Moorland Mist

by Gwen Kirkwood

  William was standing at the wash stand, stripped to the waist as he sponged himself in cold water from the ewer. She was not used to having anyone else in her room while she put on her clothes. William didn’t seem at all embarrassed but he had always shared a room with his brothers.

  ‘I get better as the day goes on,’ Annie replied in answer to Emma’s query about her health as they all gathered for breakfast.

  Fran, the middle-aged maid, sniffed in disapproval as she set a small bowl of cream beside each plate of steaming porridge.

  ‘These are Scottish people, Fran. Can you make sure the bacon is not burning, please? Now eat up, Emma. I’ve packed scones and cheese and a jar of new strawberry jam for you to take, but goodness knows when you’ll get a proper meal again. Is there a grocer’s shop in Silverbeck village, William? You will need to stock up on food.’

  ‘I don’t know. I was only at the blacksmiths,’ he admitted. ‘I was not thinking about that kind of thing. I shall need to get a pony and trap so Emma can drive herself to the village.’

  ‘Can you manage a pony and trap, Emma?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Maggie always let me drive home if we went to the village. I enjoyed it.’

  Annie was almost in tears when they had to say good-bye.

  ‘She’s always emotional when she’s pregnant,’ Drew said, ‘but I’m glad you’ll be fairly near so we can all meet up occasionally.’

  After the tidy farm yard at Bonnybrae, Emma could understand why William was shocked at the state of Moorend. When they arrived, she saw broken carts and bits of machinery poking through clumps of nettles and brambles.

  ‘Emma might get a better impression if you took her in through the front door,’ Drew suggested.

  ‘It will be locked. Remember the struggle the old man had to open it?’

  ‘Want to bet it’s never been locked since the day we were here?’

  ‘You could be right but I’m not a gambling man,’ William said. Emma sensed his tension. Drew was right, the front door opened when William turned the knob. He turned and helped Emma down from the trap because she was holding Jamie in her arms, but he kept an arm around her shoulders, almost as though protecting her but she liked his strength and warmth. She saw a clutter of boxes and a pile of old coats but the hall itself was bigger than her bedroom at home. This was home now, she reminded herself. She must not look back. Drew opened a door on either side.

  ‘I think one is a dining room, and the other a sitting room,’ William said. ‘They’re both full of furniture,’ he added apologetically. She turned in the circle of his arm and his clasp tightened.

  ‘We’ll manage so long as we have a bed to sleep in and a fire for cooking.’

  ‘The kitchen is at the end if I remember correctly, though we only had a fleeting visit. I didn’t think I would be making our home here.’

  He opened the door into a very large kitchen. Emma thought her parents’ whole cottage would fit in it. Apart from the usual large table and about eight chairs, there was the biggest dresser Emma had ever seen, and it was festooned with cobwebs over the plate racks. A small chest of drawers stood along the back wall with a brass bedstead and a tangle of blankets. There was a horsehair sofa and an armchair as well as a wooden rocking chair.

  ‘Ah, there y’are then,’ a woman greeted them, coming through one of the doors. ‘I thought I saw a pony and trap arriving.’

  ‘This is Mrs Wright, the blacksmith’s wife, Emma,’ William introduced the cheery-looking woman. ‘This is my wife.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Sinclair. I brought my niece, your new maid. Come and say hello, Polly,’ she said, drawing forward a young girl.

  Emma saw how shy and nervous she looked and remembered her own first day at Bonnybrae. She smiled warmly as she took the girl’s small hand.

  ‘When you weren’t here I thought we might as well be getting on with things,’ Mrs Wright said to Emma. ‘I’ve cleaned out all the flues and lit the fire. I don’t think they’ve been cleaned since Doris Dixon died. I showed Polly what to do but you might need to show her again. She’s a willing little soul but she has everything to learn.’ She looked anxiously from William to Emma. Jamie whimpered and struggled in Emma’s arms. He was ready for his feed. ‘She’s good with kiddies. She has seven younger than her at home.’ Emma looked at Polly. The girl nodded eagerly.

  ‘The first thing I must do is feed him then find a drawer or something to settle him to sleep while I decide what needs to be done first.’

