A Dinner Of Herbs (31 page)

spike potion. “ and not only the potion but the conserve, and the water for dabbin’ on her head. Now

for years she’s had the three at a penny a time, a penny mind for the three lots. You

know, when I told

her that in future she’d have to pay a penny for each lot, she got on her hind legs and said,

“You can pick

lavender anywhere.” So I said, “You can go and pick it, Rosie. You go and pick it.” And there she

stood wavering. But in the end I got me threepence, for as you will learn, Mary Ellen, there’s more to

the lavender potion than lavender. There’s cinnamon powder, crushed nutmegs, an’

cloves, and they’ve

all got to be worked at, whereas the conserve, as you know; is mainly sugar. But look at the price of

sugar. And then there’s the time that it takes if you want to make some oil from the

flowers. Oil of

roses, why they’re nothin’ to it. “

“And ... and you’ve kept all these things in your head all these years?”

“Aye... aye, I have. But I started early, much earlier than you. I was picking from I was five years old

and I could tell every plant and weed for miles. And I’ll tell you something’, I wasn’t half as good as me

mother, for as a girl she had been away in the Midlands, and then in the south of the

country in service,

and like the different types of people you get in the different counties, so do you get the different growths

of weeds and herbs.”

Now she was laughing widely, her tongue flicking in and out of her mouth past the

stumps of her front

teeth as she said, “I laughed a bit gone. Doctor Cranwell, the head vicar you know who scatters his

curates like dock heads flying in the wind, well, one of them came to the door there

knocking and politely

asked, “ Are you Mrs. Makepeace? “

“I am,” I said.

“I was told to come to you, because I was bitten by a dog last week and the salve I

applied hasn’t

seemed to heal the wound.” Did I think I could do anything? I could but try, I said, if he would sit

down, and let me see his offended part. It was on the calf of his leg and it was nasty. So I bathed it with

a solution made from wild thyme and gave him the same to drink in little quantities first thing in the

morning. Then, who sent him? I asked. Oh, he was a bit chary in telling me until I

laughingly said,

‘“Twouldn’t be the vicar?” Then his face colourin’, he said, “No, no, it wasn’t the vicar.”

And he

laughed with me. A nice young fellow he was. And he came back the next week for

another supply

because the wound had almost healed. And he said he felt much better in himself, and

after a little more

conversation we agreed that the vicar must never hear of his visits. “

Mary Ellen was actually smiling now, a weak and watery smile, but nevertheless she was looking relaxed

and she asked, “How much did you charge him?”

“Oh’—Kate turned her head away ‘what could I charge him, the church mice could feed

any curate with

their left overs? But not so the parsons and them they call the doctors of the church. Live like lords they

do, in mansions. This one’ll likely come to that later on and he’ll forget he was ever hungry. Do you feel

better, lass?” Kate’s tone and manner changed now as she looked gently towards Mary

Ellen, and Mary

Ellen’s response to the kindness emanating from her friend brought her to her knees and, with her arms

about the thin, but clothes-padded body, she laid her head on Kate’s lap and murmured,

“Oh, Kate.

Kate. What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” The answer was intended to bring a smile again to

Mary Ellen’s

face but instead it brought another flood of tears. And now, the old woman’s hands

cupped the bright

head and pressed it to her as she muttered, “There, there. Now this is the last burst of cryin’ you’re

goin’ to indulge in. Do you hear me? There’s to be no more of it, ‘cos it’ll only harm what’s inside you.

Lift up your chin now.” She pressed the head gently from her and, looking down into

Mary Ellen’s face,

she wiped the tears from each cheek with her fingers, saying, “We’re both sick at heart over one person,

so we can comfort each other, but there’s good days ahead. We’ll make them so. You

know’—she

continued to stroke each cheek “ I’ve had a feelin’ on me of late that something good was goin’ to

happen. I felt strongly that my Pat would walk in the door. Sometimes I imagined he was in the room. I

began to be a bit uneasy at those times’—she nodded at Mary Ellen ‘because I’ve always told me self

me body’s old, ancient, but me mind is still young and active, but when you start thinking things like that,

well But he seemed very close, so I thought, perhaps he’s on his way.

