The Chainmakers (12 page)

'Yes, just think, I'll see the sea!'

‘And your fare back home?'

'Yes of course. At the end of August they all go to Paris for two weeks, and I shall go with them. They won't be painting then of course, it's like a little holiday...'

'Strikes me it's all 'oliday...'

'Yes, I think so too. In Paris I shall have to help with the cooking, but I shall have time to see the sights. Mr. Nicholson said in his letter he will take me to the Art Gallery to see some paintings by a man called Chardin. I don't really know what he's on about, but it's a painter Mr. Nicholson admires.'

George Gibson gave a deep sigh. Anna's remark about lost chances had gone home. Still he wavered, until Anna said, 'Won't you read Mr. Nicholson's letter Dad? I have it here.'

She fished in her apron pocket and handed him the letter. George Gibson perused it a long while. Eventually he handed it back to Anna and said, 'Well, it seems all above board. But it still don't seem decent to me, a young woman goin' all that way wi' a young man an' them not wed.'

'But Dad, gentlefolks take their servants everywhere with them.'

'Arr, perhaps they do. An' folks do all sorts o' things these days, do' mean I 'ave to agree wi' 'em.' He got to his feet. Anna waited, but he said nothing more.

'Then I can go Dad? You give me your blessing?'

'Yo' get no blessin' from me ma wench. Yo' do what yer want, sein' as yo 've med yer mind up. But do' come runnin' back 'ere when it all ends in tears.

PART TWO

FRANCE

Anna awoke to the pungent smell of coffee. She lay for a moment, savouring the comfort of the bed, smoothing the thick white counterpane with her fingers. She had never woken up in such a lovely place she decided, it was even better than High Cedars. Not so grand of course, but somehow that made it even more enjoyable. She gazed around her in contentment at the crudely plastered ceiling and walls, whitewashed to snowy contrast with the heavy carved chest and clothes press. In the corner stood a big china jug and washbowl on a tall stand, with thick white towels hanging on a rail at the side of it. Anna got out of bed and crossed to the small window. The cretonne curtains fluttered slightly in the morning breeze, and she opened the window wide and breathed deeply. Robert had been right, the rain had gone at last, and it was a lovely morning.

In the courtyard below a door opened and she saw the stocky figure of Therese crossing to the open fronted barn with a bucket of feed for the chickens.

'Hello Therese!'

'Bonjour!' Therese turned and waved. 'At last the child awakes! After all the work is finish...'

Anna laughed. Although it was only her third day at the farm, she knew this was a joke. It had taken very little time to discover Therese hid her kind heart with a sharp tongue, and Anna felt a thrill of excitement as she quickly washed and dressed, for this morning she was to accompany Therese to the local market. On the stairs she met one of the resident artists, Alphonse, coming up. He had little English, but he smiled and said 'Bonjour ma petite!' and although Anna did not understand him she knew he was being pleasant and smiled back shyly and said 'Bonjour,' which was the only French word she knew.

Including Robert there were four artists staying at the farmhouse, a very old building of local rose pink stone known as 'La Maison Blanche.' Robert had explained the house originally belonged to a man known as Le Chevalier Blanc, who was turned out of his home at the time of the Revolution. In English, he said, the name meant The White Knight, and at this point Anna had lost the thread of the conversation, when Robert started to talk about teaching her to play chess. The farmhouse now belonged to Therese's father, and hazily remembered tales of the French Revolution made Anna speculate uneasily as to how he had acquired it. What had happened to The White Knight? Had he lost his head like so many others? Had Therese's ancestors been among the army of "sans culottes" who had stormed through the countryside, killing and burning....? The possibility that the farmhouse had played its part in such turbulent history gave added appeal, and, tantalised by her own imaginings, Anna quickly fell under its spell.

When Anna reached the kitchen Robert and the other two artists were finishing breakfast at the big scrubbed table. One of them was Jacques, a big curly haired man with an extraordinarily full beard, who spoke very good English. He had brought Anna a letter of advice from his wife, who had modelled for them in previous summers. Shortly after they arrived Jacques had attempted to translate the letter to her, but had then stuffed it into his pocket saying, 'Don't worry, she only says two things to you. When you are tired, you must tell us because we shall never notice, and do not let me drink too much! She also wishes you luck!' he added, sheepishly. He rolled his eyes and tugged at his beard, 'My wife, she don't think too much of us!'

Anna had laughed, and had liked Jacques immediately. She could not say as much for the other artist, a grey haired stick thin woman with enormous dark eyes. She hardly spoke, and struck Anna as being extremely strange.

Jacques immediately poured coffee for Anna and pushed it towards her as she sat down. Robert, looking apologetic, said simply, 'Good morning Anna. You're too late, we've eaten all the croissants.'

