Tilly Trotter Wed (The Tilly Trotter Trilogy)

by Cookson, Catherine

  ‘Oh, Steve, I’m so glad for you. And nobody deserves success more than you do.’ She now hesitated before asking a very touchy question and when it did come out she tried to make it sound ordinary, conversational. ‘Are you married, Steve?’

  He looked straight at her for a second before he said quietly, ‘No, Tilly, I’m not married.’

  ‘Oh.’ She lowered her gaze from his. ‘You know I have a son now, Steve?’

  ‘Aye’ – he nodded at her – ‘I heard you had, Tilly. I hope he’s in good fettle, I mean I hope he’s fully recovered. I also heard what happened to him because of me mother, and how you stopped the case and her going along the line.’

  She ignored the last and said, ‘Yes, he’s fully recovered, well, at least’ – she shook her head in small movements before she said – ‘I’ve still got to take him to the doctor’s every month. I think it’s in case his eyes become affected.’

  ‘Eeh!’ He now got to his feet and walked towards the table, his back towards her as he said, ‘The things our family have done to you, it’s unbelievable.’ Then turning abruptly towards her again, he asked pointedly now, ‘What made you go back there, I mean after’ – there was an embarrassed silence before he ended – ‘after you left?’

  She returned his questioning look as she said, ‘It happened the day he was struck. It was fortunate that Mr Matthew was in town and . . . and he saw us to a doctor; then I think the shock had been a little too much for me and I collapsed, and it was natural I suppose that he took me back to the Manor, and just as natural that I should take up my old post again.’

  ‘Oh.’ His chin jerked upwards on the word. ‘He’s a funny fellow, isn’t he?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mr Matthew, quite a lad. Perhaps that’s the wrong word. I don’t mean with the women, though I don’t know anything about him in that line, but he’s not bothered about getting himself mucked up, he’ll crawl with you side by side and talk to you man to man. Then when he’s above ground he’s like a different being, closes up like a clam, as if you might take advantage like.’

  ‘You’ve worked with him?’

  ‘I’ve been down two or three times along of Mr Rowland when he was showing me the layout. They say he’s got a temper like a fiend, an’ I can well imagine it. I wouldn’t like to cross him.’ He smiled wryly now.

  ‘Well, by the size you’ve grow into, Steve, I think you’d be able to hold your own.’ She smiled and he lowered his head as he said, ‘Aye, all the years I lived around here I seemed to be stunted in all ways, but once I got away I sprouted. I think Mrs Ransome’s good food and care helped more than a bit. But well now, about this place.’ He now moved his hand widely, taking in the room. ‘Will you let it to me, Tilly?’

  She rose from the settle, considered a moment, then said, ‘I don’t see why not, Steve. It’ll save me having to send someone along every week to keep it aired. Have . . . have you any furniture?’

  ‘No, not a stick.’

  ‘Would you like to take it as it is?’

  ‘Oh, that would be grand, Tilly, grand.’

  ‘There’d be one stipulation. The loft bedroom upstairs is half full of books, I’d want them left as they are. They are Mr Burgess’ and he valued them greatly, and I do too.’

  ‘Nothing’ll be touched, Tilly. It’s fine and comfortable looking as it is. You have my word for it, nothing’ll be touched, except I might be glad to read some of them books.’

  ‘You’ll be very welcome to do that, and I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know that they are being put to use again.’

  ‘Then that’s settled. How much will you want a week?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘I really don’t want anything. Let’s say rent free for old time’s sake.’

  ‘Ah no, Tilly. No, no. If it’s a business deal it’s a business deal. What about three shillings a week, how’s that?’

  ‘Oh, if that’ll suit you it’ll suit me.’

  ‘Well, we’ll shake on it.’ He held out his hand, and she hesitated a moment before she put hers into it. His grip was firm and warm.

  She had to withdraw her fingers from his and she turned from him, saying, ‘I’ll leave the key with you then, Steve; I’ve got to go now.’

  ‘Aye. Aye.’ He followed her to the door, where on a laugh he said, ‘By, life’s funny. When I came off that road I never thought that within the next hour I’d have a home of me own, your home. It makes me glad to be back, Tilly.’

  Outside the door she turned to him and out of politeness she said, ‘It’s nice to see you back, Steve. Goodbye now.’

  ‘Goodbye, Tilly. We’ll be knocking into each other I’ve no doubt.’

  She looked over her shoulder at him as she answered, ‘Yes, yes, of course, Steve.’

  She was well out of sight of the cottage when she stopped. Nice to see him back. Was it? No! No! The Steve of thirteen years ago had altered physically, but the Steve underneath she could see through the light in his eyes was still the same Steve, and because he hadn’t married she knew he had brought back with him all the old complications.

  Yet need they be complications? He could offer her a way out. She liked him, you couldn’t help but like him, and he’d always been so kind to her; and he would continue to be kind to her, no matter what happened. Yes, here was a way out, a loophole, an escape from that fear that must soon take shape and spring upon her; it was in the atmosphere; it pervaded the air. Up till last night she had imagined she could ward it off, fight it with a manner of aloofness, call up propriety to her aid, but after hearing the sound of that blow in her defence when she was called a whore, she knew that neither aloofness nor propriety would be strong enough to withstand the onslaught of the fear when it did take shape and gave voice.

