The River Folk

by Margaret Dickinson

  The village was relatively unscathed, although the railway line was hit, but one farmhouse about a mile outside was severely damaged. Watchers said later that the house seemed to jump up in the air when a landmine buried itself in the grass field a hundred yards or so away. A mother and her two children were the only occupants of the house, the father being away on night work.

  ‘They’ll not survive that,’ the villagers said, but miraculously, the mother, hearing smaller bombs dropping earlier, had taken the children downstairs. As the huge landmine descended, whining through the night sky, she pushed the children under the kitchen table and crawled beneath it herself. The blast was terrifying, shattering every window in the house, breaking crockery and blowing doors off their hinges. Surrounded by broken glass and covered in soot that had been blasted down the chimney, the family stayed there for the remainder of the night.

  ‘Poor things,’ Bessie said, when she heard the story. ‘They got it instead of us. Thank the good Lord they’re not hurt.’

  His shadow filling the doorway of the wash-house, Lawrence said for the umpteenth time that summer, ‘Come for a walk?’

  ‘I shouldn’t really.’ Lizzie’s eyes twinkled at him. ‘But I will.’

  His face seemed to light up with pleasure. ‘You little minx. You do like teasing folk, don’t you?’ He balanced himself on the balls of his feet. ‘Come on, I’ll race you to the woods.’

  She dropped the wet sheet back into the rinsing tub, splashing her apron, but she scarcely noticed as she ran to the door and began to race after him across the meadow behind the wash-house and towards Raven’s Wood.

  Breathless and laughing, she fell into his arms. ‘That’s not fair. You had a head start.’

  His arms were tightly around her and he was looking down into her eyes, his face serious now. ‘Oh Lizzie, Lizzie, how I love you.’

  And then he was kissing her as if he would never stop.

  When, at last, they paused for breath, Lawrence whispered, ‘Let’s find our den, deep in the woods. Let’s make it our own special place.’

  Hand in hand, they went deeper amongst the trees until the sunlight was almost blotted out.

  ‘Where is it? I can’t remember.’

  ‘No, I can’t.’ He stopped and looked about him, then leading her towards a clump of bushes, he added, ‘But this will do . . .’ Pulling aside the foliage, she saw that the centre of the undergrowth had been cleared. A blanket was spread on the ground and to one side stood a picnic hamper.

  Through the dimness, she stared at him. ‘Lawrence Marsh, you’ve planned this.’

  He was smiling at her, sure and confident, but Lizzie’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she said bluntly, ‘I hope you’re not thinking of trying anything.’

  Lawrence laughed. ‘Would I?’ But his jocular sarcasm implied that he meant to do just that. She stepped into the clearing and he allowed the branches he was holding to fall back into place. Now they were cocooned, deep in the heart of the wood with only the birds for company.

  ‘Champagne, madam?’ Lawrence said, kneeling and throwing back the lid of the basket with a flourish.

  Lizzie gasped. ‘Wherever . . .?’

  ‘Raided my father’s cellar. I’m getting rather good at it.’

  He pulled out a bottle, dusted it. It opened with a loud, echoing pop, startling birds who rose into the air calling alarm to each other. The liquid frothed out of the neck of the bottle as he tipped it into a narrow glass.

  ‘I’ve never tasted champagne before,’ Lizzie said, as she sat on the rug, took the glass and sipped the sparkling liquid.

  ‘Well, life with me will be one long taste of champagne.’ He filled his own glass and sat down beside her. Then, touching her glass with his own, Lawrence said, ‘Here’s to us, Lizzie.’

  They ate cold chicken legs and hardboiled eggs with lettuce and tomatoes. There were even individual trifles in small glass bowls.

  ‘Who packed all this up for you? Your mother?’

  ‘Heavens, no. My mother wouldn’t be seen dead in the kitchen. No, I smiled nicely at Cook and she packed it all up in a basket that I could carry on the back of my bicycle.’

  Lizzie giggled and then hiccuped. ‘Fancy having servants that you can just order to do whatever you want them to. Oh dear, I feel all funny. My head’s sort of woozy.’

  Lawrence took her glass and set it on the ground. ‘There, lie back and close your eyes.’ He lay down and put out his arm. ‘Rest your head on my arm.’

