The Hungry Tide

by Valerie Wood

  ‘Somebody’s coming already,’ cried Tom. ‘And Ma, she’s here as well.’

  He waved to two men who were running towards them, one with a rope over his arm, followed more slowly by Maria.

  Will didn’t turn round but kept his face towards Lizzie, calling encouragingly down to her.

  ‘We shall soon have thee up, don’t worry, Lizzie. There’s no need to be afeard.’ There was no use in asking her to try to move for if he startled her now, she might in a panic slip down into the sea which had completely covered the sand and was surging and breaking up the base of the cliff.

  ‘I’ll have to go down to her.’ The younger of the two men spoke. ‘She’s too scared to catch ’rope, and she might tummel over if she tried.’

  He handed one end of the rope to Will, ‘If thee and me da will take my weight, I’ll go down just beyond her.’

  Will turned to the other man and saw that it was the same one who had directed them to the barn on their arrival. They each took hold of the length of rope and Will wrapped the end around his waist, taking up the slack with his hands.

  I’ll take ’strain,’ Will said, ‘I’m a deal heavier than thee.’

  The man was not only thinner than Will but also a lot older and Will didn’t want him to injure himself.

  ‘He’ll get her alreet, will our Martin,’ said the other reassuringly. ‘He’s got feet like a goat.’

  Surefootedly, and with barely a pull on the rope Martin eased himself down the cliff, testing each foothold before giving it his weight.

  Will realized why he had made his way down beyond where Lizzie was standing, for at each step he took, a cascade of stones and sand slithered down before him, dropping with barely a splash into the surging water below.

  As he reached Lizzie a change of expression came over her. Whereas she had stood before in stark terror, her eyes now moved frantically from side to side as she tried to see what was happening behind her.

  ‘It’s alreet, little lass, we’ll have thee up on top in no time at all.’

  She shook at the sound of his voice so near, and her foot slipped as he moved towards her. Swiftly he put out a hand to catch her and she clung frantically to the rough tuft of grass.

  ‘Let go now, lovey, put thy arms around me.’

  She shook her head, her eyes wide and frightened. She looked up at the top of the cliff and saw Maria anxiously looking down.

  ‘Do as he says, Lizzie, and tha’ll soon be up here.’

  Again she shook her head, and then came a faint whisper which barely carried up to where they were waiting, ‘I want my ma.’

  Not once since she had come to stay with them had Lizzie mentioned her mother, and Will and Maria had assumed that in the excitement of moving and with the constant companionship of Tom and Alice, Lizzie had not felt the loss. Now they looked at each other in dismay.

  ‘Poor little mite,’ Maria murmured, ‘and she never said.’

  ‘Come on then,’ said Martin. ‘I’ll take thee to thy ma.’ He picked her up bodily with one arm whilst he held on to the side of the cliff face with the other and put her thin light body over his shoulder. ‘We can’t stay here all neet. I want my supper.’

  Chatting to her all the while, he carefully made his way back, this time making for the safety of some rough steps hewn into the side of the cliff.

  ‘See these steps?’ he said, panting with exertion. ‘Well, I made them, when I was just a nipper like thee. So next time tha comes down to ’sea, that’s ’way tha should come, or down ’village road.’

  Will and Maria took hold of her as they reached the top and pulled her over.

  ‘Tha’s safe now,’ said Martin as he hauled himself over. ‘Here’s thy ma!’

  Lizzie burst into tears as Maria enveloped her in a smother of hugs and kisses. ‘I want to go home,’ she sobbed. ‘I want my ma.’

  ‘Tha can’t go home, Lizzie, tha knows that. Stay with us till thy ma comes for thee. We want thee to stay with us.’ Maria looked with concern at the distraught child. ‘I’m relying on thee to help with ’babby when it comes.’

  Lizzie gave a shaky smile at the prospect and then tearfully nodded her head.

  Tom, who had been disdainfully watching this feminine show of emotion, came forward, his hands in the pockets of his soaking wet breeches.

  ‘Here, Lizzie, if tha’ll stay I’ll give thee my shrimps,’ and he pulled out of his bulging pockets a handful of bedraggled grey shrimps.

  ‘I dropped all of mine,’ she said tearfully as she put out her hand to take them. ‘We were going to bring them home for supper. Tom said we could cook them over ’fire.’

