by Val Wood
‘Ah!’ he said, and looked significantly at his wife. ‘Did we mention that little matter to Rosa, Mrs Drew?’
‘Yes,’ she said nervously. ‘But nothing has been decided.’
He nodded, a satisfied look upon his face. ‘No hurry, no hurry. Well, not too much anyway.’
His three sons looked at him, but he didn’t speak further, tucking into his meat pie. They glanced at Maggie but she kept her head down.
‘Excuse me.’ Henry got up from the table, obviously annoyed at being kept in the dark over whatever the little matter was. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Sit down,’ his father thundered. ‘Have ’manners to wait until we’ve all finished.’
Henry crashed down into his seat again and glared at his father. His supper was left on his plate.
‘Can I have your pie if you don’t want it, Henry?’ Matthew reached across and scooped the remains of his brother’s supper onto his own plate. ‘Nice pie, Ma.’
‘Maggie made it,’ his mother said quietly. ‘She’s got a good hand at pastry.’
Maggie gazed across the table, not catching anyone’s eye. Rosa thought that tears were not far away, as her eyes were glistening and she chewed hard on her bottom lip.
‘So will you, Matthew?’ Rosa asked again.
He looked up from his plate. ‘What?’
‘Go up into ’loft.’
‘Aye. After supper and when I’ve finished putting ’pigs to bed.’ He glanced at Rosa and for some reason which he couldn’t fathom, the thought of being up in the loft with Rosa made him blush, which he hadn’t done for a long time.
‘I’ll give you a hand with ’pigs if you like,’ she said and smiled at him, and he nodded and looked down at his plate.
She looked so eager, her dark eyes animated and bright as if the prospect of searching the loft was the most exciting thing she had ever done. But then, Rosa made most things exhilarating, he thought. Finding a plover’s nest with the chicks in it, seeing a lamb born or watching a sparrowhawk in flight. She had the gift of making ordinary events seem special and in spite of himself, whatever she wanted him to do, he always knew that he would do it.
As she walked across the yard to the pig pen to help Matthew, Henry called to her. ‘Come here, I want you.’ From the tone of his voice he was still angry and she knew that she would have to soothe away the rage which was simmering over his father’s behaviour.
‘I can’t stand it any longer, Rosa. I’m sick to death of him.’
‘Henry!’ she said. ‘You know the answer. You must get a job somewhere else. You’re an experienced farmer, you could get a job as a foreman or hind anywhere in Holderness.’
‘I know.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘Will you come wi’ me?’
She was startled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re seventeen!’
She nodded, looking puzzled.
‘Well then? You’re old enough to wed. We could ask your gran.’
‘To wed?’ She almost laughed, but her laughter died for he looked so serious.
‘Aye.’ He stared down at her. His eyes were very blue, like Matthew’s, she thought, though he was not so handsome. ‘I’ve allus said that I’d marry you, haven’t I?’
‘But I was a child and you were joking, Henry! And you only said it when you’d been drinking ale.’
‘Aye. It was onny time I dared say it, and I knew that folk would think it was ’drink talking. But it wasn’t, Rosa. I allus knew that I’d marry you one day, when you’d grown up. So will you?’ He took hold of her other hand. ‘We’ll get wed and go away from here and set up a new life, away from him.’
She gazed up at him and felt sad. He was so unhappy and yet, in spite of his bravado, he dared not leave alone.
‘You’ve been like my brother, Henry,’ she said softly. ‘How could I be your wife?’ Besides, she thought, I would never have any freedom if I were married to you. I’d be forever at your beck and call, just the same as I would if I married Jim.
‘Well, that’s ’best thing, isn’t it? We know each other so well. You know what I like and you understand farming life. Besides, I’m right fond of you, Rosa.’
‘I can’t, Henry.’ She squeezed his hands, which were still holding hers. ‘It wouldn’t be right. I love you as a brother, I could never love you as a husband.’
He put her hands to his lips and kissed them, but dropped them as Matthew came around the corner with a feeding bucket in each hand. Matthew stopped abruptly. ‘What’s going on?’ He stared at them. ‘Have you nowt to do?’
