A Bargain Struck (Choc Lit)

by Liz Harris

  ‘Playin’s fun. I’m gonna catch a lot today. This is William’s lucky net.’

  ‘Then I’m sure you will. I was gonna fish today, too, but I’m real glad that I changed my mind about that. I’m sure you’ll catch more fish than I would’ve done, and you’d have made me look a very poor fisherman.’

  She giggled.

  ‘Next time I come to dinner, I expect to be given a plate of the fish that you caught in that very net.’

  ‘You’re gonna have my fish tonight,’ she said. ‘Pa said we can have everything I catch for dinner.’ She beamed at him.

  ‘I’m afeared I won’t be here tonight, honey. That’s what I waited back to tell you. I’m movin’ on.’

  She pulled the net from the water and stared at him in sudden panic.

  ‘What d’you mean, you’re moving on?’ The net slipped from her hands to the ground. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

  ‘I reckon I’ve been here long enough. Your pa and Ellen need to have their living room back, and I need to be in town if I’m ever gonna find me some work.’

  ‘But I don’t want you to go.’

  ‘I was never going to stay forever, honey. I’m not sayin’ I wanna go quite so soon – I would have liked to be here a while longer, get to know my niece better – but it’s not my house, it’s your pa’s, and he and Ellen want me gone.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I guess they’re hoping to have an extra person in the house in the comin’ months, and having me around will be one person too many.’

  ‘What d’you mean, an extra person?’

  ‘Your pa’s always wanted a boy, hasn’t he? Even when he was real young, he used to talk about running the homestead alongside his son. They’re hoping you’ll have a brother, and if you do, I’ll be in the way.’

  Her stomach turned over. ‘Has she got a baby in her belly? Is that why you’ve gotta go now? Is it?’

  He put up his hands in front of his face. ‘Whoa! Not that I know of. Not yet, that is. But I reckon it’ll happen. That’s why your pa took a wife. So’s he can get a son.’

  ‘Does she want a son?’

  ‘Sure she does. She’ll want a baby of her own. Women always do. And Conn took her in, lookin’ like she does, so she’ll want to please him and give him what he wants.’

  She glanced towards the house, then back at Niall, tears welling up. ‘You could say you wanted to stay, couldn’t you? It’s your house, too. You’re Pa’s brother, aren’t you? If you worked the farm with Pa and Aaron, he wouldn’t need a son.’ She looked at him with sudden hope. ‘He wouldn’t, would he?’ she said in excitement, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  ‘It ain’t just need, honey. It’s about wantin’ something. Your pa wants a boy. Your ma tried hard enough to give him one, Lord rest her soul, and he’s gonna keep on trying with his new wife till he gets one. If I insisted on staying put, they’d build another room, but they’d come to hate me for being at the table with them every day. I’d be in the way of them bein’ alone with the baby. It’s different, you being here – you belong here. But I’m not wanted here, and that’s the truth.’

  ‘Can’t you stay just till the baby comes? I like it when you’re here.’

  He slid closer to her and put his arm around her. ‘I know you do, honey. And if it wasn’t for you, I’d have left long ago. But I can’t live where I know folks don’t want me, and I’m not wanted here. I’ll find me somewhere in town, and that’s where I’ll see you. Your Miss Quinn’s a real good friend of mine, and she’ll bring you to visit. And I can pick you up from school and walk part of the way home with you.’

  She brushed her arm across her face, wiping away the fresh tears. ‘Promise me you’ll come and see me.’

  ‘I promise. You won’t be able to keep me away. For a start, the fish in town won’t be near as good as the fish you’re gonna do for me,’ he said with a smile. ‘Nope, I reckon I’ll be seeing you so often that pretty soon, you’re gonna be fair sick of the sight of me.’

  She put her arm around him. ‘No, I won’t. I love you, Uncle Niall.’

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘I know you do, honey, and I love you, too. I reckon you’re the only thing I do love around the place. Well, you and my horse. But maybe not in that order.’

  She laughed.

