A Dinner Of Herbs (41 page)

“Well, yes, but ... but Hal ... you know Hal, he pops over every day, but... but I’m

worried.”

“About Hal?”

“Yes, yesterday was the first day he never came and ... and here it is nearing twelve

o’clock and he still

hasn’t been, and he brings milk every morning.”

“Perhaps he’s gone into town?”

“He always calls.”

“Well then, you must go and see what is wrong. Perhaps he’s ill.

“Yes, yes, I mean to do that. I’m goin’ to get Mrs. Patterson in from the village.” She pointed towards

the door.

“She’ll look after them until I come back.”

“I’m on my way there,” he said, ‘at least to the mill. I’ll be passing the cottages. Will I give Mrs.

Patterson a message? “

“Oh, if you would, please. I’d be very grateful.” And as she saw him to the door she

asked, “How ...

how long do you think she’ll last, doctor?”

“Oh, if she had her own way she’d go now, but she’s got a strong constitution that’s

fighting the disease

in her stomach. She could last a week or more.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He put his hand on her arm now, saying gently, “Don’t worry for

her. She seems

to have had a good life, and apparently she’s lived it as she wanted to live it,

independently.

It’s very good for a person to be independent as she has been. If you follow her pattern you won’t go

far wrong, Mary Ellen. “

“No, I won’t. No, I won’t, doctor.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, doctor, and thank you.”

Mrs. Patterson did not arrive until an hour later and Mary Ellen was standing ready to go, her coat on

and a shawl over her head.

“Where are you off to, lass?” Mrs. Patterson enquired.

“I’m goin’ over to Hal’s place, Mrs. Patterson. You see, he didn’t call yesterday, nor yet today. I think

he must be bad or something.”

“Never came yesterday, nor today? That’s not like him, he’s never off your doorstep.

Caused a lot of

comment that, you know, lass. Aye, it has. But there are people who always find

something to talk

about. And as I said to Jennie Pratt when she came tattling in not long ago, it wouldn’t be him you’d

take as you were waitin’ for the other one comin’ back. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Mary Ellen’s face was flushed and she said, “No, it isn’t, Mrs. Patterson. And you can tell Jennie Pratt

to mind her own business.”

“Oh, well, people will talk, lass, you can’t tie tongues.” The older woman had seemingly taken no

offence at Mary Ellen’s tone, and she added, “I can stay only an hour, mind, so don’t be all that long.”

“I won’t. And thank you.”

She hurried out, indignation now mixed with concern for Hal. Waitin’ for the other one comin’ back.

Well, wasn’t she?

No. No. The voice was loud in her head. No, no, she wasn’t waitin’ for him, not any

more. Nor had

she been for a long time.

She began to run. It was only two miles to the farm but she thought she wo’nd never get there, the paths

seemed endless. And when she entered the yard, there was Terry Foster standing talking to a tall

gaunt-looking woman, and they both turned at her approach.

“Where’s Hal ... Mr. Roystan?” She addressed the boy now, and he, looking at the

woman, said,

“Eeh! that’s what we were just sayin’. We thought he must be over at your place, Mary

Ellen.”

She now looked hard at the woman who said, “I’m Annie Gordon. I... I come and tidy up

for him and

do a bit of cooking. I haven’t seen Turn since yesterday morning when he left to go over to Whitfield

way to see about a bull.”

They looked from one to the other now; then in a very small voice, Mary Ellen said, “Not since

yesterday morning Anything could have happened him. He could have been knocked off

his horse and

lying somewhere.”

“That’s what I thought, Mary Ellen. I’ve just said that to Miss Gordon. Didn’t I, Miss Gordon?”

“Yes, yes, you did, Terry.”

“What shall we do?” Mary Ellen asked the question more to herself than of them; then

she answered it

by adding, “I ... I’d better go down to the mill and ... and see the men, and perhaps Mr.

Mulcaster will

do something.”

The sound of barking had been going on in the background all the while, and Mary Ellen said, “Boyo.

