The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret)

by Catherine Cookson

  A few minutes later his father propelled himself into the room and straight to the foot of the shakey-down; and he leant his arms on it and looked at his son as he said, ‘Well, lad, it seems you’re set for life. But who would have thought it? A gardener. With all the industry an’ jobs that’s goin’ on in this town and along the river, you’ve got to be set for a gardener. There’s breweries, and boat-builders, and bakers, and booksellers, and butchers, that’s just going through the B’s. And there’s clogmakers, and coopers, and couriers, and joiners, and nailmakers, and painters, and plumbers, not to mention the pawnbrokers. God above! I could go on with blacksmiths, bottlemakers, and that’s not touchin’ on half. Everything to support birth, life an’ death is created in this town. But have we heard of a gardener? No.’

  ‘There is, Da, there’s one.’

  ‘Aye, that’s what she said an’ all. I didn’t tell her he wasn’t my idea of a gardener, more like a gravedigger, he sees to the grass. Well, what d’you think of the idea?’

  ‘I said I would do it, Da.’

  ‘Aye; an’ you’re right to say that. You won’t get another chance of a full-time job an’ your grub an’ three shillings a week. Aye, I bet John wishes he had the chance. But he’ll be glad for you. He’s been worried about you. There’s one thing your ma an’ me’s certain about, you’ll not go butcherin’ again.’

  ‘D’you like her, Da?’

  ‘Who? Maggie Hewitt, or Miss Hewitt as she’s called to her face? Well, now you’ve asked me a question. It’s hard to say if you like or dislike her. They say she’s as sharp as a ferret about business, an’ she’s never been known to give much away. She does a lot of work on the side, I understand, for foreigners an’ their money, and she’s liked among that lot because she doesn’t rip ’em off. They tell me she comes from a seafaring family. Her da was a big nob at one time, used to race in sail, captained a big schooner. It went down. Her and her mother used to live in a house outside the town. She still lives there, I hear, but spends most of her time on the front. Queer card; not quite what you’d call a lady but not quite anything else either. Anyway, you can but try workin’ for her. And I’ll tell you somethin’, lad. If I can get a few more orders like the one I’ve got, an’ you bring your three shillings a week home, with John’s pay and the odd shilling or two Nancy brings in, we’ll be in clover, an’ your mother won’t need to go to the ropes, for that’s a hellish job that. Backwards and forwards up that hill, the blood runnin’ from the hands in the winter pullin’, pullin’, pullin’. I’ll be satisfied if we can get her out of that…She’s a good woman is your mother, Freddie. Always remember that.’

  He didn’t say, ‘I know, Da’ or ‘I will, Da’, but he looked at his father; and with a nod, Robert twisted around and eased himself through the door and into the kitchen again.

  His da had just said they’d be in clover. He looked round the room, but he was seeing the house with the green shutters: no wind would get through them; the sea wouldn’t shake its foundations; the putrid smell that rose from the streets wouldn’t have impregnated its walls.

  There were different beds of clover.

  PART TWO

  AS IT HAPPENED WHEN I WAS TWELVE

  One

  ‘Read that.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, all of it.’

  ‘I don’t know whether I can or not.’

  ‘You won’t know until you try.’

  Freddie took up a small sheet of newspaper and, holding it well away from his face, he began to read:

  FIVE GUINEAS REWARD

  Whereas Sunday Morning last about Three o’clock, Three or Four Men landed from a Sculler Boat, at the Quay a little above the Custom House Quay; quarrelled with and ill-used the Waterman; pulled down a Coal House belonging to Mr Horner and also Water Spouts belonging to Mr Horner and Mr Tyzack; and com…mitted various other Dep…red…ations to the Terror of the Neighbour…hood, whose Windows were ass…as…sailed with Stones.

