A Dinner Of Herbs (37 page)

could help her. |

How many times she had cried out she didn’t know; what time of the day or night it was she didn’t

know. The room was in darkness and it was cold and silent. Whenever she broke the

silence with an

agonized groan or openmouthed cry, Kate at times would mutter, “That’s it. That’s it.

“Tis comin’ strong.” But most of the time Kate slept as if she was already dead.

At times, she felt that she herself was already dead, for her mind was playing strange tricks on her. She

imagined that the house was floating in snow and she opened the door and swam into it, and she swam as

well as the boys had done in the dam. Then again she knew she wasn’t quite dead when

the pain

screwed her inside into knots and brought her knees upwards.

When she heard the scraping on the door she thought it, too, part other imagination, and even when it

grew louder and the noise turned into bangs, she did not fully comprehend what was

happening. Not

until she saw the weird snow-clad figure bending over her did she realize that help had come. But then

once more pain gripped her and she was yelling aloud.

Hal tore off the muffler that was holding his cap in place and threw off an outer coat before at the same

time looking wildly round the room. Then running to the fireplace, he got on to his knees and blew the

dying embers into a small flame. Within minutes he had piled on wood and had a blaze

going. He was

about to rise from his knees when he heard her scream again, and he screwed up his face against the

sound. He had left the door open to let a little light in, but all it showed of the outside world was a

narrow way cut through a six-foot drift of snow.

Before closing the door, he lit a candle; then, hurrying to the bed, he caught hold of her hands, saying,

“How long have you been like this?”

She made no answer, only tossed her head from side to side. Her stockinged feet were

sticking out

from the bottom of the coverlet, but when he felt them they were cold. Yet her face was running with

sweat.

He loooked around him for a moment in bewilderment. This end of the room was dim.

There was no

table on which to stand the candlestick and he couldn’t get round the other side of the bed because it

was against the wall and Kate was lying there. He did not enquire after her, because he had guessed she

had drugged herself to sleep to get rid of her pain.

Springing now towards the ladder, he went up it and under the eaves, and there he pulled the clothes off

the pallet bed and dropped them through the hatchway. Then he tugged the biscuit

mattress from the

wooden base and did the same with this.

When once again he was in the kitchen he dragged the pallet to the fireplace and laid it lengthwise to the

side of the fire, and he put the bedclothes on it, but before returning to Mary Ellen he thrust the porridge

pan into one side of the fire and the water pan into the other. Then going to her, he said gently, “Do... do

you think you can get to your feet?” [ All she could reply was, “Oh, Hal!” and these two words came

out on a groan.

“You’ve got to get to the fire, Mary Ellen. Do you hear \softline me?

Look, swing your legs over. “ 1 When again all she answered was, “ Oh, Hal! “ he pulled; the rumpled cover from her and threw it over Kate. Then,] thrusting one arm underneath her shoulder

and the other! below her bent legs, he heaved her upwards and staggered^ drunkehly to

the hearth.

There in an effort, he went downl on one knee before letting her slide on to the pallet. |

He now brought

two pillows from the bed and put them| under her. She was lying with her feet towards

the flames| and

he pulled off her stockings and chafed the soles of her| feet between his rough hands for a moment before

looking! at her again and saying softly, “Tis gona be all right.

“Tisf gona be all right. Can you undo your skirt?” ;

Her mouth was open, her eyes wide as she muttered now”

“The pain, Hal. Oh, the pain.”

“It’ll soon be over, Mary Ellen. It’ll soon be over. Cai you undo your skirt?”

When she made no effort to do so his hand went to the band of her skirt. The buttons

were at the side

and they were undone, but there was no way he could get the skirt off her, and the top of it was taut

across the big mound other stomach, as were her petticoats beneath. He paused for only a moment

before running up the room and taking a clasp knife from the pocket of his outer coat, and in a minute he

had split the skirt down. But there were the petticoats. One of the tapes was undone, but the bottom

one was still fastened and, to his mind, was no doubt restricting her breathing. So he slit the two of them,

and when they fell aside there was the mound of her body as he never expected to see it.

