by Val Wood
‘Her da must have brought it from Spain,’ she said. ‘Did he go back there? I mean, after he’d first come to Sunk Island?’
‘I don’t know. I hardly knew him,’ he muttered, adding abruptly, ‘was there owt else up there?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Just linen and a tea service, and that old squeeze box which you saw.’ She couldn’t help but add the latter with a hint of spite, for she felt he had been unfair to Rosa.
He grunted and remained silent until they reached the town where she dropped him off at one of the inns, where the meeting was to be held, and he told her to meet him later. She drove the trap into the marketplace and although it wasn’t market day there was a busy crowd of women who, like her, had come into the town with their menfolk. They were gathered in small groups gossiping and laughing, and some greeted Maggie. Because there were few of them, most of the Sunk Islanders were known in Hedon and the surrounding district.
‘How’s thy ma?’ one woman called to her.
‘Middling,’ Maggie said. ‘Her back’s bad.’
‘Just you at home now?’ asked another. ‘I hear as how your Delia’s gone to Hornsea. Cold draughty place is Hornsea,’ she added, pursing her lips. ‘Though I dare say it’s healthy. Not so damp as Sunk Island anyway!’
Maggie smiled and moved on. It was a fallacy that always followed them. Because Sunk Island had come up from the river, it was generally believed by others that the land was damp and that the population would never thrive, even though the crops did.
‘G’morning!’ A bearded man in a tweed jacket and cord breeches touched his cap as he went by and she nodded in response. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him. She collected a few items of shopping and then went to have a cup of tea in a tea shop, and joined some of the other women who were gathered there.
Mrs Brown, a farmer’s wife from Keyingham, moved up at a table to make room for her. ‘Don’t have ’fruit cake,’ she whispered. ‘It’s not a patch on what you can make at home. But ’scones are not bad, they’d be better for a bit more fruit but they’re today’s baking.’
Maggie ordered tea and a slice of bread and ham and whilst she was waiting for it the woman chatted, giving out information about her family and how well they were prospering.
‘I hear that your brother’s making great strides at Marsh Farm. Good crops are they?’
Maggie agreed that the harvest had been good.
‘But he’s not got wed? Still relying on his ma for his home comforts?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie agreed again. ‘He is.’
‘He’s getting ower old,’ Mrs Brown said. ‘If he doesn’t look sharp all young women’ll be gone. Though I daresay there’d be somebody who’d tek him if he looked about him. He’d be a good catch, any road, with all that land to his name.’
She sized Maggie up and down and remarked, ‘You’ll not be bothered now, I expect – about getting wed, I mean? You’re leaving it a bit late anyway,’ she laughed. ‘And there’s nobody else at home now to tek over, is there? Except that foreign lass. She’s still with you, I reckon?’
‘She’s not foreign, Mrs Brown.’ Maggie hid her fury at the woman’s slight of her marriage prospects, and poured her tea. ‘She was born on Sunk Island same as all her family, except for her da.’
‘Aye.’ The woman frowned. ‘Well, that’s what I meant. He were foreign, weren’t he? I used to see him on ’odd time or two wi’ Mr Drew.’
‘You saw him with my da?’ Maggie was amazed. Her father had said he hardly knew him, and however would Mrs Brown have remembered from so long ago? ‘When?’ she asked. ‘When did you see him?’
‘A few times. I used to go wi’ our Jack on his waggon when he was loading corn onto ’boats at Stone Creek and I saw ’em then. Handsome, he was, foreigner I mean, not your da! Aye, and I saw his ship once, moored out on ’river. Fine-looking vessel.’
Maggie considered this information and thought how odd that her father had never mentioned it, especially when Rosa was a child and so eager to hear stories of her father.
‘And,’ Mrs Brown waved a finger at her, ‘tell you what I’ve allus thought peculiar! That day he disappeared, when he was supposed to be riding into Hull. Well, we were out in ’fields all that day and into ’evening, every one of us, bairns an’ all, and he’d have had to pass our farm on ’road out. Couldn’t avoid it, ’cos Ottringham road wasn’t fit to travel on in them days. Well, nobody saw him pass, though we saw Mr Jennings’s hoss go t’other way a week later.’ She took a deep drink of tea. ‘I’ve allus thought it odd, that. A mystery. It’s as if he niver left Sunk Island.’
