‘I wadn’t sure it were anyone else’s business.’ Maddy nearly added that Patrick had told her the facts himself, but she held back. Such an admission would only encourage Annie’s romantic fancies.
‘Twas touch and go, according to Henry Beer’s missus. Her remembers un happening, and now I thinks on I’ve some recollection of un. Travelling players, or something of the sort, his parents were. They was going in the carrier’s cart from Totnes to Brixham, but Patrick’s mother must’ve started with him afore they set out, because her was well on the way by the time they was nearing here. As soon as the carrier realised the situation, he were down into the village that fast they reckon there was sparks coming off his horse’s shoes. He wadn’t carrying three when they’d only paid for two, that’s what he said. Any road, he turned them off at the top of Mill Hill. Fortunately they was close to old Susan White’s place, her as used to do the birthing and laying out, and her took them in. Just in time, mind. The boy were born within the hour. Then, bless me, they took off again sudden the very next day. And they never paid Susan her dues.’
‘No doubt she can claim them now,’ said Maddy.
‘Her’d have a job. You knows very well her’ve been dead a good ten years.’
‘Then when I sees Patrick Howard I’ll tell him he’s to put flowers on her grave or summat.’
‘Oh, you’m likely to see him again, then?’
‘No more than anyone else, but if I does, I’ll tell him.’
To herself Maddy had to admit that she looked forward to meeting Patrick Howard again. In such a small village it was inevitable that she would, and the prospect filled her with a fidgety anticipation. There was something in his manner which made her feel different. Quite what it was she was not sure, some quality he brought with him of having been out in the wide world and seen wondrous things, a quality he seemed able to pass on.
In the event, their next meeting began prosaically enough. Maddy had a flourishing crop of early rhubarb in the garden which was likely to earn a useful penny or two. She filled a basket with it and, along with some fresh eggs from her hens, set off to sell her produce.
The village of Stoke Gabriel was actually sighted away from the River Dart, tucked protectively beside a creek. The creek had long since been dammed and could now boast a watermill at its head and a tidal mill set on the edge of the dam itself. The flat land alongside the creek made an excellent drying ground for the fishermen’s nets, and over the years it had become a popular meeting and trading place. That was why Maddy took the steeply sloping lane to go ‘down mill’ to sell her produce.
She was in luck, she did not have long to wait for purchasers. Jingling the pennies in her pocket she considered what she needed to buy on her way back through the village: tea, matches, an ounce of blue for the washing, and tobacco for her father. So intent was she on the shopping list that she almost missed Patrick. Then she saw him, and a feeling of pleasure went through her.
He was approaching along the creekside from the direction of the watermill, pushing a barrow. He waved, sending the barrow on a path dangerously close to the water’s edge. By the time he had it under control again he had reached her.
‘There be no prizes for guessing where you’m been,’ she greeted him, indicating the dusting of flour on his clothes.
‘No, indeed.’ He made a half-hearted attempt at brushing himself down. ‘Nothing would please Mrs Ford but I must dash off immediately to fetch a sack of flour. That’s why it’s a double blessing to meet you this morning, Miss Maddy.’ He gave her his sudden dazzling smile. ‘Not just for the pleasure of seeing you but also because you have given me an excellent excuse to set down this wretched thing.’ He gave the barrow a kick and looked at his hands anxiously.
‘You’m got splinters?’ asked Maddy. ‘If so let me see to them for you, they can turn very nasty, else.’
‘How kind of you to show such concern,’ he smiled. ‘But no, it’s not splinters which bother me. It’s the callouses.’
‘Callouses never harmed no one,’ smiled Maddy.
‘They do if you’re a musician,’ he replied.
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Maddy was struck by the problems that must confront him. ‘Of course you must take care of your hands, how stupid of me not to realise un. Surely working as a potman must do them harm?’
‘It’s not too bad, there are many jobs far worse.’ Then he exclaimed suddenly, ‘Will you look at that!’
