Midnight is a Place (29 page)

"'Tis a poor lad half drownded—can tha take him in an' give him a bit of a roob-down an' a warm-oop?"

"Eh, for sure—t'poor yoong chap. Fetch him in, there's a kettle a-boiling this minute!"

They hoisted Lucas up once more and carried him into a tiny hot kitchen which seemed to be full of firelight and people. As there was nowhere else to put him, they laid him by the hearth—the man's mother first prudently unrolled a large piece of sailcloth over her rag hearth rug. There were shocked and sympathetic exclamations from all over the room—a family party seemed to be in progress. Anna-Marie and her grandmother were instantly offered cups of hot tea and wedges of dough cake, while the man who had assisted them was commanded by his mother to fetch down the paigle cordial from her bedroom.

"We'd do best to put the poor thing straight in a bath in t'back kitchen, wi' a bit of mustard in—"

"The very thing," agreed Lady Murgatroyd. "We are very much obliged to you."

"Eh," cried the plump woman, looking at her closely. "If it baint Madam Minetti! Do ye mind, ma'am, ye helped Jock, my eldest, to win t'Cup for t'best all-round choirboy—eh, he were all-round an' all! There it stands to this day." She pointed to a huge brass cup on the mantel.

The son who had gone to fetch the cordial returned and knelt to pour a dose of it between Lucas's pale and muddy lips. Anna-Marie now noticed for the first time that he had only one eye. The other was covered by a black patch. His face was faintly familiar; where had she seen it before?

"'Tis Madam Minetti, Davey, as helped oor Jock win t'cup!"

"Jock Scatcherd, of course; I remember. A very good treble, he had. Where is he now?" Lady Murgatroyd inquired.

"He would go as a sailor, ma'am—ah, look, t'lad's stirring. Granma's cordial 'ud fetch back a dead snail that had been frozen a fortnit. Hold him oop a bit, Davey, an' you, Cathy, fetch soom towels, an' Lucy, pour t'watter in t'toob, an' Percy, lay a bit o' mat oot there, an' Auntie, put a screen across t'back door, an' Polly, fetch t'scrobbing broosh—"

Amid a general scurry and hubbub Lucas was carried into the back kitchen, where about half the family fell on him and peeled off his muddy clothes and put him into the wooden washtub of steaming water and rubbed him and scrubbed him.

"Eh! T'poor thing! He's all scraped an' scratted an' haggled—reckon t'hogs has been at him—"

"Is he badly hurt?" inquired Lady Murgatroyd. It was quite impossible to see Lucas for the throng of willing helpers.

"Nay, but he were loocky. He must ha' scaped away from t'hogs joost in time. Most folk as they nibbles niver gets to eat anoother dinner."

"Will he be all right?" demanded Anna-Marie.

"Aye, lass, he'll be champion by an' by. He'll be stiff an' sore, happen, for a week or so. 'Twas a good thing for him ye came by. Do ye know him?"

"Yes, he is my friend, he works with this Gudgeon, who I think is
un assassin—
"

"Eh, aye, yon Gudgeon," said an old man in the corner who had not spoken yet, "'Tis a reet scandal the noomber o' lads he an' yon Hobday ha' finished off between em."

"Is he mad, then, this Gudgeon?" asked Lady Murgatroyd.

"Not to say clean daft—a bit tootched, like. Times he's sensible enow, oother times he goes cuckoo-wild—and can ye woonder, considering the onnatural life he has doon there i' the dark, day in, day out?"

"Yes, but that's not to say he should be allowed—You mean everybody knows about him and nobody stops him?"

"Nay, I reckon folks thinks as it's noon o' their business." Then the old man took his pipe out of his mouth and said, "What did ye say the lady's name was, Marthy?"

"Madam Minetti."

"Nay, that bain't no Madam Minetti. 'Tis owd Lady Murgatroyd, as put a splint on my foot, time I got trompled by a bull."

"Why so I did," said Lady Murgatroyd. "And you're Willum Scatcherd, who used to work in the dairy up at the Court and left to be a baker's apprentice."

"I thowt ye were dead, ma'am, when owd Sir Quincy died."

"No, I'm not dead yet," said Lady Murgatroyd, and she and the old man, who seemed delighted to see her, instantly fell into a long talk about old times when Sir Quincy was alive. "Arr, things was better then, ma'am, afore that Sir Randolph coom, what stoock my granson i' the pokey."

Scatcherd, said Anna-Marie to herself. Of course he was the one-eyed man who was making a speech and the soldiers went galloping by to arrest him.

"Did you get out prison, then?" she asked, as he happened to come and sit beside her, after putting away the cowslip cordial.

"Aye, there were no witnesses against me, once yon Smallside had left t'Mill. None other would speak. We has oor fights among oorselves, but they divvn't go outside. And wi' old Randy Grimsby dead, they could find no reason to keep me."

"Will you go back to the mill, then?"

