by Val Wood
‘Well, I never. My, how you’ve grown!’ she said, and Miss Dingley humphed and muttered that it would be a bad day for them all when children stopped growing, for they would then have a nation of little people. But Mrs Jennings ignored her remarks and spoke kindly to Maggie and thanked her for bringing Rosa. She also asked them to sit down and make themselves comfortable, which her cousin hadn’t done.
‘’Girl is just making some tea,’ she said, settling herself onto a hard chair. ‘I’ve reminded her to make sure ’kettle’s boiling and that she puts ’leaves into ’pot, for I declare she forgets so often and all we get is hot water. And I made a cake onny yesterday and put it into ’tin. I must have known you were coming.’
She seemed remarkably cheerful, Rosa thought, in spite of having to put up with Miss Dingley, but then her grandmother continued, addressing her remarks to Maggie.
‘You wouldn’t believe what they sell for meat in that butcher’s,’ she said. ‘I’ve come back wi’ just two chops for supper cos there was nowt else worth buying.’ She sighed. ‘When I think of hams I’ve cured and hung in my larder, of mallard and widgeon I’ve roasted on ’spit over ’fire. And nobody made rabbit pie like I did. Mr Jennings allus said so!’
‘I’ll ask Henry to drop you a couple o’ rabbits in next time he comes across, Mrs Jennings,’ Maggie offered eagerly. ‘We’re just about overrun with them. We’ve allus got more than we need.’
‘Why that’s kind of you, Maggie. That’d be a real treat. Sunk Island rabbits taste better than any other.’
‘I don’t see how that’s possible,’ Miss Dingley intervened. ‘A rabbit is a rabbit wherever it comes from!’
‘They get well fed, Miss Dingley,’ Maggie explained. ‘Sunk Island crops are better than any other in Holderness. It’s a fact,’ she added, seeing the look of utter disbelief on Miss Dingley’s face. ‘That’s why they get a good price for corn.’
‘And why ’farmers grow rich and can afford all those children!’ the old lady said sharply. ‘Well, that’s enough of farming talk. You’d better see to that tea, Cousin, for I think ’girl has forgotten it again.’
‘I’d get rid of her if it was left to me.’ Mrs Jennings rose grumbling to her feet. ‘She’s useless. Can’t cook, can’t dust, doesn’t know how to make a bed or a fire!’
‘Well, if you think you can find somebody better,’ Miss Dingley defied her, ‘I’d like to see her. She was ’only one willing to come. Girls are not trained ’way they used to be,’ she criticized. ‘When I was a girl my mother taught me, same way as yours did. But those days are gone.’
Rosa began to fidget and wish that the tea and cake would come and then they could go back and find Henry. The visit wasn’t turning out to be so exciting after all and she longed to go back to Sunk Island.
CHAPTER FIVE
ROSA’S GRANDMOTHER WALKED with them to the marketplace. ‘You mustn’t mind Aunt Bella too much,’ she said to Rosa. ‘She’s not used to young people; and she was allus old even when she was young, if you know what I mean.’ She turned to Maggie. ‘She never had that lightness of spirit which most young lasses have. Never courted any lads as far as I know. But she’s all right,’ she added. ‘I’m getting to know her and I’ll soon have her round to my way of doing things.’
Maggie smiled. ‘I’m sure that you will, Mrs Jennings. I was wondering,’ she pondered. ‘About that girl. Does she live in?’
Mrs Jennings shook her head. ‘No. She won’t,’ she said. ‘That’s part of ’trouble, she lives here in Patrington and wants to go home at night, and ’young madam never gets here early enough in ’morning. Why, by ’time she gets here I’ve done ’fire grates, blackleaded ’range and cooked ’breakfast.’
‘But there’s room, is there?’ Maggie asked. ‘Room for a girl to live in?’
‘Oh, aye,’ replied Mrs Jennings. ‘There’s room up in ’attic. It’s small, enough room for a bed and a chest of drawers. And anybody coming would want to bring their own feather bed, just like I did,’ she said. ‘Why do you ask? Your ma wouldn’t let you come?’
‘No,’ Maggie said. ‘Not me. But our Flo wants to go into service and I was thinking that if Da thought she was going to somebody they knew, then he’d let her go. Oh,’ she said, uncovering her basket. ‘I nearly forgot. Here’s a fruit cake for you. Our Flo made it.’
