A Dinner Of Herbs (25 page)

Kate then had her say about the farmer’s wife not letting her get away, but Roddy was

unperturbed.

“We’ll go to Allendale,” he said.

“It’ll be a fine walk on a day like this.”

And so it was turning out to be. She much preferred this arrangement to going into

Hexham, for from

the moment they took their seats in the cart they would have been surrounded by people, whereas here in

these wide open spaces that rolled away on all sides into the sky, there was not one

person to be seen,

except the man at her side, not even a house to be espied, only grey dots of sheep spotting the ground.

And she felt this was as near heaven as she would ever get. She didn’t even mind Roddy talking so

much about Newcastle and his new friends, because he was talking, and talking to her as if he wanted

her to know all about his life there and, as she imagined, to take away any fears that she might have that

his interests were other than his drawing. I “I thought you liked living on the waterfront?”

she shouted

across at him.

“I do. Yes, I do. It’s wonderful. But there’s tremendous noise and bustle all the time, so when Mr.

Cottle offered me, a room in their house I jumped at it. He’s a portrait! painter.” I “But I thought you

said it was a painter who lived in the I house on the waterfront where you had the attic, the one who does

the ships and things.”

“Yes, yes, I did. That’s Mr. Beale. He’s a professional man and he liked the bustle, but you want a bit

of peace and quiet when you have to study, and there’s none on the’ waterfront. Oh no.”

“I’d like to see the waterfront.”

“Well, all right, I’ll take you one day.” } “You will, Roddy?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

She had stopped. Her two hands going up to her hat again, her head back, she looked at him. His eyes

were bright and shining; his straight brows were as black as the hair that was showing from under each

side of his cap; his skin, that had always appeared as if it was tanned, had a slight flush to it around the

high cheek-bones and it took on a blue hue of restricted hair towards his chin.

He was a pretty man. Oh, far beyond pretty, he was beautiful. Since that awful do he had lost flesh, but

that only seemed to have made him taller. Altogether he was beautiful.

“When will you take me?”

“Oh.” He opened his mouth and laughed. All his teeth were even and unbroken; she saw

that his

tongue was not furred like those of a lot of men whose open mouths created in her a

feeling of revulsion.

Farmer Davison’s was like that.

“What did you say?”

“I said, whenever the dragon will let you have a full day off, so we can take the coach in.”

“You’d take me in the coach?”

“Well, yes, unless you’d like to walk.”

Her laughter joined his now. Then she turned from him and ran, skipping over the

hummocks in the

ground, and at one point when she left loose of her hat to lift up her skirt in order that she could run

faster, her hatpins came loose and her hat took flight, and she turned to see Roddy

retrieving it. And

when he had brought it to her he stood looking at her, and the expression in his eyes was soft. She did

not put out her hands to take the hat because she wanted him to put it on for her, but her didn’t, he

handed it to her, asking, “How many hatpins had you in it?”

“Two.”

“Well, I should say you’ve lost one.”

“Eeh!”—the smile went from her face ‘the mistress gave them to me for a present last

Christmans.

She’ll be vexed. “

“Well, there’s one thing certain, you’ll never find it among that lot.” He pointed to the grass and stubble.

“Sometime, if somebody sits down, they might come across it.”

Again they were laughing, loudly now, at the picture his remark had presented, and when he placed his

two hands on his buttocks and gave a slight jump, crying, “Oops! a daisy,” she told

herself she would

die with her laughing for she had never seen Roddy in this mood. This was a different

Roddy. He had

never been one for jokes, being of a sombre turn of mind, she thought, but he had

changed. Everything

about him was changed, including his manner towards her. Oh yes, that was warmer,

different. And

when presently walking on, he took her hand, she knew that this day was the beginning of something

wonderful that would fill her lifetime right till the day she died. Oh yes; for she would go to her grave

loving him.

And the feeling persisted until they entered Allendale. The square was packed. There

were carriages

outside the inns. There were mingled sounds of laughter and quarrelling, because half the men there were

the worse for drink.

“Oh Lord, I forgot about that,” Roddy said; ‘yesterday would be the day of the pays.

They’re burning

their money i or washing it down.

We’ll have a job to get anything to eat j here. It’ll likely be a stand up pie and peas. “

“That’ll suit me. I’m so full up with food I could last for a :

week. I’ll say that for the missis, she’s never stingy on the I table. “ ^ ^ “ You’re lucky then. “ He took

her arm and pushed her round the outskirts of a group of women, farmers’ wives by the

look of their

dress and the baskets on their arms, and ‘k towards the far side of the square where the pies and peas J

stall stood. And they didn’t go unnoticed, and she felt a , burst of pride as different people called out to

him, “ How goes it, Roddy? “ ;

“Back on your pins?” ;

“By! you’re lookin’ set up.” | “How’s life in the big city?” I 170 “And to all he answered merely with a

laugh and a wave of his hand.

That was, until they both came to a dead stop. Hal had turned from talking to two other men and he

looked first from one to the other before saying, “Well, well! The people you meet in a foreign country.

Come to spend your pay? “ He was addressing Mary Ellen, but it was Roddy who

answered and on a

laugh, saying, “ Aye, she’s treatin’ me:

pies and peas and a pint of ale. “ Then he added on a more serious note, “ I called round this mornin’

but couldn’t see hilt nor hair of you. “

“No, you wouldn’t, because as Parson Phillips-Brown would put it, I was about me

father’s business.”

They had, the three of them, been making their way together towards the stall. But with Hal’s words

they turned as one and stood in the comparatively empty space near an archway that led into the back of

a building.

