The Black Velvet Gown

by Catherine Cookson

  He didn’t answer immediately but looked from her to the four children, then over her head and down the road from which they had come as if he expected someone else to appear; then, still not speaking, he turned round and pointed along the road by which he had come, saying abruptly, ‘Half a mile back.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She stared at him a moment longer. He was a brusque man, not friendly. Again she said, ‘Thank you.’ Then she walked away, and the children followed. She had gone some distance when Biddy muttered, ‘He hasn’t gone on, Ma, he’s sitting looking at us.’

  ‘Take no heed.’

  The half-mile turned out to be a long half-mile before they saw the cottage, but the sight of it seemed to make them forget their sore feet. When they reached the gate, they all stood huddled together leaning over it, looking towards the side of the house.

  The front door faced a yard. It was a fine big yard, and opposite were the outhouses that Mrs Carr had described. Riah was smiling inside. There was plenty of room; she would settle here and gladly, oh yes. She thrust open the gate and, her step quickening, she marched across the yard and to the front door and she knocked upon it. When there was no answer she turned and looked at the children, saying, ‘He’s likely at work and his wife in bed poorly,’ and she nodded at them.

  It was Davey who, standing behind the others, turned his head towards the window. Taking two steps to the side, he stood in front of it; then with his face close to the pane, he cried, ‘Ma!’ His voice was high. ‘’Tis empty, empty.’

  She almost jumped to his side and stared through the window. They were looking into a room. On the far wall was a fireplace with dead ashes in the grate. Now she moved quickly to the other side of the door and, looking into another room, saw that that too was empty. She turned and leant her back against the wall and muttered thickly, ‘My God. There’s nobody here.’ She stared down at Davey.

  ‘I don’t want to go back, Ma.’ She turned her eyes now on to Maggie whose face was crumpled up on the verge of tears, and, pulling herself from the wall, she took in a deep breath, squared her shoulders and said, ‘Well, we’re not going back, not the night anyway. Let’s go and see what’s in the stables.’

  They found the two stables dirty, the floor covered with horse muck and dank straw. The barn wasn’t much better, but at its end was a narrow platform and on it were two broken bales of straw. She looked up and could see the sky where the tiles were off the barn roof. Fortunately, the straw was at the other end.

  ‘We’ll sleep up there the night,’ she said. ‘Come the morning I’ll think of something.’

  But what was she going to think of in the morning? Return to Shields? Never. Never in this world. As terrible as the thought of the workhouse was she would rather take them there, yet at the same time knowing that she never would as long as she had money in her pocket. That was the only bright spot on the horizon at the moment, she had money in her pocket, or literally between her breasts. She started to bustle now, urging them, ‘Put the packages up there’—she pointed—‘to the dry end of the platform. We’ll make a fire in the yard. We’ve still got some milk left and there’s bound to be a well…‘

  It was about half an hour later when she was boiling up the water that the children had brought from a rill that ran at the bottom of the field adjoining the cottage—there was no well—that she heard the words, ‘Whoa there!’ and turned her head sharply towards the gate. She had been so preoccupied with what she was doing that the cart seemed to have dropped there out of thin air. She stood up, rubbing her hands down the sides of her skirt, and looked to where the man who had directed them a little earlier sat staring towards them; but by his side now was an old woman. It was she who beckoned her forward; and when she reached the gate, the woman said, ‘You arrived then?’

  Riah blinked, then muttered, ‘Aye, yes.’

  ‘Where’s your man?’

  ‘My man?’

  ‘Aye, that’s what I said. You’re not daft or stupid, are you? Your man, who’s for the mine.’

  ‘I…I think you’ve made a mistake.’

  The two people on the cart exchanged glances. Then the old woman, her voice not so sharp now, said, ‘You’re not with your man? Then why are you here at the cottage?’

  ‘I…I understood I was coming here to look after Mr Carr’s wife who’s ill. His mother sent me.’

