The Meadow Girls

by Sheila Newberry

  After all the stifling weather a storm was brewing. The sky was black with threatening thunderclouds, then came the rain in torrents, filling and then overflowing the stream and the pond at the bottom of Ena’s mother’s cottage garden, which was their only source of water. In the heat of summer, when the water dwindled, the dirty linen piled up and they had to forgo their weekly baths, in the old tin tub in the outhouse.

  It was just after nine in the morning. Her mother had left for work two hours before. A watery sun sent down wavering rays. ‘If it clears up,’ her mum had said, ‘it’s high time them sheets came off the bed. Make yourself useful for once. Get the copper lit. You can’t say there’s not much water in the pond after last night’s deluge.’

  Ena wore a grey dress, a grubby apron, old slippers on her feet. She wasn’t worried about her appearance, the cottage was isolated, no one was likely to call.

  She shuffled, clanking bucket in either hand, down the grassy slope. There was a distant rumble of thunder. Startled, she quickened her pace, losing her ill-fitting footwear as she did so. Her bare feet squelched in oozing mud and she dropped the buckets as she skidded inexorably towards the deep water, then tumbled in.

  Ena’s mother did not arrive home for another eight hours. It was some time before she located her daughter. She spotted the slippers, which had lived up to their name, and the pails which had fallen haphazardly to the ground. Then she shrieked, as she glimpsed a pale foot caught in the reeds. Ena had toppled in head first.

  An inquest was held. The verdict was accidental death. The kindly coroner, seeing the distress of her family, said he had come to this conclusion because Ena had stripped the bed as requested, then gone to fetch water to boil the linen in the copper.

  The whole village rallied round poor Ena’s family. A collection was raised to help with funeral costs, including mourning clothes for her mother. There was a tactful mention in the parish magazine, and prayers were said at the school.

  Sophia and William were determined to keep the exact details of Ena’s demise from their younger daughter. They said only that they must all make sure that Robbie was well-loved and cared for, as ‘Ena would have wished, if she had not been ill.’

  Mattie’s visit was postponed for a fortnight after the original date, when they were rallying round. It helped that the lodgers must be catered for, regular meals served.

  The family decided it was just as well Mattie was coming with Griff, for it would not be right to discuss the recent tragedy in his presence.

  EIGHT

  Mattie wore a light-weight wool frock in raspberry red, a gift from Sybil. Mindful of the autumnal nip in the air, she’d added a white angora jacket and slouch beret. She said to herself, I want the family to see how stylish I am nowadays! No more dowdy clothes and hats, or thick tan stockings, but the pleasing crackle of silk as I smooth them carefully over my legs, and ensure the seams are straight . . .

  She resisted tapping her feet, in court shoes with the fashionable Tbar, to the rhythm of the train wheels; squeezing Griff’s hand instead, as they sped through familiar countryside on the last lap home. He lightly touched her inexpensive engagement ring, a twinkling star of tiny diamonds. Griff had spent his savings on it. Mattie had insisted he leave his legacy intact, not say anything at present. He’d slipped the ring on her finger in the train this morning. Mattie wanted her parents to be first to know of their betrothal; until now the ring had been kept in its box.

  Anyway, the Fulliloves were preoccupied with problems. Receivers had been called in at the emporium. There had been out-of-season sales in most departments; no new goods were imported. Some staff had left voluntarily, some hung on, hoping they would be employed until the end. Sybil replaced Cissie Coe in Miss Teazel’s office. ‘I’m good at figure work and you don’t have to pay me,’ she said. The smart delivery van had been sold; Griff now drove the four of them to work in a smaller vehicle.

  There had been a muted celebration of Griff’s recent coming of age. A cheque for £800 had arrived from a solicitor, in settlement of his inheritance. Rufus shook Griff’s hand and congratulated him. He commented: ‘At least you will have a secure future.’

  ‘If I thought it would help, I’d willingly lend some of it to you,’ Griff replied.

  ‘I’m afraid it would be swallowed up, wasted, so we must decline,’ Rufus said heavily. ‘But we appreciate the offer, eh Sybil?’

  She nodded. It still surprised her to hear her husband refer to ‘we’ rather than ‘I’. Their growing closeness, she thought, would sustain them through their troubles.