  He jumped down from the log, picked up the net and handed it to her.

  ‘Bye, Bridget.’ He gave her a big smile, touched his hat to her, turned and started to make his way back to the house.

  She stared after him as he walked across the grassy slope to the fence, went through the side gate into the yard and started to go towards East Barn. Then she scrambled on to the log, stood as tall as she could and strained her neck to see him until he’d rounded the corner of the house and was hidden from sight.

  Sitting back down on the log again, she stared at the water as tears ran down her cheeks and fell unheeded to the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ellen stopped in the middle of shaping scraps and odd pieces of pork into sausages. She wiped her forehead with her apron and looked around her.

  It had been a long, tiring Monday, and she felt the strain of it. The pain of the weekend was still raw inside her. That Connor had believed what Niall had said without question ate into her. Since then, she’d been desperately trying to put her hurt behind her, but it wasn’t easy. Hopefully, the tasks ahead of her for the next few days would help her put it to the back of her mind.

  At the start of the day, Aaron had butchered two hogs that would see them through winter, and she’d begun her work on them as soon as Bridget had left for school. She’d worked steadily since then, but she knew that she was going to have to go even faster in the following days if she wanted to avoid having to throw away meat that could have served them well in the winter months.

  She wiped her hands on a cloth, and then rubbed her shoulders. It wasn’t surprising that she was tired, she thought wearily. Apart from the amount of work she’d already done that day, she hadn’t slept properly on either of the previous two nights.

  All night long on Saturday, she’d stared in bleak despair at the place that lay empty beside her, waiting for the grey light of dawn to lift the night’s oppression so that she could rise and seek out Connor and explain to him what had happened. She’d been so confident of her voice being heard, she thought wistfully.

  And then last night, the tension in the house after Bridget’s emotional farewell to Niall had rested heavily upon her and had driven away any hope of sleep.

  Bridget hadn’t openly blamed her for Niall’s going – she’d have had no reason to connect her with his sudden departure. Nevertheless, when Bridget had gone back into the house after Niall had ridden off, and she’d tried to comfort her, Bridget had drawn sharply back from her. More than that, she’d looked at her accusingly. For the rest of the evening, Bridget had sat without speaking, and she’d been just as withdrawn this morning. She’d eaten her breakfast as fast as she could and had promptly left for school.

  And Connor had said little more to her than had his daughter. Words may not have been spoken, but what had happened with Niall hung in the air between them, and felt to her a silent reproach.

  She pulled herself together. The past was the past, and dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything. She must look to the future. If there was to be any sort of future for them as a family, she must return their home life to normality as soon as possible.

  She stared down at the pieces of pork spread out on boards at the side of the kitchen. It was good to have something to do, something that might take her mind off the atmosphere in the house.

  She’d cook the ribs at once. They could have some of them for dinner that evening, along with kernels of corn and potatoes. The rest she’d pack away and store in the woodshed attic where they’d freeze throughout winter until they were needed. The hams she’d leave for the next day, but she’d make the brown pork-pickle for curing them while the
ribs were cooking. She could then put the hams and shoulders into the pickle the following morning.

  She went into the pantry, took the salt, maple sugar and saltpetre from their shelves, and returned with them to the kitchen. Then she reached up to the shelf for a bowl. Next year, she’d make the pickle a week or so before she needed to use it. That way it’d have time to stand a while.

  She stopped abruptly mid-action, her arm stretching up to the bowl. Maybe she shouldn’t think so far ahead. What had happened with Connor had shaken her. If he could doubt her word as easily as he’d done, something else might come up between them, and when next year came, she might no longer be living in Liberty. She might be alone once more, with Connor no longer a part of her life.

  A gulf of emptiness opened up in front of her.

  She pulled the bowl to her chest and took a deep breath. She mustn’t let herself think like that. She and Connor had both said that they would try to capture what had been lost, and that must be her focus. She had the cooking and preserving to do, and then Hannah Carey’s wedding at the end of the week. Nothing else must be allowed to dwell in her mind.