  A REWARD of TWO GUINEAS will be paid by the said MR HORNER and MR TYZACK and a further REWARD of THREE GUINEAS by the NORTH SHIELDS and TYNEMOUTH ASSO…CI…ATION for prose…cuting FELONS, to any PERSON, or PERSONS who shall give such In…for…mation as may lead to the Con…viction of the Offender, or Offenders.

  NORTH SHIELDS

  26th November, 1817.

  ‘Not bad. But what do you notice about that piece?’

  ‘It happened years ago, and it was far too much money for the reward. The coal house and windows wouldn’t have cost half that much to put up again.’

  ‘That isn’t the point. What else did you notice?’

  ‘Nowt.’

  ‘Can’t you say nothing instead of nowt?’

  ‘Everybody says nowt.’

  ‘Everybody doesn’t say nowt. And what do you notice about that piece, I’ve asked you?’

  ‘Just what I said.’

  ‘Did you notice that a lot of the words began with capital letters, not just the paragraphs or the beginning of the sentence?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ She sighed. ‘Well, for your further information, Master Frederick Musgrave, every noun in that piece began with a capital letter. And a noun happens to be the name of anything.’

  Freddie stared at her in some bewilderment. She was always bewildering him. He had been working for her now for over eighteen months but never a day passed but she seemed to spring something new on him, and not always pleasant either. He had never wanted to learn to read; write his name, aye, but you could get the gist of all you wanted to know by just listening to other people. But then on the other hand he must give her her due because he had felt different since he could read a bit. And then he had gained a sort of prestige in the house because, at home at night, he could read snatches of paper writing to them. His da was tickled to death. And Nancy loved listening, but his ma wasn’t pleased about it, he knew that. His ma hadn’t taken to the Miss: she hadn’t a good word for her even when he brought the big bag of buns back on a Saturday night. The Miss made the buns herself; she was a dab hand at cooking. Oh aye, he’d say she was; he had never tasted food like what she put on the table. Of course, give his ma her due, as a rule she only had the neck end of mutton or tripe and chitterlings to deal with and bran flour for the bread. It was good wholesome food, he admitted, but it wasn’t like the stuff the Miss dished up: a pudding made with white flour, milk and eggs, it melted in your mouth; and roast beef with gravy that you could suck up like soup. But still, at first, he didn’t enjoy his meals very much ’cos she was always at him about how he was eatin’ it. Apparently you didn’t eat with your mouth open nor wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. As for your nose, he’d wished many a time in those first weeks, that he hadn’t got one. And then there was washing. She was worse than his ma about washing. His ma always made them dip their hands in the bucket before they came to the table, but the Miss made him scrub his nails. Still you had to take the good with the bad, and in the main it was good here. Oh aye, it was very good. He had to stop talking about it to John though, because John was a bit green. Anyway, it looked as if John would soon be seeing a lot of daylight, because there was a big strike about to break. Pitmen were always striking, it seemed; if it wasn’t about one thing it was about another. It used to be about money, but now it was about conditions. Well, it was to be expected ’cos look what happened in the last disaster. There were a lot of fatherless bairns in the town now, many of them in the poorhouse. And only this week three young lads went to the House of Correction for stealing.

  ‘I saw you talking to Mr Freeman yesterday. What did he want?’

  He didn’t raise his head as he said, ‘Just passin’ the time of day.’

  ‘Don’t try to hoodwink me, Freddie Musgrave; remember who you are talking to. There’s a run on, isn’t there? But talking of runs, don’t forget what happened last month to the Newcastle fellows they picked up; they’re well and truly along the line now, aren
’t they? They won’t come ashore for some time again, their bellies strapped tight with silk and such. Idiots they were, braving the daylight! And was it worth it for a dozen or so yards of lace? Yes, one had lace and the other silk.’ Her voice changing, she said, ‘You know what will happen, don’t you, if you are caught anywhere near anyone if they’ve got the stuff on them? It will be no use saying you don’t know anything about it, because those excise fellows are no fools: they’ve been picked for their job, they keep their eyes open. And let me tell you, they know that you’re used. I’ve tried in my own way to put it about that that episode in your life is past. You’re in a good job now and you’re learning your letters and if you behave yourself you’ve got a good future afront of you.’ She put out her hand now and caught his and there was a plea in her voice as she said, ‘Tell me, Freddie, now tell me the truth, just answer yes or no. Has Freeman got something on you?’

