by Val Wood
He got up from his knees and, wrenching open the door, went outside. Out of control, he ran up the track towards the estuary. Then he suddenly stopped and looked up at the sky. The sun was just risen, a watery sphere of pale gold which spread its glimmering light over the rushing water, heralding a fresh new dawn which he must now spend alone.
Lol put his daughter back into the makeshift crib and had turned to attend Mary-Ellen, just as she had attended her mother, when she heard the clamorous sound which filled the air: the shrill alarm of redshanks, the croak of Brent geese and the cry of a thousand long-legged curlews who rose up to unite in the desperate lamentation of grief.
‘Mary-Ellen!’ she heard him howl, the heartbreak torn from his core. ‘How could you leave me? Mary-Ellen!’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1880
‘Mama! We’re home!’
Laura took off her hat and gloves and handed them to the housekeeper. ‘I’ve ruined my best boots, Smithy,’ she told her, slipping off her travelling coat. ‘I’ve put them in a separate bag so that they didn’t spoil anything else.’
‘Perhaps they’ll clean up, Miss Laura,’ Mrs Smith replied. ‘A bit of spit and polish can work wonders. Tilly can rub them up and you can wear them as second best. Your mother’s in ’sitting room,’ she added. ‘Shall I bring you some tea?’
‘Oh, yes please! You’re an angel. James will be in in a minute, he’s just seeing to his precious curricle. He wasn’t very pleased when it got splattered with mud!’
‘So have you had much rain, then? It hasn’t rained here, not since you left.’
‘No, it didn’t rain at all, but the roads were very muddy, especially near the estuary, which is where we’ve been, and that’s where I ruined my boots. I went too close to the saltmarsh. Silly of me. I didn’t realize just how boggy it would be.’
Susannah was stitching a gown when Laura went in. She looked up and smiled, and Laura thought, as she often did, how pretty she looked when she smiled, yet how serious when she didn’t.
‘Oh!’ Laura kissed her mother and then flopped into a chair. ‘What a journey! I ache all over. What are you doing? Why don’t you ask Smithy to repair your gown? She sets a neat stitch.’
‘I know.’ Her mother bit off a piece of thread. ‘But I like to keep my hand in, and besides, she’s plenty to do. I’m only restitching ’tapes to make ’skirt narrower and draw up the bustle.’
‘Thank goodness we don’t have to wear crinolines,’ Laura yawned. ‘Did you ever, Mama?’
‘They were the vogue when I was young and unable to afford them, though I had a cage later,’ her mother said vaguely. ‘But gowns were not as full then as they had once been, and I’ve always preferred a trailing skirt. Much more elegant and easier to manage.’ She put down the gown and it billowed over the floor. ‘But never mind that. Tell me. What did you think of Holderness?’
‘Terrible place!’ James strode into the room. ‘Flat, cold and boring. Acres of fields and not much else.’
‘It was wonderful, Mama,’ Laura interrupted her brother. ‘But I’m not going to discuss it whilst James is here. He’s done nothing but grumble all the way home!’
‘I’ll tell you something.’ James sat down and stretched his legs. ‘The only type of vehicle to be used on those Holderness roads should be a waggon! A curricle is of no use at all. I shall have to get the wheels checked to see if there’s been any damage.’
‘And get some rubber tyres put on whilst you’re about it,’ Laura said scathingly. ‘I feel like a bag of bones after that shaking about!’
‘Children!’ Their mother laughed. ‘You should have asked Stubbs to take you in ’carriage. It’s a long way to travel on two wheels.’
Susannah had bought an old Clarence carriage many years ago when James and Laura were young, and Stubbs, their general handyman cum gardener, drove it for them. It was large enough for four passengers, and well sprung, but not smart or speedy enough for James, who liked to drive his own curricle whenever he could.
Mrs Smith came in with a tray of tea and James jumped up and made room on the small table, which was coved in silk bobbins, scissors and other sewing accessories.
‘Thank you, Master James.’ The housekeeper nodded to him. ‘Most thoughtful of you.’
‘There’s a motive, Smithy. He’s after an extra piece of cake,’ Laura said. ‘Don’t let his charming manners fool you.’
‘I know, Miss Laura.’ The housekeeper smiled. ‘And I brought in extra in case you were hungry.’