  *

  Mattie was prepared to see her mother struggling to cope after recent events, as she had when her elder son was killed during the war. However, Sophia was determinedly cheerful, as busy as she’d been when the Plough was a thriving concern. Will played his part in caring for their lodgers, who had private means and thus were able to pay well for good service. Both sides desired a long-term arrangement: Will pushed the older lady about in her wheelchair and stoked the fire in the bedroom. Mother and daughter were accommodated in the two front rooms off the hall, which had been empty since the brewery removed the bar furnishings which belonged to them.

  ‘Dad painted the rooms,’ Sophia said proudly.

  Evie gave Mattie lots of hugs, expressing her approval of Griff while she helped her sister unpack in their old bedroom. ‘Oh, he’s so nice, Mattie! I do like him.’

  Fanny, the nursemaid, brought little Robbie to his aunt for inspection. Mattie held the baby in her arms, blushing when Griff winked at her. ‘I’m glad they chose you,’ Mattie told Fanny, who was a real country girl with apple-red cheeks and thick hair braided round her head. Her rounded figure was concealed by a white apron with a pair of spare napkin pins fastened to the bodice. She was very competent, having helped bring up her five younger siblings.

  ‘He’s a joy to look after, our baby,’ Fanny said proudly. ‘I love working here.’

  Griff was next door to the girls. That night, when Mattie and Evie were in bed, if not yet asleep, he beat a brief tattoo on the dividing wall, as he’d promised Mattie he would.

  Evie giggled. ‘I bet you won’t divulge what that means, Mattie.’

  ‘You’re too young to know,’ Mattie said primly, then she burst out laughing. ‘He’s just saying goodnight, silly!’

  ‘When are we going to learn your secret?’ Evie asked.

  ‘When the moment seems right,’ Mattie yawned. ‘Now, can I get my beauty sleep? It was a long day on the train, you know!’

  ‘You’re already beautiful,’ Evie said stoutly.

  ‘You, too, dearie! Thanks to all that watercress we picked and ate, eh?’

  ‘D’you have to go back to Plymouth, Mattie? Can’t you stay here?’

  ‘Oh Evie – as I said, you’ll hear our plans for the future, tomorrow.’

  ‘You said “our” so I know that means you and Griff!’

  It was quite like the old days, Mattie thought, when, joined by the lodgers, they sat round the extended table and ate from plates piled high with succulent roast beef, individual batter puddings, roast and plain potatoes, parsnips, cabbage and diced carrots. There was freshly made horseradish sauce and thick brown gravy. They needed what Sophia called an ‘aristocratic pause’, before she brought in a large apple pie, a jug of yellow custard and a smaller jug of fresh cream from the local farm. The water carafe was refilled several times. Sophia disapproved of alcohol with meals, despite having been a pub landlady for many years.

  ‘Mother will need a snooze after all that splendid food,’ Miss Jackson said.

  Will helped Mrs Jackson into her chair. The old lady’s head was already nodding. The curtains would be drawn in the bedroom she shared with her daughter. Miss Jackson would retire to the sitting-room opposite. She had school books to mark.

  Mattie and Evie collected the plates, and went cheerfully to tackle the washing-up. Ronnie, back from working the morning shift, sat silently at the k
itchen table, eating a belated lunch; the baby was asleep in his pram in the corner. Fanny had given him his bottle before going home to join her own family for the rest of the day. Sophia was entertaining Griff in the back parlour. Will joined them there.

  They seized the opportunity for a little gentle probing.

  ‘We understand from Sybil that her husband’s business is failing,’ Sophia began.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Griff said honestly.

  ‘Does that mean Mattie will shortly be out of a job?’ Will asked.

  ‘I imagine we both will.’

  ‘Have you any idea what will happen then?’

  ‘Well,’ Griff began, when to his relief, Mattie and Evie joined them. Ronnie remained in the kitchen with the baby. He obviously did not feel up to talking today.

  ‘Tea,’ Mattie said, setting down the tray on a small table.

  ‘Sugared and stirred.’ Evie grinned, passing the cups.

  Mattie waited until they were all seated, sipping the hot liquid.