  The two pairs of eyes were staring into hers. Then the old woman gave a shrill laugh as she said, ‘Well, did you ever. Well I’ve got to tell you, missis, that Winnie Carr’s been dead and buried this past week, so she’s beyond your help. An’ I should guess, too, you’re more in need of it than she is at the moment.’

  ‘But Mr Carr?’

  Again the two on the cart exchanged glances, and once more it was the old woman who spoke. ‘Oh, he had a piece in to look after his wife, but like the others afore her, the place got on her nerves. Townsfolk can’t stand looking at the sky, there’s too much of it.’ She again laughed her shrill laugh, then ended, ‘He had taken to her so when she made back for the town he went with her, and a man called McAllister is being set on at the mine and bringing his family out here the morrow. Six of them I understand. That’s so, Tol?’ She turned to the man at her side, and he inclined his head towards her. ‘Where you from?’

  She paused a moment thinking. Where was she from? Shields? Fellburn? Beyond Gateshead? She said, ‘From South Shields, lately.’

  ‘You’ve come all that way the day?’

  ‘Yes.’ She saw the man turn his head away and look towards his horse. The old woman moved her head to the side and said, ‘I see you’re bedding down here for the night.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, there’s no harm in that. But come the morrow, it would be wise to be on your way early, ’cos I understand they’re an Irish lot that are comin’ in, and perhaps you know what they’re like, scum of the earth an’ fighters…You’re a widow then, are you?’ She looked at the four children who were standing further back in the yard.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’re lookin’ for a housekeeper’s job?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ She was going to add, or a house, when the old woman put in, ‘You’ll be hard set to find one with a tribe of four at your heels. Yet your two eldest could be in work.’

  Before either of them could speak again the man said softly, ‘Fanny, time’s gettin’ on.’ And she answered, ‘Aye, yes, all right, Tol. ’Tis kind of you it is; sorry I’ve kept you. Goodbye, missis, and good luck.’ She nodded at her and the man said, ‘Gee-up there!’ and the cart moved forward leaving Riah standing looking after them.

  She wanted to cry. Stop it. Stop it. It was no time for crying. Oh my God! What was it a time for? Praying, aye; but then she wasn’t much good at praying. Planning was what she must do, and the immediate plan was to get them to bed; although it was still daylight they were all dog-tired. But she must get them up at sunrise the morrow morning and they must be on their way before that family came in. She wanted no rows, no barraging, because Davey, she admitted to herself, wasn’t a boy to seek a fight, he was a peaceful lad, thoughtful. Now if he’d had Biddy’s nature, he would go in with fists flailing to anyone twice his size, she was sure of that.

  It was Biddy who, sometime later when they were crossing the yard to bring the last of the pans in and to stamp out the fire, said, ‘We’ll have to make it back the morrow then, Ma?’

  ‘Yes, hinny.’

  ‘Where do you think we’ll settle, Ma?’

  She stopped by the edge of the fire and she looked across it and over the gate into the thicket at yon side of the road, and her mind at this moment seemed as closed against thought as the low shrub woodland did against entry.

  ‘I don’t know, lass,’ she said. ‘I don’t know, and that’s God’s truth.’

  Breaking the short silence that had ensued, Biddy said softly, ‘Something will turn up, Ma. Something always does. It’ll have to, ’cos we’ve got to be settled somewhere, haven’
t we?’

  Riah looked down at her daughter and said, ‘Yes, we’ve got to settle somewhere.’ Then her mind squeezed out the question. But where? Where?

  She received the answer the following morning.

  The sun was well up before she roused the children; and when they struggled down from the platform they were still bleary-eyed and tired from the previous day’s tramping.

  She had a fire going in the yard and she cooked the last of the fat bacon and dipped the remaining pieces of bread in the fat. Then she put a can of water on the fire, and when it was boiling they washed the greasy breakfast down with mugs of it. The meal over, she sent them down to the rill to sluice their faces and hands; then she herself followed them and did the same. Afterwards she combed their hair, then saw to her own.

