Honour Thy Father

by Lesley Glaister

  ‘Wake up. I’m going downstairs.’

  ‘Frightened?’ he asked.

  ‘No, it just feels wrong being here.’

  ‘Just lie still a minute, girl,’ mumbled Isaac and he snuggled his head down on my shoulder. ‘I reckon you’re the loveliest …’

  ‘Oh stop now, Isaac,’ I said and pushed him away. ‘Let’s get up and go outside. See what the boys are up to.’

  He held on to me. ‘Wait. I’ve been thinking. About what you said … about us going away together …’

  ‘Isaac!’

  ‘Wait. I int sure yet, but, I reckon we should make some sort of plans. I might still go away to war, but I want us to marry, Milly. I love you.’

  I wound my arms around him, tight, smelling his familiar skin. I did not know what to say. I just held him tight. I just held on to him. If it would happen, if it would come true, then everything would be all right after all.

  He laughed, ‘I thought you were getting up?’

  ‘I am,’ I said. I could hear Bobby’s voice outside, shouting something to Davey. They would be my brothers. Isaac’s brothers would be mine too. I hugged him again and then sat up. ‘Let’s go and make some tea,’ I said.

  ‘I reckon you ought to get going,’ said Isaac, ‘before Mam comes back. And there’s your …’

  ‘He won’t be back today,’ I said.

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘No, but …’ I did not want to spoil it all by thinking of Father. He would kill me, and Isaac, if he could see us now. I tried to block him from my mind when we were together, but always he was there. Always as I looked past Isaac’s shoulder the fear of seeing him was there. Quickly I stood up and began pulling on my clothes.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ Isaac said.

  ‘I must go, you’re right, I must get back,’ I said. It was all right. He had said what I needed him to say. I could go now. I felt that I could go. I could go home and treasure the words he’d spoken, and plan and dream.

  He got out of bed too and began dressing. It was different both standing together in a bedroom, dressing, different to fumbling about outside on the ground. This was how it would be when I was Mrs Howgego.

  ‘Do you really think I’m beautiful?’ I asked, looking at my flushed face in Mrs Howgego’s mirror.

  ‘Yes,’ said Isaac. ‘Of course I do. I love you.’

  ‘Yes, but … am I really beautiful? To other people? Because when I look in the mirror, I see just me. It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? I think I look quite … pleasant, quite passable, but I’m a bit small and fat aren’t I? And my hair is just brown.’ Isaac stood behind me, put his arms around me from behind, so that I could see his face reflected beside mine.

  ‘Well,’ he considered. ‘I suppose you’re not beautiful in the way Aggie is, but …’

  I stiffened inside his arms. I saw my mirrored face stiffen. ‘So you think Agatha is more beautiful than me?’ I pulled away and turned to face him.

  ‘Yes, no … I mean yes, I reckon she might be to most people who didn’t … but not to … oh I don’t know!’ he stretched out his arms to me but I moved away. ‘Oh don’t, Milly. That’s not fair. You asked and I told you. It’s you I love.’

  ‘You didn’t have to say Agatha was more beautiful!’ I wailed. ‘She’s not inside … if you knew what she was like.’

  ‘I don’t think her more beautiful!’

  ‘You said you did!’ I swept out of the room and clattered down the stairs with him following me. I ignored him. I picked up my basket from Mrs Howgego’s kitchen and went outside into the brightness. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked Davey, who was sitting on the step.

  ‘What were you doing in my mam’s room?’ he asked, sulkily.

  ‘Just talking. Have you been having fun?’

  ‘No. Bobby won’t let me go on the swing. Are you going home? Can I walk along with you and Zac?’

  ‘Isaac’s not coming,’ I said.

  ‘Had a row?’ he asked with his head on one side. ‘Never mind. That’ll soon blow over.’ I laughed for he sounded exactly like his mother.

