The Watercress Girls

by Sheila Newberry

  When it was time to reboard the train they discovered another cheering development. The stove in the corner of their carriage had been lit, and a basket of wood chips provided. This heat was a godsend during the long night’s travelling ahead.

  A new day dawned. The men ruefully rasped their stubbly chins, the women shared a billy-can of hot water, heated on top of the stove, and had a perfunctory wash. There was a yawning line of people waiting outside the WC in the corridor. Only little Lydia had a change of clothes. Tommy was bored; he was reprimanded by Grace for trying to open the carriage window. ‘D’you want us all to freeze?’ she demanded.

  Mattie had a crick in her neck. Not surprising, she thought, when she’d rested her head on Griff’s shoulder all night. She’d been the first of their party to wake, and had observed Grace similarly supported by Mungo. Quite innocent, of course, she told herself, but just as well that Jeannie is not with us, or Grace’s husband….

  What a vast country this was, with scenery which changed continually. They glimpsed boats on busy rivers, rolling pastures, distant mountains. They would spend another night on the train and most of the following day, and they were all becoming very travel-weary. Grace was preoccupied with the baby, so Mattie, Griff and Mungo did their best to keep young Tommy happy, with a pack of battered playing cards and pencil-and-paper games.

  There were more mail stops, then, at last, the signs that they were approaching a prosperous area: Regina! They had travelled almost 2,000 miles. The name was written large and black on the map Griff had purchased in Quebec. They were in Saskatchewan, Central Canada; in another hour or so they would arrive at Moose Jaw, which was some forty miles away.

  ‘How did it get its name?’ Tommy wondered.

  Griff had been primed by Evie, who was fascinated by such facts. ‘Apparently it’s derived from a Cree name for a place. Did you know that the male moose is the largest animal in the world with antlers?’ he asked.

  ‘Bet it’s got a very big jaw then, too!’

  ‘At least it can’t jaw-jaw like you,’ his mother put in ruefully.

  Moose Jaw had expanded considerably since the early pioneer days. The population was cosmopolitan and Mattie’s and Griff’s first impressions were favourable. They were impressed by the amenities on offer. The bustle of the place reminded them of Plymouth but, as with any city, Griff thought there could be a darker side, too.

  Here, they parted company with Mungo, who was going by taxi downtown. They exchanged addresses and promised to keep in touch.

  Mungo ruffled Tommy’s hair. ‘Maybe you’ll be enrolled at my school – it would be good for me to see a familiar face.’ He looked over the boy’s head at Grace.

  ‘Oh, I hope so!’ Tommy said fervently. ‘Then I could learn to play the pipes!’

  They didn’t have long to wait before Griff’s uncle arrived to collect them and Grace was reunited with her husband. It was the first time Edwin, a small man as befitted a jockey, had seen the baby. Poor Tommy stood disconsolately by, not even acknowledged by his stepfather. He moved back to stand by Mattie and Griff.

  Mattie hugged him impulsively. ‘Well, we’re off, but hope to see you again soon!’

  ‘I wish I was going with you and Griff,’ he whispered.

  ‘Oh, Tommy, your mother couldn’t do without you!’

  ‘You don’t know what he’s like. He wants her to himself. He doesn’t like me. I’m afraid of horses, he thinks I’m a sissy. He says I need toughening up.’

  ‘I hope if we have a son one day, he’ll be like you!’ Mattie said stoutly.

  Uncle Charlie, a long, lean man with a weatherbeaten face, wore his Sunday suit in their honour. His sparse hair was slicked down with lard and he’d trimmed his moustache. His welcoming smile revealed gaps in his teeth, and later he would cheerfully tell them that he had pulled troublesome molars himself with pliers.

  He handed Mattie up into the trap. She tried to smooth down her crumpled skirt. She thought ruefully that her trousseau would likely remain in the trunk, but she longed for a hot bath and a complete change of clothes.

  Fifteen minutes after passing through the nearby town of Morse, they rattled and jolted along a dirt track, iron-hard from the grip of winter and scored by wagon wheels.