When Maggie had finished in the tea shop she walked along the main street towards the inn where she hoped the meeting might be finished, but she could hear the sound of raised voices inside and guessed that it was still continuing. She hesitated outside. Her father wouldn’t be pleased if she went in to look for him, he was adamant that his daughters should never frequent such iniquitous places.
She was feeling a little cold, having left her warm shawl in the trap, and was just debating whether to go and get it and wait there for her father, when a figure brushed past her.
‘Beg your pardon.’ It was the same man she had seen previously, the one who had seemed familiar. He took his cap off, revealing thick dark hair with greying sideburns. ‘It’s Maggie Drew, isn’t it?’ he said, giving her a wide grin. ‘I thought I recognized you.’
‘It is,’ she replied, feeling embarrassed and shy of speaking to a man out on the street, especially when she hardly ever spoke socially to other men except her brothers or the farm labourers. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t remember—’
‘No, you won’t. It was quite a few years back. I was about seventeen at ’time and came to help with ’harvest on my uncle’s farm on Sunk Island – Ben Lambeth’s. You called in one day when I was there. I remember you.’ Again he gave her a wide grin and she blushed.
Yes, now she did remember. She remembered the tall thickset youth who had spoken to her and commented that he liked the bonnet she was wearing, when usually the young lads or farm hands avoided speaking to a young girl unless they had to.
She smiled at him. ‘Fred, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Fred Lambeth?’
‘You do remember me!’ He looked delighted that she had. ‘Are you still on Sunk Island? Or – you’ll be married, I expect?’
Again she blushed. ‘I’m not married,’ she confessed. ‘I’m at home still. I have to help my ma,’ and she wondered why she felt the need to defend her unmarried state. ‘She’s not well.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he murmured and looked thoughtful. ‘I’ve been away for a year or two so I’ve not caught up with all ’news. I’m a blacksmith, I’ve been working all over ’country. I can in this job. But I’ve come home to Hedon now. I’m setting up shop here, there seems to be plenty o’ trade.’
‘Good,’ she murmured. ‘You’ll do well. Our old blacksmith has just finished. He’s left Sunk Island and gone to live with his daughter in Beverley. I’ll tell my fayther.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve just been talking to him, and to some of ’other farmers. I need to get ’word round.’
The door of the inn opened and some of the farmers spilled out. One or two clapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Don’t forget now, Fred. Next week!’
He raised a hand and said that he wouldn’t and then Mr Drew came out. Maggie moved back away from the door and stood by the wall so that he had to turn before he saw her.
‘There you are, Maggie!’ he said.
‘I’ve just arrived,’ she pronounced. ‘What good timing!’
Fred Lambeth stepped forward. ‘I’ll see you on Friday then, Mr Drew? Glad to do business with you.’
‘Aye,’ Mr Drew said. ‘Don’t be late.’ He walked on and Maggie turned around to nod goodbye. Fred Lambeth put his cap on again and gave her a warm smile which lifted her spirits and made her long for Friday to come quickly.
&nb
sp; CHAPTER TEN
‘ROSA!’ MAGGIE WAS extremely animated with barely concealed excitement. ‘There’s a new blacksmith coming this morning.’
‘Oh?’ Rosa was bringing in a basket of logs which Matthew had left outside the door. ‘And?’
‘He’ll be in one of ’barns I expect, so – well – will you see to Ma’s morning drink whilst I take tea out to ’men?’
Rosa smiled and raised her brows at Maggie’s flushed face. She brushed the wood dust off her hands. ‘Who is he, then, Maggie? Is he handsome? Can I take a look?’
‘No!’ Maggie replied swiftly. ‘If he sees your bonny face he won’t look at anybody else!’
‘Maggie! What are you talking about? There’s nobody bonnier than you!’
‘Aye, but I’m getting on. Twenty-seven. I’m past my prime.’
Rosa laughed. ‘Course you’re not! Who is he anyway? Why haven’t we seen him before?’
‘He’s been working away. I met him in Hedon when I went in wi’ Da. He recognized me,’ she said, anxious not to give the impression she had been talking to a stranger. ‘We met when we were young.’ She gave a huge smile which lit her face and dimpled her cheeks. ‘He’s right grand, Rosa. I’ve never seen anybody I’ve been so taken with afore. He’s got such a nice smile.’