  She looked back at the meat. She was close to having done enough for one day. When she’d done the hams the next morning, she’d pack the fat pork in salt and put it in the barrels in the cellar. Her last chore for the next day would be to grind the remaining leftover meat and shape it into balls. They’d have some of the meatballs for dinner in the evening, and the rest would join the ribs in the woodshed attic, along with the backbones, heart, liver, tongue.

  The day after that, she’d make lard by boiling the fat from the hogs’ insides and straining it through a cloth into one of the stone jars in the pantry, and then she should be finished with the hogs for that year.

  By the time she’d finished dealing with the hogs, she should be feeling a little better.

  She picked up the water jug, saw it was almost empty and stood it in the sink under the spout of the pump. What had been lost was the sense of companionship that had developed between them: nothing more. Anything more than that had been in her imagination. She pulled the pump arm up and down with ferocious determination. If Connor was ever to feel a husband’s affection for a woman who wasn’t Alice, that woman wouldn’t be someone who looked like her. The past few days had clearly shown her that.

  As soon as she’d finished the day’s tasks, she’d go back to her room and set her mirror in a place where it would be the last thing she saw every night, and the first thing every morning. Her reflection would be a constant reminder of what Conn saw every time that he looked at her.

  ‘You’ve been so busy with the hogs today that I’ve not yet asked you about the sewing bee,’ Connor said as they started eating their ribs and corn. ‘How was it?’

  ‘It was as I thought it’d be – everyone busily sewing and me acting as if I was enjoying it, too. It’s a long time since I went to such a gathering of women. I rarely went before my accident; as for after … I didn’t miss going to them, though. It’s not something I’ve ever liked doing.’

  ‘Were the women friendly?’

  She smiled at him across the table. ‘You’re asking if they stared at me. The answer is, not much. They seem to have got used to my appearance by now. In fact, everyone was very kind, especially Oonagh. She helped me a lot with my dress and she ended up sewing my lace collar on for me. I hadn’t been able to get it to lie properly.’

  ‘She’s real good at needlework,’ he said. ‘She used to make her clothes from very small. Her ma taught her.’

  ‘What about you, Bridget?’ Ellen asked, turning to her. ‘It occurs to me that I’ve never seen you pick up a needle. Is that because, like me, you don’t like sewing, or because you don’t know how to sew?’

  ‘I’m not like you in any way,’ she said sharply, and she furiously stirred her food around the plate.

  Connor glanced at Ellen, then at Bridget. ‘What’s the matter, Bridget? You’ve hardly spoken since you got back from school. For that matter, you’ve hardly spoken since your uncle left. It can’t be that you miss him being at the table with us as he was hardly ever here in the evenings. Or in the day, for that matter. He spent most of his time in town. You’ll find that even though he’s moved out, not much is gonna change.’

  She glared at him. ‘It nothing to do with Uncle Niall.’

  ‘So what’s it to do with?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Well, it’s clearly not nothing, is it? If something’s bothering you, you must tell me. Or is it something you’d rather talk to Ellen about? When I’ve finished my meal, I’m going to have a word with Aaron and then check the corrals. If it is, you and Ellen could talk while I’m outside.’

  ‘I don’t wanna talk to her. I don’t wanna talk to you. I wanna go to bed.’

  She threw down her knife and fork, jumped down from her chair and ran to her room.

  Connor stared after her, bewilderment on his face. He looked at Ellen. ‘I know she’s still upset about Niall, but I don’t think this is about Niall. It doesn’t feel like it. Did she say anything to you about what’s bothering her?’

  ‘Not a word. She dumped her pail and bag when she got back, grabbed a basket and went out to collect the eggs. Then she did the milking. She didn’t say anything to me, not before she went out nor when she came in. Looking back, I think she deliberately stayed out till it was time to eat. I can’t think what it can be other than Niall going.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But I’m wondering if this is to do with what’s happened between us in the last couple of days. I’ve done my best to be as I always am, but she could she have picked up that something was wrong, and that could have unsettled her?’