‘My word!’ Mrs Jennings was delighted. ‘If onny she would come! I know she’d do things right and I’d make sure she was looked after. She wouldn’t go out after dark or go meeting any lads.’
‘I’ll ask Ma then, shall I, Mrs Jennings? See what she thinks? She’d have to ask my fayther of course, but I can’t think that he’d raise any objections.’
And Flo would be so pleased, she thought. Like Henry, Flo didn’t get on with their father and was inclined to argue, whereas she and Jim simply put up with his idiosyncrasies.
‘Shall I see you again soon, Rosa?’ her grandmother asked, and patted her cheek. ‘You get more and more like your ma.’ She put her hand into her purse and took out two sixpences. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘There’s one each. One for Maggie for bringing you, and one for you to save up for summat special. I know there’s nowt to buy on Sunk Island, but keep it for next time you come to Patrington.’
Rosa stood on tiptoe to give her grandmother a kiss on her leathery cheek and felt a strange lump in her throat, as if she was going to cry. But she didn’t want to cry for she wasn’t sad or hurting, and was quite happy to be going back, looking forward to climbing into Henry’s little boat and being rowed across the water.
Henry called to them from across the marketplace. He had plainly been drinking for he swayed as he walked. ‘Hello, Maggie,’ he called. ‘Hello, Rosa! Are you set for a trip across ’briny?’
‘Henry!’ Maggie was furious. ‘What’s Da going to say when he sees you?’
‘Ah, dear old Da!’ Henry hiccuped. ‘He will say, Maggie—’ He waved a finger in front of her nose and, startled, she backed away. ‘He will say that I’m as drunk as a piper.’ He took a deep breath. ‘As drunk as a – wheelbarrow! That I’m plunging into ’depths of dizzy – phew – pation. That I’m doomed!’
‘For heavens’ sake, Henry!’ Maggie grabbed him by his coat. ‘Oh! We’ll never get you home. You shouldn’t have drunk so much!’
‘Sorry, Maggie,’ he prattled. ‘I had more ’n I nintended – intended! I was going to meet this girl, you see, onny, she didn’t come or couldn’t come, and all ’time I was waiting and watching for her, I had another drink to help pass ’time. You know how it is!’ he pleaded.
‘I don’t know how it is! How could I know?’ She pulled on his coat and dragged him down the lane towards the haven. ‘And what girl?’
He put his finger against the side of his nose and patted it. ‘Never mind! You know how it is, don’t you, Rosa?’ He turned to Rosa for sympathy, but she shook her head. She didn’t really understand what was wrong with Henry, or why he was falling over his own feet, or why Maggie was so cross with him, and cross she was, for she was being quite brutal with him, pushing and slapping him as soon as they were out of sight of other people and heading for the channel.
‘You’re not fit to row,’ Maggie stormed. ‘You’ll have us all in ’water. Get in ’damned boat,’ she shouted at him. ‘Get in, Rosa. I’ll have to row back.’
‘No!’ Henry grabbed the oars from her. ‘I can do it. It’s my boat.’ He pulled on an oar and the boat skimmed around in a half-circle. ‘You see!’ He pulled on the other one and the boat skimmed around back the way it had been. ‘You just have to get ’hang of it, that’s all.’
‘We can’t sit here all afternoon, going round in circles,’ Maggie hissed at him. ‘Now give me those oars!’
‘Shan’t!’ He grinned and leaned away from her. She reached across towards him and gave him a shove. ‘I’m warning you, Maggie,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t go too far. I’m not drunk, just well oiled. Perfectly capable of getting home. Home!’ he sang. ‘Ho
me is where my heart is! Home is where Da is!’
Maggie gave him another shove, and he leaned back, creased with inane laughter. He lifted up his legs in glee. ‘Yah! Hah!’
‘Stop it,’ she cried. ‘Stop it!’
He pressed against Rosa. ‘Give us a kiss, Rosa.’ He breathed ale on her cheek. ‘Nobody loves poor Henry.’
‘You smell funny!’ Rosa drew away. ‘Sort of sour. Like when ’yeast is frothing.’
‘Get off her,’ Maggie demanded. ‘Leave ’bairn alone. Now – will you give me those oars!’
‘No,’ he said defiantly. ‘I won’t. I’ll row.’
