The Madness (10 page)

Smoaker seemed to like him, though. The two of them sat on the doorstep smoking their pipes before they took themselves off to the beach to join the other labourers.

The first bundles of soiled washing had arrived and Ma was anxious to begin at once. ‘We’ll start as we mean to go on, Marnie, and do this proper. Mistress Miles thinks she’s got it all sewn up, she does. Reckons herself a proper
laundress.
She never did too well by our towels, mind, did she? We’re up against it, Marnie. We’ve got to prove ourselves, we have. Get this laundry spick and span.’

Marnie looked in dismay at the oil-stained shirts and britches that Ma had spread out on the kitchen table. There was flannel underwear too, in all sizes, with a variety of unmentionable stains staring her in the face.

‘Right! First things first, Marnie. More water. That lot in the copper’s hot enough now.’

All morning Marnie lugged pails of water back from the pump. Ma had set up the wash tub in the backyard and the whites were put to soak in shavings of lye soap. Marnie was set to removing the worst of the stains. A hot coal wrapped in a rag to melt off hardened wax, chalk rubbed on grease marks and milk dabbed on to the yellow piss stains that patterned the fronts of underclothes. Ma grunted as she twisted the dolly stick round in the tub. ‘Through the wringer with these lot,’ she instructed Marnie.

By early afternoon, the bushes out front were decorated with the results of their efforts. Marnie’s arms had never ached so much and her hands were red raw and itchy with the lye. ‘I’m fair worn out now,’ said Ma. ‘Keep an eye on the washing while I go for a lie down. And don’t forget to turn it.’ She took herself off to Smoaker’s room while Marnie wandered across the lane and sat down gratefully on the grass embankment. She saw the horizon in the distance; a hazy blue where it met the sea. It was familiar and calm. Unlike the beach. The tide was out and what little of the beach Marnie could see swarmed with men and strange machinery. A vast steam-crane swung a length of ironwork out towards the shoreline. Smoaker had said there was three hundred and seventy tons of ironwork to be put in position. Marnie couldn’t imagine what that meant. The roar of scraping metal, the thud of tools and the hiss of steam had silenced the sea. Marnie couldn’t hear its voice any more. She only felt the ground beneath her shaking and trembling.

Marnie pulled her knees to her chest and thought back to the night before. All day she had wanted to do this. But she’d held the memories in the back of her head, bundled up like a net of squirming fish, until she could be alone with them. She let them go now, and shook them out so they darted around fast, challenging her to catch one.

Noah de Clevedon. She said his name out loud. She said it slowly, feeling the way her lips curved around each sound. He’d come to the beach to meet her. He’d been kind to her. They’d laughed and talked and he hadn’t minded when she’d thrown water in his face and soaked him through. He’d made her feel safe in a funny sort of way. He didn’t seem to mind who she was or what she was. Marnie liked this new feeling that was bubbling around inside of her. She liked Noah, she realised. She didn’t hate him at all. She felt warm and soft all of a sudden. She’d never liked
anyone
before this. She stood up and laughed out loud and hollered into the afternoon air. Was this what having a friend felt like?

If it was, it was almost as good as jumping the first wave on a hot summer day.

As she turned to go back to the cottage, Marnie saw two of the village women staring at her from across the lane. ‘What are you looking at?’ Marnie shouted. ‘You never seen anyone happy before?’ Then she raised her stick in the air and hollered even louder.

25

The Journal of Noah de Clevedon

Clevedon. SEPTEMBER 12th 1868, Saturday

At long last, Mother’s health seems to be improving. Doctor Russell’s tonics are obviously working. She even took her evening meal with me and Clarissa last night. It is so good to see some colour back in her cheeks. She is still too weak, though, to make the arduous journey back to London. It seems I must endure this place a little longer.

