by Val Wood
‘Upstairs, putting Henry to bed. She’ll be down in a minute. There’s a meat and tatie pie in ’oven,’ she said. ‘And thick gravy. Will that do instead of soup?’
‘Aye, all right, but mek us a cup o’ tea now, will you? I’m gasping.’
Bella scurried to make the tea, shook the kettle to make sure there was plenty of water to fill a bowl for William to soak his feet and called to Nell to set the table. Joe stood for a few minutes with his hands in his pockets, puckering his mouth and eyeing his brother and then glancing at Bella as she stood at the sink with her back to him.
‘I’ll just go and close ’curtains in ’taproom and snug,’ he said.
‘Done that,’ Bella said. ‘Closed them as soon as it got dark. It helps to keep ’heat in.’
‘Ah, right. I’ll check on ’fires then.’
Bella was about to say that she had done that too, but hesitated and instead put a teaspoon of mustard into a large bowl, poured in some cold water and carried it over to William. She lifted the kettle off the hook and poured in the hot water.
‘Test it first,’ she told him. ‘Don’t scald yourself. Nell!’ She raised her voice. ‘Come and set ’table!’ She bent over William and said quietly, ‘I want to speak to you after.’
‘What about?’ William carefully put his bare feet into the water. ‘Ooh, ow! No, it’s not too hot, it’s just that my feet are cold.’ He heaved out a breath. ‘Oh, that’s better. Thanks, Bella. What’s up?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m worried about Joe,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll tell you after.’
He didn’t comment but just shook his head in a resigned kind of way and she didn’t know if he was remonstrating with her or Joe.
After William had finished eating, he rose from the table and announced he was going to bed.
‘Huh! All right for some,’ Joe grumbled. ‘You’re supposed to be serving tonight, if you remember. I was going to have ’night off!’
‘Aye, I know that’s what you said, but I don’t recall agreeing to it,’ William muttered. ‘But in any case I think I really am catching summat this time. I feel lousy and I’m off to bed. You haven’t been out all day like I have.’
It was so unlike William to go to bed early that Bella asked him if he’d like the warming pan running over the sheets. He said that he would as he was still feeling cold and she took the long-handled copper pan off the wall and asked Joe to fill it with hot coals.
‘I’m not a servant, you know,’ he said, rising reluctantly from his chair. ‘I’m due to open up in a minute.’
‘I’m not a servant either,’ Bella snapped, ‘even though I feel like one sometimes.’
‘Hey!’ Their mother spoke up. ‘That’s enough, all of you.’ She spoke as she used to when they were squabbling children. ‘You get off and open up,’ she told Joe. ‘You’re late. You should have opened ’door half an hour since, and you, William, rouse yourself and fill ’pan yourself. You’re not so badly that you can’t do that. And you, Nell, clear ’table. Don’t go sneaking off like you usually do.’
Nell opened her mouth to object, but on seeing her mother’s expression thought better of it.
Bella too waited for instructions; this was more like how her mother used to be, in charge of her family and the household, and not as she had been recently as if she didn’t really care about anything or anybody. But no demands or commands came, so she waited for William to fill the pan with coals and followed him upstairs.
‘What do you want?’ he said as they reached the landing. ‘Open ’door, will you? This is heavy.’
She opened the door to his and Joe’s bedroom and pulled back the blanket and sheet so that he could run the pan over the bed.
‘Can I have a hot-water bottle?’ he asked. ‘It’s freezing in here.’
‘No colder than usual,’ Bella said. ‘You must’ve caught a chill. I’ll go and find it. William!’
‘What?’ He unbuckled his breeches belt and began to pull off his gansey and shirt. Bella turned away, as they had all been taught to do when undressing.
‘It’s about our Joe.’
She heard William sigh and then the bed creaked as he got into it. ‘What about him?’
She turned round. William had the blanket up to his ears. His nose was red and his eyes were glistening. ‘I think he’s drinking.’
William sniffed and then coughed. ‘And? What about it?’
‘Well, I’m worried. I think he’s drinking spirits; in fact I know he is. I found a bottle in ’cellar. I think he fills it up and drinks down there. It’s his secret supply.’