Did he come back alone?”

“No.” The young boy shook his head.

“Mr. Roystan never took him along with him ‘cos he didn’t know whether he was

bringing the bull or

not. But Boyo’s been cryin’ an’ yellin’ his head off ever since. I’m frightened to let him out in case he

runs off.”

“Who’s seeing to the cattle?”

“I am.” The woman nodded at Mary Ellen.

“They’re all right. I often see to them when Hal is not here. He’s... he’s been away a lot of late.” She

narrowed her eyes and said, “Well, of course you know that?

you’re the young person from over Kate Makepeace’s place, aren’t you? “

There was no need for Mary Ellen to confirm this, but she stared back at the woman

wondering if she

detected resentment in the look. She also wondered if the woman had ideas about Hal.

But then she

dismissed them. What ideas she would have would be motherly ‘cos she was getting’ on.

You could

see that, although she wasn’t as old as Hal had made her out to be, middle thirties, she’d say.

She said to the boy, “Have you thought about looking over the moor?”

“No, miss? I’ve just been waitin’ for him comin’ back.”

Quickly now she said, “I’ll away to the mill. The men’ll know what to do.” And with that she turned and

ran out of the yard, and down the hill. There was no one about the inn, nor at Nillston Rigg. She hurried

along the lane, skirted the dam, went up the steep hill and along the waggon track. She could see a

group of men crossing the yard. Stumbling over the rails and the debris, she came up to them gasping,

and as she could not speak for a moment, they all stopped and gazed at her. Then one

said, “What’s the

trouble, lass?”

“Have ... have any of you seen Hal?”

“Hal?” They looked at one another. Then one of the men, with a slight leer on his face, said, “Hal

Roystan? Why, lass, don’t you know he’s no longer a common workin’ man? Farmer he

is now.

Landed gentry is goin’ to be his next step. Why, I thought you would have known.”

Her body was already hot with running and there was colour in her cheeks, but now her

whole face

became suffused with a blush and in a manner very nearly her old self, she retorted

smartly, “Yes, and

what you say could just come true, Mr. Conway. Then, instead of spitting your spite

you’d be raisin’

your cap.”

There were three Conway men in the group. The man who had spoken was a leading

smelter in the mill

and with his brothers John and Frank working alongside him, and his younger brother,

Herman, mining at

Stublick, he was known to think that his family ran the whole show, for he had a sister, too, who was

married to a smelter, and experienced smelter men were the cream of the mill.

“What is it, lass? What d’you want?” It was the quiet voice of Ben Fowler. He was

standing next to his

son Paul, who, before she could answer, stepped forward and said quietly, “Kate gone? Is that why

you’re lookin’ for Hal?”

“No, no.” She shook her head quickly.

“Hal’s gone missin’. He went over to Whitfield yesterday to see about a bull and no one seems to have

seen hilt nor hair of him since. I’ve been over to the farm. He didn’t turn up last night, nor today either.”

The men looked from one to the other and one said, “Perhaps he’s gone off jaunting to

town.”

“No. He ... he went after the bull. Anyway, he always brings me milk every morning She paused now

and met the glance of Peter Conway and she repeated, “ Aye, he brings me milk every

mornin’. And

just by the way, Mr. Conway, I can tell you, he saved me life when the baim came

because nobody else

tried to get through to me in the snow. “

There was the sound of scraping of hobnailed boots on the stones, and one man muttered,

“Lass, you

should understand we couldn’t move up here. Nobody could. Anyway’—the man was

looking round

the group now saying, ‘this needs lookin’ into. What d’you think? He’s not goin’ to stop bringin’ the

milk and that without sayin’ something’.” He turned his head towards Mary Ellen again

and said quietly,

“He would likely have told you, lass, if he had been goin’ away, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, Mr. Fowler, yes, he would.”

“And you say nobody’s seen him since yesterday mornin’?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well now’—he nodded his head ‘that’s comin’ up close on two days.