  ‘So tha can,’ said Will enthusiastically, ‘and maybe tomorrow we’ll all go down after we’ve finished our work, and we’ll net some more. We can eat in plenty here, there’s cod and dabs and even mackerel – food fit for nobility – and free.’

  He looked down at Tom and Lizzie, who had caught his enthusiasm now that their fright was dissipating, and put an arm around them both. ‘But tha must learn to respect ’sea and all its moods, so first thing I will teach thee both is how to float and keep thy heads above water.’

  Martin had been listening and nodded his head in agreement. ‘That’s ’best idea,’ he said. ‘And if tha comes over to see my lads, they’ll show thee ’best places for crabs. They know every inch of ’coastline round here and tha’ll be safe with them until tha gets used to it.’

  Will thanked him for his help.

  ‘That’s all right,’ he answered gruffly, rather embarrassed. ‘There’s always somebody gets stuck just once. I did missen when I was just a bairn, that’s why me da here made me make them steps.’

  He looked over the cliff and then scraped the cracked surface with his boot. ‘There’s no saying how long they’ll last, though. We lost over six feet last winter in ’storms.’

  Maria took Tom and Lizzie by the hand, leaving the men talking, and hurried them back to Field House. They were both very wet and beginning to shiver with the cold. She took them inside and rubbed them down briskly with an old blanket and then tucked them both up into the large bed.

  ‘Stay there for a bit,’ she said, ‘until tha gets warm. We can’t have thee getting poorly now. Tomorrow we start at Garston Hall – getting it ready for ’Mastersons and we shall need both of thee to help.’

  ‘What shall I do, Ma?’ Tom sat up in excitement – at last he was going to work.

  ‘Tha’ll help thy fayther with repair jobs and fetching wood for fires and such like; and thee and me, Lizzie, we’ll have to see Mrs Scryven to find out what’s to be done, for I’m sure I shan’t know where to start.’

  Mrs Scryven had it all planned, however, when they arrived in the kitchen of Garston Hall early the next morning.

  ‘I’m glad to see tha’s an early riser,’ she remarked as they knocked hesitatingly on the door.

  Maria’s mouth watered as the aroma of freshly baked bread greeted her. Simmering gently on the fire was a large pan, its lid rising and rattling gently and emitting small puffs of steam, from which rose the aromatic smell of ham.

  ‘Sit down and sup.’ Mrs Scryven put out three bowls and spoons and poured out thick creamy porridge. She then added a generous helping of honey, stirring it in to leave thin golden trails which dribbled off the spoon.

  ‘Is it all right for us to—?’ Maria didn’t know where to begin.

  ‘To eat?’ Mrs Scryven finished off for her. ‘Aye, it is. Servants are always fed here at ’Hall. Always have been anyway, and I don’t see that it’ll change. Course by rights tha should live in, but seeing as special arrangements have been made! Anyway these are my vittals. Milk from my own coo.’ She indicated the bubbling pan. ‘Ham from my own pig and wheat from my own land.’

  ‘Tha’s a farmer then?’ Maria, replete from the porridge, broke off a corner of crusty bread.

  ‘Me fayther was, owned his own parcel of land at Tillington where he was born, and a cottage here at Monkston. He l
eft them to my brother Josh when he died, and as Josh never wed and had no other family but me, he signed it over to me when he took sick, so it’s all mine now.’

  She sighed. ‘I won’t say it’s easy, for it’s not, but I won’t give it up if I can help it. It’s my only bit of security. I let ’piece out at Tillington and Dick Reed-barrow helps me at harvest time, or if I have a pig for ’market, but otherwise I manage.’

  She sat down facing Maria and Lizzie and lifted Alice comfortingly on her knee. ‘Now then, I don’t know what tha’s been told, but this is how I see it. M’lady back in Hull doesn’t care for me!’ She nodded her head at Maria’s look of surprise. ‘She hasn’t said owt, but I can tell! That lady doesn’t look below ’surface of folks. She doesn’t like what she considers ugly.’