  ‘Not really,’ I said. It wasn’t Isaac I was angry with, not really; it was Aggie. I waited for a moment hoping that Isaac would come out, but he didn’t. I could imagine him skulking in the kitchen. I could have gone back in and said sorry. I should have done. I knew I was being stupid. But I couldn’t. I needed time. I had spent my life knowing how superior Aggie was to me, in looks, in height, in the way she could sing and play, in the way she was so like Mother; and hearing Isaac say she was more beautiful really stung. I was only cross with him for not lying. But then he would not have been Isaac if he had.

  I went home. I knew he would come soon, perhaps the next day. I was not worried. He had asked me to marry him, that was what mattered. Only when he didn’t turn up did I begin to wonder what I’d done. I watched Agatha slyly; tall graceful Agatha working in the garden, sweeping the barn, carrying milk. I watched the clear line of her jaw, and the way her dark lashes cast shadows on the dusky rose of her cheeks. She was beautiful, but not absolutely beautiful. What I liked to look at most was her nose.

  I stood by the mirror gazing at my face, my perfectly pleasant face, wavering in the light of a candle. It was my father’s face, only softer and rounder. Serious, brown-haired, straight-nosed, round-cheeked. Perfectly good enough for Isaac, lanky freckly Isaac with his floppy hair and his big clumsy hands and feet. Oh so stupid! The thought of Agatha and Isaac together! I was flooded with love for him. In the morning, I vowed, I would go. I would not care what Mrs Howgego thought. I would go to him and tell him I understood, that I loved him, so so much. I even considered setting off then, in the middle of the night. Whatever would Mrs Howgego say to that? She’d been different with me in the months since Isaac and I had become lovers. She was a bit stiff and odd with me, and once or twice I’d caught her staring at me, a speculative look in her eyes. It was almost as if she could see inside me. It made me hot and uncomfortable when she looked at me like that. I am sure that she knew what we did together, that we were, in a natural way, man and wife.

  I smiled at myself in the mirror. I looked better when I smiled. Milly Howgego, I mouthed. Then I started, I could hear something outside. Immediately I thought of Isaac, I held my breath, my heart leaping joyfully in my breast – but then I realized it was not Isaac’s footsteps I could hear. It was Father’s. My rising hope fell like a stone in my belly. Quickly I licked my finger and thumb and nipped the candle flame between them so that it died with a soft hiss, and then I crept up the stairs. Tomorrow was soon enough to see Father.

  As soon as I saw Father at breakfast time, I knew something had changed. He was different, more cheerful, no, more purposeful than he’d been ever since Mother’s passing. The air of nervousness that always hovered over our times with Father dispersed a little – though we were still wary. Father’s moods could change as suddenly as a snap of the fingers. Some little thing, a careless word, any evidence of a slip in our manners or politeness, could send him plummeting into a foul mood that bruised and thickened the air in the room and made me feel faint with anxiety.

  Once, I forgot myself and rested my elbows on the table for a second, and then when he snapped at me to sit up straight, I apologized with my mouth full. He threw a milk-jug at me for that, and smashed it – Mother’s cherished jug that we hardly ever used for fear of breaking it – and then he sent me to my room. I was grateful to be there, out of his way, but I brooded. I spent the day hating him. He did not have natural gentility, whatever Mother had said.

  But this time it was different. Father ate a plate full of bacon and eggs and toast, and pushed his cup towards Agatha for some more tea. He took his pipe, with its long curved stem, from his pocket, and he filled it with tobacco and lit it. Then he leant back in his chair, puffing.

  ‘I must say,’ he said, as the cool grey smoke floated out of his mouth, ‘you’ve done a quite remarkable job here. You’ve kept things very n
ice indeed. I will admit that I pondered on the wisdom of leaving four such youngsters alone out here, but I can see I made the right decision.’

  ‘We’ve done our best,’ said Agatha.

  ‘Yes. I can see that. You’re done well, with no help. You do understand, I could not countenance having another person here, another influence. But there’s no need for it. You live a simple life here away from corruption. I cannot risk you becoming corrupted. I am right, am I? There is nothing you want for. Is there?’