Look’—he half turned now and glanced towards the offices ‘don’t you think she could go and see the

boss? Because something’ should be organized. “

“Aye, yes.” They all agreed quickly to this. Then the old man said, “Come on, lass. Come on and see

Mr. Mulcaster.”

Mr. Mulcaster came to the office door and gazed down on Mary Ellen and the men

behind her. And

she told him why she was there.

At first he smiled at her tolerantly, no doubt thinking back to the last time she had

approached him,

concerning another man who had later thanked her for saving him from transportation by taking her

down, then leaving her. Now here she was concerned about that same man’s friend, and if tales were

true, hers also, for Hal Roystan was known to visit her pretty frequently. But she was showing real

concern and it was true what one of the men had just stated, you wouldn’t go away from around here for

nearly two days without saying where you were going. Well, he supposed something

must be done. But

then, the young fellow could have taken it into his head to go jaunting. He was a young man and young

men often went jaunting when the need was on them.

And he said as much but he put it in a different way: Looking down at her, he said, “Now you don’t

think he just could have gone off on some business or other?”

She looked up into his face, saying quietly now, “He’s got a farm. He loves animals.

When he left he

told the boy he’d be back around dinner time; it all depended if he brought the bull back with him.”

“Where was he goin’ for the bull?”

“A farm near Whitfield.”

“That’ll be Johnson’s farm, sir, if it’s over by Whitfield,” one of the men spoke up now.

“Or Plummer’s,” said another man.

“Oh, Plummer’s is only a small place? he wouldn’t have any bulls for sale.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Mr. Mulcaster held up his hand, saying now, “Well, it’ll be one or the other. I think’—he paused a

moment ‘what must be done first is to organize someone to go across there and find out if Hal was there

at all. What about you, Frank. You like riding a horse?”

Frank Conway didn’t show any enthusiasm, until Paul Fowler said, “Well, if you don’t

want to do it, I’ll

go.”

“Who said I didn’t want to do it. I’ll go. Can I take a horse from the stables?” Frank Conway was

looking at Mr. Mulcaster and the agent nodded at him, saying, “Yes, yes, of course. How long will it

likely take you?” He paused and, reckoning in his own mind, he said, “You could be back here within an

hour and a half, couldn’t you?”

“Tis over four miles each way.”

“Yes, well, take a fresh pony, he’ll skip the miles for you.”

Ben Fowler turned to the others, saying quietly, “We’d better get cleaned up. Whatever message he

brings back will determine what we’ve got to do.” Then turning again to Mary Ellen, he said, “That’s all

we can do for the present, lass. The only thing I can add is, if he’s not found by the morrow mornin’

we’ll have to call in the constable.”

A shudder went through her as she thought of Hal lying out somewhere injured,

especially on the moor.

Another night could do for him, especially if a mist came down, because it sank into your bones even if

you were scurrying through it.

Detecting her anxiety, Mr. Mulcaster said, “Now stop worrying and go home. The men

will call and give

you their news as soon as possible.”

She swallowed deeply, then said, “Thank you.”

The men made way for her, and as she passed through them she moved her head from

one side to the

other, saying, “Thanks. Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, lass, he’ll turn up. Knowing Hal, he’ll be there in the mornin’ like a bad penny.”

Paul Fowler patted her arm and she inclined her head towards him, then hurried away.

Hal did not turn up like a bad penny the next morning. One of the men had called last

evening to say

that Farmer Johnson had said Hal had called at the farm but that he hadn’t taken the bull with him

because the pony had shied away from the animal. He had expected him back but he

hadn’t yet turned

up. Farmer Johnson had related that the young fellow had been in high spirits and very pleased with his

purchase. He had also warned Hal to beware his pony didn’t throw him for it seemed

very high-spirited.

The warning seemed to have been justified when, later that day, a pony was found

nibbling quietly on the

moor.

One thing puzzled the searchers who found it: it had a hole in its rump, as if it had been jabbed with an

instrument of some kind.