Maggie seized an oar and pulled it from his grasp and with her other hand pushed him again. The boat tipped precariously and Rosa grabbed hold of the side to steady it. Henry put his arms up to defend himself and leant away from Maggie, but he leant too far, his legs swung up and he overbalanced, tipping backwards into the water.
‘Oh you idiot, Henry,’ Maggie shrieked. ‘You peazan! No, don’t! Don’t! You’ll have us in ’water as well,’ she yelled as Henry, spluttering, grabbed hold of the side of the boat, rocking it perilously. ‘Go to ’bank. Go on, climb up onto ’bank.’
People came running when they heard the commotion and saw someone in the water, but they started to laugh as Henry, his clothes dripping and his hair hanging like rats’ tails over his face, climbed out onto the bank.
‘Might have known it’d be you, Henry Drew,’ someone shouted. ‘I knew you’d tummel in sooner or later. That’ll sober you up.’
‘Yah!’ Henry shook a fist in the fellow’s direction and tried to squeeze the water out of his jacket and trousers. ‘This is my Sunday jacket,’ he groaned. ‘This is your fault, Maggie Drew.’
‘Not my fault,’ she retaliated. ‘You promised you wouldn’t have much to drink. What’ll Ma say when she sees your clothes in such a state?’
‘I’m nineteen years old, Maggie. I shouldn’t have to worry about what my ma and da say.’ Henry climbed into the boat, sat down and pulled on the oars, his ducking making him almost sober. ‘If I was working on some other farm they wouldn’t know what I was doing.’
‘If you were working on another farm you wouldn’t have had ’day off and you wouldn’t have had any money to throw at ’innkeeper’s apron,’ she said sharply. ‘You don’t know when you’re well off.’
Rosa sat looking from one to the other, not knowing what to make of the situation, then Henry caught her eye and gave her an impudent grin. ‘Let that be a lesson to you, Rosa,’ he said in a false whisper. ‘Don’t let ’demon drink get to you or you’ll never hear ’end of it.’
He was shivering by the time they were almost home. The afternoon sun had gone down and a cool breeze had sprung up. ‘I’m going to run,’ he said when they were half a mile from Home Farm. ‘I’ll nip upstairs and change and see you at supper.’
Rosa waited for sparks to fly at supper time, but there were none. Maggie kept up a long conversation with her mother about Miss Dingley and her house and the problem of getting good servants, and Henry slipped into his seat at table unobserved by anyone but Rosa, who eyed him surreptitiously and wondered how he could eat such a hearty supper when he must surely have swallowed such a lot of water.
Mr Drew agreed that Flo could go to Miss Dingley, under the personal supervision of Mrs Jennings. The other girl was given notice and Flo went off to her first position at Martinmas, the time of a mass movement of labourers, servant girls and hired hands all over the country, who put themselves up for the best offer they could get for their services at the Hiring Fairs.
Many of the farm workers on Sunk Island were skilled men who were willing to stay on at the farms if the pay and conditions were right, and so they negotiated with the farmers, rather than stand in the marketplace and appeal for a new job. Some were regulars, married men with families who lived in tied cottages and had a loyalty to their employers. But there were others who wanted to move on and they packed their boxes, heaved them onto their shoulders and took a chance that the next place of work would have better pay, better food and a chance of promotion.
Rosa went with Mrs Drew to see Flo settled in at Miss Dingley’s house, and once more Henry took them. This time there was no drinking in the inn, and he waited for them in the marketplace where the hirings were.
‘Henry!’ His father called to him. Jim and Matthew were with him. Jim had his hands in his pocket and had a sullen look on his face, whilst Matthew kept darting off to look at what was happening. There was entertainment in the marketplace as well as the hirings: fiddlers were playing catchy tunes, and an acrobat was turning somersaults, whilst in many shop doorways there were singers telling of lost love, found love, dead mothers and similar heart-rending ballads, and holding out a cap or cotton bag to collect any offerings.
There were hawkers too, selling their wares, bags of cottons and fustians for the farmers’ wives, sprigged muslin to tempt the young girls. There were stalls selling meat pies and sausages, fresh fish just caught from the sea, shrimps and eels from the river, and the stallholders called out to come and buy without delay; the women wore shawls over their shoulders to keep out the damp November air, and the men puffed on their clay pipes or chewed on wads of tobacco.