Autumn has suddenly crept in around the edges of the days and it is bleaker here than I could have imagined. With only myself and Mother in the house, not all the rooms have been opened. There is an eeriness to the place that I do not like. The servants tiptoe about so as not to disturb Mother and they have all taken to talking in whispers. It is all so tedious and lonely. I miss the London house with its bustle and noise and constant visitors. I miss my friends. Although I did receive another letter from Arnold yesterday. But his tone was so jolly and his news so full of incident (he spoke with Cissie Baird at a fancy-dress ball a week gone and she sends her regards to me!) that I felt worse than ever after reading it. I am sure the poor fellow did not mean it to be so!

I will write back and tell him of my clandestine meeting with Marnie. He will be scandalised, of course. I will impress upon him the nature of her rare beauty in the hopes of securing his envy!

26

The Lodger

The week passed by in a blur of suds and stains. Marnie quickly grew used to the new rhythm of the days and the odour of wet wool and sour piss that rose from the steam of the washing tub and settled on her skin.

The weather was dry and blustery and the scrubbed garments dried quickly out on the bushes. In her spare moments, when Ma had gone for her lie-down, Marnie would wander down the lane and watch the progress on the pier. She didn’t mind being at the cottage all day, not now she was bedded down in the kitchen at night and was free to escape to the beach after dark whenever she fancied. The nights were growing colder, but Marnie savoured the touch of the hard, icy waves as they washed her clean from the stench of the day. Creeping past the night watchman stationed in the workmen’s hut and the makeshift shacks of the workers who had chosen to sleep on the beach only added an extra thrill.

It was Sunday now and Smoaker and Eldon Cross were sat in the kitchen supping beer and enjoying their day of rest. Eldon had taken a shine to Marnie. She could tell by the way he kept looking at her. Like now. He was staring at her over the rim of his beer pot. Marnie wanted to poke her tongue out at him. He was so
old.
At least thirty, give or take a year. And he was ugly with it. Bony face and piggy eyes. He’d be hard pushed to find a girl to look once at him, let alone twice. Marnie knew why he was ogling her. He thought she was like him; an outcast that no one would ever want. Well, he would soon find out how wrong he was. She had a friend now. And not just any old friend. Noah de Clevedon, the son of Sir John de Clevedon, no less. And she was going to meet him on the beach again. Tonight. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, she thought. She glared at Eldon Cross, then turned her back and busied herself with the supper pots.

The shadows were lengthening outside the kitchen window. It wouldn’t be long now. Ma yawned and heaved herself from her chair to light the candles on the mantelpiece. They’d all be to bed soon, thought Marnie. Soon as the sun went down.

‘Fetch your old pa another beer, Marnie,’ Smoaker said. ‘And one for Mr Cross too.’

Marnie pulled a face. ‘Coming,’ she sighed. For reasons of propriety, Ma had instructed Marnie to address Smoaker as Pa, at least while Eldon was in earshot. But Marnie was damned if she would ever do that. Smoaker wasn’t her pa and she wouldn’t pretend he was.

Marnie fetched the beer jug and topped up Smoaker and Eldon’s pots. ‘Ta,’ said Eldon. ‘She’s a good girl, i’nt she?’ he said to Smoaker.

Smoaker grunted. ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Could be worse I s’pose.’

‘Nah, you’re a lucky man. I’m telling yer. To have a daughter like that.’ Eldon winked at Marnie.

Marnie would have loved to have tipped the remains of the jug over his head. Instead she turned to Ma. ‘More beer?’ she asked.

‘Not for me,’ said Ma. ‘I’m off to my bed now. See to the fire, won’t you?’ She untied her apron and threw it over the back of her chair. Then, with a nod to the men, she thumped up the stairs.

Marnie took the jug back out to the pantry. She was glad of something to do. Her insides were jittering around like wasps in a jam jar. In the week since he’d arrived, Eldon had always taken himself off to bed first. But he was growing more comfortable now. Sitting there yarning with Smoaker. Marnie prayed Eldon wouldn’t take it upon himself to be last to bed. She didn’t want to be alone with him in the kitchen. She wanted them all to bed and the time to pass in a wink. She wanted to be on the beach. And to see Noah again.