  ‘Mm,’ she murmured, drowsily. ‘This is nice. So cool out of the sun. I could stay here all day.’

  ‘Then,’ Lawrence was leaning over her now, ‘why don’t we?’ He bent his head and kissed her, gently at first but then with a growing ardour. ‘Lizzie, oh Lizzie. I want you so much. Please, let me . . .’ He was unfastening the buttons of her blouse and slipping his hand inside.

  ‘No!’ At once Lizzie was fully awake. She pushed his hand away and sat up. She looked round at him angrily, but Lawrence only lay there, his hands behind his head, smiling up at her. ‘I’m not that sort of girl,’ she said crossly. ‘If that’s what you’re after, then you can find someone else.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone else, Lizzie,’ he said lazily. ‘I want you. I always have.’

  ‘Well, not without a ring on my finger. And a wedding ring at that.’

  She began to scramble to her feet, but he caught hold of her and pulled her down again so that she landed on top of him. ‘I love you when you’re angry, it makes me want you all the more. So, Lizzie Ruddick, will you marry me?’

  ‘What? You’re not serious.’

  He put his arms around her, holding her to him. ‘Lizzie, I love you. I want to marry you. Say you’ll marry me. Please?’

  Lizzie’s heart somersaulted. ‘Oh Lawrence. You know we can’t. Your family would never allow it.’

  His face darkened. ‘My family aren’t going to rule me. I can promise you that. I’ve no intention of having a marriage like my parents. I’m going to marry for love. It’s you I love, Lizzie, and you love me, don’t you? I know you do. Let me hear you say it. Please, darling Lizzie?’

  Suddenly, overcome with tenderness, she stroked his hair and said, ‘I do love you, Lawrence, but we’re so young. We couldn’t possibly marry until we’re of age. They wouldn’t let us.’

  ‘We could run away.’

  She laughed at the thought. ‘Elope, you mean?’

  Lawrence was serious. ‘Yes, why not?’

  But Lizzie was still teasing. ‘To Gretna Green?’

  He gripped her arms excitedly. ‘I don’t think we’d have to go as far as that. There are couples getting married all the time now in a hurry. Because of the war, I mean. Maybe we could find someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions.’

  ‘But we’re only seventeen.’

  His face sobered. ‘I know and next year, I’ll be called up. If I’m old enough to die for my country, then surely I’m old enough to get married.’

  She laid her cheek against his chest and heard the beat of his heart, loud in her ear. ‘Oh Lawrence, don’t say such things. Don’t even think them.’

  He stroked her hair and whispered, ‘I mean it, Lizzie. I have never been more serious about anything in the whole of my life. I love you and I want to marry you. And soon.’

  A little later as they emerged from the shadow of the trees, brushing leaves and grass from their clothes, a man on a bicycle rode along the pathway that ran alongside the woods.

  ‘Hello, Lizzie. All right?’

  Startled, Lizzie looked up as the man passed close by them. He winked at her and then nodded knowingly towards Lawrence.

  ‘Oh yes, thank you,’ Lizzie said weakly to the retreating figure. As he rode away, the man was whistling, and the strains of ‘Who were you with last night?’ reached Lizzie.

  When he was out of earshot, she sank to the ground as her legs gave way beneath her. She closed her eyes and groaned. ‘Oh no.’

  Lawr
ence dropped to his haunches beside her and stared at her in concern. ‘What is it? Have you hurt yourself? Did you twist your ankle, or something?’

  ‘No, no. But, that was Mr Horberry.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘His wife is only the biggest gossip in Elsborough and they happen to live in Waterman’s Yard.’

  Forty-Seven

  ‘What’s Gran doing on the wharf, Dad?’

  Lizzie’s sharp eyes had already spotted the lonely figure of Bessie standing on the edge of the wharf where the Maid Mary Ann was expected to dock. Throughout her childhood the sight of her grandmother waiting for them had not been unusual, but now, since her bad legs kept her almost a prisoner within Waterman’s Yard, she hardly ever came to greet them.

  As soon as the ship bumped gently against the planking, Lizzie scrambled ashore. ‘Gran? Are you all right?’