  They were ready, the bundles in their hands, the yard left as they had found it, when the cart appeared at the gate again, and they all stared towards it as if it was an apparition, for there sat the man and the old woman as they had done last evening, except now they were facing the other way. It was the old woman who called to her again, saying, ‘Here a minute!’

  Riah did not look at the children as she said to them, ‘Stay where you are,’ before she walked forward. And now she was looking up at the old woman who surprised her by saying, ‘Can you cook?’

  She hesitated before, her chin jerking slightly, she said, ‘I’ve been doing it for years.’

  ‘Aye, frying-pan stuff likely. But can you make a good dinner?’

  Her voice slightly terse, she said, ‘I’ve been told I’ve made many a one.’

  ‘Well, tastes differ an’ that remains to be seen, but it’s like this. I might be able to get you a place. I’m not promisin’, mind, I’ll have to talk to him, that’s if I can get a word in and he doesn’t shout me down every time I raise the subject. But look. Stay put for the next hour or so an’ if the news is to your good, Tol here’—she turned and inclined her head towards the man—‘he’ll come back and pick you up.’ She now looked fully at her companion and, to Riah’s ears, her tone seeming to soften considerably, she added, ‘You will do that, Tol, won’t you?’ and he replied, ‘I’ll do it, but I can’t promise you to be back straight on the hour.’

  ‘Well, as they don’t seem to be going any place in particular I don’t suppose she’ll mind waitin’ a couple.’

  She was looking down at Riah again and she said, ‘Is that so?’ And Riah said, ‘What are you proposing?’

  The old woman now bristled and she repeated the word as if it was foreign to her, ‘Pro…posin’, she says.’ She was looking over her shoulder towards the man again and thumbing back towards Riah. ‘Proposin’. I’m only tryin’ to get you set up in a good place, that’s if he’ll take the youngsters. Proposin’! Carry on, Tol.’ She lifted her hand in an imperious movement now as if she was ordering a servant, and the cart moved off. But as it did so, the man turned his head and looked behind the old woman, and although his expression hadn’t altered the movement of his head conveyed to Riah a message which could have been, Take no notice, she means well.

  She stood where she was and watched the cart until it disappeared from view at the end of the long narrow lane; then she turned into the yard again.

  ‘What is it, Ma? What did she want?’

  She looked at Biddy. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘but it seems as if there might be a job in the offing. What it is…well, you know as much about it as I do. She’s a queer old lady.’

  ‘The man seemed nice.’

  She looked at Davey, and nodded at him, saying, ‘Yes, he did, when he could get a word in, although he didn’t seem inclined for much talk. Well, we can sit down again. I’ll tell you what, leave your bundles inside the barn door and go on down to the stream and have a bit plodge.’

  ‘I don’t want to. I’d rather stay here, Ma,’ said Biddy.

  ‘Me an’ all.’ Davey came to her side. The two younger ones said nothing but they, too, came closer to her and held on to her skirt. She looked down on them lovingly; then she said, softly, ‘I’ll tell you what you can do. You two get into your Sunday frocks’—she indicated the girls—‘and Davey, you can put on your good trousers, an’ I’ll see to Johnny, because if we’ve got to go and see whoever this is what wants a cook or some such, we should look tidy.’

  ‘What about you, Ma? You look lovely in your blue blouse. Will you put it on?’

  ‘Oh.’ She hesitated as she looked down on Biddy. Her blue blouse was special. Seth had bought her the material as a surprise present. He had thrown the parcel on to the table one Saturday night and there was this length of blue cotton with a tiny pink flower here and there as a pattern. She had spent hours making the blouse and she hadn’t worn it more than half a dozen times since. She had thought of it as a garment for occasions and there hadn’t been many occasions in her life that warranted its wearing. But now, here might be an occasion, and she smiled broadly as she said, ‘Aye, I’ll put it on.’

  Excitement ran high now as they all went into the barn to change their clothes; then they were ready and stood at the gate waiting…

  They waited and they waited, the minutes dragging.

  ‘How long is it now, Ma?’ said Johnny.

  ‘Oh,’ she considered, ‘well over an hour, I would say.’