  ‘There’s two wicker baskets in the washhouse,’ Polly offered timidly. ‘Well, one of ’em is falling to bits but the other is like new.’

  ‘If you would bring it through here then, please, Polly? Set it on the kitchen table. I’ll find a blanket when I unpack. He will be safe up there out of the way. I don’t think Queenie would hurt him but she needs to get used to him.’ The collie pricked her ears at the sound of her name and paused in sniffing out her new surroundings.

  ‘I don’t think she’ll run away when she knows we’re both here,’ William said, ‘but we’d better keep her inside for a few days until she gets familiar.’

  ‘The railway dray has just arrived,’ Drew said, coming into the kitchen with Emma’s bags. ‘It’s delivering two wooden chests.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Emma looked at William as Jamie began to cry loudly. ‘I really need to feed him before he’ll settle. Would you take all our boxes and bags upstairs out of the way until I can unpack them? See if we have a bed to sleep in tonight, please?’

  ‘Oh, there are beds in both front bedrooms,’ Mrs Wright said. ‘But there’s an awful fusty smell everywhere so I opened all the windows and left the doors open. I hope that’s all right. If I were you, Mr Sinclair, I’d bring down one of the mattresses while you have your friend to help you. A bit of fresh air and sunshine would help.’

  ‘Shall we do that, Emma?’

  ‘It depends on whether we can carry it back up ourselves.’

  ‘Cliff will help you. I forgot to say your new man was waiting on the doorstep when we arrived. I told him to take his stuff up the back stairs. I expect that’s where the lad will be sleeping?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ William said, disappearing into the hall with Drew, carrying one of the wooden chests.

  Emma settled in the rocking chair and she shielded Jamie with her shawl. She was still shy about feeding him in public. Mrs Wright lowered her voice and said anxiously. ‘Our Polly’s frightened to sleep up the back stairs with only him up there.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Emma said. ‘I’m sure there must be a spare room we can find for you. Where do all these doors lead?’ she asked, looking round the kitchen.

  ‘That’s the back door, leading down four steps into the washhouse and the dairy. That one over there is down into the cellar. Old Ed used to cure his pigs down there. Next one is into the hall. This door is into the pantry and that one seems to be a store room now. When Doris was alive, I think one of the maids slept in there.’

  ‘See if it is big enough for a bed then, Polly. If it is, we’ll clear it out and scrub the floor straight away, then we can move this single bed in. Perhaps this mattress would be better for a few hours in the sunshine too. The pillow can go to a bonfire when we make one. It’s stained with grease.’

  ‘I brought a sheet and a clean pair of blankets for her,’ Mrs Wright said diffidently. ‘I didn’t know if there’d be any clean bedding. I don’t think Ed’s had a decent wash himself for the past year. I expect his sister will lick him into shape.’

  ‘We brought some bedding with us. I didn’t know what to expect.’

  ‘Many a lass would have turned and run home at the sight of this place. Mr Sinclair is a lucky man.’

  ‘I know that, Mrs Wright,’ William said, coming through from the hall. He winked at Emma. ‘Is that wee fellow feeding again? He never stops. Did I hear you want this mattress taken outside?’

  ‘Yes, please. We’ll put the bed in the room for P
olly. I don’t like having a bed in the middle of the kitchen, or that big black sofa.’

  ‘This little room is full of wooden boxes,’ Polly called. ‘Some of them are empty but some are labelled drenches for cattle.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Emma considered. ‘I think we’ll store everything in the dining room until I can sort them. The empty boxes can go into a shed outside. They will probably make good sticks for lighting the fire. This rug is only fit for a bonfire too. It has so many greasy spills and burn holes in it. Don’t throw anything outside, though, Polly, until Mr Dixon has left. I wouldn’t like to hurt his feelings.’

  Drew and William came back in together.

  ‘We’ve done a day’s work hefting all those boxes upstairs and putting mattresses out in the sun.’ Drew grinned. ‘By the way, I offered the old man a lift to the station but he said he couldn’t leave until he’d met you, Emma, and introduced you to Strawberry and Petal.’

  ‘Are they his cows?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Friends, he says. He wants to be sure you’ll be kind to them.’

