Still the man didn’t speak, but his eyes grew wider and his expression indicated he didn’t know why he was standing here listening to this prattle.
‘She heard two strange men talking; they weren’t from the town. She knows nearly everybody in the town from where they work ’cos of their smells. And what she heard was that it was all a put-up job that they were there on our side of the river, kind of puttin’ everybody off the scent; what they were going to do was raid this end…an’ you.’
The last word was almost whispered.
The man bent down towards him and in a much calmer voice said, ‘Your sister heard all this? D’you mean to tell me that this kind of thing was discussed openly in the street?’
‘Aye; well, outside the tavern. She was some distance off; but she’s cute, she hears things, an’ sees with her ears, an’ ’cos she’s blind nobody takes much notice of her. Any road, she thought they were talkin’ about somebody in a tower an’ she was tellin’ us the tale after we’d had our supper, an’ I jumped to it, it wasn’t a tower, it was this house, The Towers, and they’re on to you.’
‘God in heaven!’ He straightened up and began to laugh, and the expression on his face changed: he wasn’t the same man who had been bawling his head off a few minutes earlier. ‘So I’m going to have some visitors, am I? But am I the only one?’
‘Aye. As far as I could make out.’
He turned about now and looked towards the old woman who was still mopping her mistress’s brow: ‘What’s in the dining room, Betty?’ he said.
Without turning towards him she answered, ‘A bottle of rum, the remains of a bottle of whisky, that’s if you didn’t finish it after your dinner, and a bottle or two of port.’
‘All labelled, authentic?’
‘Aye.’
‘You’re sure?’
Now the old woman did turn towards him and she hissed at him, ‘Yes! I’m sure. Why didn’t you look yersel’? I filled the bottles the day afore yesterday. But I haven’t done anything about the two kegs that are down the old well, and if it’s them fellas, they’ll rummage till they find that an’ all.’
As he stared towards her it came to Freddie it was odd that a servant would talk to a gentleman like that, and he her master. It was like his mother might have done if she was in a paddy, and like the pockmarked Connie had done to her da.
He didn’t even yell at her, although he spoke swiftly and definitely, saying, ‘Tell Frank to get them up, Connie, and right away, and bury them in the midden.’
‘In the midden?’
‘Yes!’ His bark was back now. ‘That’s what I said, in the midden and well down. It’s not likely they’ll look there. As for the rest—’ He turned and looked towards the bed and, his voice changing, he added softly, ‘Even God himself wouldn’t disturb a woman in labour. Would he, dear?’ He was addressing his words to his wife now while none too gently thrusting the old woman from her towards the foot of the bed; then bending over the panting writhing figure, he said, ‘You have something to tell me, dear?’
The young woman’s mouth opened and shut a number of times before she whispered, ‘Yes; yes, Roderick, I have something to tell you.’
But before she could get any further words out her knees came up and she let out another agonising groan that caused Freddie to turn his face to the wall.
For a moment, both the old woman and the man seemed to have forgotten the boy’s presence, for she now shouted at him, ‘Will you, for the love of God, let up on her!’
The groans subsiding, the man began again: ‘You were saying, Mirabelle, you had something to tell me. Come along, my dear, I’m waiting.’
‘Yes, I have something to tell you, Roderick’—but the words were coming out between gasps now—‘and it’s just this…I hate you now…and I’ve hated you…since the first week we were married. You want to know who…the father of my child is. Well…Roderick, you’ll never know, never, never…If it comes out dark or fair you’ll still never know because your mother…looks like a Spaniard, doesn’t she? And the child might…hark back to her. I…I’ll not live once it’s…it’s born because I have no desire to live. But wherever I am I shall…think of you sitting…in this mausoleum of a house…drinking your rum and your port…in between sniffing your opium…and all the time wondering…wondering, how many times we were together. What did we do when we were together…he and I? Perhaps you’ll wonder if…if we did the same as you do when you…visit the brothels on the Shields waterfront…’
‘Don’t you dare!’ The old woman had thrust him aside. ‘Lay a hand on her again an’ I’ll do what I promised you the last time: we’ll up, the three of us, and go. I’m an old woman an’ me time’s runnin out, like hers is, but I’ll tell you this much, I’d open me mouth wide, aye, wide, an’ you know I’ve always meant what I’ve said. It shocks me that I have to say this to you of all people, but I’m doin’ it, so move yourself away.’