'Never mind,' said Anna, 'I've eaten far too much since I arrived.' She looked at the woman seated opposite and took the plunge. 'Good morning Sylvie.'

The woman started slightly at the sound of her name. For a second her huge eyes looked at Anna above the finely drawn cheekbones. She gave an almost imperceptible nod and then bowed her head, conversation was not a priority for Sylvie. Therese entered and plonked a dish of hot croissants on the table. 'Voila cherie, I know these
cochants
will leave nothing for you...'

Later that morning Anna and Therese visited the market. Although Robert had offered to drive them in the pony cart, Therese refused, preferring to walk, pulling a two wheeled handcart which she had used for years. The village was about a mile, and as they made their way along the lane Anna could hardly contain her delight in the lush countryside, dashing from bank to hedge, from tree to shrub, picking one pretty flower or twig after another.

'Look Therese! What is this called? Oh, look...how pretty!'

Therese snorted. Secretly she was enchanted with Anna's enthusiasm, but she said shortly, 'Stop dance about, you will be exhaust before market.'

Anna fell into step beside her. 'But it's so lovely Therese! You can't understand... it's so clean and fresh.'

'Where you live is no green? No flowers?'

'Oh yes, England is lovely in the spring. We...' she stopped a moment and then continued, blushing slightly, 'Clancy... my friend Clancy and me... we go to Clent, it's quite near to where I live. There are hills and meadows, and flowers... like here. But we can only go there when we have time, perhaps once or twice a year. Most of the time we are at work.'

'And it is not clean? You say clean and 'fraiche'?'

'No, it is not clean. Every day I get very dirty, it is hard to keep clean. Here it is wonderful, I wash in the morning and at night, but I am not dirty at all! It feels very nice...' Anna laughed and stooped to pick a buttercup. She held it underneath Therese's chin and said 'There, you like butter.'

'Silly child! Monsieur Robert tells me your work is very 'ard. 'E say you work very much.'

'When did he tell you that?' Anna asked, surprised that she should be the subject of conversation.

'When I ask 'im. I ask Monsieur Robert to tell all about you.'

'Oh.' In spite of herself Anna added 'What else did he say about me?'

''E say... you are model... and your Mama is... what is the word?... est morte?'

Anna swallowed, understanding. 'Yes, my mother died a few months ago.'

'Monsieur Robert... 'e say you need 'oliday, so you come ere.'

Anna laughed. 'I never had a holiday in my life Therese. I came here because I will be paid well to model for the artists, Robert and the others. At home I cannot earn nearly so much.'

Therese nodded. She understood the economics. 'Yes, it will be good for you 'ere.'

'Robert has been so very kind to me. He was so good, on the journey, I was very nervous when we crossed the Channel, I had not seen the sea before.'

'You do not like the sea?' Therese asked.

'Oh yes, I like it. To look at it is wonderful, but it is frightening to be on it in a boat.'

Therese gave a snort. 'Poof! They say the English are good sailors.'

Anna laughed. 'Perhaps they are Therese, but not where I live. Most of my friends and neighbours have never seen the sea.'

'Well it is no use to be afraid. You 'ave to go 'ome n'est ce pas?'

'Yes, but not till the end of summer,' Anna said happily. She twirled around. 'Look how my dress flares out Therese! Robert's mother bought it for me, they have been so kind.'

'Yes, you said so before cherie.' Therese considered for a moment and then said levelly, 'Take care my pretty one, that you do not allow Monsieur Robert to be too kind.'

Anna coloured a little. 'Robert is my employer Therese, nothing else.'

'C'est bon. It should stay like that cherie.'

Therese sniffed, trundling the handcart behind her as she strode out along the lane. Noticing Anna's discomfiture she added kindly, 'It will not be a problem for you. There is a young man at 'ome, 'ow in English you say? A sweet'eart perhaps?'

'Perhaps.' Anna had a sudden vision of Clancy's despairing look as he waved to her from the bottom of Dawkins Street. She could see his thick curly hair, and the long dark lashes which fringed his blue eyes. "Irish eyes" her mother had called them, sooty and smoky and utterly devastating to the young girls who worked in the chainshops near the forge. Many of them would no doubt be setting their caps at him right now. While the cat's away, she thought, with a sudden feeling of panic.

'My sweetheart,' she said to Therese confidentially, 'He... he is very handsome, nice looking...' she explained. 'He is waiting for me. He intends to go to America, to try and make a new life there. He wants me to marry him when I get home.'

'And go to America?' Therese was incredulous.

'Yes, he has cousins there who will help him to get work'

'And you will do this?'

'I... I don't know. I couldn't decide before I came to France. I could not promise him. It is such a big step.'

'Indeed. A very big thing,' Therese agreed. 'You would leave your papa, and the brother you tell me about, and 'is family. But then, if you love this... this...'