A Dinner Of Herbs (53 page)

produce in bulk to other stall-holders. And now, nearly an hour and a half later nearing the market

proper, Hal stopped the brake and helped his womenfolk down from it, saying as he held out his hand to

Mary Ellen, “Twelve o’clock mind at the hotel. No dawdling.”

At this she smiled at him, saying pertly, “If we should be late you can wait.”

“I’m not waitin’.” He looked from one to the other. Maggie and Florrie were laughing at him, but

Kate’s face was straight. And so, addressing her, he said, “You round them up. Do you

hear? Once

they get amongst ribbons and threads they tie themselves in knots.”

The girls laughed aloud now and Mary Ellen pushed him gently with one hand while with

the other she

took Kate’s arm. She knew it was all a play on his part; he was as worried over Kate as she was, for

her attitude was more than puzzling to him. She knew that if Kate had cried and wanted to hide herself

away he could have understood it, and the word he would have applied to anyone else

taking up this

stance would have been ‘brazen’. But her Kate could never be brazen, she had always

been more of a

retiring nature, yet here she was, braving the town, when the scandal was still hot on everybody’s lips.

“Mam.”

Yes, dear? “

Kate disengaged herself from her mother’s arm, saying now, “You and the girls go and

do your

shopping. I’m going to the bookshop.”

“Well, I’ll come with you.”

“No ... no thanks, dear. I’d rather go on my own. Well, I mean, there isn’t all that much time, and you

know what Dad is like if he has to wait for his dinner, although,” she added smilingly now, ‘he’ll find fault

with every item on his plate. I’ll see you there around twelve.

All right? “

And she looked at the sisters standing silent and slightly open-mouthed, and then at fier mother before

turning from them and going through an arch and down a narrow side street to where, at the end, was

Mr. Ramshaw’s bookshop.

She was breathing heavily when she stopped and looked in the window of the shop. Well, now she was

on her own and about to face the ladies, because this is where some of them congregated on a Saturday

morning, those who wanted to appear a cut above their neighbours, especially the

Watfords and the

MacNultys, who sent their daughters to The Dame School.

As she pushed open the door of the shop her entry stopped a customer being served.

Mrs. Bitten was in the act of paying for a book which the assistant was handing to her wrapped up

neatly in a little parcel, and both their hands became still and their eyes widened just the slightest. And

Susan Bitten who was standing to the side of her mother, her hands in a muff, slowly

brought the article

up to her face as if she was going to bite on it.

“Good-morning, Mrs. Knowles.” Kate’s voice was quiet as she inclined her head towards

the assistant,

and it was a second or two before the reply came, “Good-morning, Miss Roystan.”

The Bittens and the Roystans were not on visiting terms. The men could speak and

haggle over cattle in

the market, but that was as far as it went, for the Bittens did not socially recognize the upstart smelting

mill worker who had clawed himself up into a position where now he had one of the best farms for miles

around, and was running a herd of fifty cows, the latest news of him being that he was going in for

breeding. Of course, as was said, he could do this because he hadn’t to pay a staff to carry on the work,

for this was done by his family, though why they should want to labour on a farm after the education he

had given them was a question they all asked themselves. There was only one who was

seemingly taking

advantage

of it, the son who was going in for law. That was another thing, one of his tribe being clever enough to

take up such a profession, which up till now, as everyone knew, was the prerogative of gentlemen’s sons.

Then there was his womenfolk: dressed like ladies they were; and aping those above their station, too,

so it was understood, by the way they ate in the house, dining—room meals every day in the week.

Whoever heard of a farmer using his dining-room except for special occasions.

Some people had accepted invitations but not the Bittens, probably because, as it was

widely known,

the Bittens were distantly connected with Beaumont who, everyone knew, owned the lead

mines and

smelting mills around Allendale, and, as Mrs. Bitten would bring out now and again, who was so rich that

his election expenses alone in eighteen and twenty-six, had come to over forty thousand pounds. She

didn’t go on to state that less than two hundred pounds had been spent in the town where his money had

been made which was Allendale, and where his workers lived and where many of them

died an early

death.

Mrs. Bitten was a great source of information. She had also made herself the leader of the farming

society in that part of the country.

That wasn’t to say, she was accepted by the real county families, except on the face of it when she and

her husband, and son, and daughter, rode with the hounds. Then, as some said, even stray dogs joined

in the hunt and servants were spoken to as if they were human beings. Now you couldn’t ask for more,

could “ou?

What Mrs. Bitten now said and in an undertone to the assistant, and to her daughter, was,

“That for

nerve.” And both her daughter and the assistant nodded in agreement.

Eighteen-year-old Susan Bitten looked to where Kate was now walking slowly alongside

a bookcase,

and she marvelled how a woman could be left at the altar on Monday, then walk into the town on

Saturday as if nothing had happened; she herself would have died. Yes,

yes, indeed she would, she would have killed herself, because of the shame. No proper

woman could

stand the shame of such rejection. But then, Kate Roystan wasn’t a real woman, not a

feminine woman,

she was too big. And look at her face, more like a man’s. She could understand how the man had run

away, but she could never under stand how the woman had the nerve to walk abroad as if nothing had

happened.

Kate opened the pages of a book and looked at the frontispiece but without seeing it. She knew exactly

what was being said, as if she was standing next to them. And she knew that round the

corner at the

reading table she would be confronted by several pairs of eyes, because it was at this table that certain

ladies met, not to discuss reading matter, but to exchange the gossip of the week, while at the same time

taking on literary prestige.

She replaced the book and walked round the end of the bookcase, and there they were:

Mrs. Watford

and her daughters Marie and Eva, Mrs. MacNulty and her daughter Sheena.