He was glaring at her as if his hand would come out and deal her a blow when the door was thrust open and Connie Wheatley cried, ‘They’re comin’ into the yard. There’s four of them.’
‘Did you tell your father? Has he got them up?’
‘He’s bound to. Oh, he’s bound to by now.’
He turned and looked almost wildly round the room and, his eyes alighting on Freddie, he said to her, ‘Get rid of him.’
‘Where’ll I put him?’
She had hold of his collar as she spoke and was pulling him from the room when the man cried, ‘Hold! Hold a minute! They’ll recognise him; like all his kind, a runner is stamped on him.’
‘There’s…there’s the cubbyhole.’ Her voice sounded as agitated as his own, and when he answered, ‘No, no; I wouldn’t put him in there,’ she thought: No; he wouldn’t put a dog in there, which showed he had some feelings left that weren’t buried deep below bitterness and recrimination.
‘Under the bed,’ he said.
‘He’ll never get under there.’
‘He will. He’s not as thick as two laths. Here!’
Three strides and he had Freddie by the arms, which brought a protest from the boy against he knew not what in crying, ‘Eeh! No, mister. Eeh, no.’
‘Still that tongue of yours! Not a murmur out of you.’
The hands now shook him like a rat. ‘Lie flat. Put your legs out. Do as I say!’
He did as he was bidden. He saw the heavy valance of the bed being lifted up, and then he was being pushed along the carpeted floor and under what he imagined to be a shelf. The next minute he was in total darkness and the voices seemed far away but still audible, as was the scream that brought his eyes tight shut. Then he heard the old woman’s voice saying, ‘That’s it, love, that’s it. Here it comes. Here it comes.’
There followed the sound of a commotion, the vibration of feet thudding on the floor. They came to him as if they were going to walk onto him; then two loud voices seemed to tumble one on top of the other, saying, ‘I am a customs officer, I have a warrant.’ That voice trailed away as another, and recognisable to him now, yelled, ‘What, sir, do you think you’re up to? What is this anyway? I’ll have the law on you, customs or not. Can you see what’s happening here?’
Above him, in the room, the excise man and another stood open-mouthed looking at the man in his shirtsleeves, his hands covered with blood and the woman on the bed, his wife, giving birth.
The excise man gulped, turned and glanced at his companion, then said, ‘I’m sorry, sir; but ’tis my duty.’
‘Then carry on with your bloody duty: search the house, if that’s what you’ve come for, search it from top to bottom, outside too, you’re welcome. But let me tell you you haven’t heard the last of this, no by God above, you haven’t! I’ll have that uniform stripped off you if it’s the last thing I do, and I’ll see you running in your bare pelt.’
When there came another cry from the woman on the bed he turned to where the heaving body was pushing the head out into life. Then his gaz
e swinging back to the men, he said, ‘Get to hell’s flames out of it!’ And almost instantly they stepped back into the corridor and the door was closed once more.
He now looked to where old Betty Wheatley was cutting the cord; then he watched her lift the crying blood-smeared mass, cradle it in her arms and wipe its eyes, his own eyes riveted on the child’s head and the small ridge of black hair sprouting from it.
‘Look, love! Look, love! It’s…it’s all right; it’s all over.’ She was holding out the child now to the mother in the bed, and the young woman went to lift her hand but the effort was seemingly too much. Her lips moved as if asking a question, and, as if she had heard it, Betty said, ‘’Tis a girl; and she is whole and bonny. Sleep, love, sleep.’
When she stepped back from the head of the bed and the man went to take her place, she half barred his way and in a low voice and in which was a note of pleading she said: ‘Not another word, Mister Roddy, please! In God’s name, not the night! She’s low, she’s been low these many weeks. Have you no pity in you? What’s done’s done.’