‘I might have,’ Henry replied. ‘But I’m not going to do it. I’m going to ’hostelry. I’m going to get drunk.’
Matthew barely spoke to her as they fed the pigs and swept out the pens, then as they were almost finished, he said brusquely, ‘Was Henry bothering you?’
‘No,’ she answered. ‘He wasn’t. Not at all.’
‘You’d tell me if he did?’
She stopped what she was doing and leaned against the broom handle. ‘And what would you do? Fight him?’
He looked away from her. ‘If necessary. Yes.’
She smiled and said gently, ‘I’ve nothing to fear from Henry. He’s just asked me to marry him.’
He lifted his head and she saw the startled apprehensive expression. ‘And,’ his voice was husky, ‘what was your answer?’
‘What would you think? I said no.’ She gazed at him and saw the flush on his cheeks. ‘Just as I shall say no to Jim.’
He gasped. ‘Jim has asked you? Jim! Never!’
‘Well, not exactly Jim! Your da asked your ma to ask me on his behalf.’ She continued to watch his expression, which seemed to be changing from anxiety and concern to doubt and incredulity. ‘I don’t think Jim knows yet, so don’t tell him or Henry.’
‘But why?’ He raised his voice. ‘I can understand Henry, but why Jim? He’s not ’slightest bit interested in getting married. He’ll never leave home!’
‘Your da wants him settled at Marsh Farm and he won’t do that without a wife.’
‘So – what did you tell Da? He doesn’t like to have his plans upset.’
‘I’m not afraid of him,’ she said simply, and watched a pale shadow cross his face as she gave him the answer. ‘I’ll just tell him that I can’t possibly marry the men who have been like brothers to me.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘MIND WHERE YOU put your feet. Walk on ’joists. Don’t go falling through ’ceiling or we’ll both be for it!’
‘I won’t.’ Rosa trod carefully, following Matthew along the huge loft and holding up the lantern. ‘Maggie was right, it’s full of old birds’ nests. Phew!’ She shook her head as a disturbed bat flew across her face.
‘Look, there’s our old rocking horse! Ma had it made for Jim when he was a babby and we all played on it.’ Matthew crawled on his hands and knees into a corner where the rocking horse sat alone. He patted the horse’s head sentimentally. ‘He’s not got much mane left. Ma said that its hair came from one of our shire hosses.’ He moved further along. ‘How big is this chest that we’re looking for?’
‘I don’t know. I think – yes, I vaguely remember putting clean paper into a box of sorts, but I can’t remember ’size. It would have been my grandda’s farm chest, I expect.’
‘Ah, this might be it.’ Matthew’s voice was muffled as he moved further along the loft. ‘Bring ’lantern over here.’
There were other old boxes perched on the wooden joists, and old rag rugs and surplus pieces of furniture, stools and chairs with broken cane bottoms. Behind all of these was a wooden chest.
Matthew lifted the lid. The chest was full, the contents covered over with brown paper.
‘That’s it,’ Rosa said excitedly. ‘I remember it now.’
‘We’ll never get it down on our own,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to ask Jim or Henry to help me.’
‘It doesn’t matter about getting it down,’ she murmured, lifting up the top layer of paper
and rummaging underneath. ‘I can look up here for what I need.’ She suddenly thought that she didn’t want all of the Drew family to see her looking through the contents. This was hers, brought from home, part of her heritage and that of her mother’s.
‘Shall I stop and help you?’
She gave him a quick smile. Matthew was an exception. She didn’t mind him looking. ‘Won’t you be bored?’ she said. ‘It’s only old stuff.’
‘No, I like rooting amongst old things, but I won’t touch anything, honest.’
‘All right.’ She gave him the lantern and he fixed it to a nail on one of the top spars where it shone a halo of light upon them. She pulled off the layers of paper and handed them to him. He carefully folded them and placed them on the joist.
The first thing she found was her mother’s shawl. She remembered it, an exotic rich dark blue with a peacock-feather design embroidered on it. She put it close to her face, shut her eyes and breathed in. She could smell her mother, a faint perfume of lavender and rose water. Tears gathered in her eyes and she felt her throat tighten.
‘Are you all right, Rosa?’ Matthew asked quietly. ‘It might be upsetting for you looking at your ma’s things.’
