A Dinner Of Herbs (35 page)

From the tone of his voice and the look on his face she recognized he had been drinking liberally of ale,

as had the others, because they were all standing grinning at her now.

“How’s it goin’, Mary Ellen?” said one of the other men.

She didn’t answer, but made to go past them to the gate. However, the man who had first spoken to

her stopped her by thrusting out his arm and gripping the gate post and saying now, “On your time, aren’t

you, Mary Ellen?”

“Let me past, Mr. Smith,” she said.

“Oh, what’s your hurry, Mary Ellen? Eh, fellows, what’s her hurry?

Like to take a bet? Will it come out a big ‘un with black hair, or a broad ‘un with brown hair, eh? Like

to take a bet? “

One of the men now said, “Come on, Nick, come on. Enough’s enough.”

“Enough? Couldn’t get enough of Mary Ellen. Tried, didn’t I? Tried.

An’ you know what? When this’s over I hear she’s settin’ up house against Maggie.

Well, she’s got a

better chance than Maggie of making a fortune, hasn’t she? An’ you know sum mat I’m

booked up to

be her first customer. Aye, aren’t I, Mary. ? “

The rake in the left hand and the grid in the right, she’d had the greatest desire to swing the grid into the

man’s face, but instinct told her she might do him a great injury. Yet the insult wasn’t to be borne, and

so, flinging the rake and the grid to one side, she stooped and gathered up two handfuls of the darts and

swung them with force into her tormentor’s face.

There were gasps from the other three men and a spluttering yell from the man Smith, for he’d had his

mouth open and the mud had gone into it and down his throat. But it had covered only

one eye, and

now, like an infuriated beast, he came at her. His arm swung out and sent her flying, and she fell back on

top of the drain that she had just cleared, her fall spraying more darts over the man and bringing cries of,

“God damn! you shouldn’t have done that,” from the others.

“Bloody bitch! Well, she asked for it,” yelled Smith.

Two of the men heaved Mary Ellen to her feet. Her head was swimming;

she was gasping for breath; her back was weighed down with the mud and water on her

coat and shawl.

Thrusting off the men’s hands she had staggered up the garden path and once inside the cottage she

stood leaning against the door aware that she would have to scrub it down afterwards to get the mud off.

Kate was resting on her elbow. She had pulled herself to the end of the bed.

“What was all that out there?” she said. Age had taken toll of every part other body

except her ears,

for her hearing was as keen as ever.

Mary Ellen did not reply because she couldn’t, she was divesting herself of her mud-

clotted clothes; and

when she stood in her dress and her stockinged feet she still gave Kate no answer, but went into the

scullery and washed the mud off her hands, then her face. And after doing this she stood, one hand

gripping the shallow stone sink, the other tight across her open mouth, her head turned to the side as if

away from the sight of something repulsive. When eventu ally her mouth closed she

dropped her hands

on to the mound of her stomach and there dizzied round in her mind the words: “Big ‘un with black hair

or a broad ‘un with brown hair?”

That’s what they were saying about her. And that man . those men, all of them, the

village, the cottages

all around, the farms, saying she would go like Maggie Oates.

Kate’s voice, harsh, had brought her back into the kitchen, and she moved slowly towards her, and

when Kate’s bony hand clutched at her hand, pulling her down on to the side of the bed, she did not wait

for Kate to ask for further explanations but said, “He ... that Nick Smith, he named Hal or Roddy for

givin’ it me and he said, I’m ... I’m goin’ to be like Maggie ... Maggie Oates, and he was goin’ to ... to

be me first....” Her head bowed on to her chest and the tears streamed down her face. And now Kate’s

arms came out and pulled her forward, holding her tightly but saying nothing for some

minutes. Then

patting her back, she remarked, “Why, you’re wet, lass. Your frock’s wet.”

“He ... he knocked me over.”

“He what?”

“Well, because of what he said, I... I threw some darts at him.”

“You did right an’ all. I would have choked him with them. And he knocked you’ down

“Yes, aye.”

“Do you feel hurt?” The hands were moving over her now, and she replied, “Shaken like, shaken. I’ll...

I’ll go upstairs and change me frock.”

“Do that, lass. And look, I’m all right for the next hour or so. Lie on the bed and rest.

After a fall like

that you don’t know what happens. So do what I tell you now, lie on the bed and rest.”

Mary Ellen made no answer but rose from the bed and went up the ladder. Once under

the roof she

pulled off her dress; then dropping onto the pallet bed she pulled the cover over her and, turning

lumberingly on to her side, she buried her face in the pillow to smother her sobs.

It was about an hour later when Hal came in. When he pushed open the door it stuck, and after having

entered the room he looked down at the obstacle, the mud-covered coat and shawl, before hurrying to

the bedside where Kate had propped herself upright in the bed, and demanding, What’s

this? Why that

lot there? “

“Sit yourself down.”

“What is it? Where is she?”

“Be quiet. Don’t raise your voice. She’s upstairs and likely sound asleep. Pull up a chair.”

When he was seated by the bedside she related to him what had happened and she ended,

“Why, in the

name of God, they should name you, I don’t know.”

He said nothing; nor did he when he rose from the chair, which caused her to ask

anxiously, “Where you

goin’?”

He still did not answer, until, her voice harsh and loud, she called, “Hal! Make no do about this.”

He turned now and demanded, “Why did you tell me then, if you didn’t want me to make

a do about

it?”

“I told you because you wanted an explanation, but not to stir up more trouble. Let it die its natural

death.”

“Aye, he will when I’ve finished with him.”

“Hal!” She had pulled her legs over the side of the bed, but he was gone. And after

resting a moment,

she lay back, saying “Oh my God! What now?”

