She supposed she should be grateful for all this attention her children were getting from such an educated man. She was. Oh she was. And if they had all taken it alike, she would have had no question in her own mind about it. But in some way it seemed to be souring Davey. He got sulky at times and he went for Biddy. Not that Biddy couldn’t hold her own with him, or two or three like him, but he had never done it before. She supposed it was because he realised that she could take in things that were an absolute puzzle to him.
She was making it her business to sit with Davey at night and try to help him, and therefore she knew she herself was learning. Not that she could see it was going to do her any good.
But these were things, she told herself, that she could control: they were all in a day’s work, part of bringing up a family; in a very odd way, she had to admit, but nevertheless, bringing them up, and in a style she had never imagined possible. But there was this other thing in her life, this private thing, this thing that was a want in her, a hot urge which she knew there was little hope of alleviating because Tol had surprised her one night by making it clear to her that he was in a forked stick and he could see no possible way of getting out. So therefore he couldn’t, as it were, speak his mind to her. His sister, it seemed, had taken on a kind of illness that put her to bed at times, and at such times she wasn’t capable of looking after either him or the house. So he had his hands full, and that was why, he said, he couldn’t slip round as often as he might. Did she understand?
Yes, she had said, she understood, while at the same time feeling sick.
He still brought the milk and the wood, but he did not always take the children on the cart to church on Sunday. And naturally he no longer came at night to learn his letters and his tables.
She had, as it were, had it out with herself that she must stop thinking in his direction, for even if he had spoken what could have come of it? If the bell hadn’t rung from the drawing room that night and they had come together just with a kiss where would it have gone from there? She knew where it would have gone. Anyway, it hadn’t happened, and it was just as well, because what you never had you never missed…Oh! that was a damn silly saying. Look at the things she hadn’t had in her life and yet was aware of missing them: a decent house of her own; decent clothes for the bairns…and herself; food, just a little out of the ordinary, a taste of the fancy meats she had seen in the shops in Gateshead Fell; a long ride on a coach to a distant town, past Newcastle, away, away somewhere, perhaps London where the King lived…What you never had you never missed! How did these sayings originate?
She was standing at the stone sink under the kitchen window. There were two jars of flowers on the kitchen window sill and lace curtains to the side. She had got these from the store cupboard and cut them down. She liked prettying places up. The whole house was pretty. The sad thing about it, nobody saw it but themselves and the parson. Fanny had told her there used to be a lot of callers at one time but that he had been rude to them, and so now he was left to himself. It was odd: to look at him you wouldn’t think he was that kind of a man, a man who would be rude to people; but he had only to open his mouth at times and his words cut like a cleaving knife. She had heard them used on Davey. He bawled at him in the library at times. Yet she knew he was very fond of him. Oh yes, she had sensed that from the very beginning.
She lifted her head now from where she was peeling apples for a pie, and her hands became still and the apple peeling snapped before she had reached the end. She always tried to take off the peeling whole; it gave her a feeling of satisfaction somehow. But her gaze had become focused on where the master and Davey were entering the yard. The master had his hand on Davey’s shoulder. It was such a nice picture that it brought a lump to her throat and she leant her head further towards the pane to watch their progress. They had stopped now opposite the stable door and the master had his two hands on Davey’s shoulders and he was bending down towards the boy’s bent head. He seemed to be talking to him earnestly. Then she watched the master take his hands from her son’s shoulders and ruffle his hair before pushing him gently towards the stable.
She swallowed deeply as she thought, What a pity he’s not married and has children of his own. He’d been different altogether since he had taken up with the children. He was made for children. Poor man. What age was he now? Nearing fifty, she would say; she didn’t know for sure. What a pity some of the spinsters who were sitting in their drawing rooms wasting their time in needlework or at best in visiting and at parties hadn’t come along here and forced his hand in some way or another.
She finished peeling the apples, put them into the pastry cases ready waiting, dribbled some honey over the top of them, covered this with more pastry and trimmed the top with cut-out pastry leaves, after which she brushed the tarts with milk and put them in the oven. This done, she washed her hands; then went out of the kitchen, across the yard and into the barn.