William nodded. ‘I know.’
‘You know!’ she said incredulously. ‘Why didn’t you say? Or try to stop him?’
He gave a shrug, shifting the blanket. ‘I did. He’s been drinking since he was fourteen. Ale, cider, brandy, whisky, he’s tried ’em all. Not a lot, just a small amount so that Father wouldn’t notice. And he never did.’
Bella put her hand to her mouth. ‘What can we do? Should I tell Ma?’
‘Won’t mek any difference if you do.’ William shifted further down the bed. ‘You’ll not stop him. Are you going to fetch me that hot-water bottle or not?’
William took the following two days off work and Bella kept him supplied with hot lemonade and soup, and constantly refilled the stone hot-water bottle so that he could warm his feet. She also walked down to the village in thick snow to tell the blacksmith that he was ill and running a temperature and wouldn’t be coming in for a day or two. He grumbled a bit, but then said that he knew William wouldn’t stay off unless he needed to.
‘He’s a reliable lad,’ he said. ‘I hope he stops wi’ me.’
‘So do I, Mr Porter,’ she said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t.
To begin with, Bella thought she should tell her mother about Joe’s drinking, but there were times when her mother seemed depressed and she thought it would be unfair to give her something else to be sad about; then there were days when she appeared to be uninterested in everything, even Henry, and ignored his crying until Bella picked him up and gave him to her, saying he was hungry and would she please feed him. Sarah would then unbutton her blouse and Henry would have to search for her breast without any help from his mother.
She handed him back to Bella when his hunger was satisfied, fastened her blouse and gazed vacantly into space, not speaking until spoken to. Bella cuddled the child and talked to him, as she thought her mother should have been doing, until Sarah lifted her head and told her she was spoiling him.
‘Bairns shouldn’t be mollycoddled,’ she said. ‘You’ll ruin him.’
Bella stared at her, her lips parted; as a rule she never answered her mother back, but she was hurt by her curt words. ‘He’s onny a babby, Ma! It surely won’t harm him to give him a bit of a cuddle.’
‘He’ll have to learn to stand on his own two feet one day,’ Sarah said. ‘He’ll expect you to be doing for him all ’time if you keep on pampering him.’
Just like Joe and William do, Bella thought but didn’t say, and Nell too. That’s because I’m ’eldest girl. But then she thought determinedly, I can surely give Henry lots of loving and teach him to be self-reliant as well. And it struck her that perhaps this would be the only teaching she would ever be in a position to do.
She decided to confront Joe one evening after all the customers had gone; there had only been a few regulars in as it was a bitterly cold night and the snow was coming down fast, covering the road so thickly that it was hard to know which was the road and which the ditches. The ditches and dykes in Holderness were extremely deep, a dangerous hazard to those who didn’t know about them.
She helped him clear up and wiped down the tables, riddled the fires and decided not to bank them up but to light them again in the morning to save on fuel.
‘Joe,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to you.’
He yawned. ‘What about? I’m ready for my bed. That lazy devil William’s gone already.’
‘He’s to be up early,’ she said automatically. ‘You know he starts work at six.’
‘Go on, then,’ he demanded. ‘Get on wi’ it.’
‘It’s about, erm, well, we seem to be using a lot of spirits.’ She was nervous, dreading a confrontation. ‘Brandy’s gone down a lot and I wondered who was buying it.’
‘I look after ’cellar.’ His voice was sharp. ‘There’s no need for you to go down there.’
‘Well, I have been down,’ she answered him in the same manner, suddenly indignant. ‘And I noticed that we’d used more bottles than usual. I’m ’one who looks after ’books,’ she reminded him. ‘Ma hasn’t done them since Father died, and I have to keep a tally.’
‘Well, you’ve got your sums wrong, haven’t you?’ he said, full of sarcasm. ‘You’d nivver mek a teacher like you wanted to be if you can’t add up.’
‘I can add up better than you,’ she rebuked him. ‘And I know that pouring half of one full bottle of brandy into an empty one doesn’t—’
‘What?’ he challenged. ‘Doesn’t what?’