  She put up her hand to silence Maria as she started to protest. ‘I know I’m considered plain, always have been.’ Her wrinkled face creased into a gappy smile, ‘but I don’t mind about that. Anyroad, Mrs Masterson won’t want me hanging around ’house where her fancy friends might see me, she’ll want me out of ’way. What she doesn’t know is that I’m ’best cook in Holderness. Ask anybody round here. And once she’s tasted my bakin’, then she’ll nivver want me to go – or her husband won’t! I’ve worked in this house and ’other one that stood afore it for as long as I can remember, and I don’t intend leaving, not till I’m carried out in ’wooden box!’

  Lizzie got up from the table and walked round to where Mrs Scryven was sitting, put her arms around her and gave her a squeeze. ‘I don’t think tha’s ugly at all, Mrs Scryven. I think tha’s lovely, and after my ma and Maria, I think tha’s ’kindest person I know.’

  Mrs Scryven was so taken aback at this show of admiration that she sat open-mouthed.

  ‘Well, out of ’mouths of babes—’ said Maria, blinking a little, ‘and Lizzie’s right, tha’s kindest woman I’ve ever met.’

  Mrs Scryven overcame her confusion and continued with her plan. ‘If tha will take charge of ’house – I’ll show thee what to do,’ she added as she saw the look of dismay on Maria’s face. ‘And we’ll get Martin Reed-barrow’s daughter Janey to help thee, she’ll live in, and there’s a young lass in ’village who’ll help me in ’kitchen to do ’vegetables and scrub ’pans. And then when ’fine servants arrive there’ll be nowt for them to do, and they’ll be off back to Hull as fast as they can!’

  ‘They’re not coming,’ said Lizzie, jumping up and down in glee. ‘I heard them talking in ’kitchen that day we went to see Mrs Masterson. They said they wouldn’t come – except for Mrs Harris, and she’s an old woman in ’kitchen, and she hadn’t anywhere else to go.’

  With this report they gathered together an array of brooms and buckets, for although the Hall looked spanking clean to Maria, Mrs Scryven decreed that it wasn’t good enough.

  ‘We must be sure that there’s no cause for complaint. So what has been done once must be done again. Lizzie, go to ’stable and fetch clean straw for ’kitchen and back doorway. They’ll be fetching ’new furniture in soon and I’ll not have men tramping mud all over my clean floor.’

  Lizzie went out in the direction of the stable, but returned a few minutes later. ‘There’s a man – ‘she began, ‘Dick Reedbarrow – he’s at ’back door, asking for thee, Mrs Scryven.’

  ‘So what’s pleasing thee, Dick Reedbarrow?’ Mrs Scryven scrutinized him as he stood shuffling at the door.

  Maria could see no sign of pleasure on his craggy features, but Mrs Scryven was obviously a better judge than she was, for he took off his battered felt hat and turned it round and round in his hands, no smile on his lips but a crinkle forming around his eyes.

  ‘I’ve got ’job here at Garston! Agent’s just been round to see me. Says Mr Masterson’s left it to him to find somebody to be in charge like, and I’m ’best man for ’job.’

  He looked towards Maria. ‘I’ll need somebody reliable to help me. Our Martin will manage our bit of land, with help of his lads, but most of ’other young fellas have gone off to Hull to seek work. I can always find some old hands to help with ’ploughing and ’harvest but if thy man is willing—?’

  ‘Tha’ll have to ask him thyself, but as far as I know he’ll do what’s needed. That’s the arrangement with Mr Masterson.’

  She looked keenly into his lined face. Like Mrs Scryven’s it was brown and wrinkled, but the furrows ran so deep that his eyes could hardly be seen. ‘We’ve a son ready to work. Can tha take him on? He’s a good lad and willing.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll do that, missus. He can start at Martinmas, and if he listens well I’ll larn him all I know, and mek him into a farmer!’

  9

  ‘Don’t pull so hard, Ellie. I have a bad headache.’ Isobel watched her reflection in the mirror as Ellie stood behind her brushing out each ringlet and curling it around her fingers.

  ‘Why not have it cut, ma-am, and wear false curls? Seemingly it’s becoming very fashionable now.’

  ‘Really, Ellie, where do you get your ideas from?’ Isobel read all the modish journals, but she didn’t expect her servants to keep up with high fashion.

  ‘I’ve been talking to Miss Brown the milliner, ma-am. She told me.’