‘We haven’t been to the North Pole, you know.’ Laura leaned to pour the tea.
‘Just seems like it.’ James helped himself to a slice of jam sponge cake and took a huge bite. ‘It doesn’t compare with Hessle, anyway.’
‘Thank you, Smithy,’ Susannah said, as the housekeeper went towards the door. She gave a small sigh. ‘Indeed it doesn’t compare,’ she murmured. ‘Not with anywhere. It’s really rather special.’
‘So what made you come here to live,’ James asked, ‘if Holderness was such a wonderful place? What made you leave?’
‘Hessle was more convenient,’ she said. ‘Easier to get into Hull and Beverley for business. I have always been a working woman, don’t forget.’
‘James met a former school friend when we were in Hedon,’ Laura told her. ‘Wasn’t that odd?’
‘Really?’ their mother said. ‘From Pocklington? In your year?’
‘He was a year above me,’ James mumbled, wiping cake crumbs from his mouth. ‘I didn’t really know him all that well. I just remember him. Some of the fellows used to call him Farmer Ellis, because he said he was going to be a farmer when he’d finished school, and some called him Frenchie Ellis because his mother and grandmother were French.’
‘Is he from Hedon?’
‘Mm – no,’ James said. ‘I can’t remember where he said, can you, Laura? It was somewhere I hadn’t heard of, anyway.’
‘Skeffling,’ Laura said. ‘It’s beyond Welwick which is where we went.’
‘Ellis!’ Susannah put down her cup and saucer. ‘Goodness! The Ellis family owned Aunt Lol’s cottage in Welwick. And Aunt Jane worked in their kitchens until she married.’ She clasped her hands together and thought back. ‘Their agent used to collect ’rent, but sometimes – sometimes old Mr Ellis came himself. I always thought him very grumpy. He used to glower down at us and Thomas and I had to wait outside, but sometimes he’d throw us a penny.’ She gave a soft smile. ‘Thomas nearly always caught it.’
‘Was he your cousin? Thomas, I mean?’ Laura asked.
‘Well, once removed, I suppose. He was Great-aunt Lol’s youngest child, and she was my mother’s aunt. I named you after her, Laura. She was like a mother to me, but I didn’t know her name was Laura until after she’d died. Thomas and I were brought up like brother and sister. In fact, I thought he was my brother, until—’ She suddenly caught her breath. ‘Pour me another cup of tea, will you, dear?’
Laura did, and then rang for Smithy to bring more hot water. She could tell, could always tell, when her mother didn’t want to discuss her past; when she realized that she had said too much.
‘I don’t suppose you’d come to Holderness with me, Mama?’ she asked later when James had left the room. ‘I’d like to go again. I loved it there. I could smell the salty brine so much more strongly on the estuary there than here in Hessle.’
‘It’s not so far from the sea,’ Susannah said. ‘Only two or three miles.’ She gave a slow smile of remembrance. ‘Thomas and I set off once, when we were about six or seven. We thought we’d walk all ’way down ’river bank until we got there. But Daniel, Thomas’s older brother, brought us back, and we were given a leathering by Uncle Ben.’
‘What happened to Thomas? Do you know where he is?’
Susannah shook her head. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t.’ She bit her lip. ‘We lost touch.’
‘So would you come? I didn’t know which cottage you lived in or I mig
ht have knocked on the door. Would they have remembered you, do you think? Who would be there now? Your Aunt Jane? Will she be very old?’
Susannah laughed. ‘She’ll be in her fifties. Is that old? I suppose it is.’ She lost her smile. ‘Her husband was quite a lot older than her. And yes, of course she would remember me. I lived with them after Aunt Lol died. Aunt Jane was very loving towards me, and very protective,’ she added. ‘But I wouldn’t go back. Not if he was still there.’
Laura didn’t press her any further. There were some things her mother refused to discuss. They sat for a while and Laura glanced over the pages of a magazine, whilst her mother continued with her sewing.
‘I had a visit from Freddie whilst you and James were away.’ Susannah broke the silence. ‘He had some rather disquieting news about his wife.’
‘She’s not ill again?’ Laura asked disparagingly. ‘Mrs Cannon seems to enjoy ill health!’
