For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  A look of alarm passed across her face and her fingers played worriedly at her collar as she said in a small voice, ‘They’ve killed him.’

  He began to deny it.

  ‘Yes!’ she insisted, if he wasn’t with them then they must’ve killed him and buried him somewhere along the way. Oh, Dickie!’ She pressed her fingertips to her lips. Her eyes grew large with fear. Patrick held onto his knowledge for the time being, unable to decide which was the worst eventuality for a mother to handle – to believe her son dead, or to learn that the ‘kidnap’ had been of his own connivance. It was cruel, he knew, to keep her in limbo, but what would it do for her if she knew the truth. Dickie was better off dead as far as she was concerned.

  The front door opened and in walked a dishevelled Sonny. Thomasin turned clouded eyes on him. ‘Look at you both,’ she chided tearfully. ‘You look like a couple of tinkers yourselves.’

  ‘That’s a fine welcome for all our trouble,’ said her son and kissed her, glad to be home. ‘What do you think to our surprise? Not very much by the sound of it’ Too late he caught his father’s grim warning: the tight lips and vee-d brows. ‘Sorry, I thought you would’ve told her by now.’

  ‘Told her what’’ The eyes were no longer tearful but suspicious. Then she spotted the basket in Patrick’s arms. ‘What have you got in there?’

  ‘It’s a baby, ma’am,’ said Josie happily. ‘Come and look. It’s beautiful.’

  ‘A what!’ Thomasin stepped forward and thrust her face into the lowered crib to be rewarded by a dimpled smile.

  Alerted by the sound of raised voices Erin, Sam, William and Hannah came into the hall and now clustered round the tableau, crooking their necks over Thomasin’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh, Daddy!’ Erin’s face lit up and she elbowed her mother aside to dip her hands into the basket ‘It’s gorgeous!’

  ‘I wouldn’t get too close,’ warned Patrick as they crowded round. ‘It stinks like a cartload o’ maggots.’

  ‘Oh, the poor little soul.’ Thomasin softened as Erin plucked the baby from its bed, leaving a dark stain where it had lain. ‘How long has it been like that? It’s absolutely plastered. Didn’t you even know to change it?’

  ‘Sure, I tried me best,’ said her husband, laying aside the vacated crib. ‘But, t’was a funny thing, I clean forgot to pack a fresh set o’ baby clothes.’

  ‘Soft ’aporth!’ Thomasin slipped back into the old vernacular. ‘What is it anyway? Boy or girl? We can’t keep referring to it as “it”, can we.’

  Patrick shared a silent joke with Sonny. It had been some hours before he had even thought of looking. They had stopped, that first night, at a halfway house to hire a bed and clean themselves up – though one would never have guessed it from their appearance now. It was only when Patrick was struggling over a name for the baby, that he realised he didn’t even know its sex and, even more pressingly, that it desperately needed changing. He had put the baby in the bowl of water which he had used to wash himself and tried to clean up the mess as best he was able, his big hands slipping and sliding round the naked little body. But as soon as he had done so and had used his only spare shirt to wrap it in – which accounted for his scruffy manner of dress now – the baby had returned the compliment by emptying its ever-regular bowels with noisy precision, drawing great merriment from the other patrons of the inn.

  ‘She’s a girl,’ he smiled as his reverie ended. ‘And her name is Rosanna.’

  ‘Well, if you know her name you must know who she belongs to,’ said his wife, watching Erin and Josie clucking over the child.

  Patrick felt his son’s eyes on him, but did not return the stare. ‘I know her name because I gave it to her,’ he disclosed, the smile levelling into seriousness. ‘Well, I thought I had a right to,’ he paused – here goes. ‘Seeing as how I’m her grandfather.’

  For the next few seconds the only sound was the gurgling of the baby while they digested his startling confession. Then pandemonium broke out with Hannah the driving force, demanding to know how this child could be a relative and her unaware of its existence until now. They had tried to keep her in the dark about Dickie and the tinker girl, quoting some feeble excuse for his vanishing trick. But it would all have to come out now.

  ‘Then … this must be the Fallon girl’s child,’ guessed Thomasin rightly.

  ‘It is. The child’s mother died giving birth to her.’

  Erin crossed herself with her free hand and placed her cheek against the baby’s peachy-soft one.