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, reluctant even now to accuse him. ‘Joe, I found ’brandy bottle hidden on ’top shelf. I know you’ve been drinking. It’s no good for you. Not to be a secret drinker. You know what Father allus said—’
‘He’s not here!’ he bellowed at her. ‘I wouldn’t be drinking if he was, would I? I’d be shut up in ’joiner’s shop instead of being my own boss.’
Bewildered, Bella replied, ‘That doesn’t mek sense. Are you saying it’s Father’s fault for your drinking? And you never wanted to be a joiner anyway!’
Joe sat down at one of the tables and put his head in his hands. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying,’ he mumbled. ‘I onny know that I’ve got to have a drink. That I’ve got a taste for it.’
‘Has this onny happened since Father died?’ She sat down opposite him. ‘Or before?’ She was mindful of what William had said, but didn’t want Joe to think they had been discussing him.
Joe shook his head. ‘Before!’ His voice was muffled. ‘This is ’worst possible occupation for me. It’s too easy for me to help myself. I know what I’m doing but I can’t stop.’
Bella put out her hand and touched his arm. ‘I’ll help you, Joe,’ she said softly. ‘You should have said before. We’ll wean you off it, don’t worry.’
He parted his fingers and looked at her from between them. He gave a low scathing laugh. ‘Don’t think I haven’t tried,’ he said, ‘cos I have. It’s no use, Bella. I’m hooked. There’s nowt you or anybody else can do about it. I’m a drunk. I’m sixteen years old and I’m a drunk. I’ll be dead by ’time I’m twenty.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘I CAN’T THANK you enough, Father,’ Jamie said as he took his leave. ‘I’m very grateful indeed to be allowed to stay on at school.’
Although he was sincere when he said this, Jamie was also aggrieved that he had had to beg for permission to continue his education, when he thought that his father ought to have been pleased that there was a possibility of a prestigious medical career in front of his second son; he was also aware that if it had not been for the still lingering influence of his late mother, it would not have been allowed.
He had decided to go back to Hull before the start of term. He had left all his revision books behind at his lodgings when he left for the Christmas break and was now anxious to get back to studying in order to justify the high hopes his tutors had for him. Besides, he was bored. The snow curtailed any outdoor activity and he had run out of things to do indoors, and his sisters, particularly Mary, much as he loved them, were beginning to irritate him with their constant demands to be entertained.
His father stood up to shake hands. He nodded briefly as if considering and then said, ‘I hope to hear good reports, James, which will justify my decision. I can’t say that I’m entirely comfortable with it but I dare say education and knowledge are never wasted.’
Then, surprisingly, he added, ‘Think of your mother whilst you’re studying. Had she been here she would have won the debate on this issue, but I shall be disappointed if all you become is a country doctor. I’ll expect far more from you than that.’
‘I’ll do my best, sir,’ Jamie responded, while thinking that most country doctors worked very hard, including their own family doctor who had looked after his mother so admirably, but had now left the district. ‘I – I might not get home again for a few weeks. I think it best that I continue my studies over the weekends, seeing as there is so much at stake.’
His father appeared a little surprised, but responded, ‘If you say so, but don’t burn the midnight oil every night. Don’t want you cracking up for the sake of an exam.’
Jamie said he wouldn’t and left the room. He had said his goodbyes to Frances and Mary, but Mary came hurrying down the stairs and buried herself in his coat.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘I don’t want you to go. Did you ask Papa if we could go away to school?’
‘I didn’t,’ he confessed. ‘But I’ll write to him and suggest it. Did you ask Frances about it?’
‘Yes.’ She pouted. ‘But she doesn’t want to go unless she can take all of her books with her.’
‘I’m sure she probably could,’ he said. ‘But forget about it for now; you can’t go yet anyway, it would have to be September. But I promise I’ll mention it to Father.’
Mrs Greenwood was waiting patiently by the door to let him out and without thinking he bent forward and kissed her cheek.
‘Thank you, Mrs Greenwood,’ he said. ‘You’re so good to us.’