"Reckon so, lass; I've got mates there, see. What's
thy
name, then?"

"She's my granddaughter," put in Lady Murgatroyd, looking across the hearth.

At this moment Lucas was brought from the back kitchen in a half-reviving condition, and set in a chair, wrapped in a blanket.

"Luc ! Are you feeling better? Can you tell us what happened? Was it
le vieux Gudgeon?
Did he attack you?"

"I—I can't remember much," Lucas murmured dazedly. He was confused by the warmth and the strange room and the number of unfamiliar faces all around him. The Scatcherds were a black-eyed, red-cheeked, tousle-headed clan; he felt as if he had fallen into a Punch-and-Judy show. "Yes, yes—it was Gudgeon—for two weeks he had become stranger and stranger—
he seemed as if he disliked me and then as if he
hated
me—he kept talking in a very odd way—I think it was bits out of the Bible—and he watched me all the time and made me walk in front of him because he said I was hiding things from him—though I wasn't. I asked Mr. Hobday about him and he said it was nothing, he'd get over it in a day or two, he always did—"

"Ah, that's Gudgeon all over," remarked Mrs. Scatcherd. "When he gets taken this road he gets
that
soospicious he would-na troost his own broother—if he had woon—"

"Then today—was it today?—there were some hogs coming—I remember that—and something hit me hard on the head and I fell—I suppose Gudgeon hit me—and the hogs all came rushing at me, I remember
that—
"

He shuddered at the memory. "And then I think I managed to roll into the sewer. And then I found myself here. I'm very grateful to you, ma'am," he said to Mrs. Scatcherd, who was handing him a large mug of tea laced with cowslip cordial.

"Ee, think nowt of it, ye poor thing—I'm reet glad that
woon
o' Gudgeon's boys got away at least—maybe ye can lay an information against him now. An' that Hobday—he moost 'a had a fair notion o' what was going on."

"Nay," said Davey Scatcherd, who had been studying Lucas. "I know
thee!
Tha'rt the lad from t'Court as I was set to show over t'mill afore I got roon in. I' mercy's name, what wast tha doing doon in t'sewer wi' owd Gudgeon?"

"That's a long story. I don't think Lucas is quite strong enough for storytelling yet," said Lady Murgatroyd in her deep voice. "Other people have their livings to earn as well as you, Davey Scatcherd!"

Davey grinned and said, "Aye, ma'am!"

"Should we take Luc home now?" said Anna-Marie. "Is he strong enough to walk? I am thinking that Monsieur Ookapool will be making himself anxious about us."

"He will indeed," said Lady Murgatroyd. "
Are
you strong enough to walk, my dear boy?"

Lucas thought he was, but he had no clothes; the savage little teeth of the hogs had chewed everything he had on to ragged scraps. However the Scatcherd family were easily able to provide a set of garments from among their various members. Lucas stood up, presently, but he was still rather weak on his legs.

"I'll step along wi' thee a bit o' the way," said Davey Scatcherd. "For I was on my way up toon to a meeting o' t'pressers', glue boilers', an' claw operators' union when a' this gallimafry took place."

"I thought they weren't allowed to have unions?" Anna-Marie said incautiously.

"Whisht! Nowt said breaks no head."

They started off, Davey and Lady Murgatroyd supporting Lucas on either side.

"Excercise'll be the best thing for thee, sithee," Davey said.

Lucas thought how amazingly different Davey seemed now from the rather unfriendly, sarcastic person who had shown him over the works. And yet what had made the difference? Davey had no more cause to be friendly now than then. He had just come out of prison, too; he might have been expected to feel bitter.

"I'm sorry you were sent to prison," Lucas said awkwardly.

"Nay, it weren't so bad. Not mooch groob, but tha gets a bit o' time to think. 'Tweren't
thy
fault, ony road. 'Twere on account o' Stingy Randy cutting the wages. I daresay he kept thee short too."

"He did that," said Lucas with feeling.

"Mr. Scatcherd," said Anna-Marie.

"Eh, call me Davey, lass; a'body doos."

"
Eh bien,
Davey, then; is your union the same as the Friendly Lads?"

Davey halted long enough to utter a terrible oath and spit into the gutter. "Nay, it isn't, then," he said, more moderately, when he had recovered himself. "'T Friendly Boys is now but a set o'raskills lining their pockets by squeezin' poor decent folk. Bob Bludward's the head an' front of it, an' woon o' these days him an' me's due for a rare randy-dandy."

"So," pursued Anna-Marie, "what does
your
union want?"

"Why, better wages, that folk could live on, an' better working conditions. Fewer folk falling into t'glue or getting scroonched by t'press. Ye'll pardon me, I'm sure, ma'am, but things has gone all to Habbakuk since owd Sir Quincy built t'place."

"Yes, I'm sadly aware of that," said Lady Murgatroyd. "And I hope you achieve your aims. Now I'm sure we can manage from here and need take you no farther out of your way. We are greatly obliged to you for all your trouble—"

They had paused outside Murgatroyd's Mill itself.