The barn was used mostly for stacking wood and it had a chopping block at one end of it, and on this Davey was slowly splitting small logs. When he saw her approaching he stuck the hatchet in the log and said, ‘Is it time to knock off, Ma?’
‘It’s nearly six. You can go and tell the others in a minute. By the way, what was the master talking to you about?’
He turned from her now but didn’t answer her, just kicked against the chopping block with the toe of his boot; and so, going to him, she turned him about, saying, ‘What was it?’
‘Oh’—he tossed his head impatiently—‘about learning. Wanted to know what I want to be later on.’
‘Yes?’ She looked at him. ‘And what did you say to that?’
‘I…I told him I wanted to drive a coach.’
He raised his head now and, a puzzled expression on his face, he said, ‘He got angry, Ma. He said, couldn’t I think any further than that? Well Ma, what further is there? Ma—’ he put out his hand towards her now and she caught it and gently soothed it between her own as he appealed to her, saying, ‘I can’t take in all this. And what good is it anyway? I’m not like our Biddy. She likes it. But…but Ma, I just can’t understand half of what he’s saying to me about them myths an’ that Latin. What do I want with Latin, Ma? I can read and write and I can count up as well as the next, better than most, you know I can. But I can’t remember all those names in the Illyard thing he keeps yapping on about. Our Biddy says they are just fairy stories. Well, that’s for lasses, Ma. What do I want with fairy stories or the like?’
‘They’re not fairy stories, Davey’—her voice was soft and gentle—‘they’re a kind of history. At least that’s how I see it, ancient. It came about afore Jesus, afore the Bible like.’
‘I thought nothing came about afore the Bible, Ma, and the Garden of Eden.’
She closed her eyes now, saying, ‘Oh Davey, don’t get me as bamboozled as yourself. Look, leave what you’re doing; go and fetch the others. Your tea’ll be ready by the time you get back. See that they wash well under the pump first.’ She now leant towards him and smiled as she ended, ‘I’m as bamboozled as you are, I’ve got to admit, about the things he wants to learn us. Anyway, we’ll put our heads together after tea and see what we can make out of the day’s lesson, eh?’
He didn’t smile back at her and say, ‘Right Ma’; instead, he turned from her and went out of the barn, leaving her standing gazing after him and thinking again, Oh, if only Biddy and him could change places. God has a funny way of dealing out brains.
They were all seated round the table when a knock came on the kitchen door; and when Biddy opened it, she cried, ‘Oh! Hello, Tol.’ Then turning her head, she called, ‘’Tis Tol, Ma.’
Riah got to her feet and, her voice polite sounding, she said, ‘Hello there, Tol.’ And he answered, ‘Hello, there. You all busy?’ And he looked from one to the other.
‘Doing our lessons.’ It was Biddy coming to the fore again. ‘Do you want to sit in, Tol? I’m on Latin; but t’others are still learning their English.
’ She laughed at her brothers and sister.
‘Latin?’ He screwed up his face at Biddy; then looked at Riah, and she nodded at him, saying, ‘Yes, it’s Latin now.’
‘Good God! He’s gona make a scholar out of her.’
‘Here, take a seat, Tol.’ Riah had pulled a chair to the end of the table where he could sit between Davey and Biddy. And she asked now, ‘Have you eaten?’ And he said, ‘At dinner time; yes, I had a bite.’
‘Haven’t you been home?’
‘No; I’m just on me way. But’—he looked up at her—‘I put Annie on the coach this morning for me sister Mary’s. She’s lost her man, you know. Annie thought she’d better go an’ stay with her for a few days.’
‘Oh, yes, yes. So…so you’re looking after yourself; and I bet you’ve had very little the day. Could you do with some cold mutton and apple pie?’
‘Could I do with some cold mutton and apple pie!’ He was looking round the children now, and they were all laughing, Davey included. ‘Did you hear what your mother said? Could I do with some cold mutton and apple pie? What would you say?’ And together they all shouted, ‘Aye!’ then added, ‘He could do with some cold mutton and apple pie, Ma.’