  ‘No, I’m not all right.’ Bessie was seething with anger as she wagged her finger in her granddaughter’s face. ‘Not if what I’ve been hearing from Phyllis is right. And don’t lie to me, girl, like your mother used to do.’

  Lizzie returned the older woman’s stare steadily. Quietly, she said, ‘No, Gran, I won’t lie to you, if you’ll promise to believe me.’

  ‘Ah, so you do know what it’s about then?’

  Lizzie nodded.

  There was a pause before Bessie agreed, ‘Very well, then. But you’d best come home. I aren’t washing me dirty linen in public for the world and his wife to hear.’

  Lizzie felt her grandmother’s fingers, still surprisingly strong in their grip, grasp her arm. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Lizzie. Lizzie, where are you going? I could use a bit of help here.’

  She glanced back over her shoulder towards her father, but before she could answer him, Bessie turned and shouted, ‘She’s coming with me, Dan. There’s things we’ve got to talk about.’

  ‘Can’t it wait? We—’

  ‘No, lad, it can’t wait.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Is something wrong?’ Now Dan was worried.

  ‘I hope not, lad,’ his mother said darkly. ‘But that’s what I aim to find out.’

  Without waiting for any further protest, Bessie began to move away, grunting at the pain in her legs, but still keeping fast hold of her granddaughter. ‘You just come with me, m’girl.’

  Meekly, Lizzie went.

  ‘Now then,’ Bessie began as she sank into her armchair with obvious relief. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s been going on or shall I tell you what I’ve heard?’

  ‘It’s about Lawrence, isn’t it?’

  Bessie nodded.

  Lizzie licked her lips. ‘Well, it’s true I’ve been meeting him and going for walks with him . . .’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he’s kissed me.’

  ‘That all?’

  Lizzie’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, Gran. I promise you. Except . . .’

  ‘Go on.’ The anger had not left Bessie’s face.

  ‘Except that the last time I saw him, he told me he loves me and . . . and that he wants to marry me.’

  Bessie snorted. ‘Did he, indeed? I hope you weren’t daft enough to fall for that sort of talk.’

  When Lizzie did not answer, Bessie sighed. ‘Oh Lizzie, love. His sort don’t marry the likes of us.’ She wiped a tear from her eye as she murmured, ‘Your poor mam could have told you that.’

  ‘That’s what I told him,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘You did?’ Bessie’s face brightened and some of the strain left her features. ‘There, I knew you were a sensible girl. Oh, but you had me worried, ’specially when Phyllis said her Tom had seen you together coming out of Raven’s Wood.’ She frowned severely again as she asked, ‘And were you, like he said, buttoning your blouse and him pulling up his trousers?’

  Lizzie gasped. ‘No, we weren’t. Brushing the grass off our clothes, mebbe, but we’d only been kissing and cuddling. Nothing more, I swear.’ Her eyes glittered with anger too now. ‘I’m not that daft, Gran.’

  ‘Aye well, there’s no harm in that, as long as that’s all it was.’ Bessie smiled suddenly. ‘I wasn’t past a bit of kissing and cuddling in me day, neither. But don’t you tell your grandpa that.’ She wagged her finger again at Lizzie, but this time her mood was playful. ‘And it never went any further than that. Your grandpa’s the only man I’ve ever – you know – with, and I happen to be proud of the fact. And if you take my advice, m’girl, you’ll not let any man have his way with you until you’ve got a wedding ring firmly on your finger. Oh they’ll sweet talk you, ask you to prove that you love them and all that, but when it’s over, they’ve no respect for you then.’

  Lizzie was quiet. She knew her grandmother was right, but she still couldn’t think that Lawrence would treat her so shabbily even if she did allow him to make love to her.

  She felt Bessie’s keen gaze on her. ‘So, lass, are you going to promise me that you won’t see Master Lawrence again?’

  Lizzie returned her grandmother’s gaze steadily. Quietly, she said, ‘No, Gran, I can’t promise you that. You see, I think I’m in love with him too. And if he asks me to marry him again, I’m going to say, “yes”.’

  The lines on Bessie’s face seemed to sag. She shook her head and closed her eyes. ‘Oh Lizzie, you’ll break your poor dad’s heart. You can’t do it, lass. You just can’t.’

