A Dinner Of Herbs (93 page)

drink. No one made any comment. And she had hardly returned the sheet of paper to the

envelope

when the sound of a cart rumbling into the yard made Hal turn to the window, and there he exclaimed,

“Tis the carter. You ordered anything?” He looked over his shoulder towards Mary Ellen, and she said,

“No. I’ve got all I want in this past week.”

The man called across the yard, “Hello there, Mr. Roystan. Got something for you.”

Hal called back from the kitchen door, “Hello, Andy. Well, let’s have it.”

A moment later the man came into the kitchen and placed six packages on the table, all of different sizes.

“Where did these come from?” Mary Ellen asked as she stared at the neatly wrapped

parcels.

“Different shops. I had me orders.” He grinned broadly from one to the other.

“Gather them up on Christmas Eve, that’s what the letter said.

And she paid well, she did that. Well, happy Christmas to you all. “

“You’d like a drink?”

The man looked at Hal and said, “Aye, I wouldn’t say A bottle was brought and a drink

poured out and

the man raised his glass to them all, wishing them health, and wealth, and good crops.

Then he went out, leaving them all looking at the table and the parcels.

It was Maggie who made the first move towards them. She looked down at an oblong

shaped parcel

and said, “That’s addressed to you, Dad,” and she handed it to him.

“And this is for you. Main,” she said. This was a soft package.

The biggest package on the table was a square box almost eighteen inches high, and she stared down at

it as she said, “Tis for me, this one.” Then picking up another softish package she

exclaimed in some

surprise, “Willy! Willy! She didn’t forget Willy, or Terry.”

“How do you know they are from her?”

Maggie swung round on her mother, almost bawling now, “Who else would think of

sending us presents

like this, Mam, eh? Do you know anybody else?”

The lads could have. “ Her mother’s voice was as loud as hers now.

“Yes, they could have, but they don’t. They never have done; they bring theirs, such as they are. Oh!”

Impatiently she turned again to the table, but as she did so, John had put out his hand and picked up the

last and smallest package.

They all stood watching him undoing the wrapping to disclose a three-inch-long flat

black box. He

stared at it for some seconds before opening it, then gazed down at the gold cravat pin shaped in the

form of a whip, the top of the handle studded with four red stones. It was Maggie who, coming round to

his side, said in a hushed voice now, “Eeh! she sent you that. We were looking at it in Monroe’s the last

time we were in Hexham. It ... it was in the middle of a window on a velvet pad.

“Tis beautiful.” She looked up into John’s face, saying, “Isn’t it beautiful?” But he did not utter a word

until she said, “Twas costly, very costly.” Then he closed the lid and, turning to her, he said quietly,

“Well, see what you’ve got.”

She now quickly undid the wrapping to disclose a round box. Then, lifting the lid, she put in her hand

and withdrew a broad pink satin ribbon, and as she hesitated to pull it upwards Hal

exclaimed, “My! a

band-box. Must be a hat.”

When she lifted out a red velvet bonnet she stood gazing at it in amazement for a moment before she

exclaimed, “Tis the one we saw in Snells. I admired it and she said it was bonny, and it would suit her.”

“Aye, likely it would have, but it looks too young for you.”

Maggie’s expression changed in a flash, and she ginned at her mother for a moment as

she said, “I’m not

in me grave, Mam. I keep telling you.

“Try it on.” John’s voice came between them like a balm. But Maggie hesitated; she

turned the bonnet

round between her two hands while she gazed at it, and the muscles of her face moved, as if she were

about to cry.

And now it was Hal who spoke, saying, “Well, go on then, woman. Put it where it

belongs, on your

head.”

Slowly she pushed the stray strands of hair from about each ear with one hand, then she put the bonnet

on, and again John’s voice was quiet as he said, “It suits you.” And when her father put in gruffly, “You

could have picked worse.

“Tis your colour,” she turned a grateful look on him. It was so seldom he approved of

anything she did

that even such a remark sounded like high commendation to her.

