by Val Wood
She gave a twirl and rolled her hips. ‘I say to Bianca, my man Charles he likes me like this. He don’t like skinny women.’
He squeezed the ample flesh around her waist. ‘I do like skinny women,’ he said. ‘I like most women.’ He ran his hands up her blouse to her breasts. ‘But I like plump ones best.’ He picked up the bag that he’d dropped on the floor. ‘I’ll just take this up. Will dinner be long?’
‘Five minutes only.’ She waved a spoon at him. ‘I know when you come, you see, so that dinner is ready.’
‘How did you know?’ He frowned. ‘I didn’t know myself until this morning.’
‘I go to Euston railway station and ask what time the Scotoland train come and so I cook every night at the same time.’ She patted her stomach. ‘That is why I get fat.’
He was touched that she would go to such lengths, but drew in a breath and said, ‘No point in doing that, Maria; there are so many changes at difference places and on different days.’
‘But I get it right, yes?’
‘Indeed you did, clever girl,’ he agreed, deciding to leave the news that he would be going again for some other time.
He was worried, though, that she might find out about the wedding from someone else, particularly if she should meet such a person as the odious Roger Pearson, who, although he hadn’t been invited to the ceremony, would have heard about it and would relish telling Maria. Pearson would enjoy her humiliation and Charles didn’t want that.
‘I have something to tell you,’ he said on the second evening.
‘Something good?’
‘I don’t think you will like it, but it had to be.’
‘What?’ Her eyes creased and he saw the deepening lines on her cheeks. ‘You going to leave me?’
‘No! Never.’ He put his arms round her. ‘Never ever! But do you remember that I told you that I had to get married to claim my inheritance?’
She nodded and whispered, ‘Si.’
‘Well, before I went to Scotland,’ he lied, ‘I married a young woman and took her to the other house.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘She is young? Younger than me?’
‘Yes. She has to be young to be able to have children.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You sleep with her already?’
‘Of course. How else will she give birth?’ He smiled and shrugged. ‘It means nothing, Maria. You know how it is.’
She nodded. ‘I know. Poor girl,’ she murmured. ‘It is not nice to know she isn’t loved by her ’usband, but only that her body is useful to him. I know this.’
He took in a breath. Put so bluntly by his mistress, who herself had escaped from a brutal husband, it unnerved him. ‘I’m not unkind to her,’ he explained in mitigation. ‘She knows it was arranged. She has a nice house to live in; she will have money to spend.’
‘There are no shops near that ’ouse,’ she frowned. ‘No people. What will she spend money on? Does she ’ave friends there?’
He hadn’t really thought about that. He had only wanted to escape as fast as he could and get back to London. He had behaved impeccably towards Beatrix, he thought. He had treated her well, told her she could arrange the house as she wanted it; how many husbands would do that? All she had to do was produce a son to make them even richer than they were now. Surely, any wife would be happy with that.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The following morning Beatrix heard the heavy rumble of the coal cart and through the kitchen window saw Aaron and the coal man leading the horses to the coal house at the back. She went out and asked the man to set up an account and bring a regular order.
Half an hour later, she heard the crunch of boots on the gravel and saw the postman with a rucksack on his back emptying the contents of it into Aaron’s hands. When he came in with them she saw that as well as letters the post had brought the catalogues that her mother had ordered for her. Oh, goodie, she thought excitedly. I can look at them after breakfast, which it seems that I shall have to cook for myself as Mrs Newby hasn’t yet appeared.
‘Aaron,’ she said, ‘have you had breakfast?’
‘Aye, I have, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I took ’liberty of cooking ’rest of ’sausages and had bubble an’ squeak wi ’taties and ’leftovers.’
‘Sorry? You had what?’
‘Bubble an’ squeak, ma’am. And a couple o’ eggs as well. And bread,’ he added.
Still unsure what he’d eaten, she just nodded and said, ‘Good, that’s all right then. Don’t want you going hungry. Do you have any idea what time your mother will get here?’
‘About eight, I expect. She’ll want to get ’other bairns off to school first,’ he said.
‘Other bairns? Do you mean children? Have you got sisters and brothers?’