  Patrick set sail on his revelations. ‘We found the tinkers at Appleby Fair all right. They were …’

  ‘Tinkers!’ screeched Hannah, aghast. ‘You have the audacity to bring a tinker baby into my daughter’s house?’

  ‘I do have a small claim to ownership too, Hannah,’ replied her son-in-law tardy. ‘I am your daughter’s husband.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Hannah sprang into action. ‘You may have had some claim until recently due to an archaic law which robbed the wife of her rights, but all that is about to change, and not before time, I say. This house was left to my daughter and you have no right to fill it with your foundlings. Thomasin, you have suffered years of humiliation at the hands of this man – and now this! You must tell him enough is enough. Yes! Sell up and move away to where no one will be aware of your previous misassociation. Cast him out into the gutter – him and his tinker baby!’

  ‘Hannah, you appear to have missed the point,’ said Patrick, well-used to her melodramatics. ‘If I am this “tinker baby’s” grandfather, by my reckoning that would make Thomasin its grandmother.’ He paused for the wicked thought to sink in and saw it register itself on her horrified face before he grinned widely and gaid, ‘Why, dear me, that’d make you its great-grandmother, Hannah!’

  ‘It most certainly would not! Thomasin, you are not going to allow him to disgrace this family with his ludicrous notions. The very suggestion that you or I could be related to such a waif is preposterous.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Mother,’ said Thomasin, as was the usual comment when Hannah was on one of her high-handed launchings. ‘And they just dumped the child on you, just like that?’ she asked Patrick.

  ‘Not … exactly.’ He looked at Sonny uneasily.

  ‘How … exactly?’

  ‘We kidnapped her, Mother,’ Sonny answered for his father, enjoying the impact of his lightly-delivered words. ‘What d’you think to that?’

  ‘I think,’ said Thomasin weakly, ‘we’d all better go and sit down.’

  The rims of Hannah’s nostrils were white with indignation. ‘I do wish someone would tell me just how this child is supposed to be related to my family – and don’t you think it would be wiser for someone to clean it up before anything else is said? Apart from the atrocious smell it must be infested.’

  William prodded Rosanna’s cheek with a nicotine-stained finger. She sighed and dimpled. ‘She might stink to high heaven, but she’s a canny lahl bugger.’

  ‘Well, one might have expected that from you,’ snapped Hannah, and stalked back into the drawing room.

  Josie and Erin took the baby away to clean her up, cooing like two broody doves.

  ‘How’s Peggy been?’ Sonny suddenly asked his mother before she followed Hannah.

  ‘Oh, I clean forgot! The midwife’s with her. She started getting her pains a few hours ago.’

  ‘Mother, why didn’t you tell me at once?’ Sonny made a dash for the stairs.

  ‘Knock before you go in!’ Thomasin shouted after his fleeing figure. ‘That nurse is a right old battleaxe.’ She turned and went after her mother and father. ‘Come along, Patrick Feeney, we shall have words.’

  But Patrick hung back and ambushed Sam before he too joined the others. ‘Can I beg a word in private? I thought I’d best put it to you before I said anything to Erin so’s not to raise her hopes if ye feel ye couldn’t stomach it. I’ll put it to ye straight, son. We need someone to care for the baby. Tommy can’t do it ’cause
she’ll be out most o’ the day. We could hire a nurse, but I’d prefer the child to have proper parents. I know Erin loves the weans, an’ I wondered if ye’d be willing to foster Rosanna?’

  ‘I’m sorry you asked me that, sir,’ replied Sam gravely. ‘Because I have to say no.’

  Patrick was caught off-balance by this short and candid reaction, but remained amiable. ‘Which, of course, you’re entitled to do … Would ye care to tell me why? I thought ye wanted a dozen children.’

  ‘So I do – my own,’ said Sam firmly, then looked embarrassed and pulled at his earlobe. ‘This really is most awkward for me to say.’

  ‘Ye don’t owe me any explanation, Sam. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked ye in the first place.’ Patrick started to move away.

  ‘No, wait! You were perfectly within your rights to ask it,’ answered his son-in-law. ‘And I’d like the opportunity to speak to someone. You might understand better than I do. You see, I’m afraid that if I let Erin foster Rosanna then she’ll never want any children of her own.’

