The Rag Nymph

by Catherine Cookson

  The child, now turning a smiling face towards Aggie, said, 'I'll stand on the chair and that'll take me half-way up, but you'll have to do the rest, as I

  can't reach. It must be a long time since they were cleaned; they are very dirty. I've been over this part twice, and look at the water.' She pointed to the tin dish. 'And I've scrubbed the table again.'

  Aggie did not remark on the child's handiwork; instead, she said, 'Who taught you to do housework?'

  'Mama, of course. We had to keep the house dean; Dada liked a clean house. He was always

  very well washed, and Mama, too. And from I was a little girl I went round with Mama cleaning

  the house.'

  'And I suppose you're a big grown-up girl now?'

  A gurgle issued from the small throat as Millie answered, 'Well, not really big, but I'll grow.'

  'Did you ever live in a big house?'

  'Not as big as this. But in Durham we had three rooms and a toilet outside and a little garden where you could sit in the summer. And then there was the river. The river was beautiful. And the cathedral.

  Have you ever been to Durham Cathedral?'

  'No; I haven't been to Durham Cathedral.'

  'Oh, it's very grand. It's the best one in the world, you know. It's built on the edge of the river. When you're in a boat you can look up to it. I've been in a boat.'

  'You've been lucky.'

  The smile slipped from Millie's face and it was moment before she responded: 'Yes, yes I've lucky.' But the words were not said as if from the mind of a child but from that of an adult who had'

  experienced many things. It caused Aggie to say brightly, 'Well, I think you'll still be lucky, because you might be seeing your ma later today.'

  'Oh! Oh! Mrs Aggie. Oh! will I?' The child was now standing before her, gripping her hands. 'Oh!

  thank you. Thank you. Oh! I'll tell Mama when see her how good you have been to me. You'll Mama. She's very pretty, you know. Well, you her, didn't you? But' - her voice dropped - 'she looked tired. She never used to be tired. She dance with me and take me long walks. Oh, you'll like Mama.'

  'Aye. Yes, yes, undoubtedly I'll like your mama.'

  And she forced herself to add, 'I'll tell her a good girl you've been in cleanin' me place me.'

  'Oh, that is nothing.' Millie moved back to the window now. 'I like doing things. I like cooking. I have never cooked here, have I?'

  'No. No, you haven't. We... we don't do much cookin' here.'

  'But you have an oven?'

  'Yes, yes, we have an oven.'

  'What a pity! If I had been staying with you I... I would have shown you how I can make a scone...

  scones. People say sconnes when it should be scones, shouldn't it?'

  'If you say so. Yes, if you say so, it should be scones.'

  Aggie now walked heavily through the market room and out into the yard. And she made herself look about her, at the odd heaps lying on the rough ground, and she said to herself, 'Yes, he was right, it'll be better if it's paved. And I wonder if he's put any oil on that door?'

  She walked over to an outhouse which, in comparison with the rest of the place, looked extremely tidy in that on the shelves were arrayed different tools of all shapes and sizes; and on the walls, hanging

  from nails, was all the accoutrement that went to the dressing of a horse: collars, bridles, saddles, some stiffened with age, others looking usable.

  Taking up an oil-can she went out and towards the old outbuildings, to the door next to the one leading into the barn and, moving it, she found that it hadn't been oiled. The door led upstairs to what had once been the stableman's rooms, and which now housed Ben. After she had oiled the hinges, she paused a moment before lumbering up the stairs.

  She stood looking about her; at his plank bed with the bedclothes neatly pulled over it; at the old easy chair with the stuffing sticking out of its seat. A hard kitchen-type chair was set near a table with three legs. An orange box was obviously being used as a replacement for the missing leg as well as serving as a miniature bookcase, for there were seven tattered books on the dividing shelf and a stack of old newspapers below it.

  Whatever it was her mind had said to her, she answered with, Well, it's better than thousands of others in the town, and many a one would be glad of it. And anyway, you couldn't get a decent table up those stairs, they're too narrow.