Amid much laughter she set down a plate of neck chops before him and to the side a shive of bread and butter. As he ate the children all watched him, and after chewing a couple of mouthfuls, he put down his knife and fork and gulped as he said, ‘Get on with your lessons, ’cos if you don’t I’ll feel that I’m in a menagerie an’ you’ve come to see me eat.’
‘I don’t want to get on with me lessons.’
Tol turned to Davey. ‘You don’t?’ he said.
‘No.’
‘He hates lessons.’
Tol turned his attention to Biddy now, saying, ‘And you don’t?’
‘No, I don’t. It’s like a holiday from work every mornin’. Do you want to hear me talk Latin?’
Tol glanced up now at Riah where she was standing with her hand on Davey’s shoulder, and he grinned widely at her before looking at Biddy again and saying, ‘Yes, yes, I’d like to hear you talk Latin; not that I’ll understand a word of it.’
‘I could learn you…No, the master says nobody can learn anybody, they can teach you an’ it’s you who learns. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Miss Schoolma’am. Yes, I understand.’ There was more laughter now as Tol nodded his head in jack-in-the-box fashion, as a simpleton might.
‘Well, listen…now listen, this is Latin, Tol. Am…mo…me…matrem.’
‘Well, well!’ Tol showed exaggerated astonishment as he gazed at the beaming face of Biddy, who now said, ‘It means, I love my mother.’ And her eyes flashed up to Riah whose lips were pressed tight together to suppress her laughter.
‘Do you want to hear some more?’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘Oh, you!’ She tossed her head, recognising Tol’s sarcasm, but she went on, ‘Add…erbem…ayo utt…parnem…aymam.’ She gulped as she finished, then started triumphantly, ‘That means, I am going to the city to buy some bread.’
‘You ain’t!’
‘Don’t make fun, Tol. The master said nobody can be learned unless they know Latin.’
‘And the master says you don’t pronounce it properly.’
Anger showing in her face, Biddy turned towards Davey, and she pursed her lips for a moment before she retorted, ‘Well, that’s better than not being able to pronounce anything at all, not even English.’
‘Now, now, now! Get on with your work, madam, and not so much of that cheek. Davey will pronounce his words in all good time.’
‘What have you got to learn tonight?’ said Tol, trying to throw oil on the troubled waters flowing across the table. But it was Johnny who answered now, saying, with a wide grin, ‘A story from an ee-pick.’
‘Oh, and what might it be about?’
‘Oh.’ Johnny shook his head, then slanted his eyes towards Biddy as he said, ‘Oh, funny names, about men fightin’ and turnin’ boats into rocks an’ things.’
And now Biddy, preening herself with her knowledge, supplied the details in her own way, saying, ‘It’s this, U…lissees,’ only to be stopped by Davey saying, ‘You’ve got it wrong. That’s how you said it this mornin’ an’ he said it was wrong.’
‘Who’s he? The bull’s uncle?’ Riah’s tone held a deep reprimand as she looked down on her beloved son, and Davey, his chin jerking, said, ‘The master.’ Then returning to his protest, he looked up at his mother, saying, ‘Well he did. He said she pronounced the names all wrong.’
‘I like that!’ put in Biddy. ‘But anyway, I remember them, an’ the stories. An’ that’s something you don’t, thick skull.’
‘Enough! Enough! Either tell Tol the story or get yourself up and away to bed.’
Biddy nipped on her bottom lip before she turned to Tol, saying, ‘Well, this man had been tramping a long time round about in wars and things and he comes across a friend, and they have a meal and the friend puts him in a boat and sends him off home with presents. But the sailors know there’s something afoot and they put him on an island when he’s asleep. But when they got home they were met by U…lisses’s enemy called Neptune who ruled the sea, and he was mad at what they had done and he hit their vessel with his pronged fork and turned it into a rock.’
