A Dinner Of Herbs (24 page)

hands on the table and was leaning across towards them now.

“I’ve had the guts knocked out of me: I couldn’t do a day’s manual work to save me life, well, at least,

not at present.

Here’—he now patted the cardboard folder “I’m being given a chance I never even

dreamed of. It’s

one in a lifetime. And anyway’ he straightened his back and was now addressing Mary

Ellen ‘you would

think I was set for the other end of the earth. I’m only goin’ into Newcastle. I’ll be back every other

week-end at least. I’ll ride up on the Firday night an’ go back on the Sunday. I’ll really have more

week—end time here than if I was in the mill. So what’s all the fuss about?”

“Who’s making the fuss?” She reared up now, her head wagging.

“Only you. Your conscience is prickin’ you because you’re goin’. And let me tell you

something’: if

what has happened hadn’t happened, you would have still gone. I know you, I know you.

You would

have still gone.” And with this last statement she bent down and grabbed up the basket and, her face

twisted and looking towards Kate, she said, “I’ll call on me way back when the room’s

clear.” And

almost at a run, she went out.

Pulling herself to her feet, while steadying herself with the back of the chair, Kate looked at Roddy,

saying sharply now, “Go on after her and make your peace.”

“But... but what have I said?”

“No matter what you’ve said, you’ve said too much. Go on. Do this for me.”

Reluctantly it would seem, he went out, buttoning up his coat as he did so. He could see her in the

distance hurrying, her head down, and he called to her.

When she didn’t stop, he didn’t attempt to run for he knew he wasn’t up to running; but again he called,

“Mary Ellen! Mary Ellen! Hold your hand a minute. Please. Please.” And he watched her

steps slow,

then draw to a halt and he was panting as he came abreast of her, saying, “You’re the

devil’s own imp.

You’ll never change. Now why did you have to go off the handle like that?” He looked

down on her

bent head.

The rim of her bonnet was covering her face and he put his hand on her shoulder, saying,

“Don’t let’s

part in this way, Mary Ellen. You trouble me because I owe you so much. I’ll never

forget you’re the

only one besides Kate who put a finger out to help me, and if it hadn’t been for you, God knows where I

would have been at this minute, so I’m grateful to you, deep in me heart I’m grateful to you.”

Her head slowly came up. Her expression had changed, her eyes were moist her lips were trembling, as

was her voice as she said, “I’m sorry, Roddy, but the place won’t be the same when

you’re gone.

You’ve always been there, sort of like a....” She would not say like a brother.

“I’ve never bothered with anybody else, only you. You know I haven’t. I’ll... I’ll miss you.”

He bent his face closer to hers now, saying softly, “But you only come home on a

Sunday, Mary Ellen,

and I’ll be here when you come, at least, as I said, every other week end. An’ look, I’ll tell you what.

It won’t be long until the the fair and the in-between hirings, so you ask your missis for a Saturday off

and I’ll take you along. How’s that? “

She smiled gently now. When a lad took a lass to a fair it signified something, it was a start to stronger

ties to some. She said softly, “Aye, I’ll do that now. I’ll give her plenty of notice. I’ve never had a

whole Saturday off.”

“When is it? Three weeks or a month’s time?”

“A month.”

“Well that’s a promise.” He straightened up and nodded at her.

“Anyway, like as not, I’ll be sittin’ in Kate’s corner seven days from now as if I’ve never been away.

And I’ll have a lot to tell you. All right, Mary Ellen?”

She nodded at him brightly now, saying, “All right, Roddy, and I hope evcrthing goes

well for you. Are

they nice people where you’re stayin’?”

“Oh, aye, very nice. I have a room at the top of the house. It’s a big attic and I can work there, and I

have me bed and everything. And it overlooks the river. It’s ... it’s a new world. What I mean is, to see

the mass of shipping going up and down. And the people. You wonder where they all

come from. Tis

another world out there you knew, Mary Ellen.” He spread his arm wide.

