Miss Martha Mary Crawford

by Catherine Cookson (Catherine Marchant)

  Call me Harry, he had said. Oh Harry, Harry, don’t die. Please, please, don’t die.

  ‘Is he alive?’

  She watched Roland’s head drop sideways onto Harry’s chest and when he looked up at her his eyes told her that he could hear nothing.

  She swallowed deeply. ‘We must get him home,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to carry him to the trap. You…you and Dan take his upper part, I’ll take his legs.’

  ‘Do you think you can?’

  Some loud voice inside her cried, ‘Of course I can! I…I would carry him myself if necessary,’ but her reply came as a whisper, saying. ‘Yes, yes, I can.’ And she did.

  While Roland and Dan supported his trunk she, her arms under both his legs and walking sideways, slipping and sliding on the sodden sloping grass bank, she helped carry him to the trap, and the term dead weight struck her as they laid him partly on the floor of the trap with his shoulders supported by the back of the seat.

  As Roland quickly mounted the trap to drive away she called to him, ‘Stop a moment!’ Then looking at Dan, who was still in the roadway, she said, ‘Fetch the dog.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Roland screwed round in the seat, wiping the rain from his face as he did so, and, his voice holding anger now, he cried at her, ‘I thought the main concern was to get the doctor back home, the dog’s done for.’

  ‘I know that but he was fond of the animal, more than fond. If we leave it there it will be worried by foxes in the night. Dan, fetch the animal.’

  ‘Aye, miss. Yes, miss.’ But Dan hesitated.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to carry him in, miss…Oh…oh, I know, the oilcloth.’ He now darted from her and ran down the road for a few yards, and as she saw him jump the ditch with a piece of yellow material in his hands Roland growled down at her, ‘I’ll never understand you, never!’ and again she knew that he wasn’t altogether referring to the present situation.

  She made no reply but she bent down and supported Harry’s head against her knees; there was not enough room for her to get down onto the floor. The bleeding had stopped; the wound, she surmised, must be on his scalp and covered by his hair. She could only guess as to what his other injuries were for both his outer and underclothes were torn and covered with mud.

  And where was his horse and trap?

  She raised her head as she heard Dan say, ‘I’ll have to put him to the side here, miss, at your feet.’

  To this she merely nodded and watched him gently lay the yellow misshapen bundle near her feet and alongside Harry’s thigh.

  The journey back to the house seemed interminable; and then once again they were carrying him, from the trap now, up the steps, across the hall and into the study.

  It struck her as they entered that death gravitated towards this room. Her mother had died giving birth here; Dilly had died here…But then Peg had got better. Oh, pray God he would too. She hadn’t known, not really known, until this last hour just how she considered him, but now she knew, and dead or alive the awareness would stay with her for life.

  Tearing off her soaking wet outer things, she said to Peg who was standing to the side of her wringing her hands, ‘Get blankets and a hot shelf quickly. Quickly now.’ Then turning to Roland, she added, ‘And you must ride in for Doctor Pippin.’

  When he half glanced towards Dan she put in harshly, ‘You must go yourself,’ and she watched his teeth champ together before he replied, ‘All right. All right, I’ll go. Give me a chance. But first let’s see if the journey needs all that haste, let’s see if he’s alive.’

  Yes. Yes, she was forced to concede he was right, and she quelled a wave of sickness that was about to envelop her and said, ‘Help me off with his coat.’

  Between the three of them they raised him up and took off his coat and waistcoat and when they laid him back, it was she who pressed her ear to his chest. Her head still on the side she looked slantwise up at her brother, and she almost laughed her relief as she whispered, ‘He’s alive. I…I can hear his heart beating. It’s very feeble and fast, but it’s beating.’ Now she was kneeling looking up at Ronald, saying beseechingly, ‘Hurry, Roland, please.’

  He looked down into her face, staring at her hard for a moment; then he looked at Harry and back to her before swinging round and leaving the room.