  Charlie indicated a small wooden building with an adjacent barn. ‘Built that with my own hands when we first come here. I’d trained as a carpenter back home. When we laid claim to the land and got the papers signed, my son and I began work on the farmhouse. Still adding to that! That’s the beauty of wood, eh? We’ll be glad to have your company for a while; we miss our family since they moved to North Dakota. They’re doing well, building their own homestead now. The sod house is still standing! When we retire, we aim to join them.’

  The farmhouse was a pleasing sight with its gabled roof, smoke curling from the chimneys, and a veranda running the length of the house. There were outbuildings, a grain store, a brick well, an impressive vegetable patch, a ploughshare in the drive and horses in the stable.

  Aunt Anna came hurrying out to meet them, wiping floury hands on her sacking apron. Like Charlie, she had a ruddy complexion, but her abundant greying hair was bundled into a knot on top of her head. She was obviously strong and energetic.

  ‘Here you all are, then,’ she cried, almost lifting Mattie off her feet, in her embrace. ‘Not much of you,’ she told Mattie, ‘We’ll need to feed you up!’

  ‘You sound just like my mother!’ Mattie had a sudden rush of tears to her eyes.

  ‘My dear, you’re all worn out after all that travelling.…’

  ‘I feel – frowsty!’ Mattie was crying now. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she gulped.

  ‘Griff, you’ll have to wait for your hug! Leave the trunks to Charlie. Let’s take Mattie upstairs, then I’ll fill the hip bath with hot water – a good old soak will help. But first, I’ll get Charlie to bring you a nice cup of tea. Supper will be served in an hour.’

  The bath was behind a reed screen in the bedroom. The furniture was plain, hand-made, of unvarnished pine, like the floorboards. There were shaggy rugs beside the low bed and, as Mattie discovered, when she sat on the side to undress, the softest of feather mattresses. She was tempted to curl up on it that minute.

  ‘I think I’ll get in the bath after you,’ Griff said. ‘We can’t waste all that hot water.’

  Mattie undressed behind the screen. Anna had provided a big towel, a bath mat, and a bar of green soap. Mattie thought ruefully of the luxuries she had become used to in Plymouth, a proper bathroom, fragrant bath salts, hot water on tap.

  She called out to Griff, ‘Can you delve into the depths of my handbag? You’ll find a small bottle of Mitcham lavender.…’

  She was immersed in the steaming water, leaning comfortably against the curved back of the bath, when a hand appeared round the screen, waving the scent bottle.

  ‘Oh, bring it to me, please. I can’t get out and drip everywhere.’

  ‘I thought you wouldn’t want me to see you,’ he floundered.

  ‘Don’t be silly. We’re married, aren’t we? It’s perfectly normal. Anyway, I was hoping you’d wash my back.’

  ‘In that case—’ The rest of him emerged. He handed her the bottle, with a bemused smile. As she tipped the contents in the water he added softly. ‘You’re beautiful, Mattie. I’m so lucky.’

  ‘So am I. You really must stop being bashful. I may have held you off before we tied the knot, but now we’ve a lot to catch up on, eh?’

  At Griff’s urging Mattie had changed into the red-wool dress she had worn when they travelled to Suffolk to tell her parents the exciting news of their engagement.

  ‘You may feel we have gone back in time coming here, Mattie, but I can’t visualize you in shawl and clogs.’

  ‘No, but I’ll need longer skirts to avoid chapped knees,’ she joked.

  ‘Let your hair down, you’re still a girl, not yet twenty, even though you’re married.’

  Charlie gave Mattie an
appreciative wink when he saw her. Anna batted him on the head with a cork table mat. ‘That’s enough of that, old man!’ she said.

  Supper was quite a celebration. Roast lamb, floury potatoes, a domed Yorkshire pudding, mashed swede and finely sliced greens. They spooned on mint jelly, ‘sent on by my sister in south Wales,’ Anna observed.

  ‘I’ve never been there, where my father came from,’ Griff told her.

  ‘It’s a lovely place, my dear, with an unusual name: The Mumbles, near Swansea. Our father worked in the docks there. Your father was the only son, he joined the army and fought in the Boer war. You were just a baby when he died, so far from home.’

  ‘And now, I’m far away from England, where I was brought up,’ Griff said.

