His Brother's Wife

by Val Wood

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I will.’

  She disappeared through a door behind the counter, reappearing a minute later wearing a shawl wrapped round her head and shoulders.

  Noah drained the tankard and wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘Thanks,’ he muttered. ‘G’night!’ He walked towards the door before the girl did, so that it didn’t look too obvious that he was leaving at the same time; but when she followed him he made a show of opening the door for her and saying good night again.

  He didn’t look back at her but noted which way she went, then hurried across the yard towards the youth still holding the reins.

  ‘You wasn’t long,’ the boy said. ‘I thought you’d be ages yet.’

  ‘Long enough,’ Noah muttered. ‘Here!’ He handed him two more coins.

  ‘Thanks, mister! Any time. I’m allus about round here.’

  ‘Aye, well, I don’t know if I’ll be this way again.’ But on the other hand, he thought, I might be. It might take a bit longer than I expected to capture fair lady.

  She had cut down the alley which led into Lowgate, a much wider street than the High Street, and he guessed that a woman would probably feel safer there amongst the traffic and people than on the darker High Street, so close to the river and its narrow lanes.

  He saw her a few yards in front of him, walking quite swiftly and purposefully. He led the horse after her, and when he was close enough for her to hear the clatter of hooves she turned her head as if to check who was behind her.

  ‘Hello!’ he called. ‘I’m not following you. I’m on my way home.’

  She turned her head again, but nervously, he thought, and he spoke again.

  ‘Didn’t I just see you in ’George and Dragon?’

  She turned fully this time, pausing in her stride. ‘You might have done.’

  ‘Am I on ’right road to get out of town? I don’t know Hull very well.’

  She paused again and answered. ‘It depends where you want to be.’

  ‘Near Brough. It’s alongside ’Humber.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t know. Is it east or west? You can meet up with ’toll road if you’re going out to Holderness, or when you get to Blackfriargate you can go west on ’road to Hessle.’

  ‘That’ll do me then,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Do you mind my walking alongside you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’d be glad of it. It’ll mebbe stop me getting pestered by drunks.’

  ‘Ah, yeh,’ he said. ‘I suppose you’ll get that in a town. Where I live it’s very quiet; women can walk safely at night.’

  ‘Can they? That must be a relief to them.’

  ‘Have you far to go?’

  ‘Blackfriargate,’ she said. ‘One of ’streets off it.’ She glanced at him. ‘Just past King Billy.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘King Billy’s statue! It’s at ’bottom of Market Place. You can see it from here, look. It shines cos it’s made of gold. We live behind ’Shambles. You’d know where you were by ’stink of it, specially in summer.’

  We, he considered. So who else lives there? ‘You must be near to ’river then, are you?’

  She sighed. ‘Yes. Houses get flooded at least twice a year. It’s where ’River Hull flows into ’Humber. Confluence, I think it’s called.’

  She’s not stupid then, he thought. ‘Did you finish early at ’inn tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Aye, I did. My ma’s sick. I didn’t like to leave her on her own, but I need my wages. I expect ’landlord’ll dock them, though. He’ll not pay me for when I’m not there.’

  His spirits dropped. Damn and blast, he swore beneath his breath. ‘What’s up wi’ your ma?’

  ‘Don’t know. She’s been sick for weeks; can’t hold any food down. We can’t afford ’doctor.’ She sighed again. ‘Don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t get any better.’

  ‘Haven’t you any relatives who can look after her while you’re at work?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nobody. My father’s dead. I’m onny one left out of five bairns. Two of my brothers were lost at sea. My sister died when she was a babby and my eldest brother jiggered off to Australia or somewhere.’

  ‘As an immigrant or a convict?’ he joked.

  ‘An immigrant,’ she said seriously, not hearing his humour. ‘About ten years ago. Not heard a word since. My ma’s allus asking about him and I make up this tale that he’s a farmer and will send for us when he’s made his fortune.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Miles, same as mine. Leonard Miles. If you ever come across him, send him to see me, will you?’ Her voice was bitter. ‘I’d like to tell him a thing or two.’