  Perhaps God had sent Steve at this opportune time to save her.

  Four

  ‘What’s this I hear, Trotter?’

  ‘What do you hear?’ She had just descended the front steps to the drive and at the sight of her he had dismounted from his horse, slapping it on the rump as he did so and sending it towards the yard.

  ‘That you have let your cottage.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I hope you know what you’ve done.’

  ‘Yes, I think I do.’

  ‘He’s a McGrath.’

  ‘I know that too, but he’s a good McGrath, the only good McGrath. He’s been a friend of mine since childhood.’

  ‘Really! Suppose his parents start visiting him?’

  ‘For my part they’re welcome to, as I shan’t be there. But I doubt if he’ll welcome any visit from them seeing that he cut adrift some years ago.’

  ‘You know he’s to be my under-manager?’

  ‘Yes, he told me so, and I think he’ll be a very good one.’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’ He now struck the top of his leather boot with his crop as he said, ‘What if you at one time should wish to return to the cottage?’

  ‘I can’t see that offering any problem, I could give him notice.’

  They stared at each other like two combatants waiting for the other to thrust and he made the final move when he said, ‘By what I recollect from one and another you may not need to give him notice.’

  She felt herself rearing inside but she warned herself to keep calm, and when she spoke her words came without a tremor as she said, ‘That could be quite possible, and if it should happen it could realise his long-felt wish.’

  She did not step back from him but her shoulders receded and her chin drew into her neck pulling her head slightly to the side for a moment as he again struck his leather gaiter with his whip. Then after staring at her, he passed her and went up the steps towards the door. Strangely, as one would have expected from the look on his face, he did not run up them, or even hurry, but he took each step slowly and firmly, and he had passed through the doors and into the hall before she herself felt able to move; then she went on towards the lower garden and th
e greenhouses, there to see what fruit was available for dessert.

  Twenty minutes later when she returned to the house by the kitchen Biddy met her at the door, saying, ‘There’s hell going on in the library. That Mr Rosier’s there, and it’s who can shout the loudest. You can hear them all over the house. Peg says it’s about Master Matthew hitting that Miss Bennett. I can’t believe that, can you? He’s got a temper I know, but he’s a gentleman at bottom an’ he’s gone on her, at least he was. There was all the signs of it, wasn’t there? Out gallopin’ the countryside together!’

  Tilly put the skip of fruit on the table and she surprised Biddy by making no comment at all but instead hurried up the kitchen, along the passage and into the hall. But after closing the door she went no further. She stood with her back pressed to it as she watched the library door burst open and Mr Rosier come stalking out, crying as he did so, ‘If it wasn’t that we are linked in business I’d have you up. Begod! I would. And her father might yet, so don’t think you’re out of the wood. There’s such a thing as defamation of character.’

  ‘Go to hell! And take Bennett with you, and his bastards. They could fill it up. Tell him so from me.’

  Tilly watched Mr Rosier turn back towards the door and, his voice lower now but his words deep and telling, brought the particular fear that she kept buried in the dungeon of her mind tearing up through her being, bringing her hands to cover her ears but unable to shut out his voice as he said, ‘You talk of a man’s bastards, you of all people! Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife or . . . thy father’s whore. Alicia wasn’t blind.’

  Although she wasn’t aware of pressing her back against the green-baized door and so opening it, she was vitally aware of Matthew standing like a stone image and as speechless.

  When she managed to get round the door and into the passage, there was Biddy standing, and that she had heard every word was evident, because her face at this moment was so stretched all the furrows and wrinkles in her skin were smoothed out.

  When Tilly gasped and put her hand to her throat Biddy made no move towards her; not until Tilly closed her eyes and drooped her head forward did her hand come on to her shoulder. But she said nothing to her, just turned, went into the kitchen and, looking towards where Betty Leyburn was chopping up vegetables at the long table, said to her, ‘Go and see if Peg wants any help upstairs.’

  ‘Me, Mrs Drew?’

  ‘Aye, who else? There’s nobody here but you, is there? Go on; get yourself away. Go out the back and up the side stairs.’

  When the girl was gone, Biddy pulled Tilly from the door against which she was pressed and led her down the kitchen, and having sat her down in a chair she dragged the end of the form from under the table and seated herself before saying, ‘Aw, lass, is this true?’

  ‘Oh, Biddy.’ Tilly’s head drooped further. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know.’

  ‘Aw, you’re bound to know, if it’s got outside an’ roundabout, you’re bound to know.’

  Tilly’s head now jerked upwards and she said stiffly, ‘He’s never said a word to me along those lines, not one word.’

  ‘Yet you know he wants you?’

  Her head went down again, but she remained quiet, and Biddy let out a deep-drawn sigh as she said, ‘God above! what a state of affairs. How long have you known?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t really know. Truthfully I don’t really know.’

  ‘What brought it all out, I mean why did the Rosier man come this morning?’