‘And he’s not married or spoken for?’
Maggie’s face paled and she clutched her face with both hands. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘I never asked! He wanted to know if I was, but I never thought to ask him.’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Well!’ Rosa consoled her. ‘He wouldn’t have asked if you were, if he had been, would he? He wouldn’t even have stopped to talk!’
‘No, mebbe not,’ Maggie agreed reluctantly, but she was rather deflated and as a result, made her way more demurely then she would have done an hour later, when she took out a tray of tea to the blacksmith and his apprentice.
‘Morning, Miss Drew!’ Was it her imagination or was he much less friendly than he had been, but then her father and Jim were both there watching him work.
Henry called from the door. ‘Can you come, Jim? A wheel’s come off a waggon and I can’t fix it meself. How do, Fred? Come back to earn an honest living, have you?’
Fred gulped down his tea. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I’ve done my share of travelling. Time to settle down.’
‘Not wed, then?’
Fred shook his head. ‘No, not yet. I need an East Riding lass to look after me.’
‘You’d best tek our Maggie then,’ Henry grinned and winked at his sister. ‘She knows how to look after folks and meks best pastry in Holderness.’
Maggie’s face went scarlet and she rebuked Henry. ‘Don’t talk such nonsense!’
‘Our Maggie can’t get wed,’ Jim butted in. ‘Who’d look after us?’
‘You could look round for somebody to wed yourself, Jim Drew,’ Maggie said angrily. ‘Don’t think I’m stopping at home just for your convenience, cos I’m not!’ She stormed out of the barn with the men staring after her.
Fred Lambeth looked from Henry to Jim and then said, ‘Now there’s a woman with spirit.’ He gave a grin. ‘And a good hand at pastry as well?’
Maggie plonked herself down at the kitchen table and put her chin in her hands. It had all gone wrong. She had slept in curl papers all night so that her hair looked pretty, and dressed so neatly this morning, even pinching her cheeks so that the line of her cheekbones would stand out, and what good had it done? She’d shown her temper in front of Fred Lambeth and the last thing he would want was an ill-tempered wife.
She brought herself up short and mentally slapped herself. What was she thinking of? She’d only just met him! Why ever did she imagine that he would be looking for a wife, especially on such a short acquaintance? And he was surely only joking when he said he was looking for an East Riding lass?
‘Those stupid brothers of mine,’ she wailed to Rosa. ‘They’ve ruined everything!’
An hour later Rosa was crossing the yard and saw through the open door of the barn that the blacksmith was packing up to leave and the boy was loading up the cart with his tools. ‘Hello,’ she called to Fred Lambeth and he looked up. ‘Maggie’s just boiling ’kettle if you fancy another cup of tea before you go.’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Thanks, this is thirsty work,’ and she watched as he brushed himself down before knocking on the half-open kitchen door.
‘I heard as there might be a cup o’ tea going.’ He put his head around the door. ‘Or will it be a bother?’
‘Oh! No. No.’ Maggie became flustered. ‘It’s no bother, don’t think it. Sit down, do.’
‘I’ll not sit down,’ he said. ‘I’m a bit dusty. Perhaps if I can just wash my hands?’
‘Of course.’ Maggie moved to the stone sink and put her hand towards the pump to draw water.
‘I’ll do that,’ he said, and brushed against her arm as he reached for the pump handle.
‘It’s a bit stiff,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I keep asking ’lads to fix it but they never get round to it.’
He pumped the handle several times. ‘Seems as if ’valves have got dry,’ he said. ‘It’s not drawing water up as it should. ’Leather’s got cracked I should think.’ He glanced at her. ‘I can fix it, but I’d rather come back on another day, if that’s all right?’
‘Oh, yes!’ She beamed at him. ‘That’s perfectly all right. Thank you.’
She poured him tea and offered him a scone which she had baked that morning and spread it with plum jam.
‘By, them’s grand, Maggie. Just like my ma used to make.’
‘Do you live by yourself?’ she ventured.
‘Aye, I’ve rented a cottage in Souttergate. A woman comes in to clean once a week and my sister drops in with a batch of baking now and again. I tell her not to bother, cos she’s enough on with her own family, and I can manage. I know how.’ His eyes twinkled as he said, ‘I didn’t really mean I needed an East Riding lass to look after me. I know how to look after myself.’