  She had just reached the foot of the stairs when she saw Ben entering the yard; and when she stepped from the doorway he called towards her, 'Been on a tour of inspection, then?'

  'Aye, you could say that. I think you should try to get a table up there, or at least fix a leg on that one.

  And of all the single ticks that have come in, there's bound to have been a decent one among them. Why haven't you taken one up?'

  'I prefer me hard pallet; it's a sort of penance for me sins.'

  'Don't be too bright. What happened?'

  He put his hand in his pocket, then handed her back the sovereign, saying, 'She's gone. She went the same day, they tell me. I couldn't get it out of them who had paid for her, but old

  Alex the cleaner told me on the side: Boswell, Slim Boswell.'

  'Oh my God! No!'

  'Oh my God! Yes! And he's only got to see her' - he thrust his head back - 'and it'll be mother and

  daughter. Oh aye, definitely daughter.'

  'She needn't be with him; he could have paid for o . .'

  'Don't talk soft, Aggie. If she hadn't been with him she'd have been here before now. You said she saw you with the child and there's not two

  Aggie Winkowskis kickin' around this quarter, or the town itself, and somebody would have told her where you lived.'

  Her response was almost a plaintive mutter: 'What are we goin' to do?' she asked.

  He noticed that he was being drawn into making the decision by the 'we'; and so he said, 'Well, speakin' for meself, it would sicken me if I thought the young 'un got into his hands.'

  She started to walk across the yard, and he followed her; and they had reached the house door

  before her decision came: 'I'll take the cart down there later on; if he's put her to work she's likely pacing The Strand,' she said.

  'Oh, I doubt not, not on The Strand, Aggie, for a beginner.'

  She swung round to him, grinding out in a low voice, 'She mustn't have been any beginner, not goin'

  by the uncles the child's had. And what's strikin' me now, she took the child with her when she was on the game just as a draw.'

  'That needn't have been, Aggie. We talked about that, didn't we? She couldn't have left her in the house. Anyway, as I see it now, if the authorities have got wind of her havin' a youngster, we'll have some of them officials and the do-gooders comin'

  round, and it'll be the workhouse in the end.'

  She said nothing directly in answer to this, but carried on into the house, saying, 'I'll have to tell her she's gone somewhere.'

  In the sitting-room, Millie was standing on a chair and reaching up towards the upper panes of the window.

  'Come down off that! Come down off that! You'll break your neck.'

  'No, I won't; I'm very steady on my legs.'

  Aggie closed her eyes for a moment; then slowly she ordered: 'Come ... down ... off.., that ...

  chair.'

  The tone brought Millie on to the floor and standing before Aggie, saying, 'I ... I just wanted to help.'

  Aggie drew in a long breath, bowed her head slightly and said, 'Aye, I know you did, love; but come and sit down a minute.' And she took the child by the hand and walked her to the settle, and when they were seated she looked at the small figure by her side, at the hair, like a golden halo round the oval face, and the limpid grey eyes gazing so trustfully at her. And as she stared, there was interposed on the fair skin the face of a man, a thin man, and he

  was leering at her as if in triumph, as he would do if he were to get hold of this unusual-looking child, for he'd make a pretty penny out
of her, no matter what channel he sent her along, his nursery, the street, or the boat. Any one of them would bring in a good profit.

  As if the child were sensing her dilemma, she said, 'I am going to see Mama today, am I not, Mrs Aggie?'

  For once the preciseness of the words did not irritate Aggie, and she answered gently, 'I'm sorry, love, but.., but she's had to go away for a day or two.'

  'Where to?'

  Aggie was stumped for a moment, but then she thought of Durham, and so she answered, 'Durham.'

  'But ... but she can't. She said she would never go back there.'

  Aggie pulled herself up from the seat, saying, tersely now, 'Well, love, she has.'

  'But ... but why didn't she come and take me with her? She never leaves me.'

  'Well' - Aggie was walking towards the table, her back to the child - 'she ... she was in a hurry.

  Something had come up.' She now rubbed her hand over the oilcloth as she waited for the next question.