‘It’s a daft story.’ The quiet comment came from Maggie and caused everybody to explode again, including the teller and Davey. And Tol, patting the dark brown head of the little girl, said, ‘And I think I’m with you there, Maggie. It does sound a bit daft to me. But then, ’tis but a tale, and you learn words through it, so I suppose it’s of some good after all.’
Maggie again caused a renewal of laughter when, looking up at Tol, she said, ‘I like Baa! Baa! black sheep, better.’ And at this Biddy and Johnny started to chime:
‘Baa! Baa! black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, sir. Yes, sir,
Three bags full:
One for the Master,
And one for the Maid,
And one for Maggie Millican
Who lives up the lane.’
The two younger children now threw themselves about with laughter; and Riah, looking at her son whose face was straight, wondered for a moment why, if he didn’t take to the hard bits of learning, he couldn’t enjoy the simple bits. In a way she was getting worried about Davey.
She said briskly, ‘Now come on, all of yous, away to bed with you. And no noise, mind, no carry on.’
One after the other they kissed her and said good night to Tol before gathering up their books and scrambling from the room.
The kitchen to themselves, there was silence between them, and Riah was aware of the embarrassment on both sides. And when Tol stood up and made ready to go, she said, ‘You’ve got to get back then?’
‘Aye, there’s odds and ends to do, but it’s nice calling in.’ He looked at her, asking now, ‘How are you getting on?’
‘Oh, as usual. Me days are full, I keep busy, and the master’s very kindly given me some of his parents’ clothes to cut down for the children.’
‘My, my! I should say you’re honoured there, because Fanny was often after pieces from the attic, but he warned her off and in no small voice, so she tells me.’
‘I think the company of the children has changed him.’
‘Definitely. Definitely. I came across him going through the woods the other day, and he walked along of me and talked amiably. He seems a different man, lighter in himself. Yes, there’s no doubt about it, the bairns have made a difference to him, and he to them, because you’ve got to admit, it isn’t every day working-class bairns are educated. Now, is it?’
‘No, you’re right there, Tol. I’m grateful. Oh yes, I’m grateful. Except—’ She now rubbed one palm against the other before she continued, ‘I’m…I’m a bit worried about Davey. He doesn’t take to the lessons like the others, and what’s more, he’s got this thing about hor
ses, working with horses. He’s disappointed there’s not a horse here. But I’ve told him the master can’t afford one. And he angered him the day, so he says, when he told him he wanted to drive a coach.’
‘Is that what he wants to do?’
‘It seems so.’
‘Well, his education would be wasted if that’s as far as he wants to go. And I can see Mr Miller’s point of view. At the same time I understand Davey’s, because all I wanted to do when I was a lad was to go to sea. But,’ he said smiling at her now, ‘from what I hear of the life sailors have, it’s a good job I didn’t have me wish.’
She nodded. ‘You’re right there,’ she said; ‘I’ve seen a bit of it when the ships docked in the Tyne. It’s a brutal life, and it breaks some. You don’t get that kind of cruelty in the woods.’
‘Oh—’ he turned his head to the side and nodded slowly as he commented, ‘the woods have their own cruelty, animal to animal. ’Tis amazing what you see. Even trees in winter suddenly decide to snap a branch and you’re lucky if you get away alive. Then there’s man’s cruelty.’ His face became stiff now. ‘The master’s thinking of trapping the woods.’
‘You mean mantraps?’ Her voice was a whisper.
‘Aye, just that. I can’t keep me eyes on a thousand acres, and I must admit I close me eyes when the locals are just after the rabbits. But when it comes to the birds, well, I’ve warned them on the quiet, and that’s all I can do.’
‘I think that’s cruel, traps of any kind for animals, but when it’s for men…eeh!’ She now whipped a towel from the brass rod and, going to the table, she rubbed it vigorously, muttering as she did so: ‘There’s so much cruelty. I heard tell through the paper of two men being hung for sheep stealing.’
‘Well, it’s a serious offence that; they know what to expect when they go in for it.’
The Black Velvet Gown Page 11
