by Valerie Wood
‘My cottage won’t go yet, not for some time.’ She smiled as she made the decision. ‘I shall be safe enough.’ She stepped outside and the wind caught her cloak, billowing it out behind her like a black sail.
‘You’ll be lonely, there’ll be no-one to talk to.’ Harshly he spoke to her though he sensed that her mind was made up.
She stretched out her arms to encompass the waters lashing below. ‘How can I possibly be lonely? Not here. Not when the sea is my friend, my companion.’
Will was set firmly against it. He said it was wrong that a young woman should live alone. ‘If tha so much as allows a man over ’doorstep, then tha reputation is in shreds.’
‘But you said that no man would marry me, Fayther, so what does it matter about my reputation?’ she replied sharply.
Her mother worried about her being alone but had not decried her plan. ‘There is a need, Will.’ She tried to pacify him. ‘Folks around here are lost without Ma Scryven. Oh, they’ve got their own remedies but sometimes they need something more.’
‘And somebody to blame if owt goes wrong,’ he grumbled.
‘Make her a good stout door and shutters and she’ll be all right,’ Maria continued practically, ignoring his remark. ‘I’ve some linen and fustian blankets tha can have, Sarah, and thy fayther will bring thee rabbits and game, and when Tom gets going he can supply thee with flour.’ Swiftly she dispensed with minor difficulties. ‘’Only problem that I can see,’ a small frown creased her forehead, ‘will be with ’Mastersons. They’re not going to like it at all.’
Sarah gave notice to Mr Masterson first. She guessed, rightly, that he would be easier to talk to.
‘We shall miss you, Sarah.’ He sat hunched over the fire, a blanket around his knees. He felt the cold in his bones and had decided to stay at home until the worst of the winter was over. ‘But I’m glad that you are going to do something useful, and I dare say we shall call on you when we need something.’ His rheumy eyes looked at her kindly and he blew his nose on a soft white handkerchief. ‘I wouldn’t like to think that we were not going to see you again.’
She smiled at him and curtsied. He was a good man and she was fond of him. ‘I shan’t be far away, sir, and if ever you need me you only have to ask.’
‘Have you any money, Sarah?’
‘Just my wages, sir, when they are due. But it is enough,’ she added quickly as he reached for his pocket. ‘I’ll grow what I need and my wants are few.’
He nodded understandingly. ‘Yes? Well, you too only have to ask.’
She thanked him for his generosity. She would miss his kindness and she wished that she could kiss his tired old face.
She realized with a sudden pang that she would miss this house which had always been home, more so even than Field House, her parents’ home, where she felt cramped and confined under the low smoky beams after the elegance and charm of Garston Hall. She would no longer enjoy the warmth and comfort of the huge kitchen or a walk in the rose garden, and she felt saddened at the impending loss.
Mrs Masterson and Lucy were appalled. ‘How can you even think of it, Sarah?’ Lucy said in a shocked tone. ‘Whatever will people think? And you realize of course that I can never visit you. It wouldn’t be proper.’
‘I don’t see why not, Miss Lucy, if you wish to. I shall still be the same person as I am now. I’m not going to change, except that I shall be independent.’
‘It will be quite unthinkable for you to call on her, Lucy,’ said Mrs Masterson after Sarah had left. Her voice was cold, but her eyes glittered. At last she was rid of her, this servant girl with her gentle manner who had come to pose a threat. ‘You have your future to think of. It will not do for you to mix with such a person.’
23
She couldn’t do anything in the garden until the spring, when the gales would die away and the wet earth started to sprout fresh green growth, so she spent her time clearing out the cottage, sweeping out years of cobwebs and birds’ nests and bringing in wood for the fire which she lit and then had to retreat, coughing and choking as the blocked chimney cast down thick black smoke.
Purposefully she kept John out of her thoughts during the day, pushing any yearning for him to the recesses of her mind, though she felt sometimes the anguish of knowing that he was thinking of her. But at night, as she lay sleepless in her bed listening to the sea, which was so much louder and more persistent in its cry below her cottage than it had been either at Field House or Garston Hall, she let her mind wander and thought only of him and imagined him in her arms, loving him, caressing him, being loved and possessed by him.