  Isobel looked at the smooth young face and slim figure standing behind her, and sighed for her own lost youth. She too had been as lovely as Ellie when she was sixteen. How fast the years went by. She leant forward in order to see herself better in the gilt-framed mirror. She could already see fine lines appearing around her mouth and neck, and her eyes had lost their brightness.

  Perhaps when this birth business is over I shall get my looks back, and my figure, she thought. She drew the muslin fichu across her chemise gown and sat back with a delicate yawn.

  ‘Leave it, Ellie, I really can’t be bothered now. Bring me my lace cap to wear.’

  ‘Miss Brown has some beautiful caps and bonnets.’ Ellie placed the small lace cap on Isobel’s curls. ‘As good as you’d see anywhere in ’country.’

  A small frown appeared on Isobel’s face. ‘What is this, Ellie? I hope you haven’t been wasting time down in the Market Place!’

  ‘Oh – no, ma-am. It’s just that when you leave here for ’country, I’ve decided to come out of service, and Miss Rebecca Brown has offered me a position.’ Her face flushed with pleasure. ‘I’m going to help in ’shop to start with, keeping it tidy and such like, and then after a bit I can help with ’customers – I mean – the clients.’ She emphasized her words carefully.

  ‘Does Miss Brown not require a reference from me?’ Isobel’s voice was tart.

  ‘She said she would prefer one, if you were willing; just to say I’m honest and that. But I explained how really you wanted me to go with you as it’s so difficult to get good servants out in ’country.’ She looked slyly from beneath her lashes at her employer. ‘And she said she would understand if you couldn’t see your way to giving one.’

  Isobel couldn’t help but give a wry smile. The little minx would do well in a shop. She wasn’t very good at household chores, and Isobel had noticed how she always managed to arrange it that the other girl did the really dirty jobs; but she was undoubtedly very good at arranging her hair and kept her wardrobe of gowns and dresses in perfect condition, sewing on lace edging and trimmings, and replacing the feathers and ribbons on her bonnets when she saw them looking at all worn.

  ‘Very well, Ellie, I will give you a recommendation. There’s no doubt that I shall miss you for attending to my hair. Perhaps I will have it cut.’ She shook her curls and adjusted the cap. ‘It will be less bother, I suppose. Unless, of course, Mrs Foster is any good at that sort of thing.’

  ‘’Shouldn’t think she’s had much practice, ma-am. She got married to Will Foster when she was a bit older than what I am now, and she’s been busy having bairns. No time for dressing hair.’ She gave a worldly laugh. ‘You won’t catch me getting tied down like that.’

  She moved around the room, picking up clothes, foldi
ng them neatly and placing them in the lavender-scented chests of drawers. ‘Although my mother says that Will Foster was ’best looking man in town and a good catch for any girl.’

  Isobel’s eyebrows rose in amusement at the thought of an ordinary whaling man being a good catch, but she let Ellie prattle on. She had nothing better to do so she might just as well listen to servants’ gossip. She had chosen the furniture and curtains for the new house and though that had kept her busy, she was now bored with inactivity.

  ‘Yes, it’s a shame, for he’s still quite handsome, but with a disability like that!’ Ellie shook her head and wrinkled her nose.

  Isobel’s attention had been elsewhere, contemplating vaguely the handsome men she had once known before she had decided to marry the older but eligible Isaac Masterson, but now she sat forward.

  ‘What do you mean – a disability? I understood he had been injured, but no-one said anything about a disability!’

  Ellie flushed. She realized she should not have said so much. She hung her head. ‘I suppose some folk wouldn’t mind,’ she said. ‘It’s just that it makes me feel queasy.’

  ‘What makes you feel queasy?’ Isobel’s voice became shrill.

  ‘Seeing his leg – or I mean – seeing him without it!’

  She watched in concern as her mistress turned pale and clutched the side of the chair.

  ‘You mean, he’s lost a leg?’

  The look of horror on her mistress’s face startled her. ‘It’s not as bad as all that, ma-am. Men are always losing arms or legs, or getting injured somehow or other, it’s what happens!’

  ‘Be quiet, you silly girl, and get me my smelling salts quickly. I feel quite ill.’

  She rose trembling from the chair and crossed to the bed where she lay down, her hand clutched to her forehead.

  ‘Should I get ’doctor, ma-am?’