“Oh! man,” Roddy said, ‘he’ll be gone miles away by now. Likely he’s takin’ the trip that they said

your da took, across the water. “

“No, not him.” Hal’s eyes were narrowed and he was looking away from them over the

heads of the

crowd milling about the square, and he repeated, “No, not him. He wouldn’t have the

guts. He’s here,

round about somewhere. It’s as though I can smell him.” He actually sniffed now.

“He’s undercover somewhere. Somebody’s hiding him. It isn’t his wife or his daughter, I made sure of

that. By the way’—he turned and looked fully at Roddy now ‘did you know they were

turfed out

yesterday, the Bannamans, lock, stock and barrel?”

“No.” Roddy’s voice was quiet.

“Aye.” Hal was smiling now, a grim smile.

“I changed me shift when I got wind of it so I could watch it. After the evidence they found in that cellar,

the excise men reckoned there was very little left for the family. The jewellery goes to Newcastle where

it will likely be claimed. All their other stuff was taken into Newcastle to sell. The farm will go onto the

market next week. But they left in a carriage.

Oh aye, they had to leave in a carriage: the mother, the son and heir, and her, and you know, she spoke

to me. “ He nodded at Roddy.

“She lent out of the window and her voice was like that of a fishwife as she yelled at me,

“ We’ll be

back. Remember that, we’ll be back,” she said.

And I answered her in a voice as loud as her own.

“I’ve no doubt,” I said;

“there’s good pickin’s on the Newcastle to Edinburgh road.”

It was as if a blight had come on the day. Mary Ellen was standing with her head bowed, and the

brightness had gone from Roddy’s face and his voice was sullen as he said, “What’s past is past. You

cannot raise the dead. And you weren’t the only one to lose a father. You want to

remember that.”

“Oh aye, I do.” Hal pursed his lips and his head moved up and down before he repeated,

“Aye, I do.”

Then his voice changing to a deep growl, he said, “But I was the only one made to feel like muck, I was

the only one who had a mark on him. If me da had been caught stealing and hanged for it, I would have

been the son of a kind of hero. But no, they said he had done off, taken money out of the country. That

was unforgivable. But anyway, as you’ve heard, I’m to be compensated.”

His voice rose now to a mimicking cheeriness: “I’m to go before my lords and masters in the City of

Newcastle come next Wednesday and, as I understand it from Mr. Mulcaster, I’m gona

be compensated

for all the pain of me youth, for the stigma on me name, arid that on me father.

Now isn’t that something? What do you think I’ll get? Give a guess. “

“Whatever it is, I hope it’ll be enough to satisfy you.”

The artificial smile on Hal’s face was again replaced by grimness, and a suppressed anger sounded in his

voice when he said, “You know something, Roddy? I don’t think you give a tinker’s

curse about what

happened to your father. All your remembering meant to you was saving your own skin,

and you

wouldn’t have done that if it hadn’t been for her.” He made a sharp movement with his

head towards

Mary Ellen.

“She ran here and there like a scalded cat to save you, and what’s her reward, and Kate’s too, come to

that, and everybody else’s? You jump at the chance to get away from us all and live in Newcastle

among your new fine friends. But have you thought what might happen if you don’t come

up to their

expectations? Because you know you’re not all that God Almighty bright with your

pencil; there’s others

about here, given a little time, could come up to you, and pass you.”

“Yes, you’re right, that might be so.” Roddy’s face was as dark as his accuser’s now.

“Everything you say could be right except your accusation that I don’t think of my father.

Let me tell

you, I’ve thought as much of him as you ever could, only thing is I haven’t opened me

mouth so much

about him. You know, I’ll tell you this, in a way, I’m sorry I ever got me memory back, for then you

would have gone on being yourself, only opening your mouth when you wanted to cut

somebody to

pieces. Now apparently you can’t keep it shut. As for not being grateful to those who

have helped me

over the years, and to Mary Ellen here most of all’—he thumbed towards her now ‘for

what she did for

me, you know nothing about it; only time will tell how much I appreciate it.”

He stopped speaking and the two men glared at each other as if they had never known

one day of

friendship. Then Hal, letting out a long drawn sigh, seemed to slump before turning

away, saying, “Aw!

to hell.

To hell with you! Do you hear? To hell with you! “

Mary Ellen stood and watched him pushing his way roughly past the people in the square.

She dare not

look at Roddy, although his last few words had seemed to put a stamp of certainty on her hopes, for

there was in her a sadness that these two men who had been so close, closer than real

brothers, should

now be at each other’s throats.

Although she had always resented Hal’s presence, she recognized now that he had needed someone,

not only as a boy and a youth, but as a man. The clearing of his father’s name hadn’t

seemed to expunge

the stigma; he was still filled with bitterness, and that she couldn’t understand. She doubted if she would

ever understand him. But then, it didn’t matter, the only person who mattered was the

man now standing

by her side, who had, in a way, made a public promise to repay her for all she had done for him. Not

that she wanted any payment for being the means of saving him from deportation, but in a way she

wanted payment for all the sleepless hours and the longing and desire that he evoked in her. Now that

would come. He had as much as said it. That would come.

She was full of excitement the following Sunday as she hurried across the hills: it was as if she was going

to her wedding. But like that of the bride who waited at the church in vain, so her heart sank with

disappointment as she entered the cottage. Her first words to Kate were, “Is he out?”

Kate was seated at the table chopping up a root on a board, and she turned her head and smiled her

skin—stretching smile, and as if she hadn’t heard the question she said, “Blustery day an’

cold enough to

shrivel you.”

Mary Ellen went and stood at the other side of the table. She hadn’t put her basket down but was

holding it stomach high with both hands.

“Where is he?” she said, her tone almost a demand now.

Kate stopped chopping at the root and, pressing her bent back against the chair, she

muttered,

“Somewhere in London town, I imagine, at this moment.”