Her mother pressed her lips together. ‘I agree, she always has. But this time it seems that she really is ill.’
‘Is that why Uncle Freddie called? To tell you about her?’
‘No, no! He – he had reason to come to Hessle. One of his clients lives near here, apparently. Freddie and I have known each other for a very long time,’ she added. ‘He always calls when he’s in the vicinity.’
‘Mrs Cannon is not so ill that she can’t be left?’ Laura said. ‘I think she’s being troublesome again, poor man. She doesn’t deserve him. Any other man would have divorced her.’
‘Laura! Till death us do part! He married her …’ Susannah hesitated. ‘It’s a commitment, and he’s had no valid reason to divorce her. You need better grounds than just bad temper and melancholia to end a marriage.’
‘I suppose so,’ Laura said grudgingly. But I wish you’d met him before she did. He would have made a perfect husband. Still.’ She reconsidered. ‘Sorry, Mama. I suppose you were already married to my father, were you? Did my father know him?’
‘Freddie was always my friend,’ Susannah said carefully. ‘He gave me a great deal of good advice when I started in business; it was Freddie who suggested I bought the Beverley inn, and he showed me how to set up accounts and so on, and of course he helped you and James too, didn’t he? With your school lessons, I mean.’
Laura frowned thoughtfully. ‘So – did Freddie know you when you had the inn in Hedon?’
‘Y-yes. We first met when we were very young and I was living at the Fleet.’
‘Before either of you were married, then? Did you ever meet his wife? James and I never have. It seems so odd when we’ve known Freddie for so long.’
‘She doesn’t go out very much – her health …’ Susannah rose from her chair. ‘Help me clear this sewing up, will you, dear? It’s almost time for supper.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
1843
‘God in heaven!’ Lol jumped at the hammering on her door. ‘There’s onny one man bangs like that and if he breaks ’door, then he’ll have to mend it! Go open it, Susannah.’
The child ran to obey and reached up for the sneck. She raised her head to look up at the thickset man standing by the step and then dipped her knee. ‘Gentleman for you, Aunt Lol,’ she called out.
Lol came to the door, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Mornin’, Mr Ellis.’
‘Tell the child to stay outside. I’ve something to say to you,’ he said brusquely.
Lol waved a finger at Susannah and she went out, heading for the horse whose reins were tied up to the iron bar set in the wall. She remembered this ritual from the beginning of the year and from some other times. Mr Ellis came to see Aunt Lol and she always had to go outside until he had finished speaking to her. Once it had been raining and she’d huddled against the wall waiting for him to come out. When he did, he’d said, ‘Is this the child?’
‘Is that the child?’ Mr Ellis said now to Lol. ‘She’s growing fast.’
‘They do, sir,’ Lol answered, and wondered why he was here today. He wasn’t due for some time. She recalled the first time he had come. It was three days after Mary-Ellen had died, and they hadn’t yet buried her. He hadn’t hammered the door quite so hard that time. More of a respectful thud. She’d opened it with both babies in her arms and she saw the widening of his eyes and the way he took a sudden breath.
She had invited him in and put Thomas down on a chair. ‘This is your son’s bairn,’ she’d said quietly, showing him the other child. ‘It’s a girl.’
Unbidden he had sat down and put his head in his hands. ‘This is a fine how-de-do, Mrs Marston,’ he’d muttered. ‘My son is distraught. I fear for his sanity.’
‘Yes, sir. It’s a tragedy. Would you – would you like to see her? Mary-Ellen?’ She and Ben had brought her here to Welwick, to be with her own kin where they could keep watch.
He’d looked up sharply. ‘No! No, I don’t think so.’ He’d cast his eyes round the room and noticed the curtained-off alcove. He stood up. ‘I, erm, I want to make sure you’re all right financially. My son will take full responsibility. He says it is his child.’
‘There’s no doubt of that, Mr Ellis,’ Lol said firmly. ‘Mary-Ellen was a good girl. Never had any other lad near her.’
Mr Ellis had taken out his pocket book. ‘I’ll give you some money for the funeral expenses, and then I’ll come and see you again about a regular allowance. Joseph might want to make that arrangement himself, but at the moment he’s too distressed to see anyone. He won’t even speak to his mother.’