"Why," said Davey, puzzled, scratching his head, "where i' Mickle's name do you live, then? There's no hooses oot yonder."

"Up in the park," said Lady Murgatroyd, "in the old icehouse. Till somebody turns us out! I understand the park has been sold."

"In the icehouse? Well I'll be dommed. Haven't ye—pardon my asking—haven't ye any brass, then, ma'am?"

"No more than you, Davey—only what I earn. Thank you for all your help. We'll bring back the clothes tomorrow," Lady Murgatroyd said.

They started up the hill. Anna-Marie took Lucas's arm, but he was moving more easily now; the exercise had done him good.

Davey stood looking after them, scratching his head, until they were around the bend in the road. Then he said,

"Well, by gar!" and turned to walk back into the town.

Lucas had intended to start straight off next morning hunting for a new job.

"
Now,
I hope," Anna-Marie had said to him on the last, slow stretch of the walk home, "Now you will not any more insist on working in this sewer, perhaps?"

"No," he said. "No, I'm not going back there. But—you know—it is just as
Grand'mère
said; when something has once happened to you, then you know it isn't quite as bad as you expected. Now I've been trampled on by hogs and fallen into the sewer, it will never seem quite so awful again. Just the same," he added, "I don't care if I never see another hog for the rest of my life."

"And what about
ce Gudgeon affreux?
" demanded Anna-Marie. "You will go and lay an information about him, I hope?"

"I'm not sure," said Lucas. "He can't help it."

"'Obday can help it,
enfin!
"

"Well, I'll think about it. But in the morning I'll try to get a job in the Mill. I think Davey Scatcherd might put in a good word for me."

In the morning, though, he was so stiff that he could hardly move, and had such a sore throat that Lady Murgatroyd dosed him with rose-hip syrup, rubbed him all over with balsam oil, and told him not to stir hand or foot until she gave him leave.

"For all we know you may have caught typhus fever by falling into that place—let alone the infection you may have picked up from hog-bites."

"You may as well do as she says," Mr. Oakapple observed drily. "Look how meek and biddable she has made
me.
" He was sitting with the canary perched on top of his head, entertaining the baby by handing her back the various pine cones, pebbles, and lumps of knotted wood that she chose to throw out of her cradle. Lucas could not help laughing, though it hurt his throat to do so.

Lady Murgatroyd was going off to give a music lesson. "You can all amuse each other while I am gone. It still snows, so you are not even to think of going out."

"Except me,
Grand'mère,
" said Anna-Marie, who was just setting off for her shift at the Mill.

Lucas felt unhappy that he had to stay at home while Anna-Marie was out working.

"I am not bringing in any money," he fretted.

"Nor am I," Mr. Oakapple pointed out. "But complaining won't help. The only answer is to behave in a rational manner and get better as fast as you can."

Toward the end of the week, however, they had an unexpected caller who relieved Lucas's anxieties about money.

This was Mr. Hobday, who came tapping at the door in the snowy dusk, looking evasive and guilty and ingratiating and apologetic all at the same time.

"Very sorry to see you poorly, lad," he said nervously rubbing his little clawlike hands together, his ears redder than ever with the cold and with embarrassment. "Very sorry to see that."

"So you should be," said Mr. Oakapple severely, Lucas having told him who Mr. Hobday was. "You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself for allowing boys into the sewer in the company of that dangerous lunatic. You deserve to be thrown into jail."

"All right, all right, all right, guvnor, don't lay it on any more!" cried Mr. Hobday, tearing his hair and pulling his own ears. "It's been one arter another at me all week—fust that little lass was a-bawling at me—an' gor, she'd got a tongue like a haddock knife—then the owd lady, Madam Minetti,
she
pitched into me; 'Very sorry, ma'am, very sorry, if I'd a knowed the young lad were a connection o'yourn I'd never a' taken him on,' I says, 'but he needed the money an' how was I to know he were your great-grand-cousin?' 'Whose cousin he be, that bain't the point,' says she, 'the point be you shouldn't a done it to
anyone's
cousin, an' he's sore an' bruised, sides being frit to death, an' you should pay him summat handsome in compensation.' 'Very well, ma'am,' says I. An' last of all young Firebrand Scatcherd,
he
come up and lays into me about poor old Gudgeon—but what's a cove to do? If I doesn't send a boy down wi' Gudgeon, he gets more and more coveticious an' niggurious, the old muckworm, he keeps all the tosh himself and brings me
nothing,
an' I have all the expense of the stall an' his wages, so I has to have a boy to keep an eye on him, see? How can I help it if he goes a bit March-mad now an' now, an' turns on the boys spiteful-like? Boys should be able to look arter themselves, that's what I says. Now you, my young cove,
you're
a active, coriaceous lad, gristly enough to stand up to old Gudgeon, just the right sort for a tosh boy, an' I hope you'll come back to the profession when you're over this little setback."