  ‘I will, Miss Miles. But what’s your first name so that I can tell him his sister was asking about him?’

  She laughed then. ‘I reckon pigs will fly afore that happens.’ She stopped at the corner of another street. ‘But I’m Harriet. This is Blackfriargate, where I turn off. Thanks for walking me home.’

  ‘I’ll come wi’ you,’ he said. ‘Tek you to your door.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ she began, but he insisted and she didn’t argue as he followed her, with the stallion trailing behind him.

  He could smell the blood and guts from the butchers’ shambles as they passed, just as she had said, and he could imagine the stench and the flies in the hot summer months.

  ‘You must wish to get away from here,’ he said. ‘It’s dark, too. How do you find your way about?’

  ‘Lived here most of my life,’ she said. ‘Know it wi’ my eyes shut.’

  They went down one alley and then another cutting across it. There was another smell now, sweeter than that of the offal sweepings from the butchery.

  ‘Malt,’ she said, even though he hadn’t asked. ‘There’s a malt kiln near here. I quite like ’smell of that.’

  ‘Where are we?’ he asked, thinking that if he didn’t have the name, he’d never find the place again.

  ‘Robson’s Entry.’ She turned into another narrow entry packed close with terraced housing. A single lamp post stood at the entrance, shedding a dim light but illuminating the poverty. ‘We’re here. Third door along. Thank you,’ she said again. ‘I can’t ask you in. We’ve onny got one room.’

  ‘One room!’ He was aghast. Even though his motives were not entirely innocent, he was stunned to think that anyone could live in such a place, cheek by jowl with their neighbours. ‘Go and check if your ma’s all right. I’ll wait here in case you need any help.’

  Harriet turned to look at him. She seemed astonished that anyone would care, and of course he didn’t, at least not for the reasons that she might be thinking. ‘There’s nowt to be done even if I do need help,’ she muttered. ‘I told you, there’s no money for a doctor.’

  ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Go and see.’

  Her lips parted as she considered and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Bet not many men have done that, he thought, and yet I’d guess she’s ripe for it.

  She turned away again and opened the door, which wasn’t locked. Nowt to steal, he thought.

  He put his ear to the door, which she hadn’t shut completely, and heard her voice murmuring, ‘Ma, it’s me, Harriet. Are you all right? Ma? Are you awake? I’ll light a candle. Fire’s gone out.’

  He pressed his ear closer and then pushed the door a little wider and peered through the crack. It was pitch black inside and he couldn’t make out any shapes; then he heard the rasp of a match and saw a short spark of light that instantly went out. She cursed softly and struck again. This time the flame caught and he saw her hand held to a candle stub. In a moment a flickering glow revealed a low bed, with Harriet bent over it.

  ‘Ma,’ she said again. ‘Are you awake? Speak to me.’

  No sound came from the bed, and he held his breath. He hadn’t gone through all this palaver for the old woman to be sleeping soundly when he’d hoped she’d snuffed it.

  He moved
away from the door as Harriet straightened her back and turned. ‘Are you still there?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yeh. Is she all right?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m worried.’ She came to the door and put her hand to her throat. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ She gave a little huff of breath. ‘I don’t even know your name; why am I bothering you? You don’t know us from Adam or Eve.’

  There was a catch in her voice and he heard her fear.

  ‘Noah Tuke,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to come in? I’ll tie ’hoss up.’

  ‘Would you? I’ve no right to ask, but …’

  He hooked the reins over an iron shoe scraper near the doorstep and stepped inside. ‘Have you no more light than this?’

  ‘Just another candle stub,’ she said. ‘I have to be sparing wi’ them.’

  He leaned over the bed and saw the woman; her face was wrinkled and sickly yellow, but he thought he saw a slight rise and fall of the blanket that covered her.

  ‘Don’t you have a neighbour or anybody, another woman, who’d come and tek a look at her?’