He turned from her to the bed just as the door opened and Connie Wheatley came in, whispering, ‘They’re ransackin’ the house, every nook and cranny.’
‘Did Frank get the kegs up?’
‘Aye; but just in time, for he only just got the muck off him, and the stink. He hadn’t time to clean his boots’—she was now addressing her mother—‘he dropped them in the rain barrel. He won’t be able to use them any more.’ She now looked at the child in her mother’s arms. ‘What is it, Ma?’ she asked.
‘It’s a little lass.’
‘Oh, nice.’
She now glanced at her master and recognised the expression on his face which spelt trouble; then, glancing at the bed, she exclaimed, ‘She’s bleedin’ heavy, Ma!’
‘Here! Take her.’ Her mother thrust the child at her. ‘Clean her up.’ Then she added, ‘The doctor should have been here! But he’s another one that’s likely skittering around burying his kegs in the muck,’ and she indicated the urgency, saying, ‘And you tell your da to go for him this minute.’
‘You’ll do no such thing.’
‘She’s got to have attention.’
‘Attention or no, you won’t find him there tonight. He was off to Newcastle earlier on to a meeting, and it’s a sure thing that he’ll have to be carried back. So get on with it, both of you. And’—his voice dropped—‘get rid of that. Understand me? Get rid of it.’
‘No, by God!’
‘Oh, yes, by God, Betty! Walk out, as you say you would, the lot of you, and split until your tongue runs dry, but that is not surviving in this house. Either you do it or I’ll see to it; but I should imagine you’ll be more gentle than me because I’ve had me answer.’
He now glanced at the deadly white face on the pillow, then stalked out of the room. And for some moments after the door banged behind him neither of the women moved but listened to his voice bawling at someone on the landing. Then Connie whispered, ‘He means it, Ma. He would do it in.’
‘Aye, he means it. And aye, he would do it in. But put it to one side for a minute, on the couch there, and help me to see to her because we’ve got to get the rest away.’
What time they dragged Freddie from under the bed he didn’t know for he must have fallen asleep, but his mind took in the voice saying, ‘Eeh! We forgot all about him. Is he all right?’
‘Oh, he’s all right, lass; he’s a tough ’un, although he looks such a bairn.’
‘No more than six or seven.’
‘Well, I should imagine he’s twice that, the head he’s got on him. He’s been a runner for the last two years. They rely on him an’ his little tub a lot across the water, just for that reason: like a bairn playin’ about. Wake up, lad. Wake up. Get on your feet.’
‘Poor mite; I’ll carry him down.’
‘Oh, let him walk.’
‘He’s dead asleep, Da.’
He felt himself being lifted up into two sturdy arms, and in a short while he knew he was in the kitchen again, and he heard someone say, ‘He can sleep by the side of the fire with Tinker, she likes company.’
That was all he remembered, until the voices came at him again; but then it was daylight…
He had lain for some time between sleep and wakefulness because he felt warm and comfortable. He had his arm around someone, hugging them to him, the pulse beat of their heart was in his hand while his own heartbeat was thumping through his ears. It often did when he lay on his left side. He knew he felt stiff but he was warm, and there was a nice smell in his nose. A voice above him said, ‘They look canny together. Tinker’s never had a child as a mate. I bet he’s thinkin’, better late than never.’
‘You’d better wake him. He’ll want to see him shortly if it’s only to give him a tanner.’
‘Oh, Da! I think last night’s bit of work is worth more than a tanner. He saved the master’s bacon if anybody did. But then, I suppose the master saved the boy’s too as well as his own, for who knows but they would have made for the bed if he hadn’t played up as he did; they’ve been known to pull beds to bits, them lot. And there was that poor soul. I’m glad she’s out of her misery. She’s where God pleases, but I’m gona miss her. Ma will an’ all. She was a sweet creature.’