  ‘Are your first thoughts that you are happy to be here?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Well, mine are, but Mattie must answer for herself.’

  ‘It seemed the journey by train would never end,’ Mattie said candidly. ‘But, when I stepped inside here, it was such a relief – I felt I was at home!’

  ‘The moment I saw you, Mattie, I fancied you were the daughter I never had.’

  ‘Thank you,’ was all Mattie could manage to say in return.

  By ten o’clock they were in bed; Griff nipped the candle out, and Mattie snuggled down, not sleepy, but full of joyful expectation. His hands explored her smooth skin hesitantly at first, then, as he felt her response to his touch, his confidence grew. This was how expressing love for one another should be, Mattie exulted.

  The frustrations and the fatigue of the days since their marriage melted away. They had arrived in their new country, and the start of a new life together.

  Twelve

  When they ventured downstairs to breakfast at seven they found that they were the second sitting. Charlie was rounding up the sheep with the hired hand, Anna told them. ‘They are taking some to market this morning. Charlie and Lee had their usual lamb chump chops, but I guess you’ll prefer something less meaty?’

  ‘We really don’t mind, honestly, whatever is easiest for you to make,’ Mattie said. ‘My father used to rear lambs, but he gave that up, because of the watercress in the stream near the meadow. Something to do with liver fluke, I think, and the cress might become contaminated. Not that we had any problems with that.’

  She was relieved that porridge wasn’t on the menu! Scrambled eggs went down a treat.

  ‘You must have a tour round outside.’ Anna whisked away plates as soon as they were empty. ‘We’ve two house cows, too many chickens to count and two farm dogs, Welsh collies, like the ones back home. You saw the horses yesterday. Treesa is already in the dairy, patting up the butter for me to take to market—’

  ‘Treesa?’ Mattie queried.

  ‘My helper; doesn’t say much, but she’s pure gold. She’s Lee’s wife.’

  ‘Do they live in?’

  ‘Oh no, they come out from the Indian reservation. Most days they paddle their canoe over where the river narrows, then walk along the track.’

  ‘You must allow us to help too,’ Griff put in, ‘while we’re looking for jobs and a place of our own. It appears both of these are harder to find at this time.’

  ‘That’s true, but the way forward is to become mechanized,’ Anna said. ‘We have to hire a team of workers with their machinery at harvest time, and to transport the grain. We bought a generator at the start of last winter, and, oh, the brightness of electricity after the old lamps. Mind, when it breaks down, you’ll hear old Charlie cussing in the basement. We’re hoping to have a telephone eventually, but the linesmen have more important places to fix up first. I understand you drove a motor for your stepfather, Griff? Well, we’ve a tractor in the barn awaiting an experienced driver. Charlie is wanting a motor car next! When he appears, ask him about it, eh?’

  ‘I certainly will,’ Griff agreed.

  Anna turned to Mattie. ‘I’d be glad of your company to market, Mattie. Plenty of buying and selling to be done today. I take my own buggy, in case I hear my services are required and I need to get somewhere in a hurry. Griff might like to go with the men, but I’ll warn you that if they have a good morning at the auction, they’ll celebrate with an illicit beer or two, so the wagon sways on the way home, with the reins all slack.’

  ‘Who might need you?’ Mattie wondered.

  ‘Didn’t I say? I’m the local midwife, my dear. A family tradition – my mother and grandmother in Wales, you could say they inspired me. It’s not for the money, most of my patients can’t afford to pay the doctor either. He’s a grand old chap, Doc Pedersen, mixes up his medicines himself, though the farmers are hardy and use their own home remedies mostly. He says we make a good team.’ She looked at Mattie speculatively, ‘We’ll be here when your time comes.’

  Griff, aware of Mattie’s embarrassment, tweaked the long tail of hair she’d tied back with a moire ribbon. ‘See, you’re a prairie wife already!’

  ‘That’s enough for now,’ Mattie said firmly. ‘I’m not ready to be a prairie mother!’