  ‘No, Father,’ we all said, promptly.

  ‘You’ve been good children bearing up to the terrible loss of your mother so bravely. The time has come to begin to think about the future.’

  The future! I did not dare look at him. What future could there be for us but marriage? I forced myself to look down, to be demure, to be silent, although the words bulged in my mouth. Isaac. I would marry Isaac. That would be my future. I would marry Isaac whatever Father said, and then everything would be all right. I would be safe.

  ‘Yes,’ he continued. ‘You’re good girls, good children. I think of you often, and fondly, while I am away. It comforts me to know you are here, tucked away. I grew up in this house, as you know, and my childhood was exemplary. It was not until I was exposed to the world that I even knew that evil existed. People will lie and steal and cheat. Worse things become of women than you could possibly dream. That is why I want to protect you. You are mine and I will keep you pure. I would kill anyone who laid a finger on you, or who spoke an impure word to any one of you. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ we all said. His voice as he had spoken was calm and cool. Cool blue smoke floated around him. His pipe gurgled slightly as he sucked upon it.

  He looked from one of us to the other. His eyes passed quickly over Agatha. She did not look like a good child. She looked like a vital young woman, tall and slender with a curving woman’s shape. He never looked long at Agatha these days. It was as if he was afraid of what he might see if he let his eyes linger, but she looked at him with her dark dewy eyes.

  ‘Father,’ she said, daringly, glancing at me for support. ‘There is only one thing that we would like. We were wondering if … although the dresses we have are lovely, if we could have something a little more grown-up next time. More like Mother used to …’ she tailed off. I couldn’t look at Father. I was afraid that this would rouse his temper – but no – Agatha was a better judge of his present mood than me. He was secure today, against such trivial knocks. She darted me a look.

  ‘The twins have outgrown their dresses … they’re shooting up,’ I offered diplomatically.

  ‘Ellen and Esther, stand up,’ Father said. They did so, their movements synchronized. They were at a gawky stage, had grown several inches in the past few months, and their dresses were indeed too small. ‘Mmm,’ said Father. ‘All right, sit down.’

  He frowned at the way they moved together and shook his head. Then he switched his attention back to Aggie and me and began to talk. He talked about the running of the house and the way he had organized things financially so that we would always have enough to live on. All we had to do was carry on in the same way and we would never want for anything, no matter what happened to him. He’d looked around, he said, and found several things that needed attention, gates and windows to be fixed and the house to be repainted outside, for all the old paint was peeling off. As he talked a dreadful feeling grew in me. Perhaps he was planning to come back here and live more with us. The horror with which this idea filled me was mixed with guilt for feeling the horror. After all, this was his home. He was a good man really, wasn’t he? Surely, deep down he was good. All his strictness was well meant. He wanted to keep us safe, protect us. I used to love him, I think. Did I? I used to watch for his return. I remember him telling me about the Romans draining the land; I remember him swinging me round with his big hands until I was dizzy and setting me down to totter about, but that was when I was a tiny child, when it wasn’t so difficult to fathom, life didn’t seem so complex. And this, after all, was his home. He would live here and it would be normal again. We’d go to church on Sundays again. I saw that Agatha’s face was flushing with pleasure as the same realization grew in her. The twins looked blankly at him. The notion of any change was terrifying to them.

  Father prodded about in his pipe for a moment. ‘And as for your clothes,’ he continued. ‘Of course you must have some more. You’re growing children. But I think the same style will do very well for the time being. After all, there’s no one to see you here, is there? And there’s plenty of time in which to grow up, believe me.’

  ‘But I am grown up!’ exploded Agatha. ‘Sorry, Father,’ she said quickly. Inwardly I cursed Agatha. I thought she was going to make Father mad, but he glanced at her genially.

  ‘You’ve a long way to go yet,’ he said. ‘There’s no call for you to be preening and thinking of your appearance. Vanity is a sin. I cannot encourage it in you or I would not consider myself to be doing my job as a good father. Next thing you’ll be wanting to put your hair up!’ he said. ‘Now. I’m going to take a look in the barn, make sure everything’s as it should be out there.’