Marnie dawdled outside to the privy. With any luck the men would have finished their beers by the time she got back. After she’d squatted over the ash pit, she paused in the backyard and looked up at the sky. It was going to be a clear night. There was a nip in the air, but it was still. There was no wind to speak of. It would be perfect down on the beach. She wondered if she could get Noah right in the sea this time. Give him a proper dip. Her belly squirmed in anticipation. This was the worst bit. The waiting.

She thought of Pa. Out there somewhere in the world. Was he any closer to coming home? What would he make of it all? she wondered. A new pier. A new friend. ‘You’d like him, Pa,’ she said. ‘I know I didn’t at first  …  but I was just angry about the pier. He’s kind to me, Pa and  …  and I’ve told him about
you
. I’ve never told anyone about you before.’ Marnie turned back to the cottage. ‘So you’d better hurry back so he knows you’re real,’ she finished quickly.

Marnie held her breath as she walked back into the kitchen. Her heart lifted. There was no one there; only two empty beer pots on the kitchen table. She let her breath out, slow and long, and crept to the pantry to fetch her bedding. She had sewn an old sheet together and Smoaker had brought her some new straw to stuff it with. It smelled good and fresh. With her blanket tucked around and with the dying warmth of the fire to lie in front of, Marnie was as cosy as a rabbit in a burrow. She blew out the candles and settled down.

The cottage creaked. She heard Ma turn heavily in bed and Smoaker complaining under his breath. She looked across the kitchen at the door to her and Ma’s bedchamber, where Eldon was sleeping. There was no light coming from the crack underneath. Good. He was settled too. Now all she had to do was rest awhile and listen out for the bells of St Andrew’s to strike half past ten.

27

The Journal of Noah de Clevedon

Clevedon. SEPTEMBER 13th 1868, Sunday

I have just returned from the beach. My hair is damp and stiff with salt. My sea-logged clothes are lying in a heap in the corner of my room and, despite my dressing gown, I am shivering with cold from head to toe. I fear I may have left puddles all through the hallway downstairs.

But I have never felt so exhilarated! My blood is rushing hot around my veins. Even the tips of my hair seem alive. I don’t know how Marnie persuaded me in. She just seemed so at ease, with her skirts billowing out around her and her hair trailing on the surface of the water. I took off my frock coat, silk vest and boots and before I knew it, I was up to my knees in the sea.

‘Just a little at a time!’ she called out to me. I waded out to her, my breath ragged with the shock of the cold. She swam around me; glided, almost. She was so graceful. ‘Shall I dip you?’ she asked. I was about to decline when I felt her hands on my shoulders and all at once she pushed me right under. I cannot express the great fear that took hold of me in that moment. It was like nothing I have ever experienced before. I thought I should never breathe again. But then she lifted me to the surface and, once I had filled my lungs and recovered my senses, I was overcome with the most wonderful feeling of well-being.

Then she apologised. She said it was something that had to be done quickly before I had too much time to think on it. She said she hoped she hadn’t offended me. She looked so serious, I could not help laughing. It was a ridiculous situation; the both of us wet and bedraggled and acting so polite! She soon saw the fun in it too.

She says she will teach me to swim next time, and I am to bring a dry set of clothes. It was most unpleasant having to walk back to the manor looking and feeling like a drowned sailor.

I will sleep well tonight. I know it.

28

Clevedon Manor

By the end of September the weather turned bleak. It was too wet for the washing to go outside any more, so it was hung around the kitchen on string that was nailed to the ceiling beams. It took an age to dry and sent Ma into the foulest of tempers. Marnie kept out of her way and worked quickly and quietly, willing the hours to pass. The never-ending damp of the cottage got inside her head, settled on her hair and skin and made her own clothes reek of mould. Even the straw inside her mattress had begun to rot. But Marnie barely noticed. She had her weekly meetings with Noah to look forward to now. And at long last it was Sunday again.

Marnie lay in front of the dying fire listening out for the church bells. The wind had whipped up outside and it crossed her mind that Noah might not come out on such a night. But she didn’t dwell on the thought. Instead she imagined how wild the sea would be. Churned into a frenzy of spitting waves. She loved it like that, when it was full of life and anger. It made her feel like she could do anything in the world. She wanted Noah to see it too, and to feel what she felt.