Lol didn’t tell him that his son had been here or how he had knelt by Mary-Ellen’s bedside and sobbed uncontrollably.
‘He won’t come to the funeral, of course,’ Mr Ellis had said. ‘It won’t do, really, if you understand my meaning. But rest assured, the child will be cared for financially.’
But Joseph had come. Lol had seen him standing at the back of the churchyard. He was leaning on a gravestone and looking as if he was close to death himself.
‘The reason I have come today,’ Mr Ellis said now, ‘is that my son is returning from abroad at the beginning of June. He has, as I’m sure you know, been away for the last four years.’ He glanced round the room. It was much the same as always. Mrs Marston, he realized, had spent the allowance on food and clothing for the child and not on extras in the way of furnishings, although she had once asked him if he could supply another bed, which he had.
‘I wanted to ask you – that is, we feel, Mrs Ellis and I, that when Joseph returns he might want to see the child.’
‘Her name is Susannah, sir,’ Aunt Lol interrupted. ‘She was baptized with that name. Susannah Page,’ she emphasized. ‘Her father’s name wasn’t admitted.’
Ellis nodded. ‘Nevertheless, he – what I wanted to say – this is not easy, you understand. He can’t bring up a child on his own; so if he should ask you to relinquish her, I would like you to insist that she stays with you and your family.’
‘You mean that you don’t want him to bring her to Burstall House?’ Lol said bluntly.
‘That’s it exactly,’ he replied, equally blunt. ‘We understand each other?’
‘Oh, yes, sir. Perfectly.’
‘Tell him that she’d miss her family, her cousins and so on, and how much better it would be for her to stay with you. We shall finance her, of course, until she’s of age to work or marry.’
Better for you, Lol thought. You wouldn’t want a bastard child in your household. She’d take some explaining.
‘However!’ He hummed and hawed for a moment. ‘My wife has declared that she would like to see the child – Susannah – before Joseph comes home. Would that be possible?’ He must have noticed Lol’s surprise, her raised eyebrows, for he added hastily, ‘She’s not asked before because, I suspect, she is not over fond of babies, but now that she’s grown – she’ll be four now, won’t she?’
‘Four and a half, sir. She was born in the November, if you recall.’
‘Indeed!’ He sighed. ‘So I’ll send
the trap for you tomorrow if you would be so kind as to get her ready.’
‘Very good, Mr Ellis. I’ll mek sure she’s presentable.’ Lol didn’t care if he heard the irony in her voice. What she couldn’t understand was why Mrs Ellis hadn’t wanted to see her only grandchild before. She didn’t believe it was because she wasn’t fond of young babies. Neither had Mr Joseph’s sister asked to see her, even though word in the villages was that she was chock full of good works and benevolence.
Ellis stepped outside. Susannah was holding the reins of his horse, a dark chestnut, and patting its shoulder. ‘Would you like a ride?’ he asked gruffly.
Susannah looked shyly up at him and then at Aunt Lol, who was standing in the doorway. She saw her shake her head from side to side. ‘No thank you, sir,’ she murmured. ‘He’s too big.’
After he had gone, she said to Aunt Lol, ‘I would have gone on his horse. Why couldn’t I?’
‘Best not,’ Lol said. ‘You might have expected a treat each time he came, and you’d have been disappointed.’
‘Why does he come?’ Susannah put spoons on the table for their supper. Uncle Ben would be in soon.
‘Cos he’s a kind, caring man,’ Lol answered caustically. ‘And tomorrow he wants you to go and meet his kind caring wife.’
The next day, Susannah was washed and dressed in a clean dress with a white apron over the top of it. Her boots were polished and fitted with new laces and her honey-coloured hair was dressed with a ribbon. ‘Why are we going?’ she asked, after looking out of the door several times to see if the horse and trap were coming. ‘Why do we have to?’
Thomas had said that he wanted to go with them until his mother had told him that he would have to get washed and into clean clothes if he came.
‘It’s a treat,’ Lol said. ‘We’re going to ’big house where our Janey works. She must’ve told Mrs Ellis all about you, what a good lass you are and that, and Mrs Ellis couldn’t believe there was such a perfect bairn and asked to see you for herself.’
