A Dinner Of Herbs (18 page)

all.”

“Oh, Mrs. Davison, don’t say that. Don’t say that.”

Now the little woman lowered her head while continuing to rub her scalded hands and,

her voice quiet,

even sad now, she said, “Girl, it worries me to be harsh with you and it worries me more to know how

concerned you are for Rodney Greenbank, when our Lennie would give you his

eyeballs.”

There was quiet for a moment in the kitchen, then Mrs. Davison lifted her head and said,

“Why can’t

you like him?”

“Oh, but I do, Mrs. Davison. I do like him. I think the world of Lennie. He’s kind and good, but....”

“Aye, it’s but. You don’t like him that way and it grieves me girl, it grieves me, ‘cos you’ll never get a

chance like this again. Do you realize that? Although we’ve made you one of our own an’

treated you

like a daughter, you are still nothin’ but a servant-maid, and here’s me grandson been knockin’ on for

you since the day you came into the house. Aye, even afore that he had his eye on you.

Although I say it

me self you couldn’t get a better, ‘cos he’s a good-livin’ lad.

Doesn’t drink, leastways only holidays and barn nights. You’re a fool.

Do you know that? You’re a fool. “

“Aye, Mrs. Davison. Aye, yes, I know, and it hurts me.”

“Oh, get yourself away. Get yourself out of my sight.”

Mary Ellen turned now and picked up the basket that her irritable but kind mistress had filled for her

with odds and ends of food, and she went out of the farm kitchen and crossed the yard, her head down.

She shouldn’t have said she knew she was a fool for not takin’ Lennie because she’d be worse than a

knave if she took him, not lovin’ him.

Half the battle of life seemed to be sayin’ things you didn’t mean just to keep the peace.

Oh! She gave a start as the man in question came round from behind the byre wall,

blocking her path.

He did not speak to her immediately, but looked at her for some seconds before he said,

“Aye, well,

you’re off then?

“Yes, Lennie.”

“You’ve never been to Newcastle afore, have you?”

“No.”

“It could be frightening. You could get lost.”

“I’ve got a tongue in me head.”

He laughed gently now, saying, “Aye, sure you have, Mary Ellen; you never leave

anybody in doubt

about that.”

“I’m sorry. I never mean to be curt.”

“Oh; now, don’t say you’re sorry when you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I love hearin’

you.” His

voice had become lower; and his head was nodding gently now as he added, “You know

that, don’t

you?”

“Oh, Lennie. I’ve told you.”

“All right. All right.” His voice rose again to its normal pitch.

“We won’t go into that; only I... I worry about you; I don’t want you to do anything silly.

An’ to my

mind, that fellow, he’s not worth you;

something about him. Anyway, you’ve been brought up like brother and sister, haven’t

you? “

“We’re not brother and sister.” Her tone was certainly curt now.

“But no matter what we were, or are, we’re not marrying. I’m marryin’ nobody. So there!

Do you

hear, Lennie? I’m marryin’ nobody.”

“Aye, I heard, Mary Ellen. We’ll let it pass for the time being’.

Look. If you could wait another half hour or so I’ll be takin’ the cart into. “

“No, Lennie. No. Your grannie wouldn’t like it.”

“She needn’t know.”

She shook her head at him now.

“That isn’t right; I wouldn’t do anything underhand.”

“It isn’t underhand. Only, I’ve got me own life to lead, Mary Ellen;

me grannie’s had hers. Me father and gran da understand, where she doesn’t, being a

woman. “

“Thank you.”

“You know what I mean; don’t pick me up wrong. Anyway, do you think you’ll be able

to catch the

coach?”

“If I stand here much longer I won’t.”

She went to walk from him, but he accompanied her to the gate, saying now, “What if

you can’t get on?

They like to know afore hand

“I’m thin; I’ll squeeze in somewhere. Anyway, if I miss that I can always get the cart.”