‘Onny three now,’ he told her. ‘Five, seven and nine they are. Two lads and Alice, she’s the one who’s five. My da died a year after Alice was born so there won’t be any more now. We had our Albert but he died when he was eight. I expect Ma will be pleased there won’t be any more,’ he said disarmingly. ‘I don’t mean about me da,’ he added quickly. ‘I mean that there are too many mouths to feed already.’
‘I know what you mean, Aaron,’ she said, wondering how on earth his mother had managed to feed and clothe four children without a husband to provide for them.
At that moment the woman herself opened the door and came in huffing and puffing and apologizing for being late. It was ten minutes past eight.
‘I like to be sure ’bairns have a good breakfast afore they leave for school, ma’am. It’s a long day otherwise.’
‘Of course,’ Beatrix said. ‘At the moment it doesn’t matter too much what time you start; we can make a timetable to suit us both once we’re organized.’ She smiled. ‘Aaron has cooked his own breakfast; you’ve brought him up to be useful, Mrs Parkin.’
Mrs Parkin nodded. ‘Oh aye, he’s a good lad.’ She turned to him. ‘But don’t hang about. I expect you’ve plenty to do.’
‘Oh, I have,’ he answered and touched his forehead to Beatrix before putting on his cap. ‘I’m on ’second part of ’plan.’
Beatrix went into the long cool larder and brought out eggs, as she didn’t really know what else to cook for her breakfast. She looked about for a frying pan. Mrs Parkin saw her dilemma and asked whether she would like her to cook an omelette for her.
‘I would, please,’ Beatrix said. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very useful at cooking.’
Mrs Parkin washed and dried her hands and put on an apron that she’d brought with her. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve had much practice, have you, ma’am? If you’d like to set yourself a place, cos I don’t know where anything’s kept in this house, I’ll cook you an omelette if there’s owt to put in it, or scrambled eggs if there isn’t.’
There wasn’t anything to put in it, not even a crumb of cheese, but there was milk, come from Beatrix knew not where, and Mrs Parkin produced the best scrambled eggs that she had ever tasted.
Mags came in as she washed up her own and Aaron’s crockery, and when she had finished she followed the two women upstairs. She found them in one of the topmost bedrooms discussing what to do first.
They both turned when she came into the room. ‘We were just saying, ma’am, that we’ll tek ’curtains down on these windows. They won’t wash; they’re so old that they’ll fall apart if they meet water.’ Beatrix agreed with them, and within minutes a choking dust cloud filled the air.
‘I was allus on at Uncle Nev to fetch them down,’ Mags croaked. ‘But he never would. Allus said somebody else could do it one day.’ She sneezed. ‘I just knew it would be me.’
‘I’m going to get Aaron,’ Beatrix said. ‘He’s young enough to climb up and take the rest down and he can make a bonfire with them.’ She turned to go out of the door. ‘He can take the carpets up too. They’re filthy.’
By mid-afternoon, two of the top floor rooms were emptied, the windows and floors washed and fires burning in both grates. B
eatrix was highly pleased and stood by each door in turn with her arms folded, admiring the effort that had been made.
‘I’ll make some tea,’ she said. ‘You deserve it.’ She could smell the bonfire out at the back. Aaron had got quite a blaze going.
Hilda wiped a hand across her nose, leaving a dusty smear across her face. ‘Just a minute, miss – ma’am.’ She had glanced out of the window. ‘Looks as if you’ve got company.’
Beatrix crossed to the window and looked down to the drive. A carriage had pulled up and as she watched the driver jumped down to open the door. To her amazement her father stepped out and put his hand inside to help her mother down.
‘Papa!’ she shrieked. ‘Mama – oh, how wonderful! And Dora!’ She dashed out of the door and flew down the stairs.
The two women looked at each other. ‘Well, it was a nice thought,’ Mags said, ‘but I reckon we’d better mek our own tea. And for everybody else as well.’ Then they took in each other’s dirty faces and hands and both began to laugh.
Her father caught Beatrix as she ran down the front steps. ‘Steady there,’ he said. ‘Where’s the fire?’