  Grace was still in her dressing-gown, in the bedroom, nursing Lydia. She was sobbing softly, but she wasn’t aware of it. It had been a long night, and after six months apart, Edwin had been rough and demanding. She tried to tell him that she was still sore from the birth, a protracted delivery because Lydia had been in the breech position, that she was weary beyond belief, that all she wanted was a good night’s sleep. He had grumbled when Tommy called out from his little room next door for his mother, only to have his stepfather tell him sternly to go back to sleep. ‘Stop that snuffling, blow your nose!’ he added. He had complained about the baby being fed on demand: ‘We should move the cot into Tommy’s room. You give in to their demands too easily, Grace. You must discipline yourself, and them.’

  Discipline was obviously the order of the day in this big house. Being on the periphery of Moose Jaw, it was an imposing brick-built property, with modern sanitation and a large work force, both in and out of the house. The cook-housekeeper had shown Grace the well-appointed kitchen, and the boiler which must be kept riddled and topped up with fuel. Grace soon realized that her previous experience would be disregarded, she would have a lowly status here.

  Now, she shifted the baby in her arms, murmuring ‘Please don’t take too long.’ Lydia clung determinedly to her mother, as if knowing she would soon be transferred to her carrying basket. It was almost time for Grace to begin work.

  The door opened and Edwin came in. Grace had been thankful when he left their bed at dawn and departed to see to his beloved horses. He didn’t smile, but stared at her bared white breast, noting the baby’s limpet grip. She realized: he’s jealous….

  ‘Is the boy ready for school?’ he said abruptly.

  ‘I – I hope so,’ Grace said anxiously. ‘He’s downstairs having his breakfast.’ She wanted to add, but daren’t, I should go with him on his first morning at a new school.

  ‘I’ll collect him from the kitchen, then.’

  ‘Have I got time to say goodbye to him – to wish him well?’

  ‘Too late this morning. Don’t mollycoddle the boy, Grace.’

  When he’d gone, she cried in earnest, and the baby wailed, too, as if in tune with her misery. She pressed her lips to the fuzzy little head. She whispered, ‘I should have taken heed of what my dear mistress back home told me, that Edwin wouldn’t make a good husband, that he’d never get over the disappointment of losing his dream job, as a jockey. I was lonely, Lydia. I’d known real love with Tommy’s father, he was a gentle, considerate man and our marriage would have stood the test of time. You are the reason I came to Canada to join Edwin, because I couldn’t deny you a father….’

  Edwin had arranged for Tommy to go to the nearest school. Conversation was brief. Tommy sat unhappily alongside Edwin in the high-wheeled trap and fixed his gaze on the flickering of the whip on the horse’s rump. He clutched his lunch packet and his pencil case; Mrs Mack, the housekeeper, had proved to have a soft spot fo
r small boys.

  ‘Don’t think you’ll get it this easy in future,’ Edwin told him. ‘You must earn your keep, like your mother. You’ll have to get over your fear of horses because you’ll need to rise like me, before it’s light, and your job will be to clear the stable muck. Then do all that again when you get back from school in the afternoon.’

  Tommy said nothing, but his stomach was already churning.

  The school was a single-storey building, adjacent to the church, with a small clock tower, and a swinging bell in a wrought-iron frame. The playground enclosed by the picket fence was already swarming with children, some of whom stared curiously at the small man in breeches and riding-boots, with an unhappy-looking boy in tow.

  They went straight to the head teacher’s study. He was nearing retirement, white-haired, with glasses slipping down his nose, and, Tommy noticed, a blob of porridge on his tie. Mr Duncan’s voice reassured him: another Scotsman, he realized.

  ‘Ye’ll be all right laddie. Your teacher is new here, like you. I’ll take you to your classroom and introduce you. I expect you wish to return to your work?’ he asked Edwin. ‘It’s almost time for me to ring the bell – make your escape before the rush begins, eh? Collect young Thomas just after four.’

  Tommy followed Mr Duncan to a lofty classroom with rows of double desks. The teacher was perched on his high chair behind a tall table.

  ‘This is the top class,’ Mr Duncan said, ‘and this is Mr McBride—’

  Before he could continue, Tommy blurted out, ‘I hoped it would be you!’

  Mungo smiled. ‘I had best explain to Mr Duncan that we met in Quebec, and I travelled with you, your mother and your friends on the train to Moose Jaw.’