Lizzie was her first visitor. She appeared smiling on her doorstep one afternoon, her eyes bright and her manner lively.
‘You look well, Lizzie, and happy. Come in and tell me all the news. Is the mill nearly ready, and how is Tom?’
Lizzie sat down and looked around the room. ‘It looks grand, Sarah. I wouldn’t have believed it could be made so cosy. It smells so nice.’
The cottage, once the fire had warmed it and taken away the damp musty smell, exuded the perfume of the dried flowers and oils which had been left discarded in cupboards and drawers. Sarah had scattered them on the floor with the rushes, and as she trod on them their scent rose to fill the room. To make up for the lack of furniture she had filled jars and pans with dried grasses and poppy heads and gathered the flat white heads of yarrow from the cliffs and placed them on her windowsill.
‘Aye,’ said Lizzie, sitting back and contemplating a sisterly chat. ‘Tom’s well and rarin’ to start. ’Mill’s almost ready, so I don’t see as much of him as I’d like.’
‘Once you’re wed, Lizzie, and living there, you’ll see as much of him as you want.’ Sarah looked fondly at her. ‘Then I shan’t see so much of either of you.’
‘I’ll visit thee, Sarah, don’t worry about that, me and Tom both will, when we’re not too busy at ’mill.’
She frowned a little and her blue eyes looked troubled. ‘I was going to ask thee – well, I’m being sick – though I feel all right in meself. I’m afeard of telling Tom, now when I’m so happy and I’ve got so much to look forward to – being with Tom and all that.’ She blushed and looked away. ‘I never thought that a man could be so kind and loving as my Tom is.’
Sarah smiled. ‘I’m not ready with my herbs yet, but I have got some peppermint leaves.’ She got up, reached into a cupboard and took down a box. ‘Make a drink with these and you’ll find it will ease the sickness.’
She laid her hand affectionately on Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘And I shall have a word with that brother of mine. If the mill is almost ready then I see no reason why you shouldn’t be wed – and as soon as possible. I think we all deserve a celebration.’
Lizzie beamed gratefully. ‘Oh, I wish you would, Sarah. He’ll listen to you. It’s what I want more than owt. To be married to Tom.’
A trickle of villagers called, mostly out of curiosity, to look at Miss Sarah who had lived at the big house and given up a good living to live alone in a run-down old hovel at the edge of the sea. But they knew her and guarded her privacy when pointed questions were asked by people from outside.
She told them they must come in the summer after she had gathered the flowers and fruit, but as the rains came down, making the land a morass of mud, and then the east winds blew unceasingly, battering the existing plants and drying the soil so that she couldn’t put her spade into it, she wondered if anything would ever grow in time for her to harvest and gather before they were knocking on her door again.
It was a cold wet spring morning when Tom and Lizzie set off for the church in Tillington, but they didn’t notice the rain as they rode hand in hand in the back of the waggon, with Will in Harris’s cocked hat driving the mare, and the rest of the noisy party walking or running beside them to keep up.
Lizzie carried a sweet-smelling posy of blue forget-me-nots and shiny leaves of myrtle to signify true love, and the delicate bell-shaped lily of th
e valley to bring happiness. She wore a circlet of fragrant flowers in her coiled and plaited hair, and a dress which Miss Lucy had given to her. It was a pretty blue, and though Lizzie knew she would never have occasion to wear such a dress again she was grateful and delighted.
‘I feel like a real lady, Maria,’ she had cried as Maria helped her to dress. ‘I wish, I wish that our Jimmy could have been here – and my ma.’
She’d put her head on Maria’s shoulder and shed a few tears. ‘It’s not that I don’t love thee, Maria. I do, but I sometimes wonder if ever she thinks of us.’
‘I know that she’ll think of thee often, Lizzie, if she’s still on God’s good earth.’ Maria had a lump in her throat as she thought of her old friend. ‘And if she isn’t then she’ll be watching over thee.’
‘Here’s our Alice, Ma. Come specially from Scarbro’.’ Tom with a big grin on his face had opened the door wide to bring in Alice escorted by a husband and an infant in her arms.