And he could be. Aye, he could be. But the other good thing that happened to me is you, lass. I’ve

never been one for constant company except a selected few: my Davey, then Pat, then

you from you

were a baby in your mother’s arms;

then of course, Roddy. Only four people. Oh no, five. I’m forgettin’ Hal. And recalling him, there’s

something’ in the wind in that quarter, for there he was first thing this mornin’ in his Sunday best. He said

he was goin’ into Hexham. “

“What d’you mean, something in the wind?” asked Mary Ellen.

“Well, it could be that Florrie Pierce or her sister Fanny has hooked him.”

“The Pierce girls after Hal?”

“Aye, the Pierce girls after Hal. They would have lain > their blanket down for him any day. What you

don’t seem to recognize, Mary Ellen, and never have is, Hal is a very presentable man.”

“Well, I must be blind, because I haven’t seen it. All right, he’s not bad looking and he’s got a body on

him, but it’s his manner and his ways. Who’s going to put up with them? All ;

right, all right. “ She was nodding at Kate now, and they ;;

both said together, “Florrie or Fanny Pierce.” Then they. ;

were laughing. >j “And what’s more, I’ll tell you,” said Kate now: ‘you | know Peggy Fowler who was

married a few weeks gone? “

“Aye, yes.”

“Well, she was after him an’ all. She even got through the window once and tidied up his place. Not

that it was ever untidy; he keeps it neat and clean. But there she was with a meal on the table for him,

brazen as brass. And what he told her must have acted like a dose of gunpowder up her

nether regions,

because she ran from the house crying her eyes out. And her brothers Johnny and Frank

came at him the

next day. But just to talk, because before he had that knife in his ribs he was as good a wrestler as you’ll

find for many a mile.”

“Hal, a wrestler?”

“Yes, lass, Hal a wrestler. The only thing you know about Hal is that on sight of you, he draws a sword

and you reply with a sledgehammer.”

“Oh, Kate, Kate.”

“Oh, thinkin’ of Hal.” Kate put her hand to her head now.

“I wonder what he’ll say when he comes back?”

“What about?”

“Oh, well, lass’—Kate rose from the crack et ‘it should happen this mornin’ first thing.

You see, you

comin’ in like you did just now had taken it out of me head. But John Tollett an’ Will Campbell were on

their way to the mill. They came over the quarry, and there, not a couple of feet from where the grave

was opened, on the only big tree standin’, because they chopped and hoiked all the others up to find the

place, well, on that one big tree, as I said, was Pat Feeler. He had hung himself. He was like a

scarecrow, they said. He must have been livin’ rough all this time an’ things had got too bad for him,

‘cos there he was, danglin’. Well, there’s one good thing I can say for that, it’ll stop Hal’s roamin’,

because he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since it all happened. I don’t know how he’s carried on.”

“Hung himself? How awful!”

“No more awful, lass, than the one he buried. And there was the other one that sent my lad across the

water. Oh no, not awful. A rightful end I would say. Justice will out. Aye, justice will out.

But I

wonder how Hal will take it? Because he himself wanted to finish him off and now he’s

been baulked.

Aye, well, we’ll soon know, at least when he comes back from the town.”

Mary Ellen had worked all day. She had cleaned up the room as it hadn’t been cleaned

for a long time.

She had climbed the ladder and crawled under the rafters and stripped the bed on which Roddy had lain

for years, and only with a stern admonition had she stopped herself from throwing herself down on to it

and once again giving ease to the pain in her heart, which had been deepened by the

treatment she had

received from the Davisons and her father. But even feeling like this there was,

nevertheless, some small

part of her that, in a strange way, was at peace for she felt she had found a real home and she was about

to learn a business.