  But when it did not come, she turned about and saw the child with her head bowed and the tears running down her cheeks. Returning to the settle, she seated herself again by the child and said kindly, 'Come on now, come on. You're quite a big girl. Grownups have things to do, you know, an' they can't always explain them.., well--' She put her arm around the narrow shoulders and pulled the child into her side, and when again the arm came around her waist and the head was pressed between her breasts there arose in her that pain that was both an ache and a pleasure: a pleasure that had no future that she could see; a pleasure that she had been deprived of all during her womanhood. And now here was a pleasure that was also an irritant. It was a pleasure that she wanted to press into her body while at the same time throw it off as far away from her as possible.

  The sound of the door being opened made her instinctively push the child aside from her. Ben, however, did not remark on the scene he had just witnessed, but said, 'There's a friend of yours in the

  yard who would like to have a word with you. He dropped in off his beat, sort of.'

  'Oh aye.' She nodded at him; then as she passed him she said quietly. 'Stay with her, but keep your mouth shut, else you might contradict my story.'

  In the yard Constable Fenwick was looking at the pile of tins; and, as she approached him, she said,

  'Goin' cheap: a penny a score.'

  'What on earth d'you use them for? Who buys them?' he asked, as though he couldn't believe anyone would do so.

  'Oh, there's always a buyer for everything. They grind them down. But I use a lot meself. Best form of fuel and the cheapest: fill them with a mixture of coal dust and mud and you've got a fire goin' all day and night. The tins hold the

  heat.'

  'Is that a fact?'

  'That's a fact.'

  'I've been away for a day or two; I lost me father.'

  'Oh.' Her light tone changed. 'I'm sorry about that. Was he dear to you?'

  'Aye, very dear, and a good man.'

  'Did he live hereabouts?'

  'No, in Newcastle.'

  'Oh; Newcastle.'

  'Aye, that's where I was born and reared. I would have been there the day but I had to go and marry a lass from down here, and she wouldn't leave her mother. Women are the limit, aren't they, Aggie?'

  She did not respond to this, but stared at him, until he spoke again, saying, 'I'd have been along before now, but I heard about me father the very day when we last spoke, and so I had to go off straightaway to Newcastle. Before I went, though, I managed to have a word on the side with the lass. She was waiting to be moved to start her month. She begged me to take this.' He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a key. 'She asked me to give it to the lady who had been in court with her child, and to ask if you would take care of her till she could come for her.' As he handed her the key, he added, 'Apparently she wants you to take the personal things from her lodgings.'

  Aggie stood holding the key in her hand.. It was all of three inches long, and as she looked at it, she said, 'I shouldn't be landed with this. What life will

  it be for a child stuck in here?'

  'There's many a worse place, Aggie, and many a worse person to take charge of a child. I can vouch for that. Anyway, if it becomes known the lass left a child behind, the authorities will be visitin' you, and then you'll be able to get rid of her.'

  'Huh!' She bridled now. 'What if it should then happen I don't want to get rid of her, eh? What about it then?' ... Why in the name of God! had she said that?

  'Oh, well, that could be easily arranged. You'd have to sign some sort of form. And if they ever want a reference, I'll stand for that. And there are others an' all, I'm sure.'

  'Where?' Her voice was scornful now. 'A rag woman in a hole like this! What! they would say.

  Taking charge of a child, and such a one? Aye, and such a one' - she was shaking her head - 'who'd talk a hind leg off a donkey, and with such politeness that it gets up your nose and under your skin and on your nerves.'

  He was laughing now.

  'Well, perhaps you'll learn something from her.'

  'I've had all the education I need, thanks. But anyway' - her tone changed again - 'I'm grateful to you for your help.'

  'Any time, Aggie, any time.' He again looked at the pile of tins. 'I'll have to tell me missis about that trick, and tell her to get going and save some money ... Ooh! I'd better not, though, not if I want to live a little longer. Well, I'll look in again, Aggie; and mind you, see everything's above board' - he glanced around the yard - 'no dealing in stolen property; no organising of crime in any one of its many forms. But I think you'll stay clear until Thursday.'