  He could look her straight in the eye and say, ‘No.’

  She let go of his hand and straightened up; then, in a characteristic manner, her body jerked forward and again she had hold of his hand, demanding now, ‘Then who is it? You’re frightened of somebody, I know that. I’ve known it from the day you brought your half-sovereigns to me. Is it Mr Gallagher?’

  He couldn’t answer, but in returning her stare his throat contracted and he had to gulp at his spittle. And then she said, ‘Ah! Ah! I knew there was something. And it happened that night, didn’t it? You were away all that night. It happened then?’

  ‘No. No.’ He was shaking his head.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, boy.’ Her voice changed again, becoming soft and pleading now: ‘Trust me,’ she said. ‘You know you can trust me, you know that I’m your friend, your good, good friend. I want to see you get on and…and I don’t want to see anything happen to you. Mr Gallagher is a queer customer, not for him just French wines and a cask now and again, he goes in for bigger stuff, or I could say smaller stuff. Look! Tell me what you know about it.’

  He could again say honestly to her now, ‘I…I don’t know anything, miss, I don’t, honest, not about what he goes in for. All he had that night I was there was two barrels down the well, an’ I told you his man stuck them in the midden. I don’t know anything else that he gets.’

  She sat back from the desk and her voice held a weary sound to it now as she said, ‘Well, if it isn’t that, what is it, boy? There’s something, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘Ah, well, that is an admission. At last we’re getting somewhere.’

  ‘No, miss, we’re not, ’cos I can’t tell you, but…but I will some day.’

  ‘Why some day? Why not now?’

  Why did he answer her with the next words?

  ‘I want to grow up a bit, miss.’

  Her face screwed up at him and the lines from her eyes to the top of her ears formed deep furrows, and she repeated quietly, ‘You want to grow up a bit, what do you mean?’

  He didn’t know exactly what he meant except that he wanted to live, and he felt that he wouldn’t live long if he talked about Mr Gallagher killin’ his bairn. It wouldn’t be like murdering a grown-up or anything like that, but it would still be the killing of somebody and if that didn’t mean hanging it meant gaol. And a man like Mr Gallagher would, as he had promised, pay anybody in full who would be the cause of his being found out. He looked at her face. It looked sad, worried, and it came to him that he liked her so much he would do anything so that she needn’t worry; he sensed that she was a lonely woman. She had lost her father and the young man in the painting. He knew that he liked her, too, as much as he did his ma but in a different way, a sort of wider way although he couldn’t explain the feeling that prompted the thought wider. But the next minute he was standing and bending forward across the desk towards her, saying, ‘Don’t worry any more. I’ll promise you something. I have to run this one message an’ that’ll be the last. I’ll tell him.’

  She didn’t smile as she often did when she was pleased, but her face seemed to relax and she said, ‘Thank you, Freddie; but couldn’t you get out of doing this last run? You know, I told you about the free trade coming…’

  ‘No, not very easily,’ he cut in on her words, his own tumbling over each other. ‘I don’t know where the faggot, I mean Mr Freeman, lives; and anyway, it’s too late now to even try to find out.’

  ‘You’re crossing the river?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘To Mr Gallagher’s?’

  He looked downwards, then muttered, ‘Aye.’

  From under his lowered gaze he watched her rise from the chair, move round the desk, and as she passed him on her way towards the door, she said, ‘Come on; let’s have a bite, and then you can go home.’

  As he followed her across the hall towards the kitchen she asked, without turning round, ‘Do your parents know where you’re going tonight?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘You must tell them.’

  ‘Aye. Aye, I will.’

  ‘What are you taking across?’