At his gentle words, she started to weep. ‘Ma said that my da had given her this, before he went away,’ she cried, and Matthew drew nearer and put his arm around her.
‘Don’t cry, Rosa,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t like to see you upset.’ She put her head against his shoulder and he bent his head to feel her silky hair against his face.
‘I’m all right,’ she said, her voice muffled against him. ‘Really I am.’
He wanted to kiss her cheek but reluctantly drew away from her. ‘Let’s see what else is in there.’
She rummaged again in the chest and brought out the crisp white cotton sheets, which she looked at and then wrapped up again. ‘Shan’t need those just yet.’ She gave a shaky laugh.
‘Not till you find somebody special?’
She raised her eyes which were still bright with tears, and looked at him. ‘Not till I’m ready,’ she said.
In a corner at the bottom of the chest was a small box tied with ribbon. She opened it and blinked her eyes as the gold of her mother’s wedding ring glittered in the dull light of the lantern. ‘Gran must have put it there,’ she said huskily. ‘But I’d forgotten.’
‘Will you wear it?’ he asked softly.
‘Not yet,’ she whispered. ‘One day I will,’ and she returned it to its box and put it back into the chest.
She found the squeeze box and they laughed as it made a shrill squawk as they pressed it in and out. ‘Couldn’t dance to that.’ Matthew grinned in the shadows. ‘No matter how we tried.’
‘What’s this?’ Rosa pulled out a bundle of papers and peered at them. ‘It’s foreign writing.’
Matthew took them from her and held them under the light. ‘It looks sort of official,’ he said. ‘As if it’s legal jargon. Here’s a signature,’ he said suddenly. ‘Look, at ’bottom of this page.’
Rosa peered over his shoulder and then took the papers back. ‘It says Decimus Miguel Carlos. They’re my father’s!’ she gasped. ‘I don’t remember being told his name. Gran just called him – your da. Decimus Miguel,’ she repeated. ‘Decimus Miguel.’ She smiled. ‘Now I feel as if I know him.’
Maggie’s voice called from below. ‘Are you going to be all night up there? There’s a right old draught coming from ’trap door. It’s blowing ’fire out and Da’s complaining.’
‘We’re just coming,’ they both called, and Rosa closed up the chest, putting the papers back underneath the linen, but leaving the squeeze box and the shawl out to take downstairs. ‘I’ll come back up another day,’ she said. ‘I’ll be able to get up ’ladder on my own. Thank you, Matthew,’ she murmured.
‘It’s no trouble,’ he muttered. ‘Just tell me when you want to come up and I’ll get ’ladder out for you.’
‘No, I meant – thank you for understanding, when I was upset. For not minding and thinking me silly.’
‘I do mind,’ he said gruffly. ‘I don’t like to think you’re unhappy.’
‘I’m not,’ she said, and touched his arm. ‘It was because of finding Ma’s shawl. It stirred me up. I’m not unhappy.’
He helped her to her feet. They were standing on the same joist and were very close. He bent his head low to avoid the roof trusses and touched her face with his fingers as if wiping away her tears. ‘That’s all right then,’ he said hoarsely and reaching up for the lantern, he turned away. ‘We’d better go down.’
‘So what did you find?’ Maggie asked when they went into the kitchen. ‘Any treasure?’
‘No,’ Rosa said quickly. ‘Just ’linen as Gran said, and the squeeze box, and this shawl which belonged to my ma.’
‘I remember it!’ Mrs Drew reached for it. ‘She said it was a present from your da.’ She held it up to admire it. ‘How beautiful it is.’
Mr Drew put down his newspaper and stared at the shawl, then reached across to finger it. He said nothing and returned to his paper, only didn’t turn the page.
‘It’s foreign, isn’t it?’ Maggie said. ‘You’d get nowt like that round here. He must have brought it from Spain.’
Mr Drew cleared his throat and rattled his paper.
‘Put it on, Rosa,’ Maggie said. ‘Let’s see it on you.’
Rosa draped it around her shoulders. It felt lovely, soft and silky, and she whirled around to show it to advantage.
‘That’s enough!’ Mr Drew barked. ‘We’ll have no shaming vanity, no ostentatious behaviour in this house.’