  A moment later Peg rushed in laden down with blankets and dropped them and set off for the door again whispering hoarsely, I’ll get the oven shelf now, miss,’ and Martha called to her, ‘No; stay. Dan will get it.’ She looked at Dan. ‘Dan, take one of those blankets and wrap it round the oven shelf. I…I want Peg to assist me.’

  ‘Right, miss.’

  Immediately Dan left the room, she said, ‘We must get him undressed, Peg; you must help me.’

  ‘Aye, miss. He’s sodden, sodden to the skin, he looks like death.’

  ‘We…we must take his trousers off, Peg.’

  Peg looked at Martha with a knowing glance before she replied, ‘Aye, miss, we must.’

  Together they unbuttoned the side flaps of his trousers, then pulled them down over his legs. His small clothes, Martha noted, were not long as her father’s had been, they only reached to his knees, but before divesting him of them she placed a blanket over him.

  It took much longer to get his shirt and vest over his head, even with the help of Dan, who had returned with the oven shelf. But when it was done and he was wrapped in the blankets she looked at Dan and said, ‘Dan, we’ll need a fire; it will get cold in the night. Would you be kind enough to bring us some wood and coal in before you leave?’

  ‘Aye, miss, I’ll do that an’ willin’. An’ if you like I’ll dash off home and come back to give you a hand ’cos by the look of him you’re going to need all the help you can get.’

  Martha smiled gently as she looked down on the young lad and said, ‘It’s very kind of you, Dan, but you’ll have a full day tomorrow and I’ll likely need you more then. Just get me a fire going and then Peg will give you something to eat. Won’t you, Peg?’

  ‘Aye, miss, aye, I’ll do that.’ She now looked at Dan, saying, ‘I’ll give you some broth; it’ll warm you up ’cos you’re sodden an’ all.’ She put out her hand and felt Dan’s coat, and he smiled down on her and grinned. ‘Oh, that’s nowt; I’ve been wringin’ since I could first remember. Wet to the skin I’ve been day after day an’ I never catch cold.’

  As Martha turned from the couch and glanced at them, she thought for the moment that they had forgotten where they were and she knew a certain envy of them. She said briskly, ‘Soup…you said soup, Peg? That’s a good idea; keep the broth pan going. The doctor will have to have some nutriment as soon as he recovers.’

  ‘Aye, miss, I’ll do that.’

  ‘And bring me another oven shelf, Peg, and the two hearth bricks. Clean them well before you wrap them up.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Miss Martha Mary. Aye, I’ll do it right away.’

  Left alone with Harry, she now knelt by the couch and gently put her hand down under the blanket and laid it on the bare flesh of his chest, but when her fingers felt no heart beat now she almost tore the blankets down from him and again laid her ear against his ribs. After a moment the sigh she gave obliterated the faint beating.

  She did not immediately put the blankets into place but looked at his right shoulder. There was a great bruise forming on it, and she saw the edge of a dark patch where his arm lay, and when she lifted it gently aside she saw another spreading bruise.

  Covering him again, she stared down into his face, the face that at one time she had thought ugly, coarse, common; now she knew it could be all three, and she would ask for nothing more but that she could look on it every day of her life.

  She had gone mad; she knew she had gone mad; the madness had exploded in her heart and burst open the sealed room when he had said, ‘My name is Harry.’ She had the strongest desire now to lay her cheek against his.

  She thought for a moment it was the de
sire that had startled her, but no, it was the slightest movement he had made. It was so small that it was almost imperceptible, but she could have sworn his hand had moved beneath the blankets.

  Yes, there it was again; and now it was accompanied by the faintest of groans.

  ‘Doctor! Doctor! Can you hear me?’

  There was no response to her plea, and she continued to call his name for some little while but he lay as he had done before, utterly immobile as if he were already dead. But he wasn’t dead, he had moved, and he had made a sound. She put her hand under the blankets again and caught at his hand and pressed it as she murmured, ‘Oh, get well. Get well. Please, please, Harry, get well.’

  It was nearly eleven o’clock when Doctor Pippin limped into the study. He looked wet, weary, and anxious. Martha took his caped coat from him, then she peered into his face in the dim lamplight as she said, ‘You’re very tired, doctor. I’m so sorry to bring you out at this time of night but I didn’t know what to do, and…and I thought he wouldn’t recover.’