‘Out at the back,’ Beatrix said, misunderstanding his attempt at humour. She gave him a hug that startled him. ‘It’s so good to see you. And Mama,’ she said, kissing her mother on the cheek. ‘How did you know we’d be here?’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but added, ‘And, Dora, I’m so glad to have you back.’
‘We took a chance and came uninvited,’ her mother said. ‘Your father was eager to come and look at the house. But whatever have you been doing? You’ve got a dirty face!’
Beatrix rubbed her cheek with her fingers. ‘We’ve been taking curtains down and lifting carpets up! Well, I haven’t,’ she laughed. ‘But Aaron and his mother and Mags have. I was just going to make them some tea, so come along in, and we’ll all have some. Papa, what do you think?’ She saw her father’s eyes travelling across the house’s façade, and Dora too was staring as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
‘Very nice,’ her father said steadily. ‘It’s much larger than I expected.’
She led them into the house. ‘We’ll have to go into the kitchen,’ she told them. ‘There’s nowhere else ready yet. Mags – that is, Mrs Newby – and Mrs Parkin will be making tea now, I expect.’
‘I remember Mrs Newby from my previous visit,’ Mrs Fawcett told her husband. ‘She made us a pan of delicious soup.’
‘She did,’ Beatrix agreed. ‘Mrs Parkin is her sister, and Aaron is Mrs Parkin’s son. He’s very useful. He’s living in with me whilst Charles is away.’
Her mother’s eyes opened wide and her father exclaimed, ‘What! Why, where is Charles?’
‘In London,’ Beatrix told them awkwardly, not wanting them to be annoyed or find fault with him. ‘He had warned me that he would have to go back from time to time.’
‘But surely not yet!’ her mother murmured. ‘You’ve barely been married a week!’
‘I know,’ Beatrix said, embarrassed. ‘We only had a few days in the Lake District before we came back here, and – and then Charles had to leave almost immediately. I didn’t mind,’ she added hurriedly, opening the door to the kitchen. ‘I have great plans for the house and I’ve been able to think about it and start now that Mrs Parkin and Mags have come, but it was decided that Aaron should stay with me, rather than go home every night. He’s only a boy,’ she added, in case they were imagining a grown man.
She introduced Dora to Mags and Mrs Parkin, who had scrubbed their hands and faces and were presiding over kettle and teapot. ‘Dora is staying on,’ she explained to them, ‘so you’ll be seeing a lot more of her. She’ll be my right hand,’ she said happily. ‘You’ve no idea how pleased I am to see you here, Dora.’
Dora dipped her knee. ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ she said. ‘I’m pleased to be here.’
They drank tea, and Beatrix wondered how she was going to give her parents and Dora a meal when there was no food in the house. She hadn’t expected visitors, least of all her parents; it was so unlike them. She knew that Mags had come in the cart and drew her to one side. ‘Mags,’ she whispered, ‘could I ask you a favour? Could you drive to Hessle and buy some provisions so that I can make my parents something to eat?’
‘You’re going to cook, are you, ma’am?’ Mags gazed at her quizzically.
‘Well, I need to learn sooner or later.’ Beatrix sighed ruefully. ‘I have never felt so useless.’
‘Not your fault, I suppose,’ Mags nodded, ‘but I suggest that now isn’t a good time to begin. I’ll nip down ’hill and see if anybody’s caught owt off ’riverbank; and then I’ll cook it. We can’t go wasting good food.’ She took off her apron. ‘I’ll go and tidy meself up and get off.’
Dora had overheard some of the conversation. ‘Could I come with you, Mrs Newby?’ she whispered. ‘I need to know where the shops are, and I know how to cook a simple meal, ma’am,’ she added to Beatrix.
Beatrix felt the burden lift from her; of course, Dora would have been taught by her mother. Then she gave a silent chuckle. If the girl thought she was going to find a street full of food shops, she was going to be disappointed. She was not in London now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mags and Dora had a useful conversation as they drove down to the riverbank, where Mags found someone she knew who was packing up after a good day’s fishing and bought some of the flounders he had caught.
She showed Dora the village, the small railway station where sometimes the main line trains stopped, and told her that there was another station in Brough not far away where the trains did stop, but that it was a good walk from there to North Ferriby village.