It was Mrs. Watford, a farmer’s wife, who after a slight gape spoke first, saying, “Why, Kate! Why,

Kate!” And she made to rise, then changed her mind. She couldn’t get over what she was seeing, for,

only days ago she had sat in the church and waited and waited for the marriage service to begin, and only

this very minute she had been relating to Mrs. MacNulty all the narration that had been caused when the

Reverend had come out and explained to them that no marriage was to take place. She

herself had seen

the bride drive off, her head almost on her knees in shame, and yet here she was as brazen as brass.

She couldn’t believe it.

“How are you, Kate?” Her voice was high, sounding almost like a squeak.

“Very well, Mrs. Watford, very well, thank you. And you? And Marie and Eva?” She

turned to the

two girls who were sitting looking at her with looks almost of stupefaction on their faces.

Mrs. MacNulty now spoke, using, as Dad would laughingly say, her day-off voice which

she was wont

to adopt in an endeavour to cover her broad Irish accent, for the Irish round about weren’t held in any

good esteem, a brawling and fighting lot, admittedly only when they were drunk, but, as Dad himself

would admit, not a happier or pleas anter people you could wish to meet in their sober state. But then

they weren’t very often sober, for the men would sell their wives and grannies for a drink.

“Oh, Kate,” she said.

“And are you bearin’ up, me dear?”

“Bearing up?” Kate raised her eyebrows.

“I haven’t been ill, Mrs. MacNulty.”

“No, no. I understand. Well, there’s nothin’ like puttin’ a brave face on it. As I always say, face

trouble and it splatters... I mean, it disappears, and MacNulty always says, as long as you’ve got a back

on you why face the wind.”

“I like facing the wind, Mrs. MacNulty.” The words were quiet, the tone pleasant.

What could you do with a creature like this? Nothing. She was brazen.

She wouldn’t have believed it. Mrs. MacNulty glanced at her daughter Sheena and was

surprised to

see her smiling broadly up at the big barefaced woman. And Kate Roystan was smiling

down on her.

Wait till she got her outside, she’d say something to that girl, she would that.

She had been worried about her of late: too ready to talk back she was, and having

opinions that

weren’t proper at her age, and she not yet seventeen.

“Goodbye, Mrs. MacNulty.” Kate moved on, only to encounter three more ladies, two of

whom she

wasn’t acquainted with, but the third, after the usual gape, patted her arm kindly, saying in an undertone,

“I under stand. I understand.”

Kate didn’t question the lady’s understanding but picked up a book from the shelf, went to the counter

and paid Mrs. Knowles for it, and the assistant said not a word to her, not even, thank you; then she left

the shop, and deliberately now she walked back up the street and into the market.

It was there Hal came across her, and in a low tone and harshly, he said, “What you doin’

parading

around here on your own for? What’s the matter with you, Kate? You asking for more

trouble?”

“What more trouble could I have. Dad?”

“Aw, Kate, Kate. Don’t take it so much to heart.”

“I’m not. I’m not. Believe me, I’m not. Not that way. I’m glad. Yes, I am.” She nodded at him and

put her hand on his arm.

“Believe me, I’m glad it happened as it did, for I know now I wouldn’t have been able to put up with

him, or his people.” Her fingers pressed his coat as her voice dropped and she said gently,

“You brought

me up too well, made me soft in a way. And now you have me for life; you’ve made a

rod for your own

back.” She smiled gently at him, and he lowered his head, saying, “Aw, lass, lass.

Anyway, let’s get out

of this, they’re looking at us as if they’re expecting us to perform. Come on. Where are the others?”

“Shopping as usual.”

“I could do with a drink before me meal. Come on. Let’s get inside, it’s enough to freeze you.”

They walked now side by side, past the nodding stall-holders, some of whom even

stopped weighing

their goods to look at Hal Roystan’s lass.

The Baker fellow had left her in the lurch and gone off with a good pile of her money, it was now being

said, after treating his cronies to free drinks in Allendale. But there she was putting a face on it. A bit

brazen, they considered really. She could have kept low for a few weeks before showing her face;

people would have had sympathy for her then. But as it was, she was making people

think she was a bit

of a queer fish.

In the hotel, Hal took off his coat and hat, then made for the settle by the fire. And when the waiter

greeted him with, “Good-morning, Mr. Roystan. What can I get you?” he said briefly,

“Two hot

toddies.”

“No Dad, not for me.”

“Two hot toddies, I said.” Hal nodded at the man who smiled and repeated, “Two hot

toddies. Very

good, sir.”

“You’re going to drink this so that when the gang turns up you’ll have some colour in

your cheeks. You

look like a corpse, girl.”

“I feel like a corpse, Dad.”

“Then why did you do it? I mean, show your face so early?”

“I... I don’t know, at least I can’t explain. It’s a kind of defiance. I don’t want to be pitied or hidden

away.”

“Nobody would have hidden you away, lass.”

“No.” She shook her head and smiled wanly.

“No, but I would have been kindly guarded by you, and Mother, and the rest. Then in

time, like a sick

staggering colt, I’d have been led into the open. Well, I didn’t see myself living like that.

It’s a long time,

Dad, since I faced what I am, too ugly for a woman....”

“Shut up! Shut up this minute afore I let me hands loose an’ belt you.

You’re the finest woman that I know bar one, and you came out of her.

And I know this, I feel this, being a man, I know somewhere there’s one for you, one

who’ll see the

whole of you. I know it. I made a mistake with the other one, I must have been. “

“Oh, Dad.” She smiled at him now, a warm endearing smile.

“I only know one thing, I’ve been a very lucky person to have been brought up by you.”

“Huh!” He threw up his head. That’s as maybe. Ah, here’s the drink.

Now get it down you and then we’ll eat, if and when that lot turn up. “

She drank the hot rum and did not shudder at the first taste, as a lady would have done or even any of