  ‘He needna worry, Emma is kind to all animals. He was the same with his mare. I’m sure there were tears in his eyes when I agreed to buy her. He doesn’t want any of them to go to a strange place. He says it would upset them. I’ve told him he can come and see them. That seemed to please him.’

  ‘There,’ Emma said, tucking Jamie into his basket. ‘That should keep him quiet for a few hours while Polly and I get to work. I will make you a cup of tea and something to eat before you leave, Drew, but I’m afraid it is what Annie sent.’

  ‘I’ll do that if you like, Mrs Sinclair, while you go and deal with old Ed and his cows,’ Mrs Wright offered. ‘Then we can get on with sorting out some of this rubbish for the bonfire when he’s gone.’

  ‘I’m very grateful for your help, Mrs Wright, but – but I’m afraid I didn’t expect you to work. I can’t pay you …’

  ‘Eh, lass, I’m not wanting your brass. I know you and your husband will have a lot of hard work to do before you’ve earned any. I’m happy that you’re giving our Polly a place near us where she can earn her keep and a wee bit beside, and teach her how to keep a clean house and learn to cook. Oh, cooking! I forgot to say I brought a big pan of hash with us. I put it in the oven so it will be ready for your dinners. I left a dish of it in my own oven for Joe and me so I’ll need to get home by then.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you. But what is hash?’ Emma asked, surprised at the woman’s kindness.

  ‘Don’t you have hash in Scotland then?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘We usually have hash on Mondays. Makes a quick dinner for wash day. We chop up the leftover meat from the Sunday dinner, add plenty of potatoes and whatever vegetables we’ve got – carrots, onions, and such like, then add well-seasoned gravy. I sometimes add a bit of that new Bovril you can buy to give it more flavour. Leave it to cook while you work.’

  ‘We shall all be very glad of it until I can stock up with food. Now I must go upstairs and change into my working dress and find my pinafores, ready to get on with some cleaning,’ Emma said, ‘then I will meet Mr Dixon and his friends.’

  She found the carpet bags where William had left them in a large, sunny bedroom. The house was far bigger than anything she had imagined, at least three times the size of her parents’ cottage. She had always taken care of her clothes and she unpacked her wedding dress and her new green travelling outfit, intending to hang them in the wardrobe before they became too creased. She screamed in fright when a furry nose and two bright eyes looked out at her.

  ‘What’s wrong, lass?’ Ivy Wright came panting up the stairs. ‘Did you fall, Mrs Sinclair?’

  ‘N-no,’ Emma said, still holding a hand to her chest. I got a fright. There’s some sort of animal in the wardrobe.’

  ‘Animal? In the wardrobe? Can it be one of the cats?’

  ‘Not a cat. It has a long nose and…’ Cautiously, Mrs Wright opened a long mirrored door.

  ‘It reeks of mothballs. Ah, is this what you saw?’ She began to laugh, clutching her sides in her merriment. ‘It’s Doris’s fox fur. It’s not alive. Real proud of it she was. She was a smart woman in her day. I remember she got it and a new brown winter coat, the year afore she died.’

  ‘You mean she wore it round her neck?’ Emma shuddered in horror. ‘Will you take it down for the bonfire please, Mrs Wright? I can’t bear the sight of those two beady eyes and its long nose.’

  ‘Burn it! Oh, Mrs Sinclair, you can’t mean that! It was Doris’s pride and joy. I expect that’s why it was in this room with so many mothballs.’

  ‘There’s a brown coat in here too. It looks almost new. It seems a pity to cut it up.’

  ‘It would be a sin.’

  ‘You’re welcome to take the fur and the coat.’

  ‘Oh my! I’d be proud to have ’em. I could never afford a fox fur.’

  Emma wondered how Mrs Dixon had afforded one if they were so short of money they couldn’t pay the rent, but she was relieved to get it out of her sight and Mrs Wright seemed pleased to have both the fur and the coat.

  Emma hung up her dresses and William’s suit, then found her oldest working dress, an apron and cap, and prepared to meet Ed Dixon and his cows before she set to work scrubbing out the kitchen. She must ask William if they ought to buy working dresses for Polly, as his parents had done for her. They had not had any opportunity to discuss how she should manage the household and pay for necessities. There were so many things they needed to talk about.