And when her

legs jerked upwards and she let out another piercing scream, he gritted his teeth and

closed his eyes for a

moment. Then gripping her hands again, he entreated, “Press down all you can. Press

down....”

If he said these words once, he said them fifty times during the next hour. He wrung out hot cloths from

the boiling water and laid them across her stomach, and she didn’t flinch at the heat

because now she

was only semi conscious and growing weaker. Once she looked at him and muttered,

“Mrs. Patterson.”

And he said, “She could never get through. But don’t worry, I know what to do.” He

nodded at her;

and then he smiled as he said, “I’ve had practice. I must have known what was goin’ to happen. I

brought a calf into the world yesterday, at least the mother did.” He kept talking to her now; “You

should see her, she’s beautiful. Just try to let go, don’t be stiff. Come on now, come on.

Mary

Ellen’—he moved her face from side to side ‘listen. Listen. You’re gona be all right. Yes, you are,

you’re gona be all right. I’ll see to it. D’you hear? You know me, don’t you? Stiff neck, that’s me.

Whatever I say I don’t budge from and so you’re gona be all right. D’you hear? I’ve said it, you’re

gona be all right.”

Yet when another hour passed he began to have doubts, grave doubts, and once or twice

he let them

escape, saying, “Oh, my God! Mary Ellen, no! don’t give up. Come on. Come on, lass.

You’ve got to live. Even if it doesn’t, you’ve got to live. D’you hear me? “

When an even greater yell than usual rent the room, he saw the child coming into life; but it was himself

who groaned when, not the head, but the feet appeared. He talked rapidly now as the nails other two

hands pierced the flesh of one of his, and with the other he reached out and held the little feet, crying

excitedly, “That’s it! That’s it!

Another heave. Come on, another heave. “

She seemed to answer his bidding and the child slid out up to its shoulders, and there it stopped. And

now, “Oh no!” he muttered aloud, “God Almighty! No!” He knew what he might have to

do and the

thought of it was terrifying him. He had seen Farmer Gordon do it to a cow.

But this was no cow.

She was gasping now but not crying out. He put his hands between her breasts. Her heart was racing

like a millstream.

“Can you push a little more, Mary Ellen,” he pleaded, ‘just a little more? “

When she made no response he looked around him as if for help. Then pulling his hand

from hers, he let

go of the child and, picking up the knife, he plunged it into the boiling water.

Then it was done, but on a scream that tore at his ear drums. And the next instant, there, on both his

hands, lay a child, and it, too, screamed.

The sweat was pouring down his face. He bowed his head over the child and his blood

covered hands;

then swinging round on his knees, he placed it in the clothes basket that had stood ready to the side of

the fireplace before turning back to Mary Ellen.

Gripping her face in his hands and in a voice that was shaking, he said, “It’s all right, lass. It’s all right,

she’s here. You’ve got a daughter. Listen to her! Listen to her! D’you hear, Mary Ellen?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, yet didn’t seem to recognize him for a moment,

then she said,

as she had said often during the last hours, “Oh, Hal.” And he answered, “Tis all over.

“Tis all over. We’ll get you cleaned up. She’ll need a wash an’ all.” He swallowed

deeply.

“Soon you’ll have some gruel and you’ll be yourself again in no time.”

An hour later the child was washed and wrapped in a blanket and sleeping peacefully. He thought it

should be put to her breast but she seemed in no state as yet to feed it. Well, there was plenty of time for

that: another hour or so and she’d be ready for it. Three hours later she still wasn’t ready for it. Her

heart was racing, the sweat was pouring from her and she was wandering in her mind.

