said and through information he had got from Constable Fenwick, much too beautiful for her own good. Well, she would have protection here. No sin would reach her in this house. And her next words went on to express this when she said to Aggie, ‘Well, you can rest easy, Mrs Winkowski, your ward will be well looked after. You need have no fear that she will come in contact with any intruders. And I think you will agree it will be to the best advantage of all if the holidays were curtailed. You yourself may come and visit her for an hour once a month. Don’t you think this is a wise plan?’

  She was talking now as if the child were not present, but the child was present, and she spoke up: ‘An hour a month? Oh, that’s awful. And you promised there would be holidays.’ She was looking at Aggie now, and Aggie said, ‘Well, there will be holidays, dear, there will be holidays,’ then turning to the Mother Superior, added firmly, ‘she’ll have to come on a holiday three times a year, otherwise it’s no go.’

  ‘Oh well, it’s your responsibility, Mrs Winkowski, when she’s out of our care. The only thing is, I want to reassure you that she will be perfectly safe here. And of course she will be mixing with a very good class of pupil.’

  ‘I understand that all right.’ Aggie’s tone was aggressive now. ‘But understand, from my side, that I’d like to see her once a fortnight, if it’s just for an hour, and that whatever holidays the other bairns have, she’s got to have the same. Is that understood?’

  There was a long pause before the Mother Superior said, ‘Yes, if that’s how you wish it, Mrs Winkowski.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, that’s how I wish it, because it’ll be me that’ll be payin’ the fees, won’t it? Ten and six a week is a deal of money, indeed it is, don’t you think?’

  Mother Francis stared at the enormously fat and none too clean woman. This is what came of dealing with the common herd. It was hard to remember that God had made them, too, and that He begged for leniency for them. Inwardly praying that she might be able to show her piety and understanding, she said, ‘Yes, I’m sure it must mean a lot to you. But, you know, real education never comes cheaply. And then the child has to be fostered, fed, and provided with a school habit and hood, besides night attire. Did you ever go to school, Mrs Winkowski?’ God hadn’t fully maintained His help to keep condescension from her tone or to prepare her for the answer when it came: ‘Yes, I went to school, ma’am. I started at the early age of five, and I was taught until I was ten, and all day at that. And from then on I read. I could repeat the catechism for you from beginnin’ to end, and chunks of the Bible. But perhaps I’ve been misinformed, like, for I understand you don’t read the Bible.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid you have been misinformed, at least in some parts, Mrs Winkowski.’ The tone was stiff now. ‘Those who can understand the Bible are allowed to read it, but there are passages that could be misinterpreted by the unintelligent or those of simple understanding.’

  ‘Oh, aye; it’s not good to let people know about human nature, is it? And that the so-called Holy men were not above…’

  The Mother Superior didn’t need to check Aggie’s flow, she did it herself, saying, ‘Well, this one here’—she now thumbed towards Millie—‘I’d like to bet she’s read the Bible from beginnin’ to end, an’ many other books besides. We get all kinds thrown into our yard, you know.’ Then she couldn’t help but add, ‘It’s amazing how educated some of the ignorant people are. Surprising. Surprising.’

  The Mother Superior knew it was time to end this interview, so now she stood up, saying, ‘Well, Mrs Winkowski, I’m sure you can leave your charge with us with an easy mind. And I shall look forward to giving you a good report when you next visit us, in a’—she paused—‘fortnight’s time. Say three o’clock in the afternoon a fortnight today. Will that suit you?’

  Aggie, too, was on her feet and her voice was much lower now as she said, ‘Aye, it’ll suit me.’ Then turning to Millie, whose expression
almost broke her down and gave her the urge to take her by the hand and run from this place, only her good sense stopped her, and bending down, she put her arms around the child and when she felt the tightness of the embrace and the pressure of the thin body against her belly, it was only with an effort she stopped the tears from flowing. But they were in her voice as she whispered down to her, ‘It’ll be all right. It’ll be all right. And…and if you don’t like it, we’ll think of something else. You’ve just got to tell me. D’you hear? You’ve just got to tell me.’

  When the arms reached up and her head bent to the face, for the first time she kissed and was kissed. It was too much. Almost thrusting the child away, she turned and stamped from the room, banging the door behind her; and, had not the Mother Superior moved quickly round the table and caught Millie’s hand, the child would have followed her.