She turned to follow his gaze. ‘I can’t see naught,’ she said. ‘Just the hedge…’
‘But what a hedge! Did you ever see such blossom? It clings to the bough like curds of cream. And how beautifully it shows against the blue sky. Oh, that I was an artist and could paint such a picture!’
For a moment Maddy still could not comprehend why he should be so excited about a bit of blackthorn. But his enthusiasm infected her and she looked again. It was beautiful, the masses of small white flowers packed tightly on the spiny black branches, the blue sky showing each creamy spike to full advantage.
‘Yes, it be a lovely sight,’ she agreed. ‘A real pleasure to behold. Why habn’t I noticed un afore? I must’ve seen scores of they old bushes and I’ve only thought as there’ll be a good picking of gribbles this year.’
‘Gribbles?’
‘The fruit. Sloes, some folks call them. They’m like tiny plums and taste terrible bitter, but my, do they make a warming drop of sloe gin for a winter’s night.’
‘You did notice the blossom, you see, but your thoughts were practical.’ As he spoke he resumed pushing the barrow again, and automatically Maddy fell into step beside him.
‘I should’ve noticed how pretty they blossoms were.’ Somehow she felt that not having done so indicated she was lacking in some way.
‘You’re a very busy person, and most conscientious in your duty to your father and your brothers. I’ve noticed that about you already. But it’s not disloyal of you to pause for a moment to enjoy the sight of a bank of primroses, or to listen to the lark sing. Everyone needs beauty in their lives and you are no exception.’ He spoke in gentle reproof.
‘I does well enough,’ she replied, startled and perplexed that he should claim to know her character so well.
‘Are you sure you couldn’t do better? Wouldn’t you like to have some time to yourself?’
‘Doing what?’
‘I don’t know. If you could please yourself, what would you do?’
The idea was breathtaking in its novelty.
‘Read!’ The reply came out explosively.
‘You’ve never learnt?’ he asked curiously.
‘When Mother was alive she saw to it that I got some schooling, along with the boys. But I don’t get no time, and there idn’t much at home to read. There be the Bible, of course, I reads that of a Sunday, and once in a blue moon Father or one of the boys might bring in the Totnes Times, but naught else.’
Patrick made no immediate comment because the hill was becoming increasingly steep.
‘Yer, let me lend a hand.’ Maddy added her weight to his at the barrow and when he protested she retorted, ‘Don’t be mazed. Tidn’t no bother to me. If I had a penny for every load I’ve helped up here I’d have a different feather in my bonnet each Sunday. Watch out!’ she protested, as the barrow made as if to roll back down the hill. ‘I don’t mind helping you once, but I be blowed if I be pushing this lot twice!’
Eventually, laughing and puffing, they reached the top of the slope.
‘This is the parting of the ways, I think,’ said Patrick.
‘It be indeed. Tis downhill for you now, the going’ll be easier. And don’t go sitting on the barrow hoping to ride the rest of the way,’ she cautioned. ‘Else you’m back to Byter Mill afore you knows it.’
‘I’ll take your advice,’ he replied gravely. ‘I thank you for it and for your help coming up the hill. It was worth taking such a hard road for the pleasure of your company.’
‘You don’t half gammon a body,’ reto
rted Maddy.
He pretended to be affronted. ‘Would I do that?’ he demanded.
‘Yes,’ she replied promptly.
‘Perhaps I would,’ he agreed smiling. ‘But not you. Never you, Miss Madeleine Shillabeer.’
His words, and the expression in his eyes as he said them, remained with her as she continued on her journey home. As she was about to turn into Duncannon Lane she became aware of someone calling her name. It was Patrick again.
‘You must’ve run at a fair pace to catch up with me,’ she said with alarm. ‘Is aught amiss?’
Too out of breath to speak, he shook his head. ‘Good job – I play the fiddle – and not the flute,’ he panted at last.
‘You idn’t in much of a state to play either at the moment. Bide still a minute.’
‘There, I think I’m fully restored.’ He straightened up and took a deep breath.
‘Thank goodness. What were so urgent you had to half kill yourself for?’
‘For this.’ From his pocket he took out a book. ‘I thought you might like to borrow it.’