Now she confronted her mother with a firm, “Well?”

“Tis all right.

“Tis better on than off. But a bonnet like that needs things to match it.”

“Well, I’ll have to see about getting them, won’t I, Mam? Anyway’ she turned to her

father now ‘what

have you got?”

He was already undoing the wrapping and when he disclosed a box of cigars, he laughed

loudly, saying,

“Why cigars, I’ve never smoked one in me life. My! a dozen of them. Eeh! now, would

you believe

that, to send me a box of cigars!

Look. “ He held out the box towards Mary Ellen, and she said, “ Aye, I can see what they are. “

And as if aiming to hide his pleasure at the gift, he now cried at her, “Well, open your parcel, woman!”

And when she did and disclosed a beautiful cashmere shawl which hung from her hands

like a network

of fine cobwebs, she blinked and said softly, “Tis bonny.”

“Aye, ‘tis bonny,” Hal repeated her words. And looking at John, he said, “Tis amazing

like, that one so

young, a slip of a lass could be so thoughtful for each one of us, and Willy an’ all.” He nodded to the last

parcel on the table.

“She seemed but a hairn....”

“She was no hairn.”

“What?” Hal screwed up his face as he peered at his son.

“What do you mean, she was no hairn?”

“Just what I say, she was no hairn. She wasn’t sixteen as you were given to understand.”

He was now

looking at his mother.

“She’s nineteen, or will be in a few days’ time.”

Hal and Mary Ellen exchanged a glance, then looked at John again, and it was Mary

Ellen who asked

now, “What are you sayin’? She was no nineteen, that one. Anyway, why should she lie

about her

age?”

“She didn’t lie. It was him. He thought you would more likely give a home to a young

lass than to a

young woman.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well, that’s up to you, Mam.”

Mary Ellen turned to Maggie.

“You knew about this?” she asked.

“Yes, Mam, and he’s right. But what difference does it make? She’s still the same.”

“It makes this much difference, I’ve been deceived. She should have told me if she’d told you.”

“What chance did you give her, Mam? You hardly opened your mouth to her.”

“Be that as it may, but there’s one thing I do know, I’ll not have her under this roof again.”

“You mightn’t have any choice.” John was standing staring at her from across the table.

His face had

lost its colour, his mouth looked a grim line.

“What am I expected to make from that remark?” Mary Ellen’s voice was low. And to

this he

answered, “You can make out of it whatever you like, only think on it.” And at this he turned from the

startled faces and marched up the kitchen and through the door into the hall, which was an unheard of

thing to do, for he was still in his working boots.

There was a dead silence in the kitchen now and it wasn’t broken until Maggie, picking up the two

parcels from the table, pulled on her hooded cape and went out, leaving Mary Ellen and Hal looking at

each other.

“What do you think he meant? He wouldn’t, would he?” Mary Ellen said quietly but

apprehensively.

And Hal seemed to consider for a moment before he said quietly, “He could. It’s been

known afore.”

“But she could be his daughter.”

“Aye, but she isn’t. And he doesn’t look his age. But’ he put his hand out and gripped her shoulder

‘don’t worry, he’s sensible, and he wouldn’t make himself a laughing stock. He’s made

that way is John,

he couldn’t stand being ribbed, never could. So don’t look so worried.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

It was some seconds before he answered when, turning from her, he said, “No, no. I

know John. This

place is his life, and it’s his when I go, lock, stock, and barrel. He knows that. No, I’m not worried.”

He buttoned up his coat, knotted a muffler round his neck, pulled on his cap and went

out.

Alone now, Mary Ellen sat down in a chair by the side of the table and her fingers played a quick tattoo

on the wood. My God! if that should happen, she wouldn’t be able to stand it, not that girl, because

every time she had looked at her she had been reminded of Roddy, and was transported

back down the

years to the time when she lay with him on the quarry top.