He was back much sooner than she expected. In the dim light of the room he looked just the same; that

was until he lit the lamp, when she could see that he, too, was bespattered with mud and that there was

blood on his cheek. When she asked, “What happened?” he answered in exasperation,

“What d’you

mean, what happened?” And when she cried at him, “Don’t be such a bullheaded

bugger,” he went up

to the bed and, leaning over her, he said, “I called him out. He was sleeping it off, him and his brother. It

was a good job there were two of them for I might have done for him on his own. I left them both

something to remember, and I can promise you she’ll have no trouble from that quarter

again.”

“Don’t be so bloody soft, man. They’ll have it in for her all the more now, and for you.”

“Well, let them. There’s decent fellas in the mill, an’ friends of mine, they know the rights of the case,

her case. They mightn’t say much, but they feel for her. John Toilet and Will Campbell came out of their

cottages and witnessed the whole thing, and I made no small mouth.pfwhat it was about.

So they know

what to expect if anybody gets fresh. But there’s always a rotten apple in the barrel, you know, and the

Smiths are it around here. Anyway, when did you eat last?”

“I’m not hungry, lad.”

“Hungry or not, you want something’. Will I do you some gruel?”

“Aye, that would be nice, and for her an’ all.”

He made a pot of gruel and divided it in two bowls, and having put each on a wooden

platter together

with a spoon, he gave one to Kate before mounting the steep ladder, balancing the other wooden platter

on one hand, conscious. as he did so of this being the first time he had been up here.

242 :

From the glimmer in the room below he could just make out the huddled form lying on

the plank bed.

Slowly now, he made his way on his knees towards her. Then placing the platter on the

floor, he

tentatively put out his hand and touched her shoulder.

She did not respond immediately; and so he shook her gently, and then she gave a great start and a gasp

and he said quickly, “Tis all right.

Tis all right. I’ve brought you something hot. “

“Ho ... t?” She pulled the cover up under her chin, and he said, “Sit up and get this gruel.”

“Gruel?”

“You haven’t gone deaf, have you? That’s what I said.”

She blinked, then slowly turned on to her back, saying, “I ... I must have fallen asleep.”

“Aye, you did. Get this into you. It’ll do you good.”

“What time is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Gettin’ on four I think. But in no time this gruel will turn solid. Come on, sit up.”

He watched her pulling herself upwards until she realized she had nothing on but her

petticoat, when

quickly she pulled the cover further up around her. And he made her more self-conscious of her action

by turning on his knees and saying, “Tis all right, I’m on me way down. It’s on the floor at your side

there.”

His body was half through the hatchway when she said quietly, “Hal.”

“Aye?”

“Did Kate tell you?”

“Aye, she told me.”

“She ... she shouldn’t have.... Hal.”

“Aye, what is it?” Only his head was above the floor now.

“Don’t do anything, will you?”

“Not any more.

“Tis done.”

As he disappeared from her view she gasped and clutched her throat, then made to

scramble from the

beet, but checked herself.

“Tis done, he had said, and what was done was done and he had likely done it with his

fists.

Slowly she leant over and picked up the platter, and, gratefully now, she drank the gruel from the bowl;

and when it was empty, she lay back on the pillow and there came into her mind a

thought: Would

Roddy have gone after that man if he had been there? And the answer came:

But if he had been there things would have been different, they would have been married.

It was after this that the feeling of illness came on her and she felt the child could be born any day. There

was a pressure towards the bottom other stomach and a nagging pain in her side, and

overall she felt, as

she put it, not right. There was also another worry in her mind, and it induced her to pay a visit in an

effort to erase it.

On Christmas Eve, after talking it over with Kate, she 5 made the journey to her father’s cottage. There

had been a I light fall of snow but nothing to impede her walking. And | as she

approached she saw the

smoke rising from the |B chimney, and there was evidence that he had been out for| wood because of the

churned snow outside the door. She| had knocked twice and, having received no answer,

she I now

called softly, “Da. Open the door. Please open the| door. Tis me.” When she still received no reply

she took her | fist and banged hard on the wood and shouted, “I’ve got some things here for you; I’m not

here to ask anything of you, I’m well settled. Just open the door.

“Tis Christmas.”

She waited. A gust of icy wind crept round her and shej pulled her shawl tighter over her chest and

shivered. The pain had started in her side again. She pressed her hand on it. Then, as she was about to

turn away, his voice carnal muffled through the door, saying, “Get yourself away toi

where you came

from. You know what I think. I don’t wantf to see your face.” | She had stood with her head buried

deep on her chest for| a moment, but she did not cry; instead, her teeth grittedj against each other, and

with an angry gesture she picked upf the basket she had laid on the step and turned away.

H Could that

voice belong to her da? Was that the man who^B had loved her as a child? Yes, yes, it

was one and

the same, because he had been rigid in his rules even then.

Her feet were trailing when she entered the cottage, and Kate greeted her with, “It’s no more than I

expected. I’m sorry I advised you to go.”

“I would have gone in any case,” she said.

“He’s a pig-headed swine of a man. Well, you’ve done your duty, lass.

He’ll be the one that suffers, not you. You need have nothing on your mind any more

concerning him.

Sit yourself down. There’s nothing more to do; everything’s ready for the morrow. You

know, I thank

God every day for Hal. “

Mary Ellen went to the fire and held her hands out to the blaze, thinking, yes, she too should thank God

for Hal. But somehow he still got her goat. It was his offhand manner, she supposed; and the way he

ridiculed most things and capped everything she said either with something funny or

sarcastic. She could

never sit at peace in his company. Yet, what would they have done without him these past months;

and more so at this time? Yes, she wished she could see him as Kate did.

Christmas Day, it rained but everything was warm and cosy in the cottage. Kate,

miraculously was on

her feet again, the pain in her stomach had seemed to ease. They had a good meal and