Rosa stood still, the shawl slipping off one shoulder, but said nothing, only stared at him. Maggie and her mother remained silent too, but Matthew oppposed his father as Henry usually did when he was here. ‘It’s onny thing she has of her ma’s,’ he declared. ‘She’s doing no harm, Da.’
Mr Drew gazed in astonishment at Matthew, who rarely crossed him, then picked up his paper again. ‘I’ll say nowt more about it,’ he muttered.
Presently Mr Drew put down his paper. ‘I’m off to bed.’ He consulted his pocket watch. ‘It’s late. Half past nine. We’ve to be up early, Mrs Drew. I’m going into Hedon. There’s a farmers’ meeting.’
‘I’ll come with you, Fayther,’ Maggie said. ‘We need some things from ’haberdashers.’
‘Aye, but you’ll have a wait. Meeting generally goes on overlong when they start yammering away.’
‘I shan’t mind,’ she said. ‘I can look around ’town or sit and listen, can’t I?’
‘If you’ve a mind to.’ He took himself off to bed and the atmosphere immediately lightened.
‘Aunt Ellen!’ Rosa said. ‘Did you know my father’s name? His first name, I mean?’
Mrs Drew considered. ‘Yes – it was something like Michael, I think. I could never quite understand his accent, he seemed to talk so quick, but Mary, your mother, called him – now what was it?’ She frowned in concentration. Then her face cleared. ‘Miguel!’ she said. ‘That’s what it was. Miguel.’
Rosa cast a surreptitious glance at Matthew, who smiled at her. She didn’t want to tell anyone else yet about the papers, and she knew that Matthew wouldn’t. I’ll find out what they are, she thought. But I’ll have to go to someone who understands languages, and there’s no-one on Sunk Island who can do that.
Maggie took the reins of the mare as she and her father rattled along in the trap down the long straight road off Sunk Island and on to Ottringham in Holderness. There were no large towns in Holderness, just a scattering of small villages and hamlets across the wide agricultural plain. The people of Holderness were known for their straight-talking, unpretentious, no-nonsense ways, similar in fact to the inhabitants of Sunk Island who in years gone by had come from the mainland.
But the isolation of Sunk Island had given the people who lived there a sense of exclusiveness from the mainlanders. They had little need for outside assistance; t
hey grew their own food, milked their own cows, made butter and cheese, killed their own pigs and gathered eggs from their ducks, geese and hens, and for their needs of household pots and pans, needles and thread, these they bought from the pedlars who came, bringing such requirements and the gossip from Holderness.
Mr Drew and his sons made occasional visits into Holderness and sometimes into the port of Hull, when the business of farming, the shipping of wheat and the buying of animals necessitated it, but for Maggie, who was always busy around the home and farm, a trip into the small market town of Hedon was a rare treat.
She was restless, and had been since the conversation she had overheard between her mother and Rosa about the possibility of Jim marrying Rosa. Ridiculous, she’d thought. To think of a bright young girl like Rosa marrying such a dull fellow. For although she was fond of her brother, she often grew impatient at his tardy ways.
But then she had listened to the quarrelling of Henry and his father and knew that nothing would resolve the differences between them, and her spirits had sunk when it struck her that that was to be her life for as long as she could foresee. Her mother was ill and not likely to improve, and I’ll be left, she’d brooded in her lonely bed, with three men to look after, for she discounted the personable Matthew, who would no doubt marry in time; three men who will never agree: an oppressor, a melancholic and a drunk. And they will all always want their supper on the table.
Her father was silent for most of the journey into Hedon, with just an occasional comment on the state of the land about them. The harvest was gathered in and women could be seen in some of the fields gleaning the stubble.
‘That silk shawl,’ he said suddenly. ‘Was that where she found it? Up in ’loft?’
‘What?’ Maggie was lost in her own thoughts and at first didn’t understand his meaning. ‘Rosa, do you mean? Yes! Is it silk? I didn’t realize.’
He shuffled on the bench. ‘Aye, I reckon it is. Not cotton anyway.’
Silk! she thought. I’ve onny ever seen silk in ’haberdashers and that was when I went into Hull, years ago.