“Don’t be silly, Mary Ellen. The cart won’t get into Newcastle until well after

dinnertime, and won’t

pass this way again coming back until dark the night.”

“Tara Lennie.” She hurried away from him, and he called after her, “If you miss the

coach at Haydon

Bridge take the cart into Hexham;

there’s a later run there from The Angel. “

She turned her head towards him, saying, “Thanks, Lennie. Thanks, I will.”

He was nice, was Lennie; perhaps she was being a fool after all.

She reached Haydon Bridge only to see the coach disappearing in its own dust. And she

was still

watching the settling dust when she heard the quick trot of a horse’s hooves. She turned quietly, and

there, coming towards her, was a market cart, piled high with vegetables, and at the front, perched on the

iron seat were a man and woman.

She called to them as they were about to pass her, crying, “Are you makin’ for Hexham?”

Pulling the horse to a standstill, the man said, “Aye, lass, that’s where we’re makin’ for.”

“Would you be so kind as to give me a lift?”

The man looked at his wife, and her answer was to move closer to him, saying with a

smile, “Well,

there’s not much of you, broad on that is.

Climb up. “

And so she climbed up, and squeezed on to the end of the seat and thanked them as she

did so.

They enquired where she was bound for, dressed up as she was in her Sunday best, and

she told them,

Newcastle. She had no need to explain why she was taking her journey for the woman

became voluble:

she had been born in Newcastle; she knew every street in Newcastle; and she chattered

all the way.

It wasn’t until Mary Ellen stepped down from the cart in Hexham market place that the

woman thought

to ask her whereabouts in Newcastle she was making for, and when, without thinking,

she said, “The

prison infirmary,” the woman and man gazed at each other, and she left them speechless.

The coach was almost ready for the last section of its run into Newcastle, the driver about to mount the

box, when she asked permission to board.

“Well, we’re full inside lass, and there’s six fellows up there,” the driver replied, jerking his head towards

the back of the coach.

“You could squeeze in at ween them if you like. Cost you sixpence, seem’ as you’re a

thin ‘un.”

She looked up to where on the end seat two young men were looking down on her, both

smiling. They

didn’t look like working men, yet not like gentry either, and when she hesitated the driver said, “Well,

take it or leave it, lass; we must be off.”

She took it. Hands came out and lifted the basket from her outstretched arms; then with an “Up! you

come, milady,” the young men brought her, with a plop, on to the hard seat between

them.

She had been in touch with men all her life: with Roddy and Hal, as a child, then as a young girl, and now

as a young woman; she had chatted to the miners and the mill workers; but except when

her father had

lifted her up into his arms when she was small, she’d had no close body contact with any male if Roddy’s

hand had touched hers it had been to give her a pull over a ditch or up a hill but now here she was

pressed close between two men, and they seemed to be making the most of it for, with the intention of

keeping her steady, they both put their arms around her shoulders. And when she

shivered at their touch

the one on her left, who had a long thin face and a large mouth that was full of very white teeth, enquired,

“You cold, hinny?”

Turning her full look on him, she shouted in a high voice to make herself heard, “No! I am not cold, sir.”

“You’re not?” he said.

“Well, were I to leave go of you ... were we to leave go of you’—he leaned over in front other and

appealed to his friend ‘you would fall off. Wouldn’t she, Harry?”

“She would that,” said the other man.

When the coach went over a particularly rough piece of rock road their holds tightened about her, until

she felt she was blushing down to her waist and beyond.

When the long-faced man’s hand squeezed her breast she acted instinctively: her hand

flying to her hat,

she pulled out one of the two hatpins and drove it with some force into the gentleman’s leg.

The yell he let out as he jerked himself side wards nearly unseated the three of them.

What it did do

positively was to stop the coach, and the coachman, swinging about, glared at them,

shouting, “What’s

up, there! What’s up.”