  ‘Griff has something to ask you, Mother, Dad . . .’

  ‘Mattie and I would like your permission to marry,’ Griff said in a rush.

  ‘To get engaged first,’ Mattie reminded him. ‘We hope to wed next spring.’

  Will glanced at Sophia. She smiled and nodded her head.

  ‘I presume you are about to produce a ring?’ Will asked. ‘Well, go on, you can wear it openly now, Mattie! The answer is “yes”. However, in view of the situation in Plymouth, there’s not much chance of you saving towards a wedding, eh?’

  ‘As things are with the business, no. But I came into a tidy sum on my twenty-first.’

  ‘Enough to set you up?’

  ‘Yes,’ Griff assured her parents. He continued: ‘I hope this won’t come as a shock, but after we’re married, we intend to emigrate to Canada. My father’s sister and her husband farm on the prairie, where the nearest town is called Moose Jaw. She’s always kept in touch. She says the Canadian government is encouraging immigration and are insisting Cunard keep fares low. We think this is our best chance; life is very hard over here now.’

  It was obvious from their expressions that Sophia and Will were shocked.

  Mattie broke the prolonged silence. ‘Aunt Anna’s and Uncle Charlie’s eldest son and his family moved over the border to a farm in North Dakota in 1915. They built a sod house! We did like the sound of that, but . . .’ She nudged Griff.

  ‘Immigration is now strictly restricted to the States. I don’t think we would stand a chance. Maybe later, eh? Another cousin is with the North Pacific Railway. He lives in Bismark, at the junction with the Missouri river. You’ve heard of the Missouri?’

  Still no response from Sophia and Will, but Evie said loudly in her excitement, ‘I have! Shall I fetch my world map book?’

  ‘Good idea,’ Mattie approved.

  ‘Sod house – is that what it sounds like?’ Sophia murmured.

  ‘In the middle of nowhere, I suppose?’ Will guessed.

  ‘Five miles from the nearest town, I believe,’ Griff said.

  Sophia, overcome, was wiping her eyes. Mattie went to her mother, knelt beside her chair, pressing her face against Sophia’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled. ‘Oh, don’t cry – we’re not thinking of going to Australia, you know! Canada’s not so far away.’

  ‘Even Plymouth is a foreign place to me!’ Sophia said woefully.

  ‘We need to have your blessing to go – that’s important to us,’ Mattie pleaded.

  Griff cleared his throat. ‘I promise we’ll put aside the wherewithal to come home if things don’t work out.’

  ‘You’ll have to find employment,’ Will reminded him.

  ‘I intend to.’

  ‘What are you trained for?’

  ‘There are big stores over there, too, you know! Thanks to Rufus, I had a good education; I might work in a bank or an office. I’m sure Aunt Anna would let us stay with her, to start with. But I’d really like to buy land, get my hands dirty for a change.’

  ‘And you, Mattie?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘I’m looking forward to working alongside Griff, Mother!’

  Sophia stroked Mattie’s long hair absently, retied the ribbon which kept it back from her face, as she had done so often when her daughter was still a little girl. ‘Are you sure you’re cut out for that?’

  ‘I’m stronger than you think!’

  ‘Strong-willed is how I’d put it. You’ve never had to pick up potatoes, feed livestock or milk a cow, like some round here, from an early age. Like Fanny, for instance.’

  ‘I can learn; we both can!’ Mattie asserted.

  ‘Do look!’ Evie cried, waving the atlas to attract their attention. ‘Canada – it’ll be very cold there, I reckon!’

  ‘Oh my dears!’ Sophia was wiping her eyes again, but she managed a tremulous smile. ‘You’ll need to wrap up warm in winter – even more than you do here.’

  ‘We will!’ Mattie got to her feet. ‘We mustn’t leave Ronnie out of all this; you look at the map with Evie and Griff, while I go and break the news to him.’

  Ronnie had finished his meal, rinsed his plate, and moved to the old couch where he relaxed with his baby son, now wide awake, on his lap. He looked up at Mattie. ‘Well, what d’you think of my boy, Mattie?’