  ‘There’s a woman my ma used to know who lives in ’next entry. Ma and her used to stop and talk, in ’days when Ma went out, but I’ve not seen her in months. Everybody else is like us, living hand to mouth, wi’ no time even to stop ’n’ pass ’time of day.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and see if she’ll come? You can’t stop here on your own and it wouldn’t be right for me to offer.’ He made it sound regrettable that he couldn’t, because he was a male. ‘But I’ll stop wi’ your ma till you get back.’

  Her voice broke as she said, ‘I’ve allus been scared that summat like this might happen. Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t like to – but thank you. I’ll not be long. No more’n five minutes unless she’s in bed, which she might be. It’s late.’

  He nodded. ‘Tek your time. If she can’t come, then we’ll think o’ summat else. It’s cold in here. Shall I try to light ’fire?’

  She shook her head as she went to the door. ‘No wood, no coal, to light it.’

  What a life, he thought. Purgatory. She’d be well out of it. He gazed down at the woman in the bed, her head on a thin pillow. They both would. He saw a flicker of eyelids and, startled, he looked closer. The eyes blinked and her mouth moved. She licked her lips and tried to speak.

  ‘Harriet?’ It was a mere croak. Her eyes opened wider; they had probably been grey or blue once, but were now glazed, filmy and opaque. ‘Who are you?’ He could just make out her words. ‘Are you . . . a doctor?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to mek you better.’

  She gave a shallow sigh and nodded her thanks.

  He put his hand beneath her head and gently pulled out the pillow. ‘I heard that son o’ yours in Australia is doing very nicely, Mrs Miles; Leonard, isn’t it? Now, I want you to close your eyes for me.’

  She obeyed, giving a little smile, which he covered with the pillow and gently but firmly pressed with both his hands.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Harriet sat by her mother’s bed, still unable to believe that she had gone so swiftly from this world into the next. It had been three nights since the stranger had walked home with her and offered to wait whilst she ran for a neighbour. He’d been sitting by the hearth when she returned with Mrs Chambers, who had taken one look at her mother and pronounced her dead. He’d risen from the chair and exclaimed, ‘No! I swear I heard her make a sound not five minutes since.’

  Mrs Chambers had nodded solemnly. ‘Her last words, sir, bidding farewell to this life on earth.’

  Harriet had moaned, and Mrs Chambers had patted her hand and said her mother was ill no more. ‘Not that that’s much comfort to you now, m’dear, but what sort o’ life was left for her?’

  Noah something or other had risen to leave. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry to have met you under such circumstances. Is there owt I can do?’

  There wasn’t, but she thanked him for asking. Mrs Chambers said she would see to everything, and when Harriet had returned from showing the stranger back to the Market Place the woman had smoothed her mother’s hair and folded her hands across her chest and she looked very peaceful, less strained than she had done in the last few weeks.

  A doctor had called the following morning to write a death certificate and Harriet had taken the rest of the day off work. She sat in the chair all day and night with a blanket wrapped round her, not even bothering to go out and search for kindling to light a fire.

  She had gone back to the mill the next day to find that her hours had been cut again, and when she told the foreman she hadn’t come in the day before because her mother had just died, he simply said that if she was living alone she wouldn’t need as much money as women with families. Then she had returned to the George that evening to find that the landlord had found someone else to take her place. Again she explained, pleading that she needed the money, but he merely shrugged and said, ‘Life’s a bitch whichever way you look at it, but I dare say you’ll survive.’

  Survival, she thought, that’s all it is; there’s nothing else in life, no hope, no money. How do I pay ’rent on less wages? They were already in arrears. She had been buying extra milk and bread to try to build up her mother’s strength, but the poor woman had not been able to keep it down. After tomorrow, she thought. After the burial tomorrow, perhaps then I’ll be able to think straight.