  They were in the kitchen now and she had gone towards the fireplace that had an iron oven at one side and a boiler at the other and, before opening the oven door, she took down a towel from a brass rail running under the mantelshelf and, unhooking the iron latch of the oven, she took from it a large pie dish. This she set on the table, replaced the towel on the rod, took two plates that were lying on the top of the steel and brass fender and returned to the table, placing a plate at each side of it before she said, ‘Well, what are you carrying?’

  ‘I don’t know. ’Tis the truth, I don’t know. I’ve got to see Mr…well, somebody at this end of the Low Lights later on.’

  ‘Sit down.’ He took his seat at the table and watched her cut the pie crust, then ladle out chunks of steak and kidney and gravy onto his plate. But after she had passed it to him he did not begin until she had served her own portion which was not half the size of his. When she was seated she nodded to him, and he began to eat. Sometimes, when she was in good humour, she would say the funny grace. He had repeated it to his da, and it made him roar with laughter for it went:

  Meat and grains,

  Water and wine,

  Hold your hand, stomach,

  And it will be thine.

  His da often said, ‘Hold your hand there,’ when he meant ‘Wait a minute’, so the rhyme was understandable. She always said it in a funny voice. And then during a meal she often talked about places that she had been to, like France and Italy, and three times to Norway. She liked Norway. She had once said to him, ‘We’ll go there one day. We’ll get on a boat and we’ll hie for the fjords.’ He had said, ‘What are fjords?’ And she had told him.

  It had been like a story, and he had described this, too, to them back home that night sitting round the fire…He only wished his ma would like her. He didn’t know why she hadn’t taken to her, ’cos his da spoke well of her, and Nancy’s opinion was she had a good smell: strong and clean, was how she described her. And she was right, she was strong and she was clean and she had a good smell.

  He finished the meal with cheese and bread. There was still half the pie left. He wondered if she would give it to him to take home. After the meal she washed up the dishes in the wooden sink next to the fireplace in hot soapy water—she didn’t use soda—and he had to dry the dishes. At first, he hadn’t liked that; it was only women who dried dishes. He had never told his da or any of them at home that he had dried dishes, for in a way it would have taken some of the highlights out of his position.

  When he was ready to go she walked to the gate with him, and there she said, ‘The tide’ll be over the bank about ten. What time are you going?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure. I’ll be knockin’ about from dark.’

  ‘You can’t knock about without people seeing you, and you know who I mean.’

  ‘I can. I’m good at hidin’.’

  ‘You might have been, but you’re not as small as you w
ere. You’re sprouting.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said; ‘I am, but…but I’ll be all right. I’ll see you in the mornin’, an’ I’ll be on time.’ He now did an odd thing, at least he thought so, for he put his hand out and touched hers. It was the first gesture he had ever dared to make to her, not that he hadn’t felt inclined to do so before this moment. Her other hand came on the top of his and pressed it tight and she said, ‘I’m worried for you.’

  ‘I’ll be all right. I know I will.’ He grinned, adding, ‘I’m lucky. Didn’t you give me a job and learn me to read and write a bit; I’m lucky, I tell you.’

  She said nothing more but pushed him from her, and he went down the road feeling very odd as if he didn’t want to leave her.

  But he hadn’t gone more than twenty yards or so when he heard her voice calling, ‘Freddie! Freddie! Wait a minute.’

  She came running towards him panting, ‘Listen!’ she said rapidly. ‘If you promise to stick to your reading and writing and learn your figures, I’ll take you into the office and your brother can have your job. What do you say?’

  ‘Eeh! you would?‘

  ‘Yes, I would; but it will mean you spending most of your evenings for some months to come sticking to your books.’

  ‘I’ll do it. I’ll do it. And I can tell him?’

  ‘Yes, yes, you may tell him. But it all depends on you.’

  ‘Oh, ta. Ta, miss. Eeh! What did I tell you, miss, I’m lucky. We’re all lucky.’