‘Aye, she might have been but she shouldn’t have done what she did: she should have realised that he wasn’t the kind of man to play about with, made a cat’s paw out of. An’ God only knows what’s gona happen to the bairn. He’ll likely smother it and have it buried with her.’
‘Oh, no, Da. No.’
‘Oh aye, aye. I won’t say he hasn’t his rights. And he’s had them since he was a lad but never got them. Funny that; you know he hated his father but he’s like him in many ways. If only Mistress Ellen hadn’t died; she made a different man of him for a time. But look what happened to their child. He couldn’t stand the sight of him; and he was all of four when she went. He rarely goes to see him. It’s a good job his granny took him. Anyway, he’d have a better upbringing with her than he would have here. But you can see, lass, if he turned against the legal one what care would he have for this one who’s not his own?’
‘You can’t prove that, Da.’
‘Oh, you’ve just got to look at it. Hair like pitch. And look at the eyes: newborn bairns’ eyes are often blue, nearly always so; but look at hers, browny-black already. Well, God help her, she’ll be happiest alongside her mother. An’ she’s puny, she wouldn’t last long at any rate.’
Freddie was wide awake by this time with his ears stretched. He heard the kitchen door open and the older woman’s voice came to him, saying, ‘He wants to see him.’
‘How is he?’
‘Need you ask. Wake the lad.’
‘Come on. Come on. Get up!’
He opened his eyes, and then pulled his arm from around the dog and stared at it in some amazement, and a gentle voice above him said, ‘Aye, you’ve been cuddling a dog all night. Come on, give me your hand an’ get on your feet, an’ go and put your head under the pump in the yard. Then I’ll give you a bite of breakfast afore you go an’ see the master.’
Blinking his eyes against the strong morning light, Freddie made his way into the yard. Seeing it for the first time in daylight, he was amazed at the size of it. It was mostly bordered by stable doors, two being half open, each with a horse’s head nodding out.
When the icy water hit the back of his head he shivered and groaned; but rubbed his face with his hands and squeezed the water from his hair, and felt somewhat better, at least refreshed; then he walked slowly back to the kitchen.
He knew the smell of bacon but it was always of the fat kind in long strips; but there, on a plate, were two shives of lean bacon, and to the side of them an egg reposed on a slice of fried bread. He had never seen such a breakfast; but strangely he had no appetite for it.
The man said to him, ‘Well, tuck in, lad. I doubt if you’ll see many plates like that.’
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br /> ‘I’m…I’m not very hungry.’
‘What!’ It was a chorus from the three of them. And the man said, ‘Not hungry! Across there you must be fed on fish most everyday. Well, are you goin’ to eat it or not?’
‘I’ll…I’ll try.’
‘He’ll try.’ They nodded from one to the other, and they chorused again, ‘He’ll try.’
‘My God! The folks, tall an’ short, you come across. Well, hurry up an’ try’—Betty’s voice was hard—‘’cos the master wants to see you an’ then you’ll be on your way.’
He ate one piece of the bacon and half of the fried bread, but he gulped at the drink the young woman placed before him: he had never tasted anything like it. It was a bit scenty and his face crinkled against it, and she, bending down to him, said, ‘That’s tea, China tea. Never had it afore?’
He shook his head.
‘It’s nice, soothin’, make you feel better.’
A minute later, Betty said, ‘If your lordship’s finished would you mind comin’ along of me?’
‘Aw, don’t take that attitude, Ma: he’s but a bairn.’
‘And an all too knowin’ one if you ask me.’ And in a lowered voice she said in an aside, ‘And after last night he knows more than’s good for him.’…
He was in the hall again. In the daylight it looked enormous, yet had dim corners.
They didn’t go up the stairs, but behind them and along another corridor.
When the old woman opened a door she stopped just within, and he looked past her into a large room that seemed packed with furniture of all kinds and colours. But immediately she said, ‘He was here a minute ago. He’s likely in the study,’ and swung him round with her hand on his head now and pressed him forward and further along the corridor. At the end she guided him up four shallow wooden oak steps and onto another landing.
The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret) Page 4