‘Why didn’t tha tell me, lass?’ Maria gathered them all up in an embrace.
‘We can hardly ever afford ’fare, Ma, and I can’t come on my own now that I’m carrying again. Sam won’t hear of it, wilt tha, love?’
Sam, a thick-set, red-faced fisherman of few words, had shaken his head and then nodded, ‘Aye, that’s right, I won’t.’
Sarah walked at the side of Joe Reedbarrow, for they were both to be witnesses. He kept glancing her way as if he wanted to speak, but each time she tried to make conversation he blushed or had a fit of coughing so that he could hardly answer her, so she gave up trying and huddled further into her cloak to escape the driving rain.
Mr Masterson had supplied them with a barrel of ale, and Maria, Janey and Lizzie had been preparing a feast for weeks, baking pies and cakes, potting hare and braising well hung game. Everything had been transported to the low, red brick loading shed at the side of the new mill, which was almost complete, save for the millstones and sails, and after the ceremony they gathered together, family and friends, to toast the young couple’s health and future prosperity.
A trestle table had been laid with a starched white cloth and decorated with a garland of ivy. Roast goose took place of honour, its cavities stuffed with tender knobs of pork, dried mushrooms and bittersweet juniper berries. Golden ham, its crisp, shiny surface patterned with cloves, lay waiting for destruction in the company of sweet parsnips and tender green sorrel. Trembling jellies, their vibrant colours quivering as spoons were dipped into their dimpled surfaces, vied for sweetness with honeyed mulled pears coated with cream.
They called for a speech from the groom, but Tom was already feeling the effects of the ale and elderberry wine and the events of the day, and was unable to string a dozen words together. He sat down to loud cheers, an amiable smile on his handsome face, and planted a kiss on Lizzie’s cheek, put his head down on the table and promptly fell asleep.
* * *
‘I’ll walk thee home, Miss Sarah.’ Joe fell into step with her as the wedding guests straggled their way home, shouting their goodbyes and words of encouragement to the newly-weds. ‘It’s dark down by ’cliffs, we don’t want thee tummelling ower.’
‘It’s all right, Joe. There’s no need to trouble yourself. I know my way well enough.’
‘Tha doesn’t have to worry, Miss Sarah, it’s no trouble to me, none at all.’
‘Joe, you don’t have to keep calling me Miss Sarah,’ she said a trifle sharply. ‘My name is Sarah and that’s quite good enough.’
‘Oh, aye, but tha’s not quite ’same as rest of us, is tha? But I’ll try to remember. I thank thee.’
She could have cried with vexation at his humility and submissiveness, which were at odds with his tallness, his wide shoulders and massive hands.
‘It was a good wedding. Miss Sarah – Sarah.’ He slowed his long strides to match hers. ‘They made a grand couple, they’ll do well together will Tom and Lizzie.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘They will.’ She didn’t want to rebuff him, for he was a mild, artless man, but she wanted him to leave her so that she could continue the walk home alone and analyse her feelings. She hadn’t realized that the effect of hearing the simple vows which Tom and Lizzie had made, or seeing Alice, complacent with her docile husband and child, would cause a hopelessness to wash over her, knowing that she would spend the rest of her days alone without the love of the companion she would have chosen.
‘I can manage from here, Joe. Thank you very much.’ They were at the end of the lane, in sight of the cottage.
‘If tha’s sure then.’ He nodded his big head and touched his cap. ‘Good night, Miss Sarah. Be sure to lock up.’ He turned away and walked back a few yards, then standing in the shadows he waited patiently until she reached her gate safely.
‘Sarah!’
She jumped back as a figure came out from beside her door. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ John spoke softly.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she whispered back and fumbled in the darkness to put the iron key in the lock.
‘May I come in for a moment? I’m cold and wet through, I’ve been waiting for hours.’
‘Well, all right, but not for long.’ She didn’t trust herself to let him stay for more than a few minutes for she felt a rush of happiness mingled with despair as she saw him again.
She lit the lamp and he gently kissed her wet cheek and untangled a damp tendril of hair. ‘I’ve missed you, Sarah. More than I can say.’