  When Emma saw the old man and his two cows in the small paddock at the side of the cowshed, she got a surprise.

  ‘What strange horns they have! They’re curling round into their head instead of upwards.’ She patted the dark roan cow.

  ‘These be Shorthorn cows and you’ll be used to Ayrshires, I suppose. My Strawberry is as good as any Ayrshire,’ he told her proudly.

  ‘I’m sure she is, Mr Dixon, and I promise you I shall look after her. What large teats she has. And Petal the same.’ She moved to pat the light-coloured roan, who was more inclined to graze.

  ‘This little ’un is Strawberry’s calf. I called her Socks. D’ye see she has four white socks? She’ll be nearly all red when she’s grown, like Tindall’s bull. Petal must have gone a-calling on him sometime.’ He ran a hand over her belly. ‘I’d say she’ll give you another calf in October.’

  ‘I see,’ Emma said slowly.

  She knew all the Bonnybrae cows had stopped milking for about six weeks when they were getting near to calving. Jim said they needed a rest to build up strength and produce plenty of milk when the calf was born. He had been meticulous at keeping dates about things like that. In the adjoining paddock, two Clydesdale mares were grazing and one of them ambled across to where they stood.

  ‘This is Bell,’ Ed Dixon said, leaning over the fence to pat her neck. ‘I’ve already said good-bye to you, old girl.’ His eyes were bright and watery and Emma was afraid tears might run down his lined cheeks. She changed the subject hastily.

  ‘I see you still have some hens running around, Mr Dixon.’

  ‘Aye, there’s more than I thought. The fox got some of ’em last winter, but some of the old hens must’ve gone broody and reared their own chicks without telling me. Doris looked after the hens, see. She used to set broody hens on eggs and she knew when they would hatch.’

  ‘Yes, I would like to rear some chicks myself.’

  ‘You should ring the neck of yon old cockerel then and make him into broth. He’s a Rhode Island Red but he’s been busy enough when I see how many pullets there be that look like him. Mr Tindall has some nice black and white Wyandots so he’d likely sell you one.’

  ‘I will ask my husband to speak to him,’ Emma said.

  ‘I’ve left a basket of eggs in the dairy. I’m taking some to my sister and a piece of bacon hanging in the pantry. I’m ready to go now. You have a kind fac
e so I know you’ll look after Strawberry and Petal. They like a few ground oats to eat while I’m milking ’em. You’ll find them in the wooden chest in the stable and there’s a bit of hay left.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Dixon, I promise to care well for them.’

  ‘There’s two hens nesting in the stable, and another one in the loft. You’ll find a nest or two in the nettles. I found one yesterday by the old pony trap.’

  Looking for hens’ nesting places would be a good job for Polly, Emma thought. Most of them had laid in their nesting boxes at Bonnybrae but there were always one or two who liked to hide their eggs. She and Maggie had kept a sharp eye on them.

  ‘The gypsies are back,’ Ed Dixon said. ‘They’ll do you no harm if you’re decent with them. Tell your husband they have a nice pony that would fit into my old trap. My Doris used to drive it. It needs a new wheel. Billy Little could fix it. He has a joiner’s shed at the other end of village.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll tell my – my husband. Would you like a cup of tea and scones and cheese before you leave?’

  ‘No, thank you, lass. I’ve said good-bye to the old house. I don’t want to go in again. I’ll wait here till the other Scots gent takes me to the station.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll tell Mr Kerr.’

  Drew and William were seated at the kitchen table, eating Annie’s scones and jam for their mid-morning snack.

  ‘I don’t know how I shall make the scones,’ Emma said. ‘There’s no swee on the range and we dinna have a girdle here.’

  ‘We didn’t have a swee when we came down here,’ Drew recalled. ‘I don’t think they use them much in Yorkshire but Annie missed her girdle and I missed her soda scones, so I drew a pattern for the swee and asked the blacksmith to make one. He fixed us up in no time.’

  ‘Well, then.’ Ivy Wright came to the table, hands on hips. ‘You draw whatever it is and my Joe will make it. If cousin Tom can do it, so can Joe.’

  ‘I’d be glad if he would, Mrs Wright. I’m used to a girdle.’

  ‘Aye, and I like scones,’ William said.