And he was in a

state of fear that he had never experienced before. The child had to be fed, and Mary

Ellen needed

medicine of some kind. But what? There was old Kate over there who had never moved

an inch during

all this screaming and yelling. For a moment he felt like shaking her awake. Yet he knew that such was

her state that she might have already awakened on that distant shore that preachers were always yapping

about, from where, once you landed, there was no return.

When the child’s cry turned to a whimper, he tore some linen into strips, rolled one piece round his

finger, then tied the end of it into a blob and after dipping it into warm milk pushed it gently into the

child’s mouth. And when it sucked hungrily at it he knew some measure of relief. After repeating the

process a number of times, it lay quiet again.

He turned to Mary Ellen, saying, “Well, I’ve got over that difficulty.... Mary Ellen!” He shook her

gently.

“Mary Ellen! Come on.

Come on. Open your eyes. Come on, open your eyes. “

When obediently she opened her eyes, there was a faint recognition in them and she tried to speak, and

he whispered, “What is it? What is it?”

“Look ... look after her. Look after her, will you? Look after her?”

“Mary Ellen. Listen.” He put his arms about her now, holding her up from the pillows.

“You’re goin’ to be all right. Listen. Don’t let go. D’you hear? For God’s sake! don’t let go.

Mary Ellen! look at me. You haven’t got to go. D’you hear me? Because I can’t go on

without you.

There it is. I can’t go on without you.

I’ve said it, Mary Ellen, you’re all I have, or ever wanted. Listen.

Listen. You’ve got to hang on. D’you hear? Oh, my God! Don’t go. Mary Ellen. Mary

Ellen. ,” He

put his lips on hers now; then moved them round her face, in desperation muttering all the while, “ Mary

Ellen. Mary Ellen. I’ll stand anything, even you marrying him, only you’ve got to be

there.

I’ve got to see you. D’you hear? I’ve got to see you. Oh, love, love.

Come on, come on, you’ve got this far. “

When a hand came on his shoulder he himself let out a cry now and, his head dropping

back, he gazed

up at the weird figure of Kate tottering above him. Her straggling white hair was loose about her face; her

eyes were bleared;

her lips looked cracked and her voice was a mere croak as she said, “Afterbirth.”

“What?” He moved to the side.

“Afterbirth. Has, it come?”

He shook his head in answer but more to himself than to her. That was it. The afterbirth hadn’t come.

He had thought he knew all about these things.

He watched the old woman now crumple up on to the settle, then point towards the far

wall, saying,

“Bring the tin box.”

Scrambling from his knees, he did as she had bidden him, and when he placed the box at her feet, she

indicated that he should open it. And her hand went straight to a brown bag. Lifting it out, she extracted

some leaves, saying, “Burn them on the shovel.”

“Burn them?”

She moved her head and he did what she bade him. Once he had put a light to the leaves, the room

became filled with the smell that was like an evil stink. Kate herself now slid on to her knees, and when

she was kneeling by Mary Ellen’s head she reached up and took the shovel from him and

placed it as

close to Mary Ellen’s chin as it would go. Then jerking her head around, she said, “Dip your arm up to

the elbow in the hot water there, then you know what you’ve got to do.”

He felt stunned for a moment. To bring the hairn was one thing, but that. Well!

As he thrust his arm into the hot water he knew that whatever happened in the future,

whether she be

alive or dead, or whoever she took, she would be his.

For five days Mary Ellen hovered on the brink of death. On the third day Mrs. Patterson had got

through from the village, and her pronouncement made Hal yell at her, “Don’t say that, woman! She’s

got this far.”

Kate kept doping her with her potions, having to drop them drip by drip down her throat.

It seemed

that the emergency had enabled Kate to throw off her own illness and weakness, for when Hal wasn’t

there she scurried backwards and forwards attending to the child. But Hal seemed to be always there.

He would disappear for an hour or two, but back he would come, his face rimmed with

frost or snow.

When the thaw set in on the fourth day he made his way into Haydon Bridge and brought