  ‘I wouldn’t think that’s very likely.’

  ‘She was worried about you yesterday morning,’ he said. ‘She told me you weren’t like you usually were on the journey home, and she wondered why. Of course, I didn’t tell her,’ he added quickly. ‘I said you probably had a headache, and she seemed OK after that. And she was cheerful enough when she went off to the creek to see Niall.’

  ‘Then it must be about Niall.’

  ‘I sure hope you’re right. If you are, it’ll pass. She’ll see him in town often enough. But somehow I think it’s more than that, though I surely don’t know what it could be.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Do you know where Connor is, Aaron?’ Ellen asked, stopping on her way to the outside pump. She put the two empty pails she was carrying on to the ground. ‘I haven’t seen him since lunch and I wanted a word with him.’

  ‘He’s bin in West Barn all afternoon. With the freeze gettin’ that bit closer, he’s bin banking the walls with straw and tightening the nailboards. I reckon he’ll do the same in the main house next week, ready for when the snow flies.’

  She glanced towards West Barn. ‘It’s just that I wondered if he wanted me to get his clothes out for the wedding. We’ve an early start tomorrow. If I hadn’t been dealing with the last of the hogmeat all day, I’d have asked him sooner. I hung up my dress this morning, and I’ve set out the hat and boots I’ll be wearing. I could get his things out, too, if he wanted. I know what he’s planning to wear. Bridget will want to do her own things when she gets back from school.’

  ‘I’m goin’ over to the barn now and I’ll ask him.’ He started to move away. ‘Bridget’s already home, by the way,’ he added, ‘or she was. She came back while I was fixin’ the top strut of the gate. She went into the house and came out again mighty quick. She was headin’ for the river.’

  ‘How strange. Or maybe not. She’s not been herself all week. She’s hardly said a word since Niall left.’ She picked up the pails. ‘Now I’m out here, I’ll fill these with water and take them back to the kitchen and then I’ll go down to the river and talk to her. I’d like to try and get things back to where they were before Niall left. With the wedding tomorrow, it’d be a sight easier if she was in a good humour.’

  ‘C
onn’ll be just about finished by now. I’ll ask him to come across to you about his clothes. I’d hold off goin’ to Bridget till you’ve spoken with Conn.’

  She laughed. ‘Thank you, Aaron. I can take a hint. You’re right in what you’re thinking – Connor would be the best person to talk to her.’

  With a grin, Aaron raised his hat, thrust his hands in his jeans and turned in the direction of West Barn.

  Still smiling, Ellen went across to the pump, put the pails down on the ground and started to lever the pump arm up and down. When she’d filled both of the buckets, she made her way slowly back to the kitchen, the heavy pails awkward to carry, and put them down on to the floor by the sink. Wiping her damp hands on her apron, she went to her bedroom, pushed open the door, stepped into the room, and gasped aloud.

  Her bright green dress lay on the floor in tatters.

  She took a step further into the room and stared down in horror at the dress.

  The skirt had been cut into several pieces. The bodice had been ripped apart and looked as if it had been trampled upon with dirty feet. Each of the sleeves had been slit from the wrist to the shoulder seams, and the lace collar that Oonagh had sewn on had been torn from the dress and thrown to the opposite side of the room.

  She cupped her hands in front of her mouth, and breathed deeply into them.

  ‘Well I’ll be darned! What’s happened?’ Connor’s voice came from behind her.

  She turned and looked up into his face, her hands still in front of her mouth. He stared beyond her to the floor, then he looked down at her, his face questioning, disbelieving.

  ‘Not Bridget.’ He shook his head. ‘Bridget couldn’t do a thing like this.’

  He looked again at the tangle of vivid green on the floor, and then back at Ellen.

  ‘You’ve gone white, Ellen,’ he said, and he quickly took her by the arm. ‘Let me help you sit.’ He half-carried her to the edge of the bed, sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Your dress,’ he said quietly, shaking his head.