The housekeeper touched her cheek and he saw that her eyes glistened. ‘Thank you, Master Jamie,’ she said softly. ‘Travel safely and take care of yourself whilst you’re away.’
Bob Hopkins was waiting outside with Bonny and Jamie saw by the disturbed snow that he had kept her moving around so that she wouldn’t get cold.
‘Have a good journey, sir,’ he said, touching his cap. ‘See you in a couple o’ weeks?’
‘A bit longer than that, Bob,’ Jamie said, putting his boot into Bob’s waiting hand to mount. ‘I’ve to keep my nose to the grindstone.’
‘Ah! Just ’same as me then?’
‘Exactly so!’ Jamie wheeled Bonny round and waved a hand. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Cheerio, sir.’ Bob watched him as he trotted down the drive, the horse’s hooves kicking up flurries of snow, then turned and went back to the stables.
It was a fine crisp morning and Jamie took deep breaths of icy air. It was good to be outside and he was looking forward to getting back to the simple room which his landlady Mrs Button looked after so well. He had given her a rough idea of when he would be returning and she had promised that she would keep a low fire burning in his room.
Although Mrs Button provided his meals and kept his room swept and dusted, she also provided him with a small kettle so that he could make himself tea or coffee whenever he wished. To someone who was usually unwilling to disturb the servants between mealtimes by ringing a bell to request a drink or a slice of pie, this was a revelation, this was freedom, and he often sat toasting his stockinged feet by his fire, drinking coffee and eating cake whilst reading through his required schoolwork.
As he neared the Woodman Inn, he debated whether to call. He had no reason to, being neither tired nor in need of refreshment, for the longer part of his journey was yet to come; nevertheless, he felt a desire to visit. So why is that? But feeling the slight churning inside and the beginning of a smile unfolding, he knew very well why it was: there could only be one reason and that was to see Bella, the innkeeper’s daughter, again.
But what excuse can I give, he wondered? If her surly brother is there then I’ll feel obliged to buy a glass of ale when I don’t really want one, and I don’t want a cup of chocolate for it isn’t so long since I ate a hearty breakfast. What then? He slowed Bonny to a walk as he considered the matter.
The horse snickered at his voice, pricking up her ears.
That’s it, he thought. I’ll call and ask if there’s a farrier nearby, and he dug in his heels and urged Bonny on.
The young lad Seth was in the stable yard again. This time he was chopping wood with an axe almost as big as himself and Jamie gave a shudder when he saw the blade.
‘You’ll take care with that, won’t you?’ he said as he dismounted.
‘Oh, aye, I will, sir.’ Seth grinned. ‘I’ve been chopping wood since I was just a bairn.’
‘Really? As long as that?’ Jamie grinned back at him. ‘Is the inn open?’
Seth nodded. ‘Yeh. Just an hour since. Shall I stable ’hoss, sir?’
‘I’m only staying a few minutes,’ Jamie told him. ‘If you’d put her in a stall, please.’
Bella had lit a fire in the taproom, but not in the other rooms. There would be nobody much in this morning; the regulars would be at work, or if they were not in work they’d be at home getting under their wives’ feet, and saving their money to spend at the inn later in the evening. Joe was still in bed and she had deliberately not called him. Her mother was in the kitchen baking bread and Nell was back at school.
Bella washed her hands and then went up to her room to make her bed and tidy herself up, taking off the heavy-duty apron she wore when raking the fires or filling the coal hods and changing into a clean white one. She brushed her thick hair, looking in the mirror that sat on the deep windowsill, and then her gaze wandered to the view below.
The land was white with deep snow, the tops of hawthorn hedges showing as dark elongated lines defining each field and meadow, all of which were peppered with tracks of fox or rabbit; from up so high she couldn’t make out which.
She looked to the long road below with the snow piled up at each side and saw a single rider, his figure and that of his horse dark against the dazzling whiteness. Who’s this, she thought? Not a farmer, he’s not riding a plough horse, more like a thoroughbred. She turned away from the window. Mebbe somebody going to ’farrier? A job for our William perhaps.