  Harriet had been to Holy Trinity church to ask about interment, praying that her mother could be buried in the churchyard rather than be taken elsewhere. She had heard that the churchyard was full and the vicar had confirmed it, but he was a kind man and knew full well the situation of many of his parishioners.

  ‘We’re not churchgoers, sir,’ Harriet had told him. ‘But my mother was a good woman, a true Christian in every sense. She would never have passed by on the other side of anyone in need.’

  He’d nodded sympathetically and told her that he would find a place for her mother and there would be no charge, if she could raise a penny for a candle to light her mother’s way to heaven.

  She’d done that, taking it from the wages the landlord had given her for the night her mother died, when she had left early. He hadn’t knocked anything off and she’d thanked him, asking him to think of her if the job became vacant again. He’d hesitated and then bent to murmur, ‘It’s ’missis, you see, Harriet. She’s a bit jealous of how ’customers like you; she’s noticed that ’men like a bit o’ banter and you don’t seem to mind, even though you keep ’em at arms’ length.’

  Harriet was astonished. Men were men and they tried to get their hands up the skirts of most women, but not of course the one that the landlord’s wife was wearing. It’s not that I was in ’front row when looks were given out, she considered. I’m no beauty; quite plain, really. My hair is of no special colour – mouse, mebbe – my skin’s pale and my mouth’s too wide, though my teeth are good. What’s up wi’ woman that she should be jealous o’ me?

  There were no other mourners when she and Mrs Chambers stood in the churchyard over a shallow grave whilst the vicar uttered a few words, which gave her little comfort. He had asked her when she first went to see him if there were any other family members buried in the churchyard. She had shaken her head, and then remembered her baby sister. Surprisingly, he had found the details and the approximate site – for there was no headstone – and so Maria Miles was laid to rest with her long-departed daughter.

  ‘They’ll be company for each other,’ Mrs Chambers offered encouragingly as they walked back down the Market Place, but Harriet’s forehead creased as she considered how that could be.

  Realizing that she would have to find more work, she trawled around the public houses the following day and into the evening. She’d washed her hair beneath the communal pump, clenching her teeth as the cold water froze her scalp, and then rubbed it dry on a piece of old towelling and fastened it in the nape of her neck. Then before she opened any alehouse doors she pinched her c
heeks to give them colour, lifted her chin and tried to look bright eyed as she asked if there was any work available.

  There was none until the last place she tried before returning home; it was a miserable hovel, one room only, not much more than the size of her own, with one table and ale drawn from a cask. It was kept by an unkempt man who leered at her, and said he might be able to offer her one night a week. She babbled that she would consider it and backed away. As she stepped into the street she almost crashed into someone passing by.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’

  ‘Who is it?’ She stepped back into the doorway, but the space was confined and she felt trapped.

  ‘Noah Tuke,’ he said. ‘We met—’

  ‘Oh!’ She breathed out. She could barely see his face, it was so dark in this corner. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t see. It’s – well, there are all sorts of odd coves about. You have to be careful.’

  ‘I went looking for you at ’George and Dragon,’ he said. ‘I was wondering how you’ve been since your mother died. Landlord’s wife said you’d left.’

  ‘I didn’t leave,’ she said indignantly. ‘I was given ’sack! Landlord’s wife didn’t care for me, it seems.’

  ‘So are you working here?’ He looked curiously at the planked door and grimy window.

  ‘Not if I can help it.’ Her voice was bitter. ‘But sometimes beggars can’t be choosers.’

  ‘Do you fancy summat to eat?’ he asked. ‘I’ve missed my supper again. I’d have had it at ’George but ’beef was curling at ’edges and I didn’t like ’look of it!’

  Harriet hesitated. What did he want in return for a bit of bread and meat? She was hungry, but not that hungry. It was a long time since she’d been with a man and then it had been because of fondness and not because she was down on her luck as she was now.

  ‘What do you say?’ he asked. ‘There’s no ulterior motive. Well …’ It was his turn to hesitate and he stared right at her. ‘There might be, but I’ll discuss it wi’ you first.’