  ‘If he doesn’t come at all, will we have to change back?’ Biddy smoothed down her short coat with both hands and reluctantly Riah answered, ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

  Her reply seemed to cause the children to go limp, for now Johnny and Maggie leant against the bars of the gate, only to be brought upright by Riah saying firmly, ‘Stand straight, the gate’s green with mould, you’ll mark yourselves.’

  As she finished speaking Davey let out a cry that almost verged on a shout: ‘He’s coming, Ma!’ Then he clapped his hand over his mouth and ran towards her. And once again they were standing all close together.

  And that was the picture of them that Tol Briston held in his mind for a long time: the woman with the auburn hair topped by a black straw hat, her deep brown eyes holding an anxious greeting, her wide mouth partly open, her whole expression seeming to hold a plea for good news; and the children now differently dressed, all clean and tidy, their faces bright, but the two elder ones reflecting something of their mother’s look. After pulling the horse to a stop, he smiled, a slow smile that warmed his thin face, and there came a twinkling light into his dark eyes, and his lips were showing a set of short big white teeth. His chin, like his nose, jutted out from his face and might tend to suggest a rigidness of character, but at this moment his expression could have been termed merry, and his tone definitely held a jolly note as he said, ‘Up with you, the lot of yous.’

  Grabbing up the bundles, the children made for the back of the cart. But Riah didn’t move. Looking up at Tol, she said, ‘Is it settled?’

  ‘Oh’—the smile slid from his face—‘that I can’t tell; it will lie atween you and Mr Miller. Fanny’s got you an interview, that’s all I can say. But having got that far, it’s like a pistol to his head; she could walk out.’

  Riah couldn’t quite follow his meaning, but she turned to where her bundles had lain, only to see that Davey had them already on the back of the cart, and when she made to follow him, Tol Briston said, ‘You could be seated here if you so like.’ He edged a little along the wooden seat, and when, after a moment’s hesitation, she put her foot on the hub of the wheel, he thrust out his hand and she clasped it; then perched high beside him and looking straight ahead, she began the journey that was to set the seal on her life.

  The entry to Moor House was through two unimposing iron gates, both of them thrust back with their bottom bars bedded firmly in weeds and dead grass. The drive was short, not more than fifty yards, and it curved to an open area that was almost as long as the drive itself; but unlike the roughness of the drive, this was paved with large stone slabs, most of them, like the gates, cemented with grass. The house took up about half the wid
th of the forecourt and the word that came into Riah’s mind at the sight of it was higgledy-piggledy, because it looked as if a large cottage had been stuck either side of a three storey medium-sized house. Beyond the forecourt was a yard bordered on two sides by what looked like a stable and a barn.

  Tol had brought the cart to a stop opposite the front door and there, almost filling it, stood the old woman. The children were slow to get out of the cart until her voice came at them in a hiss, saying, ‘Well, come on! Put a move on, you all.’ And when they had done her bidding she looked them over and said, ‘Oh, you’re tidy. That’s good.’ Her gaze now on Riah, she surveyed her from her black straw hat down to her black boots; then she said, ‘Come on in the lot of yous.’ And with that she almost pulled them one after the other over the low step and into a hallway. But before she closed the door she leant forward and called quietly towards the cart. ‘Thanks, Tol. See you later then.’

  Now she was crossing the hall, saying in a whisper, ‘Come this way.’

  The first impression that Riah got of Moor House was that it needed a good clean up: there was no shine on the hall floor surrounding the carpet, and the pieces of furniture dotting the walls showed plain evidence of dust.

  The old woman, who Riah noticed now was limping badly, pushed open the door at the end of the hall, saying, ‘Go in there and sit yourselves down until I get him.’ Pressing the children before her, Riah entered a long room. Although this, too, showed it could do with a good clean, it was evidently used, for a big couch whose upholstery had once been yellow and now was a dirty faded grey in parts showed tumbled cushions at its head, and between the two tall windows stood a desk littered with papers and books, looking as if someone had thrown them on it from a distance, so mixed up were they.