‘A book? You would loan me a book?’ Maddy was completely taken aback.
‘Of course. Why shouldn’t I?’
‘Because… because…’ Maddy was at a loss for words. How could she explain that a book was well outside the usual scope of her life. It would not be like borrowing a twist of tea until the Totnes agent paid up for the salmon, or an extra cup or two because folks had called and there were not enough to go round. These were ordinary common things, everyone did them at some time or another. But a book! She had never heard of anyone borrowing a book before.
‘You can’t think of a reason why not, can you?’ said Patrick. He pushed the book into her hand.
‘Great Expectations’ she read hesitantly. ‘What if it be full of long words? Tis a long time since I read aught, excepting the Bible. I might not be able to manage anything difficult.’
‘Why don’t you find out by reading it?’ He pressed the book into her hand and began to move away. ‘I must go if I don’t want some harsh words from Mrs Ford,’ he said. Then he stopped and eyed her appreciatively. ‘You should wear that colour more often,’ he said. ‘It matches your eyes. Today they are like the river in the sunlight, warm and sparkling. Quite enchanting.’ He hurried off as swiftly as he had come, leaving Maddy gazing after him speechless.
Why does he do that? she wondered, almost irritably. Say summat fair outrageous then dashes off afore a body’s got time to think straight.
She looked down at her dress. The material had been bought at Totnes market years ago because it was cheap and looked as if it would wash well. She had never considered the colour. She regarded it now. It had wide stripes in a sort of sea-green shade. Was that what Patrick was making such a fuss about? Was that the sort of colour he saw in her eyes? She had always thought of them as wishy-washy, neither one thing nor another. Perhaps, like the blackthorn blossom, she had simply not looked at them properly.
And there was the book! She held it stiffly in her hand, as if not certain what to do with it. Then, as it always did, her common sense gradually reasserted itself. She would return the book to Patrick as soon as she could. In the meantime, the best thing would be to put it in her pocket, away from prying eyes.
* * *
The first thing Maddy did when she got home was to dash up to her room and look in the mirror. Usually she only gave herself a quick glance to make sure her hair was securely anchored. Now she looked more carefully. And just as she had regarded the blackthorn blossom anew, so she began to see things in herself she had never noticed before: the blue-green in her dress did intensify the colour of her eyes. How had she never noticed it before? And her eyes were the same colour as the river on a fine day, exactly as Patrick had said they were. She could not recall anyone with eyes the same colour – except her mother. The boys, who shared her wild unruly hair, had grey eyes like Father. Did that make her a freak?
No, it makes you distinctive! She could almost hear Patrick saying it. She was the distinctive Miss Madeleine Shillabeer, with distinctive blue-green eyes. What was the name he had first given them? Aquamarine, that was it. She liked the sound, and equally she began to like the idea of having aquamarine eyes. Then she gave a sigh. Being distinctive was all very well as far as it went, but there was nothing to be done about her mop of hair or her bony face.
‘You’m idn’t getting to be no beauty, but you’m certainly growing more stupid by the minute, girl,’ she informed her reflection cheerfully. For good measure she gave an ugly grimace.
One more thing she had to do before going downstairs, and that was to hide the book under her mattress where it would not be found and cause trouble.
It did not need the book to cause trouble. The moment her father came stamping into the house, followed by all four brothers, she knew something was the matter.
‘You’m been seeing a man!’ Jack declared.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, although she had a pretty fair idea.
‘That fiddling knave at the Church House! You’m taken up with him.’
‘I have? Then ’tis news to me, and to him too, I dare say.’
‘The pair of you was seen down mill,’ retorted Jack.
‘So were half the village,’ replied Maddy. It were busy there today.’
‘We’m told you once already to keep away from damned trash like him,’ broke in Bart. ‘We’m idn’t having you bringing no disgrace here.’
‘He’m a bad sort, Maddy, anyone can see that,’ said Lew.
‘He’m a bad sort,’ Charlie repeated.