She twisted round on the seat and, looking between the other outside passengers she

gasped, “He

started to handle me, an’ I stuck him with me hat ping

The coachman stared from one to the other, shouting now, “Begod! if it wasn’t for losing time I’d come

round there and help you do it again. Now, you two!”—he bounced his head from one to

the other ‘any

more of that and I’ll drop you on the road, young gentlemen or not. And it isn’t the act of a gentleman, is

it? Which one of you did it? “

“It was only a bit of fun,” the man said, his face now grim.

“Well, we always pay for our fun, an’ you’ve paid for yours. Anyway, miss, move to the side of the

other felSa. Go on now. You’ll only have to defend yourself against one then.”

As she stood up, the second man moved along the seat to take her place and she sat at the end of the

narrow seat squeezing herself against the iron rail. And as soon as she was settled the driver gave a “Get

up there!” and they were off once more.

They rode in silence for some miles before the man next to her spoke.

But he didn’t look at her as he said, “I’m sorry. I apologize. It was very bad of us.”

She kept her gaze straight ahead. It wasn’t he who should have said he was sorry because his hand

hadn’t strayed past her shoulder.

The man went on speaking.

“My friend meant no harm, not really. We are we are rather excited: we are going into

Newcastle to

take up new positions today. We are young doctors, you see.”

Now she turned and looked at him. He had a pleasant face, a kindly face.

“I’m not sorry I did it,” she said.

“No, I don’t suppose you are’—he gave a wry smile ‘but I think he is, and his first patient will be himself

when we get in.”

After a short pause he asked, “Are you going to take up service?”

She made no reply, just stared at him. Was she going to take up service? That’s what she must look

like, a young girl going into place. And she had her best clothes on an’ all. She had

always considered

them smart, a cut above the rest of the girls, because she made all her own clothes except the coats. He

was waiting for an answer, and so she shook her head before saying, “No, I am not goin’

into place, I

have one. I work with a tannin’ family. I ... I’m going to see a friend.

He’s ill. “

“In hospital?”

She swallowed deeply and looked ahead before she said, “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” He bent slightly towards her and looked into her face.

“He’s in the prison hospital.”

“Good God!... Oh, I am sorry. What has he done?”

“They said he stabbed a friend, but he didn’t. I’m sure he didn’t; he would never stab anybody. And he

liked Hal, I mean his friend. He was very fond of him. Always has been. They were

mates.” She’s

didn’t know why she was telling him this. She had been mad at them, at the two of them not so long ago,

and here she was telling him her private affairs. But he wasn’t like the other one, sitting there with a face

like thunder.

“Do you know Newcastle?”

“No. I’ve never been afore.”

At this point the coach rocked and she was thrown against him and he steadied her with his hand on her

arm. But as soon as they were running smoothly again he left go of her; then asked,

“How did you

expect to find the hospital?”

“I thought I’d just have to ask.”

“Dear, dear. I must say, and don’t take umbrage at this, you are much too pretty to ask the way. But it

is fortunate that I know the town well, and I’ll show you how to get there.”

“Thank you.”

By the time the coach reached Newcastle she had learned that both he and his friend had done part of

their training in the Newcastle Infirmary and had been in Edinburgh for only a year. And they were both

now fully fledged doctors, and, what seemed very strange to her, to use his own words, very poor.

When finally he helped her down from the coach and handed her the basket she did not

even thank him,

for she, was, in a way, speechless. The enormity of the city had overwhelmed her: the

throngs of people,

the carriages, the carts, the scramble of the vehicles to the side of the road to make way for the coach,

and people as thick as flies on a midden had bereft her of speech. But not of hearing, for the man whom

she had made acquainted with her hat ping was saying.

“Don’t be so damn silly; let her go. She’ll find her way all right. She’s quick on the uptake, is that one.

My leg’s paining like blazes.”

“It served you right. You asked for it. Anyway, I’ll see you in about half an hour.”

“You won’t. I’ll not wait for you.”

“Please yourself. But he’s expecting us both together, and, if I remember rightly, you don’t like him and