‘We need six more labourers,’ Henry’s father said as he came across to him. ‘Jim thinks we can manage with less, but we’ve further embanking to be done at Marsh Farm. With six men we could easily get another hundred acres.’
‘We’re growing too big,’ Jim muttered. ‘How we going to manage two farms? And besides, corn prices are falling.’
‘By ’time the land’s ready for sowing, Matthew will be old enough to work full time,’ his father said sharply. ‘And I’ll worry about prices of crops like I’ve allus done! Now then, Henry. Go and see about them labourers. Pick willing men, I want nobody that’s not ready for a hard day’s work. Tell ’em they’ll be employed on a weekly basis, all found. If they get drunk or don’t turn up then they’ll lose wages. Tell ’em there’s to be no messing about. There’s drains to be dug, banks and walls to be built.’
He turned to Jim as Henry moved away. ‘Then we’ll enlarge Marsh Farm house and make it fit to live in.’
‘It’s fine as it is,’ Jim muttered. ‘There’s onny me going to live in it. I don’t need a bigger place.’
‘Pah!’ his father mocked. ‘We’ve got to plan ahead. You’ll be looking out for a suitable young woman afore long. You’ll be getting married and having bairns.’ He stared his son in the eye. ‘And if you don’t, then one of ’other lads will.’
‘How can you think on it?’ Jim spoke in a low voice. ‘I never wanted this land in ’first place. Suppose, just suppose—’
‘Enough!’ His father rebuked him. ‘Not another word. You know what happened. It was ’Lord’s work.’
‘’Devil’s more likely,’ Jim muttered.
‘It’s ’Devil speaking through you now.’ His father took hold of Jim’s coat collar and even though he was much shorter than his son and had to stretch up to reach him, he pressed his face close to his. ‘Don’t forget,’ he whispered. ‘The Lord giveth. The Lord taketh away.’ He dropped his hands and gazed at Jim, whose face was flushed, and his eyes turned away from him. ‘Now go,’ he ordered. ‘Choose two farm hands for Home Farm and make sure they’re reliable with good references.’
Henry had been watching from a distance. He’d spotted some likely-looking men, strong and muscular, and was about to go towards them when he saw his father seize hold of Jim.
‘What’s up?’ he asked as Jim slouched towards him with both hands in his breeches pockets. ‘What’s going on wi’ Da?’
‘Nowt,’ Jim muttered. ‘Nowt to do wi’ you anyhow.’
‘Nowt!’ Henry’s voice rose in anger. ‘What do you mean, nowt? You’re a grown man. How can you let him treat you like that, here in middle o’ Patrington for everybody to see?’
Jim shrugged. ‘They’ll onny think I’m soft in ’
head and Da is boss. Which I am – and he is.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ Henry persisted. ‘Why—?’
‘Leave it,’ Jim demanded. ‘Just thank God you’re not in my boots, that’s all.’
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS A sunny morning in early May when Rosa decided that she wouldn’t go to school that day. I’m nearly ten, she thought. I’ve learned things already. I don’t have to go. Delia was walking in front as she usually did, Matthew behind her, dragging his school bag in the dust, and Rosa lagging in the rear.
The twins, Lydia and Nellie, had left home and were in service at the same house in Ottringham in Holderness. Flo was still with Miss Dingley and Mrs Jennings, and was described by Mrs Jennings as ‘a treasure’. Maggie was still at home and, at twenty, had given up the thought of ever finding a husband, her former suitor, Jack Fowler, having left the district without even saying goodbye. Mr Drew still piously attributed everything to the will of God, be it drought or the breaking of the riverbanks; in the case of household disasters such as the breaking of eggs in the hen coop or the milk turning sour, this was considered to be Mrs Drew’s inability to manage affairs efficiently. In his evening prayers he asked God to give strength to the young queen who now occupied the throne and to ask her to look kindly on the affairs of her Crown land.
‘Come on, Rosa, we’re going to be late,’ Matthew called to her. ‘I don’t want to get a black mark, not now when I’ll soon be leaving.’
Matthew’s father had insisted that he stay on at school until he was thirteen, although he had been allowed to take time off for haymaking and harvesting. ‘You need a good education,’ he’d told Matthew. ‘It’s not enough that you know how to sow and reap. To be a farmer today you have to watch corn prices from abroad as well as ’home market. It’s different from when I was just starting out.’