  He grinned at her, then went from the yard.

  And she stood looking down at the key in her hand, while she said to herself, 'Well, this seems to decide it, doesn't it?' and turning, she yelled,

  'Ben!' And when he appeared in the yard, followed by the child, it was to her she spoke, saying,

  'Go and put your hat and coat on; we're goin'

  for a walk.'

  'A walk?'

  'Yes, that's what I said, we're goin' for a walk.'

  Then with an impatient movement, she said loudly,

  'Your ma has sent the key to your house. We're goin'

  there to pick up some of your clothes.'

  'Oh, we are?'Oh, that is so nice. And I need a clean petticoat on and...'

  'Go on.' Get your hat and coat on.'

  After Millie had turned to run back into the house, Ben said, 'So that's what he wanted. How did he get hold of it?'

  'Apparently he had a word with her while she was waiting to be taken along the line. It must have been just before Boswell picked her up. Get the hand-cart out of the barn; there'll likely be things to bring back.'

  Without more to-do he hurried from her, and she herself went into the market-room.

  From a cupboard, she took a large, brown, straw hat and a dark grey coat; and after first pinning the hat on to her hair she shrugged herself into the coat.

  But it wasn't large enough to button and showed her blouse and skirt, and so when she appeared in the yard again Ben, standing ready by the cart, grinned at her, saying, 'That's nice! Smartish.'

  'Aye, smart.., ish. Where is she?' She turned and looked towards the house door. 'Don't tell me she's washing her face again!'

  'Here she is.' Ben waved to the child, and when she approached them she exclaimed loudly while looking at Aggie, 'Oh, you are dressed! You look different. That is a nice hat.'

  'Thank you. Thank you.'

  That was another thing that annoyed her about the child: she always had to find something nice to say.

  'Well, come on, let's get away,' she said.

  'Have a nice trip.'

  Aggie turned a scornful glance on Ben, then pushed the cart through the gateway on to the road.

  'Are you a real rag woman, Mrs Aggie?'

  Here we go again. 'Yes, I'm a real rag woman.

  Now what are you goin' to make ou
t of that?'

  'Nothing. Mama says that honest work, no matter how lowly, is something to be proud of.'

  God in heaven! That mama, that proven whore who was now in a brothel and was likely to stay there, that's if Slim didn't ship her out an' all, because she was a looker all right.

  'Are you going to shout for rags?'

  'No, I'm not. And keep your tongue quiet.'

  Millie kept her tongue quiet for some time, until she felt forced to say, 'I would have never known this way home.'

  Aggie made no reply to this, and the child remained quiet until it was evident that she recognized the entrance to the area, for she exclaimed, 'Oh! now I know where we are.'

  'Whereabouts is your house then?'

  'It wasn't a house, I think I've told you, it was outside. We go round the corner here.'

  They went round the corner, and the child stopped in front of a flight of steps leading up to a dilapidated house, one of a number in the street. But to the right of the steps was a low iron gate, and leading from it more steps, but downwards; and the child exclaimed,

  'Down there! down here!'

  Aggie looked up and down the narrow street; then, taking a chain with a lock attached to it from under a piece of sacking in the corner of the cart, she pushed the cart close to the gate, and tied a leg of it to the iron post.

  'Why are you doing that?'

  'Just in case somebody takes a fancy to it.'

  'No-one would run off with a handcart.'

  'Well, they've done it before.'

  'Really?'

  'Yes, rea-lly! Get yourself down those steps, and see if I can follow you.'

  The stone steps were narrow, and she didn't like stone steps, they were greasy when wet, but she made the bottom of them and inserted the key in the lock. She followed the child into the room, but there she stood aghast. It was a cellar, stone-floored and stone-walled, and stone cold. It was obviously partitioned into two rooms by a rough wooden screen. In the part in which she was standing was a small table and two chairs and an iron contraption that looked as if it might be used for some form of heating. There was no chimney attached to it; so she guessed it was for paraffin oil.