  John Pippin was bending over the couch now, and he said to her, ‘You did quite right, what else could you do? Has he spoken?’

  ‘No, just made one small sound.’

  ‘Not moved?’

  ‘A slight movement of his hand.’

  ‘Bring the lamp nearer.’

  He now pulled down the blankets, and he made a sucking sound through his lips; and Martha made a sound too, but it was an inward groan. When she had last looked at his body there had been dark patches here and there but now the colour had deepened, and the patches seemed to have spread until there seemed very little ordinary flesh to be seen.

  ‘Damned scoundrels whoever did this. Why? Why?’ He flashed a look at her. ‘Who would want to beat him up like this? Who?’

  She made no answer but watched him as he examined Harry’s head.

  After a while he straightened his back and, looking at her, said, ‘He’s lucky he’s got a thick skull; a less tough individual wouldn’t have survived that blow.’

  ‘Will he…will he be all right, doctor?’

  ‘I hope so, I sincerely hope so. He’s concussed, and badly…By the way’—he coughed now—‘I could do with a hot drink, soup, anything.’

  ‘Oh yes, yes, doctor.’

  She actually ran out of the room. He’d be all right. He’d be all right. And yes, the poor old doctor would need something hot. But he was used to something more than soup, and there were no spirits in the house. But Harry would be all right. He would be all right.

  When she burst into the kitchen Peg jumped round from the table where she had been cutting cold meat and setting a tray to meet Roland’s demands, and she said, ‘Aw, Miss Martha Mary, he’s not?’

  ‘No, no.’ Martha shook her head. ‘He’s…he’s going to be all right. I’m…I’m sure he is. Doctor Pippin would like a hot drink, broth.’

  ‘This minute, miss, this minute.’ As Peg hurried to the stove she turned her chin onto her shoulder, saying, ‘Eeh! You gave me a gliff when I saw you runnin’.’

  Yes, she had run. Like Nancy, she had run…Nancy! She had forgotten all about Nancy. Hours had passed since she had given her a thought. She looked at the clock. It was turned eleven…Nancy would now be in bed. She bowed her head for a moment, then lifted it on the thought that it was strange that neither Nancy nor Mildred were here with her and yet she felt no miss of them. Likely because tomorrow she’d be gone too and she had already severed herself from them…But would she be gone tomorrow? Would he be able to travel? Would they send a conveyance for him? Because if they didn’t then she couldn’t leave him, for who would there be to look after him? Mildred? Mildred had planned in her own mind to marry him. She had even gone as far as to make herself believe it was as good as settled. She would be sorry she wasn’t here tonight to minister to him.

  Since it had been arranged with the Armstrongs that if the weather was very inclement, she would lodge with them, Mildred had said this morning that she would not be returning home tonight; and she had added that she thought it scandalous for them to charge sixpence a night, and another sixpence if she had a meal, for they were doing him a favour, at his age, to employ him and they should, therefore, at such times treat her as a guest.

  Of course under ordinary circumstances the cost would have been nothing. But if Mildred had to stay two nights it would amount to two shillings. The week before last she had stayed two nights and the weather hadn’t been all that inclement, just showery. But what did it matter? It wasn’t her worry any more. What was her worry was now lying in the study.

  ‘There, miss; look, I’ve made a tray.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Peg. By! You were quick.’

  ‘It was already half set for Master Roland.’

  She looked down at Peg. It was odd but of all those in the house, apart from Aunt Sophie, she was going to miss Peg most of all.

  Even more than Nancy?

  When the question came at her she nodded to herself, Yes, if the truth were to be told, even more than Nancy. She couldn’t understand why this should be, but she knew it to be the truth.