  ‘Now ye’ve lost me.’ Patrick reached into his pocket for pipe and matches and leaned against the wall to light up.

  ‘I find this very difficult.’ Sam presented his back, the better to form his words without Patrick witnessing his discomfort. The lobes of his ears were pink as he spoke. ‘You see … what usually happens on people’s wedding nights … well … it didn’t happen on ours – it’s never happened.’

  ‘But ye’ve been married over a year!’ Patrick blurted out thoughtlessly, his breath extinguishing the match.

  Sam threw a brief, pained look over his shoulder, then turned away. ‘You don’t have to remind me of that. Fourteen months to be more correct. Four hundred nights of shattered dreams. Hoping each time it would be different, that she wouldn’t cringe and cower when I approached her and those terrible screams.’ He spun round accusingly.

  ‘The screams which you once explained away by saying she couldn’t stand the sight of blood.’

  Patrick lowered his eyes, replaced the dead match in its box and turned the unlit pipe through his fingers. ‘I didn’t deliberately mislead ye, Sam … ’tis just that we couldn’t think of a more valid explanation. I mean, the screaming stopped as soon as ye cleaned yourself up, didn’t it? I genuinely thought I was giving ye the truth.’

  ‘Well, I now know it not to be the truth. I’m not in the habit of going to bed in my butcher’s togs. It’s that … you know … that, what’s worrying her. Soon as I go near her she starts to cry an’ tremble … it’s awful.’

  ‘Sam, this is terrible! Maybe if Thomasin talked to her …’

  ‘Huh! What do you think Erin’s been payin’ all these solo visits for? But when she gets home an’ I ask if she’s got it sorted out, she makes some excuse sayin’ her mam was too busy to talk, or there was someone else in the room …’

  ‘Has she given ye no explanation for her behaviour, Sam?’ asked Patrick.

  Sam shook his head. ‘She just says she’s frightened. Well, I could understand that – at least, her being nervous, but she seems really terrified. I mean, you’d understand it if I’d forced her, but I’d never do that.’

  Patrick couldn’t distract a certain thought from his brain. At last he decided to share it with Sam. ‘Look … has she ever mentioned anything about her childhood?’

  ‘Naturally.’ Sam frowned.

  ‘About Jos Leach?’

  A shake of the head. ‘Who’s he?’

  A slight pause then: ‘He was the imbecile who tried to rape her when she was six years old.’

  After Sam had gasped his shock he asked for the full story.

  ‘There’s not much more to it. She was locked in a slaughterhouse with this big strapping butcher’s lad who had a mind younger than her own. He didn’t know it was wrong …’

  After Sam had digested the tale he said, ‘No, she never told me.’

  Patrick nodded. ‘Tommy was right then. She said Erin wouldn’t remember that far back. ’Twas just the thought of you an’ him being butchers, see …’

  Sam shook his head. ‘She never mentioned it. It can’t be that.’

  ‘Oh, God I wish there was something I could do to help yese.’

  ‘You can,’ replied Sam. ‘Please don’t tell Erin about the adoption. Her need for a child is the only thing I have left to play on. If she has Rosanna it could smother that need, an’ then we’re lost.’

  Patrick tried to be helpful. ‘D’ye think spending more time with her would make a difference? I mean, she doesn’t see ye all day, ye only have the evenings an’ Sundays together. It takes time to get to know someone.’

  ‘You could be right,’ allowed Sam. ‘How can I expect her to want to … with a stranger. She’s never been overjoyed at me workin’ at the butchery.’

  ‘Well, who knows – if ye leave it might just be the thing to help. Washing them bloody aprons won’t make life any easier, will it?’

  ‘She doesn’t wash them,’ divulged Sam woefully. ‘I leave them for Mrs Simons to do. She’s very understanding about it. I’d take your advice if I thought I could get a job nearer home.’

  ‘Haven’t I heard ye mention that ye’d like to go into dairy farming?’

  Sam laughed weakly. ‘I can’t see that happening for a few years.’ He had managed to scrape enough together for one cow.

  ‘Me an’ Tommy’d help,’ urged his father-in-law.

  Sam looked interested then, but offered a feeble refusal. ‘I couldn’t really expect … you’ve given us so much.’