  Tilly, turning her head, now muttered, ‘Because Matthew did strike Miss Bennett. It was after I left you. I heard them on the other side of the walk and I hid amongst the trees. Apparently she had wanted to go up into the nursery and he wouldn’t take her, and . . . and so she taunted him and he struck her. They were both drunk.’

  ‘Well, the blow must have sobered her up, lass, an’ she’s put two and two together. Now where do you go from here?’

  ‘Don’t ask me, Biddy. But if I hadn’t let the cottage to Steve, I’d go there this very day.’

  ‘Well, as far as I can see that wouldn’t make much difference, you’d be more open to him there than you are here. Tell me something, how do you feel about him?’

  ‘Again I say I . . . I don’t know, Biddy, and that’s the truth. I wish I did know.’

  ‘Father, then son. ’Tisn’t right, lass. ’Tisn’t right.’

  ‘I know that, Biddy, I know that, nobody better.’

  ‘And the child his half-brother. It’s a complication, lass. If ever there was one it’s a complication. There’s only one thing to be thankful for now, as far as I can see, an’ that is that you didn’t marry the father, for from the little I’ve seen of this one’s character if he does a thing he does it, he wants to go the whole hog. I can’t see him havin’ you on the side and . . . ’

  ‘Oh Biddy! Biddy!’ Tilly ground the words out as she got to her feet. ‘Don’t suggest such things.’

  ‘Don’t suggest such things, you say? Well, it looks to me that the time’s almost past for sayin’ such things when the stage is set for action.’

  ‘Oh . . . dear . . . God!’ Tilly brought the words out on a long shuddering breath, and Biddy repeated them, saying, ‘Aye, oh dear God!’ Then she asked, ‘Did he see you out there? Did he know you heard?’

  ‘No; the last he saw of me was I was going into the garden. Yet’ – she moved her head with a jerk – ‘that was some time ago.’

  ‘Well, get into the garden again because it’s my bet he’ll come rampaging through here. He knows we’ve all got ears like cuddys’ lugs, and as long as he thinks that you haven’t got the gist of what’s in his mind you’ve got time to pull yourself together and by! lass, you’ll need to pull yourself together.’

  As if she was a child again obeying an order, Tilly went from the kitchen, across the yard, under the arch and into the garden, and she came to a stop by the high stone wall, just where she had stood all those years ago when Steve had said to her, ‘Will you marry me, Tilly?’

  Steve. There was an escape route, and the sooner she took it the better.

  When she returned some time later to the house she did not see Matthew nor, as Biddy had prophesied, had he come rampaging through the house looking for her, but he had left the yard, apparently bent on going to the mine. What Biddy said to her straightaway was, ‘Young Betty brought the bairn down, he was screaming his head off, he had bumped into something . . . Now, now, it’s all right, he hasn’t cut himself or anything, just a little bump on the head. I put some butter on it. You’re takin’ him in the morrow, aren’t you? Well, I’d ask them to have a good look at his eyes. That’s not the first time in the last few days he’s bumped into something. Now, now, don’t go off like a divil in a gale of wind.’

  But Tilly was running across the hall and up the stairs. When she reached the nursery floor it was to see Betty bouncing the child on her knee, and the child laughing. Grabbing him up into her arms, she looked at the small bump in the middle of his forehead a little above the scar, and Betty said, ‘He went into the leg of the table, Miss Tilly. It wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘It’s all right. It’s all right. Don’t worry.’ She glanced at the girl. ‘Bring me his grey coat and bonnet, we’re going out for a walk . . . ’

  Half an hour later, carrying the child, she turned off the coach road on to the lane leading to the cottage. Coming upon a fallen tree, she sat down on the trunk and asked herself if she knew what she was doing. And whether it was fair to Steve. She could give him only affection, a respectful affection, for he would never be able to touch the burning want in her. It appeared that only a Sopwith could allay that feeling in her. Oh dear, dear God! She stood up, moved the child from one arm to another, then went on, and it wasn’t until she came in sight of the cottage that she said to herself in Biddy’s colloquial way, ‘You must be up the pole. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, under-manager or not he’s a workman, he’ll be at the pit.’

  But th
ere were shifts, and managers and under-managers rarely worked in shifts. As she expected, the door was locked. She put the child down on the grass to the side of the path, then looked through the window. The room was tidy. She could see that the fire had been banked down, and right opposite to her in the middle of the table was a jar full of wild flowers. It was the sight of these that made her straighten up, turn her back to the window and, resting her buttocks against the window sill, bow her head down. There was something nice, something good in Steve. It wasn’t fair to make a fool of him. Nor could she now ask him to leave the cottage. What was she to do?

  The child had turned on to his hands and knees and was crawling over the grass; then when he was almost opposite to her he lumbered to his feet and, swaying, he held out his arms to her, saying, ‘Mama, Mama.’

  Swiftly she gathered him up and pressed him tightly to her, and as swiftly she left the cottage, went back down the lane and on to the coach road again, there to see not a hundred yards from her Matthew and John.

  It was John who turned and cried, ‘Why, Tr . . . Tr . . . Trotter!’ Then they both reined their horses until she came abreast of them, and after a moment they dismounted and it was John who said, ‘Wh . . . Wh . . . What are you doing out here?’