  Since she had nursed Peg back to health there had grown between them a close affinity; perhaps because she was so small, so childlike, she had in an odd way clutched at her and put her in the place of a daughter, a waif daughter, because she needed a daughter…She needed a child…and a husband. Oh yes, she needed a …

  What was the matter with her? Her mind was wandering again as it had done a lot of late. She was tired; in all ways she was tired. There had been for a long time now a weariness growing on her. Nancy had forced her to fight it off for a time; then it seemed to be overwhelming her again; until today when, first, Roland dropped his bombshell and caused an explosion of anger in her that brought her back into the stream of life again; and then, the anxiety and concern of the last few hours had upheld her. But now with relief flooding her she had the desire to drop where she stood, and she felt sure that if she were to lie down on the mat on the stone floor in front of the fire she would fall asleep immediately and sleep for days and days…for ever, and never wake up…Oh no, that desire had gone; she wanted to wake up now, she wanted to live.

  It was as the hour clock chimed three on the mantelpiece that she awoke startled from a deep doze to see Doctor Pippin bending over the couch. When she had last looked at him he was asleep in the big leather chair by the side of the fire; now he was holding Harry’s arms, saying, ‘It’s all right, man, it’s all right. Lie still, don’t struggle. Go to sleep. It’s me, you’re all right. It’s me, Doctor Pippin. You know me, don’t you? You should.’

  She was standing by John Pippin’s side now and staring down at Harry. His eyes were open but he still seemed too dazed to recognise them. She listened to the old man’s voice saying soothingly, ‘There now, there now. Quiet. Go to sleep. Do as you’re told for once.’

  As she watched Harry’s lids slowly droop she said softly, ‘He…he wasn’t really conscious?’

  ‘No, he’s still in shock. But that’ll pass. He’ll sleep naturally now, and so can we.’ He turned her about and left her towards the chair opposite his own, saying, ‘Get what rest you can for you’re going to have a few busy days ahead of you. Listen to that.’ He cocked his head on one side. ‘It’s still coming down whole water. Never ceased for the past twenty-four hours. The roads will be like quagmires. He’ll have to stay put I’m afraid. Will it be too much for you?’

  ‘Oh no, no, not at all.’

  When he was seated and had pulled the rug over his knees she rose from the chair, stirred the fire into a blaze and put more logs on it, and as she did so he said softly, ‘I heard a strange tale in the town today. It concerned Miss Nancy. Is there any truth in it?’

  ‘Yes, there is truth in it.’

  ‘So she’s married young Robbie Robson?’

  ‘Yes, so I understand. The doctor brought me the news just before he was attacked.’

  ‘Well, well. I knew it was in th
e air, but I didn’t think either of them could go through with it…Are you very distressed?’

  ‘No, doctor, not any more. A thing like that happens and you think it’s the end of the world until something of more import hits you.’ She turned from the fire now as she said, ‘My brother came home today, or’—she gave a jerk of the head—‘yesterday, and informed me that he also is going to be married. His future wife should be arriving…tomorrow…no, today.’

  He bent so far forward that the rug slipped from his knees. ‘But he was going to the university. I was under the impression that…well, you were seeing to it.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I was, doctor, but now he has decided to marry and’—her voice dropped to a mere whisper—‘his future wife is already planning to run this house as a school.’

  He said nothing, he just peered at her through the flickering firelight, then grabbing the rug up around his knees and leaning back in the chair again, he sat for a moment longer in silence before asking, ‘And what about you?’

  ‘I’m leaving. I should have been gone later this morning had it not been’—she turned her head now towards the couch—‘for the doctor’s accident. But…but I am more than willing to stay and look after him until he can be conveyed back to his home.’

  ‘And what then? What do you intend doing once you leave here?’

  ‘I’m going to look for a situation.’

  ‘As what? Governess?’

  ‘Oh no, I…I am not qualified enough to be a governess. A nursery maid yes, but that doesn’t attract me. But I hope the experience I have had in running this house for the past six years will enable me to take up the post of housekeeper.’

  He mumbled something that sounded like, ‘God Almighty!’ then he said aloud, ‘Does he know about this?’ The jerk of his head indicated the sleeping form, and she answered after a moment, ‘Yes. When he called to give me the news about Nancy I…I was greatly distressed and I told him the reason for my going.’