This proposition of Kate’s had excited her. She knew she’d never be wise like Kate, but she also knew

she had a good memory and was quick at picking things up, and, with more writing

practice, she would

be able to stick labels on the bottles, unlike Kate who recognized them only by their

colour, taste, and

smell.

That was what had always been nice and attractive about Kate’s cottage, the smell. It was a soothing

smell. Kate said it was mostly from the calf’s snout that hung from the beams in the

room. She herself

had always thought it an awful name for such a nice plant; she liked its other name of snapdragon better.

Yet, when you looked at the top of the flower, that’s what it appeared like, a calfs snout.

She had a lot

to learn and she had begun already. She had wanted, late in the afternoon, to go out and start on the

garden, but Kate said, “Are you daft, girl? You start tidyin’ that place up at this time of year and there

goes our wages for the winter and a couple more to come.” And she smiled and nodded at the old

woman as she said, “Yes, of course, of course.”

And so the day had passed, and now the fire was blazing in the hearth.

Three tallow candles in their brass candle sticks stood in a row down the middle of the table and as

Kate had said it was never too late to start, she had brought six jars from the shelves and had just placed

them on the table when there was a rat-tat on the door and at the same time it was pushed open, and Hal

entered. He was carrying a sack over his shoulder and in his other hand he held a parcel that looked like

a long box. Mary Ellen moved from the table and went over to the fire while Kate rose

from her chair,

saying, “Well, well! What brings you at this time of night laden like a pack-horse?

Robbed a coach?”

“Aye, in a way, yes, Kate, you could say that.”

He walked slowly towards the table before dropping the sack from his back, and the

sound it made as it

hit the floor was like a jingle of tools. The long parcel he placed gently on the table, and then, leaning

slightly forward, he peered to where Mary Ellen was sitting on the dippy mat, reaching out to retract

something from the ashes.

“What... what are you doing here? It’s Tuesday,” he said.

When Mary Ellen made no reply he glanced at Kate, and she said, “Get yourself off your feet.”

He didn’t sit down but widened his eyes questioningly at her as he nodded towards Mary Ellen, who

seemed to remain quite unaware of his presence, for she continued to poke at the ashes with a small

rake.

That he was perplexed by Mary Ellen’s presence was shown by the hunching of his

shoulders before he

gently pushed the long wrapped parcel along the table towards Kate, saying, “Tis for

you.”

“What is it?”

“Well, open it and see.” ‘:

As she attempted to undo the cord she said, “Aw, you might as well tell me to un knot a ship’s hawser.

I can’t get me fingers through those knots.”

“Give it here.” He undid the knots, pulled off the paper, opened the top of the box, then, placing it on

the floor, he pointed into the box, saying, “Now do you think you can lift that out?” And Kate, bending

over it, thrust her two hands into it, then paused and looked up at him before bringing into view a glass

shade. But when her hands began to tremble, he said, “Here, give it to me, woman.” And, taking it from

her, he revealed a tall fancy lantern with rose—coloured glass sides.

After setting it on the table, he stood back and, looking at her, said, “There, that’ll give you a bonny

light, ‘cos look, it has sockets for three candles.” And he turned quickly towards the fire and, stripping a

sliver of wood from one of the logs stacked to the side, he thrust it into the blazing embers, at the same

time glancing towards Mary Ellen who still did not acknowledge his presence in any

way.

A minute later the room was illuminated with a soft light that brought a low muttering sound of delight

from Kate and caused Mary Ellen to turn towards the table.

“Ah, lad, what made you think of that?”

“Oh, I’ve thought of it for a long time, ‘cos I knew you were lying when you said you

didn’t want a

candle lamp and preferred those.” He pointed to the fluttering tapers of the tallow

candles.

“Now,” he said, “I’m hungry and starved inside and out. I’ve never had a bite since

dinner-time, then

not much. So I’m going to sit me self down opposite this young person here, who I’ve