  ‘So what was all that about?’ Dan wanted to know the moment Lizzie set foot back on board. ‘Is everything all right? No one’s ill, are they?’

  ‘No,’ Lizzie answered, trying to keep her voice light. ‘Everyone’s fine.’

  ‘So what was all the secrecy and the hurry?’ The smile that was not often evident these days lit his face briefly and drove away, for a moment, the sadness that rarely left his eyes. ‘I bet Phyllis Horberry had a choice bit of gossip to impart, was that it?’

  Lizzie stared at her father, her eyes widening, but then she realized that he was just joking. He couldn’t possibly know how very near the truth he was. She took a deep breath. She’d never have a better opening and, knowing that she would have to tell him – wanted to tell him herself before someone else did – Lizzie said, ‘As a matter of fact, it was about something Phyllis had found out . . .’

  The dark, haunted look was back in his eyes and the smile was gone from his face. His frown deepened as she added, ‘About me.’

  ‘You? What on earth could Phyllis Horberry find to gossip about you?’ Then his face cleared and he actually laughed as he said, ‘Oh, you and Tolly, I suppose. Is that all?’

  ‘No, Dad,’ Lizzie said, trying to tell him as gently as possible, but there was no easy way. ‘Not me and Tolly. Me and Lawrence Marsh.’

  There was a moment’s silence, save for the sounds of the river all around them.

  ‘Oh no. I don’t believe it. No, oh no. My God! Not again.’

  ‘Dad, please listen to me. Let me explain . . .’

  ‘Where’ve you been meeting him, eh?’ He took a step towards her and grasped her roughly by the shoulders.

  ‘Dad, you’re hurting me,’ Lizzie squirmed in his hold.

  ‘Tell me where?’

  ‘In . . . in Raven’s Wood.’

  ‘You’ll keep away from there. Do you hear me?’ He shook her to emphasize his command. ‘You’re not to go anywhere near those woods.’ Then, in what sounded almost like an afterthought, he added, ‘And him. You’ll keep away from him, an’ all. From this moment, you will not leave your grandmother’s house or this ship without someone – another member of the family – with you. Do you hear me? You are never, ever, to see him again.’

  ‘Dad, please . . .’

  ‘Not another word.’

  He released her, turned and strode along the deck away from her as if he could not put a distance between them fast enough.

  Lizzie watched him go, tears blurring her vision. She felt so alone. There was no one she could turn to. ‘Oh, Uncle Duggie, I wish you were here,’ she murmured. ‘You’d underst
and, wouldn’t you? You’d help me?’

  And then she thought of Tolly. Tolly was her friend. He would understand. She must find Tolly.

  When the cargo had been off-loaded, and she and her father had eaten their supper in the cabin amid a stony, uneasy silence, Lizzie lifted her chin and said, ‘I’m going out in the cog boat. I’m going to find Tolly.’

  Her father glowered and said gruffly, ‘All right then. Just so long as you give me your word that it is Tolly you’re going to meet.’

  Lizzie’s brown eyes regarded him steadily. ‘Yes, Dad. It is.’

  His voice was no more than a whisper, but there was a threat in his words. ‘Don’t you ever lie to me, Lizzie. Don’t you ever lie to me.’ And the unspoken words lay between them ‘or else’.

  Lizzie shuddered inwardly and the nightmare fears were back. Her mother had lied to him and then she had disappeared.

  Lizzie sculled downriver until she came level with the shipyard where Tolly worked. She saw his small rowing boat moored beside the landing and manoeuvred hers alongside it. She did not have long to wait before she heard the hooter sound and saw the men begin to pack up for the day. Then she heard Tolly’s boots clomping along the wooden boarding of the landing and saw him looking down at her.

  ‘Lizzie!’ Delight spread over his face and he jumped down into his boat and together they rowed away from the yard, a little way downstream. Then they rested, Tolly leaning on his oars.

  ‘I haven’t half missed you this summer. I expect you’ve been busy now you’re full-time mate for your dad. And of course, I’ve been working long hours, but I have missed us going fishing and blackberrying and, oh just everything.’ He brushed back the untidy flop of hair from his forehead and added, ‘So where are we going tonight then? What about—?’