‘We’m telling you straight, our Maddy, you idn’t to have naught to do with him,’ added Davie.
The injustice of it took her breath away. Five pairs of eyes glared at her accusingly, waiting for her to give in to their demands, as she usually did. But she had had enough of being ordered about, especially by those with no authority over her. Her temper flared to breaking point.
‘What I does idn’t naught to do with you four, so you’s can either sit down and shut your mouths or get out!’ she snapped. Taken by surprise the brothers sat down.
‘Now then!’ Maddy faced Jack, her arms akimbo. ‘You’m my father and I owes you respect and obedience, I knows that, but I be warning you straight. I’ve always led a decent life and no one idn’t going to say otherwise, not even you.’
‘You was seen… talking to that fellow…’ said Jack uncertainly, looking to Bart for support.
Deliberately Maddy placed herself squarely between her father and her brother.
‘And that’s it?’ she demanded angrily. ‘You accuses me of bringing disgrace on the family because I spoke to a man? If that idn’t the limit! What’ll you do next? Shout “adultery” because I says good morning to William or Joe? You’m mazed, the lot of you!’
‘No, we’m just determined you idn’t going to disgrace us,’ declared Bart.
Maddy swung round on him. ‘You idn’t afeared of no disgrace,’ she said scornfully. ‘You’m afeared I might go off with someone and leave you lot to fend for yourselves. You’m scared of losing your slavey, that’s what you’m afeared of.’
‘And if you did go off, what’d be the result?’ demanded Bart. ‘You’d just be a slavey in some other place.’
‘Then my life’d be the same,’ Maddy retorted. ‘But, my stars, you lot wouldn’t half notice the difference! Just as things’d have been a deal harder if I’d gone off when I were younger and had the chance. Two of you at least’d have been brought over to Totnes workhouse, because Father would never have managed to rear four of you alone.’ Charlie and Davie, the youngest, stared uncomfortably down at the table, contemplating the fate that had so nearly been theirs. ‘As for you others,’ went on Maddy, ‘and I be including Father, you’d have known the meaning of cold comfort with a vengeance!’
‘Us knows how much us owes you, Maddy, my lover,’ said Jack in a conciliatory tone, clearly startled by
his daughter’s rebellious outburst. ‘You’m the woman of the household and us thinks highly of you, don’t us, boys?’
‘Then show me a bit of respect! I be a person too, you knows. I got my own wants and likings, I don’t have to dance to your tune all the time.’ Then seeing that they did not know what she was talking about, she said more quietly, ‘I be a woman, growd, I idn’t stupid, and I idn’t flighty. Have the grace to trust me like I was a reasonable person as can have friends and do things without you lot forever disapproving.’
Jack’s face cleared. ‘If that’s what you’m wanting, maid, then ’tis fine by us, eh, lads?’ he said. You feel free to come and go as you please.’
Now would have been a good moment to fetch out the copy of Great Expectations and read it openly in front of them, but Maddy did not. She knew they had not really understood. It would be more prudent to keep the book a secret.
* * *
There was a surprise in church the next Sunday. Among the musicians stood Patrick, his fiddle in his hand. He caught her eye and smiled, and she felt a wave of disapproval emanate from her brothers. The improvement to the music during the service was astonishing. Although Patrick literally played second fiddle, it was his instrument that dominated the timing and smoothed out the squeaks and squawks that were characteristic of Henry Beer’s playing. He did not play loudly, it was his skill and musicianship that had the other players, Henry excluded, following his lead.
As the congregation left the church everyone was talking about how splendid the singing and playing had been.
‘We’m having that new fellow to play at our Rose’s wedding,’ remarked a stout matron, the miller’s wife.
‘I thought you’d spoke for old Henry,’ said her companion.
‘Tweren’t naught definite,’ the miller’s wife replied.
‘Poor Henry’m going to be some put out, idn’t he?’
‘Can’t help that,’ was the unrepentant reply. ‘Our Rose be the only girl, her’m having the best us can manage, and that young fellow be the best fiddler. Henry can like it or lump it.’
Daughter of the River Page 6