‘Not like Jim and Henry, then?’ she said. ‘Or my da? They don’t lift a finger. Ma’s run around after them all of their lives.’
‘And now they expect it of you?’ he asked. ‘You shouldn’t let them put upon you. You deserve a life of your own.’
Her eyes stared into his. Nobody had ever said that to her before. Women looked after their menfolk. What else should they do?
‘Are you walking out with anybody, Maggie?’ he asked quietly. ‘Any young fellow calling on you?’
She swallowed. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘There isn’t.’
He smiled. ‘But you wouldn’t mind if somebody asked?’
‘Depends who it was.’ She smiled back at him, her spirits rising.
‘What about your ma and da? Would they object?’
‘Ma wouldn’t. I’m not sure about Da, he doesn’t like his routine changed.’ She looked out of the window, seeing Henry and their father apparently locked in an argument. She took a deep breath. ‘My father likes to make all ’decisions around here. He doesn’t like anybody else making them.’
Fred came and stood beside her, following her gaze out of the window. He was much taller than she was, his shoulders were broad and his arms beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves were hard and muscly. She felt fragile and womanly beside him.
‘Doesn’t he?’ he murmured. ‘But you’re of age.’ He looked down at her questioningly. ‘If you wanted to walk out wi’ somebody, you can!’
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘I can. And I will.’
‘Good,’ he smiled. His eyes were gentle, his manner assured and she felt as if her heart gave a skip. ‘I’ll be back next week, then?’
Their courtship proceeded at a swift pace in spite of Mr Drew’s objections. ‘Your ma’s ill,’ he said, when Maggie announced that she was walking out with Fred Lambeth. ‘Don’t be getting ideas about getting wed! You’re needed here.’
Mrs Drew made a great effort to run the household affairs again, though
she was plainly not well. ‘We can manage, Aunt Ellen,’ Rosa assured her. ‘Sit down and put your feet up. Perhaps you could do the mending?’ She brought a pile of socks that needed to be darned, and some working shirts that needed repair, and Mrs Drew didn’t feel quite so useless.
‘If Maggie should marry Mr Lambeth,’ she said. ‘If he should ask for her, I mean, we could ask Delia to come back. I don’t think she cares for Hornsea.’
‘I could manage,’ Rosa interceded swiftly. She had no wish for Delia to return to the household for she only caused trouble, but, to the family’s surprise, on Delia’s next visit she was remarkably chirpy and merry. On hearing that her sister Maggie was walking out with the blacksmith, she gave a saucy smile and remarked that she needn’t think she was the only one with an admirer and that Hornsea was a grand place to be.
‘Catch me coming back to Sunk Island!’ she said to Maggie and gave a sly glance in Rosa’s direction. ‘There’s nowt going on here. Anyway,’ she lowered her voice, ‘I’ve swapped jobs. I’m not at ’big house now. I’m general maid at an inn that teks in lodgers and guests. I heard they were looking for somebody and I applied. It’s much more lively and I get more time off.’
Maggie was shocked. ‘An inn! Is it respectable? Da won’t be pleased.’
Delia shrugged. ‘I shan’t tell him. There’s no reason why he should know.’ She looked scornfully at Rosa. ‘Unless anybody here tells him. Anyway, it’s perfectly respectable, and it’s nice to have company and to be able to chat with customers instead of being below stairs and having to keep my place all of ’time.’
‘Don’t worry about her,’ Rosa said to Maggie later, when she brought up the subject of Delia once more. ‘She seems so much more cheerful.’
‘Yes.’ Maggie was thoughtful. ‘That’s what’s so worrying. I just hope that she doesn’t get into bad company.’
‘She won’t,’ Rosa assured her. ‘Hornsea’s a very respectable place. She’s as safe there as on Sunk Island.’
Fred asked Maggie to marry him. ‘I’m asking cos I knew when I met you that day in Hedon that you were the one for me. I don’t want a wife to cook and clean for me. I want a wife I can talk to and have a laugh with, and it seems to me, Maggie, that we can do that. And if you want to have bairns, then that’s all right as well, and if you don’t, well I shan’t mind that either. So what do you say?’