She returned his kiss and they clung together in silence. Presently she turned away. ‘I can’t see you any more, John. I just can’t endure this situation any longer. We must part. It’s the only way. We shall never have any peace of mind otherwise.’
He gazed at her unbelievingly. ‘How can you possibly say that, I thought you loved me?’
‘It’s because I love you that I’m saying it. You must get on with your life and I with mine. We can’t be together, we both know that.’ She took hold of his hand with both of hers. ‘I will make a vow that I shan’t ever stop loving you, you will be in my thoughts until the day I die.’
He shook her away. ‘All words. You don’t mean what you say.’ His voice was bitter with helpless frustration. ‘You’ll be off with some brawny farmhand as soon as my back is turned.’
She caught her breath and flushed with pain.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it!’ he said resentfully. ‘It’s just that I saw you with that hulking young fellow back there in the lane, and I was so envious that he could be seen with you, and I can’t.’
She smiled wistfully. ‘Strange that you who have so much should be envious of someone who has so little. Please go now, John. We have nothing more to say to each other.’ She walked to the door and opened it, and the draught caused the yellow lamplight to flicker and almost die, then kindle again. She reached up to him and he caught her face between his hands and briefly brushed her lips with his, before departing into the night without even a backward glance.
She bolted the door and lay down on her bed consumed with despair. What a fool she was. Why hadn’t she made him stay, just this once, to show how she loved him? She stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.
She sat up suddenly as she heard a sound outside the door and watched as she saw the sneck handle being tried. She jumped off the bed. He had come back! She wrenched at the iron bolt and in her hurry tore a small piece of skin from her finger. She opened the door and her welcoming smile died as she saw the lopsided grin on Paul Reedbarrow’s face as he stood in front of her.
‘I see’d thee. Aha, I see’d thee! With our Joe and t’other fine fellow. I see’d thee all right. See’d thee afore, up at ’old church.’ He laughed, his tongue curling against his wet lips. ‘Didn’t see me though!’
She slammed the door shut in his leering face and with trembling fingers pushed the bolt home and threw the wooden bar across. She leant against it feeling sick and distressed. So he was still spying on her, just as h
e used to years ago down on the sands. He wouldn’t tell what he had seen, he would be too afraid of his father’s or Joe’s anger, but in spite of that he would whisper veiled insinuations, and though the villagers perhaps would laugh at him, they might also listen and wonder.
She closed the shutters tightly across the window and sat huddled on her bed until her agitated breathing eased and her trembling stopped, but she kept the lamp burning all through the long night, until with tired eyes she saw the pale dawn searching its way through the cracks in the shutters, reminding her that another day was about to begin.
* * *
She became thinner as summer wore on, losing the round plumpness of girlhood and becoming slender and brown and lithe as she worked all hours in her garden, digging and planting, taking comfort in the feel of the earth beneath her spade and the tender plants and seeds in her hands. And when the day’s work was over she took long, lonely walks along the sands, letting the wind tangle her loosened hair and the waves wash over her sandy feet.
Her mother became concerned and said she wasn’t eating enough, and plied her with pies and puddings, but contrarily she wouldn’t eat those which came from the Garston Hall kitchen, valuing her independence, and gave them away to the poor in the village.
She made up simple potions and medicines, but was careful at first that she gave nothing which would cause discomfort. This was because at the insistence of old Mrs Alsop, who was her first customer and had a persistent cough, she infused a herbal tea which the old woman drank down there and then, only to find after she had left that she had mistakenly given her a purgative. In trepidation Sarah waited for wrath to descend on her, but Mrs Alsop appeared the next day, a look of satisfaction on her aged face, to say she hadn’t felt so good in years and demanding more of the same.
On her first visit to market she rose at dawn and packed her basket with bunches of marjoram, rosemary, mint and sage. She also put in small jars of apple jelly and rose hip syrup and a soothing cough mixture. She gathered her long thick hair into a plait and covered it with a white kerchief, wrapped her woollen shawl around her, for the morning was not yet warm, and set off to walk into Aldbrough to catch the carrier’s early morning cart.