  When he had left the room, Agatha and I exchanged glances. This morning we each wore our hair in a long plait down our backs – Agatha’s fat and smooth, my own thin and spiky – but I’d taken to pinning mine up when I saw Isaac. Of course, it didn’t stay up for long for he delighted in pulling the pins out and letting it fall over my naked shoulders. Oh Isaac! And Agatha spent ages in front of the mirror playing with her massy hair, piling it up in a way that emphasized the slender stem of her neck, the delicate line of her chin. We just weren’t children, that was the truth. Father didn’t see us properly. Something got in the way of his seeing us properly. Aggie and I were young women, young women burning and bursting with the need to express ourselves.

  All that day I felt fidgety and ill with fear. Father was here and there, good-natured, filling the house with his pipe-smoke, frowning over some papers; and later with the old tools from the barn which had become Agatha’s tools, for she did all the handy work, he went round securing the window latches. He climbed up a ladder and fixed the gutter where it was pulling away from the eaves. All day I grew more and more anxious. I was yearning and aching for Isaac and yet terrified that he would choose today to come. I could not bear the thought of Father attacking Isaac, my Isaac, and so I willed him to keep away, all the time watching for him and wanting him.

  The following day, Father went to the village to arrange for some men to come and paint the outside of the house. I breathed easier while he was away. I sat at the window silently begging Isaac to appear. I was tempted to run to the Howgegos’, run to Isaac, and warn him and tell him I loved him and tell him I was sorry – but it would have taken too long. Besides, he might not have been there. I hoped he was not there, that he was working away for that would explain why he had not been near since our argument. It would also keep him safe from Father.

  ‘Do you think he’s going to live here again, all the time?’ I asked Aggie. She was crouching on the ground weeding between the parsnips, her earthy fingers deft and sure.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. She straightened up. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad you know, if he did. Things might be more … normal.’

  ‘But why all of a sudden …’ I began, and then we looked at each other, the same thought occurring to us both. ‘You don’t think …’

  ‘Another wife!’

  We were silent considering the possibility. ‘Mother’s been gone a long, long time,’ I offered.

  ‘Well it might make things more cheerful,’ said Agatha. ‘She might be nice. She might persuade Father about our clothes. She might let us go to the village … get some servants to do this,’ she looked regretfully at her dirty hands.

  ‘Yes! To the village!’ I said.

  ‘And even to town, to Ely.’

  ‘Even to London!’ The possibilities were endless. Th
is new wife would be our ally against Father. She would be all in favour of me and Isaac. We could get married properly, openly, no need to run away. My mind ran on. And she would get Father to hire some help with the heavy work. It would be wonderful, all our problems solved at once.

  ‘And she’ll know what they are wearing in town,’ Aggie said. ‘And Father will be nicer, his temper will be better …’

  We went on for some time. Already we loved the new wife, were grateful to her. It never occurred to us to doubt that we were right.

  When Father came back from town, we looked at him with new eyes. Yes. That was why he seemed both more positive and more benign. He was in love. He wanted to get everything spruced up for the arrival of his bride. I suppressed any little niggles of loyalty to Mother I might have felt, for surely she would want the best for us?

  ‘The painters are coming in two days,’ Father said. ‘And I’ll be staying until the job’s complete. I’m not leaving you alone with such ruffians. Now, after tea tonight, I’ve got something to tell you, some more important news.’

  Agatha and I darted smiles at each other. We knew!

  ‘I wonder what they’ll be like,’ said Aggie as soon as he’d gone.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The painters of course! If only Father wasn’t going to be here. I’d like to do my hair properly, and oh these stupid dresses!’ she put her hands on her waist and pinched the material of her voluminous pinafore in. ‘If only I could have a waist! Oh I wonder if they’ll be handsome. Perhaps there will be one each.’

  ‘But I don’t need one. I’ve got Isaac.’