“Twas an odd thought, but it 649 was as if she had given birth to the girl instead of Kate.

Oh, dear me. Her head wagged on her shoulders, now, and she looked around the kitchen.

There

along the delph rack were all the cold meats ready for the family coming. On the far table were the

cakes and pies she had been baking for the last three days. She had been looking forward to this

Christmas holiday because the lads would be here later today, and they always cheered

the place up,

although she was disappointed they were only staying for a couple of days. Apparently

Gabriel had to

get back to the glass works.

And then there was the big dinner the morrow with Kate and Ben, and the three children, and Tom and

May and their Harry. Florrie and Charles didn’t come to the Christmas dinner; they

always went up to

the manor for that, but they would be here for tea later on. She would have all her family round her, and

they would eat and drink, and there would be laughter and news exchanged. And the

children would

have games, and Maggie would play the piano, and they would have a sing-song.

Maggie. She was

another one that was causing her worry of late because somehow she was changed, for

there were days

when she appeared like a young lass again, her manner was almost gay.

And there was that time she had heard her singing to herself while cleaning the rooms

upstairs.

But her bright patches weren’t as frequent as her sullen ones, when she didn’t open her mouth for hours

on end. And there was this other thing. Lately, she had been scrambling through the

housework and

spending much more of her time outside. She had felt the urge to talk to her and say.

Don’t make a fool

of yourself, woman. Don’t let yourself down. Have a bit of dignity. And she knew what

her reception

would be if she voiced anything like that.

But the worry over Maggie was nothing compared to this new bolt from the blue. Well,

all she could do

was to pray to God that that lass never set foot in this house

again. And she would do that. Yes, she would pray as she had never prayed in her life

before. Maggie

was in the barn. She was looking at Willy while he looked down on the white silk scarf lying across his

hands, and he repeated, “Tis a lovely thing.” Then raising his eyes to her, he said, “And for her to think

of me, remember me, and Terry with a pound of baccy. She had a lovely nature, and so

young.” He

lifted his eyes to her, then added, “But as you say, not so young. And your bonnet, red velvet you say?

I would like to see you in it.”

“You shall. I’ll put it on the next time I help to milk the cows.” She checked the laugh that erupted from

her by placing her hand tightly over her mouth, but he didn’t check his, and amidst it, he exclaimed, “Why

not! Why not! Only I don’t think Bella would like it, ‘cos she’s only got a straw one.

Remember the

day I put the old straw hat on her in the field and they all gathered round as if admiring her, remember?”

She nodded at him. Her eyes were shining, her whole face seemed transformed. He

stopped laughing

and stood gazing at her. Then, lifting up the side of his smock, he thrust his hand into his breeches

pocket; and now he was extending towards her a very small parcel.

The laughter slid from her face, leaving it soft; her eyes were wide as she looked down onto his rough

hand, the parcel lying in his palm.

Gently she picked it up. There was a single layer of paper around it and it wasn’t tied.

She unfolded it,

then opened the box and gazed at the brooch made in the design of twined ivy leaves. The setting wasn’t

of gold, nor had it jewels like John’s cravat pin, yet it was no cheap gimcrack.

“Tisn’t much. Not as I would like.”

“Oh, Willy, ‘tis beautiful.” Her voice broke, “I ... I have nothing for you.

“You have everything for me, Maggie, everything, and you know it.” His words came on

a whisper.

“Oh, Willy.”

“Tis all right. Tis all right. Don’t upset yourself.”

“I can’t go on like this, Willy.”

There’s no other way, is there? “ It was a statement, also a question.

She bit tight on her lip, lowered her head, and now he pleaded, “Don’t cry. For God’s

sake, Maggie,

don’t cry;

‘twill be me undoing. Here, wipe your face on that. “ He held out the scarf that had been hanging over

his wrist, and she protested, “ No, no, not your scarf. I’m all right. Your new scarf

indeed! “ Her voice