“We don’t know we’re alive really here.”

She wanted to put in now and brusquely, “We do know we’re alive, very much alive, if

pain and worry

is anything to go by. People hereabouts know they are alive all right.” There was her da trying to keep

alive, gasping at life with each breath he took; there was old Mr. Holden old she thought, and him only

fortyish; and Lance Ritson, who had died last week leaving seven hairns and a sickly

wife. Oh they knew

they were alive all right. And they knew they were dying, some of them. But she

managed to curb her

tongue and smile when he put out his hand and took hers and said, “Now everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

“Aye, Roddy, aye.”

“Bye then.”

“Bye, Roddy. Take care.”

“And you. And you.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer; then she went on, and he turned and

walked slowly

back to the cottage. Her father greeted her with, “You’ll land on a Monday morning one of these days.

Where’ve you been?”

“I called at Kate’s.” She put the basket on the table.

“You generally leave that until after you’ve been here.”

“Well, I didn’t the day.”

“No need to be snappy.”

When the contents of the basket was on the table he poked his head forward from where

he was sitting,

then said, “That all she sent?”

“Aye, that’s all she sent.”

“Why?”

“I’m in her black books.”

“Your tongue been waggin’ again?”

“Yes, you could say that, me tongue’s been waggin’ again.”

“It’ll get you hung one of these days. Don’t tell me you’ve cheeked her.”

“Aye, I suppose you could say that an’ all.”

“My God! You don’t know when you’re well off. What if she sacked you?”

“She won’t sack me.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Cos I’m equal to three pit-ponies, the work I do, that’s why.”

As he shook his head she wondered if she saw a semblance of a smile on his face; but if she did it was

gone with his next remark.

“You’ve always thought too much of yourself, girl. It’ll get you nowhere, nowhere.”

“Well, I won’t mention who I take after for that. Now forget about me an’ face up to the fact that my

basket might get lighter with the months, because I can’t promise to keep me tongue

quiet, so you’ll have

to dip into your store, won’t you, to buy yourself the necessities.”

“I’ve got no store, or very little of it left.” He lifted up the poker and raked at the bars of the fire.

“Well, you’ll have to use it until it’s gone then.”

“What about your store?” He turned his head towards her.

“You should be tippin’ something’ up. She gave you a rise last year.”

“Yes, threepence a week. I’m now on one and nincpence.” She leaned towards him.

“Do you know, if I take it into me mind I’ll up an’ go down to Hexham; there’s good jobs goin’ there for

three shillings a week, sometimes more, and everything found. Now don’t aggravate me.

Da, else I might just take me basket and walk that way instead of goin’ back to the farm.

“

There was a half-smile on her face as she finished and he turned to poking the fire again, and after a

while he remarked, “Well, has his lordship gone?”

She paused before she answered, “As far as I know, yes.”

“Beggars on horseback ride to hell.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, simply that you wouldn’t think about invitin’ an Irish pitman into the castle even if it was habitable.”

“He’s no Irish pitman.”

“He’ll be the equal and stick out, the folks he’s goin’ among. Them ridin’ up in their carriage to meet

him and takin’ him to dine in an hotel.”

‘ When? How do you know this? “

“Oh, I have a visitor now an’ again. Didn’t you know? Didn’t he tell you? Anyway, how

do you think

he’ll pass himself with people like that? Carriage folk don’t take up with smelters without there’s

something’ behind it.”

“Aye, well, there is something’ behind it. He’s got talent. He’s an artist.”

“Artist be damned! Anybody could draw what he does, given a little time.” He twisted

his head towards

her now, saying, “You’ll never see him again, you know that, don’t you? So if you’re

wise you’ll leave

your petticoat on the bed at the farm.”