  ‘He looks like one of us!’ Mattie said proudly, sitting down beside them. Then she realised what she’d said. ‘Sorry, Ronnie, I didn’t mean—’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t. But he’s got a look of poor Ena, too.’

  ‘I didn’t like to mention your loss, but I do feel for you.’

  ‘When I came home from the war without Robbie, I thought it was up to me to carry on the family name. Ena and I, well, I jumped the gun, I couldn’t wait. We married in haste, because of the baby. I tried to be a good husband. The rest you know.’

  ‘Neither of you was happy, I was aware of that.’

  ‘You and your young man – don’t be put off by my experience, will you?’

  ‘You’ve guessed, then?’

  ‘I have, and I wish you all the happiness in the world.’

  Mattie kissed his cheek, then the baby’s head. ‘Thank you. Griff and I need your approval too! After we’re wed, we hope to emigrate to Canada.’

  ‘I thought of doing that, you know – a new country, a new life,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Why don’t you come with us?’

  ‘How could I manage, with a motherless child to care for?’

  ‘We could help,’ Mattie said impulsively.

  ‘No, Mattie. It wouldn’t be fair. Maybe, later on, if the opportunity arises, eh?’

  ‘Come and join us in the other room, Ronnie. Don’t shut yourself away.’ She held out her arms to the baby. ‘I intend to spoil you this weekend, you know!’

  All too soon it was time for Mattie and Griff to return to Plymouth. Mattie had a present to give to her parents: the charcoal sketch of herself that Griff had done the first time they visited Plymouth Hoe. Griff had signed and framed it at Mattie’s request.

  ‘It’s lovely – but please don’t say it’s to remember you by!’ Sophia said.

  ‘Of course not! Now, please leave all the arrangements for the wedding to us – we’d like it to be in Plymouth, so it’ll be a holiday for you, Dad and Evie, who’ll be my maid of honour, eh?’

  ‘What about the baby – and the Jacksons?’

  ‘Oh, Mother! Fanny can stay here while you’re away, so you needn’t worry about little Robbie – she’s a good cook too, so she could see to the meals. It shouldn’t be a problem for Miss Jackson, either, being the Easter break from school.’

  Sophia hugged her tightly. ‘I’ll treasure your picture, Mattie. I just recalled the portrait Mr B painted of you before the war – I wonder what happened to that?’

  ‘Perhaps we’ll find out, one of these days . . .’

  NINE

  APRIL, 1922

  Sybil tiptoed across the bedroom t
o the window. She didn’t pull the curtains but parted them slightly so that she could glimpse the early-morning scene. The street was deserted, blinds still drawn in the houses opposite. It was Saturday, not long after dawn. On Easter Monday Mattie and Griff were to be married. Mattie’s family had arrived on Thursday, and would return home next Tuesday. The packing-up here could then begin in earnest. Some of the furniture was included in the sale of the house; the remainder would be put in store while they decided what to do. Just over a week from now, they would say goodbye and good luck to the young couple who were sailing from Southampton on 22 April.

  She sighed as she allowed the curtains to fall back into place. She’d believed that Rufus was asleep, but he said: ‘It’s too early to get up. Come back to bed.’ It was unfortunate that he added, ‘Anyone would think you were the mother of the bride.’

  ‘I’m only ten years older than Mattie!’ she said fiercely.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— You’ll get cold without your wrap.’

  Sybil slipped under the covers, but turned her back on him.

  Rufus reached out and drew her close. ‘You’re crying. What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself!’ She endeavoured to suppress a sob.

  He tentatively caressed her silk-clad shoulders, then, as he felt her slowly relax, he kissed the nape of her neck. ‘You’ve been so good about leaving here, I couldn’t have coped without your support, Sybil. I’m so grateful—’

  ‘I don’t want you to be grateful – I just need you to love me!’

  ‘I do. It’s still difficult for me you know – to express my feelings,’ he admitted.

  She turned to him. ‘You’re getting better,’ she said softly, through her tears.

  Hilda was busy setting out the early-morning tea things on the trays. She muttered aloud: ‘One, Miss Sybil and him – if he ain’t already in the bathroom; two, Master Griff; three, Mr and Mrs Rowley; four, the blushin’ bride and her sister—’