She also told her that Mrs Dawley would need a housekeeper, as Mags herself couldn’t come full-time.
‘I haven’t minded helping out,’ she confided in Dora, ‘and I’ll stop till she finds someone. I couldn’t think of leaving her to manage on her own when she didn’t know anybody or anything about running a house. But I reckon she’ll manage very well once she’s found some domestics. She’s got some grand ideas about renovations, or so my son Edward says.’
She clicked her tongue to urge the pony onwards and dropped her voice, even though they were the only ones on the road. ‘I can’t understand why Master Charles shot off to London so quick, and them onny just married. Not right,’ she said disapprovingly. ‘Not right at all.’
Dora made appropriate muted sounds but didn’t comment; she never would have done, but during her recent training she had learned how quickly just a word or two of inappropriate agreement or disagreement could easily grow into something bigger amongst loose tongues.
In any case, she thought, as they trotted on, she had her own views on Charles Dawley. She hadn’t liked him from the start, finding him arrogant and haughty. He rarely noticed her, and she conjectured that he would never perceive anyone below stairs as being worthy of his consideration.
Mags Newby was still on the same subject. ‘I remember him when he was onny a lad,’ she said. ‘If he’d been my boy he’d have had ’sharp end of my tongue many a time. He thought he knew more about everything than anyone else, but our Edward allus put him right, even though he was younger than Charles.’ She laughed. ‘He never would be put upon, and many was the time he would tell him he was wrong and prove it. He was nivver scared of him.’
‘What does he do?’ Dora asked, changing the subject. ‘Your son Edward?’
‘He’s a farmer. Looks after our home farm. It was part of Uncle Nev’s estate originally – Mr Neville Dawley, I mean to say. Edward has been to farming college; aye, he’s right clever is our Edward,’ she said proudly. ‘Uncle Nev saw that when he was young and encouraged him to get a better education than he might have done.’
‘That was thoughtful of him,’ Dora said. ‘There aren’t many gentlemen who would do that.’
‘Aye, well, he’d known us all a long time. He was good friends with my in-laws, like famil
y they were, and then when my husband Luke had his …’ she paused, as if she were saying too much, then went on, ‘his accident and couldn’t work, Nev couldn’t do enough for us. Some estate owners might have turned us off ’farm but Uncle Nev said that he’d see that ’family were all right. Edward was onny a lad at ’time and wanted to be a farmer, but he was far too young, so Nev brought in a foreman and he stayed on for years! Stopped on even when Edward went to college, until he came back and was able to tek over.’
She took a breath and finished her long story. ‘Luke was trampled on by a herd of cattle, you see. Lost ’use of his legs. He can walk, but not well, and he still helps out on ’farm when he can and looks after account books an’ that. He’s not a shirker, oh dear no.’
They turned on to the long drive leading to the house. The sun was dipping and making long shadows across the track; flocks of birds made patterns in the sky as they headed for their nesting sites. Dora heard the squawks of gulls and thought how they got everywhere; she often saw them by the Thames, but now she also heard the honking cry of geese as a wedge flew over in V formation, heading downriver; clouds of bats were swooping near the house.
Mags pointed above her head. ‘Greylags, look,’ she said. ‘And some mallard.’
‘And bats. I don’t care for them much,’ Dora said. ‘Scary.’
‘Won’t hurt you. They all have a place in ’scheme of things.’ Mags pulled up close to the back door, and as Dora jumped down from the cart she thought that tomorrow she would have a good look round the outside of the house. There was such a lot of it, far more than she had envisaged, and she wondered how Mrs Dawley would manage it all.
She wouldn’t have much help from her husband, that was for sure. Dora couldn’t envisage that he would be a man who would like getting his hands dirty; but then, he didn’t need to. He obviously had plenty of money to pay someone else to do so. Besides which, she speculated, he has other fish to fry. She had seen that for herself. She had known that he wouldn’t be here and was glad of it, coming as she did for the first time with Mrs Dawley’s parents. So why had he married Beatrix Fawcett, one of the sweetest young women she had ever met and deserving of someone far better than him? What had been the advantage?