  ‘Rubbish. Listen, ye don’t mind if I tell the girl’s mother about the other, d’ye?’ Sam shook his head. ‘See, if Tommy knows, I’m sure she’ll agree with my suggestion. Leave it to me. I’ll talk to her when everyone’s gone.’

  Just then, they were interrupted. Sonny had not been allowed in to see his wife and slouched mopishly down the stairs. Sam slipped away to join the others in the drawing room. Patrick let him go and accosted his son.

  ‘Before ye go in there, Sonny, I’d ask ye not to tell your mother what we learned about Dickie, understand?’

  ‘I do; but she’ll have to find out some time. Don’t worry though, I won’t sprag.’ He was about to move on, but Patrick put a hand out, the other rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘Can ye spare another minute?’

  ‘I can spare any amount of minutes. Honestly, you’d think that midwife owned the place the way she’s carrying on.’

  ‘I want to talk to you about Rosanna,’ said Patrick. ‘Now, I’ve approached Sam and it seems he isn’t too keen on fostering her.’

  ‘Who would be?’ said Sonny cruelly. ‘No need to ask what’s coming next, is there? How d’you expect Peggy to cope with two babies?’

  ‘We can hire a nurse to help her. I just want the baby to have a stable upbringing, Son, she’s not had a very good start in life, has she? ’Tis no good me sayin’ I’ll foster her, I’m too old; she needs someone young like yourself … an’ she needs brothers an’ sisters.’

  ‘And she’s already got one on the way up there, that’s what you mean, isn’t it? All right, all right! I know. Don’t go on,’ said Sonny resignedly. ‘I’ll take her. I can’t see what difference another’ll make anyhow.’ He began to walk away, laughing ironically to himself. ‘God! D’you think I’ve set some sort of precedent? Here I am, eighteen years of age, with two children – and neither of them mine.’

  * * *

  She was a pretty little thing when they had washed and dressed her in one of the nightgowns meant for Peggy’s imminent baby. Her hair was black and very thick for such a young child, and far from being miserable as might be the case after having led so wretched a life, she had the most infectious smile one could imagine, showing off the beginnings of her first two teeth. But the eyes that peeped out from under the lacy bonnet, so blue and laughing, were her selling point as far as her grandmother was concerned – they were Dickie’s.

  Thomasin rose instantly as the tw
o women brought her in, and reached out her arms for the baby.

  ‘There! Isn’t she beautiful?’ asked Erin, handing her over.

  ‘She certainly is.’ Thomasin smiled and kissed the downy cheek, balancing Rosanna’s bottom in the crook of her arm. ‘Oh, Pat look at her. Isn’t she just like Dickie?’ She proudly paraded her grand-daughter before the gathering.

  Hannah, now fully conversant with Rosanna’s parentage, sniffed. ‘Well, I for one find the whole affair completely distasteful. What your neighbours must think with two illegitimate children in the house I dread to imagine – and I’m sure we shouldn’t be discussing this at all with the maid present.’

  ‘I think we’ll have some refreshment, Josie,’ said Thomasin, giving the maid a way out without being made to feel like an outsider. She waited for Josie to slip away then turned to Hannah. ‘Tell me, Mother – just where are these two illegitimate children you’re talking about?’

  ‘What about the girl upstairs?’ said Hannah. ‘Just because one of your sons was gentleman enough to marry her does not cover up the fact of the other son’s philandering. People are going to put two and two together; they know that it takes nine months to produce a child and that John and that girl have only been married five.’

  Sonny was annoyed. ‘I wish you’d stop referring to Peggy as “that girl”. I didn’t marry her out of courtesy, but because I love her.’

  ‘And as for what the neighbours think of it all, Hannah,’ said Patrick congenially, ‘we’ll never know – seeing as how they never talk to us anyway.’

  ‘And who is to blame for that?’ retaliated Hannah. ‘Certainly not my daughter. There is nothing in Thomasin’s character which attracts discredit. Indeed, if she were not lowered socially by her marriage then her triumph in the business world would have the neighbours falling over themselves to invite her to tea.’

  ‘Please! Please!’ shouted Thomasin, pacing up and down, jiggling the baby. ‘Let’s not get started on that again. Mother, I’m sure everyone is quite aware of your views on our marriage by now. Do you think we could direct our energy into planning what’s to be done with Rosanna’s future?’