“I’ll leave no petticoat on no bed at no farm. Now get that into your head, Da. If you think I’m gona

provide for that basket’—she stabbed her finger towards the empty basket ‘being filled for you for the

rest of your life, then you’re mistaken. Now, I see you’re well stacked up with wood an’

coal, so you

can keep on stack in it up for yourself, and also tidyin’ the rooms, because for me, I’ve had enough for

one day, so I’m goin’.”

“But you’ve only come.” He half rose from the chair.

“Aye, and I wish I hadn’t passed through the door. I’m sick of everything. Do you hear that? Sick and

tired.” She grabbed up the basket, pulled the string other bonnet tight under her chin, then marched to

the door, and as she opened it he yelled at her, “You’ve seen the last of him. Make up your mind to it,

or else you’ll end up a kizzened old stick like Betty Pullman.”

She had the door latch in her hand as she swung round, and she was even astonished at

her own words

as she cried back at him, “No, I won’t end up like Betty Pullman, not if I have anything to do with it.

More like Maggie Oates. And I could start the morrow. So think on that. And if I did you could be

sure of your basket being full then. “

And with this she banged the door, then took to her heels and ran till she reached the copse where the

trees had been cut down. And there she sank down on to the damp earth between the

stumps and,

kneeling over a gnarled root, gave vent to her pent up feelings.

When, after some minutes, she sat up and brought her knuckles acoss her streaming eyes, she thought to

herself, fancy saying she would end up like Maggie Oates who, as everybody knew for

miles around,

was a real bad woman and shunned by all other women hereabouts because she was so

sinful. And yet,

she always seemed to cheery. She had never forgotten the times when she herself was a

little girl, she’d

always had a kind word for her. Her da had forbidden her ever to speak to the woman, so when

Maggie Gates stopped her to chat, she never let on at home. Except once. She had asked her mother if

sinning made people happy because Mrs. Oates was always laughing. But for her to say

to her da that

she would become like Maggie Gates, well, what had come over her? It was this tongue

others, it said

things that were never intended.

As she rose to her feet and dusted the twigs from the bottom other skirt, she asked

herself, if she had the

choice who would she rather be like, Betty Pullman, who lived in a cottage near the

ruined castle and

who was so proper that nearly all the workmen called her miss, or Maggie Oatcs, whom

the the

workmen joked about and visited on the sly?

At this moment she couldn’t give herself a truthful answer.

She had to hold her hat on with both hands as she struggled against the wind. It was a nice wind, fresh

and lifting. The sun was shining, the sky was high. The hills as far as she could see

appeared to be

coated with carpets of yellow, red, and brown, mostly brown, but a bright warm brown.

The blood in

her veins seemed to be bubbling with life, good, happy, free life. And she felt free as she couldn’t

remember ever feeling before. But more so, she had a feeling of belonging, and to the

only one she

wanted to belong to in the whole world and who was now striding by her side, laughing

at her.

Roddy had kept his word. Not having seen him for two week-ends, she had given up all

hope that he

would remember his promise to take her to the fair. But last night Kate had got word to her through Paul

Fowler. He had come out of his way from his shift at the mill to give her the message, which just said she

had to be there early if she wanted to catch the cart.

Early had meant leaving the farm at ten o’clock at the latest; and then, although her

mistress had some

weeks ago reluctantly agreed she could change her leave day form Sunday to Saturday

and yes, since

she was so bent on it she could have the whole day she had of a sudden changed her mind and said there

was too much to do and that she couldn’t let her go before twelve.

Mary Ellen had actually cried with vexation, but had kept a curb on her tongue. And this, it seemed had

caused her mistress to relent, saying she could go at eleven, and yet, knowing full well that that would be

too late to catch the cart into Hexham.

When she had left the farm wearing her first pair of white cotton gloves which she had bought from a

pedlar the previous week, Mrs. Davison sent her on her way with a prophecy: “No good

will come of

this, girl, flaunting yourself in the face of God and good neighbours.

You’ll get your name up, that you will. “