A Dinner Of Herbs (65 page)

income for the month

and Mary Ellen was sitting opposite to him at the other side of the desk.

She had her arms folded tightly across her breasts, and her lips, too, were tight. She determined to let

him go on and get out of his system a suspicion that had come into his mind when he had brought Roddy

home yesterday. He was on now about Kate’s reaction, but she knew that any minute

now he would

hark back to the main subject that was troubling him.

“It amazed me that she should like him. He’s a bighead. I would have thought with her

common sense

she would be able to see through him. My God! To think that we worked side by side in

the mill,

tramped the hills together;

and it was me who used to go gathering charcoal so he could do his damned drawings.

And another

thing I’ll tell you, he’s not as well off as he makes out to be. Anybody can go round

visiting fancy places

if they live in a city. If I was going over to France I could brag about all the fine buildings in Newcastle.

Anyway, people know that artists are ten a penny and that they don’t make all that money unless they’re

right at the top of the tree. “

She couldn’t keep her tongue still any longer, for she now snapped at him, “He appears to have got

there, doesn’t he?”

“Aye, appears, appears. You’re taken in by his fancy clothes and his pot belly. By God!

I’ve never

seen anybody so bloated. Look at his face. Where’s your bonny boy now? But even so,

you were

sorry for him, weren’t you? He got back at you, didn’t he? Pushed you to where you used to be,

goggle-eyed gazing at him, wishing now that he had taken you to London with him the

last time you saw

him....”

He was startled as she jumped up, her face aflame now, and crying at him, but in a low voice, “I’ve

heard enough. After all these years, I still haven’t been able to convince you. Deep in you, you’re still

holding it against me that I had her. Well, I’ll say what I said to you years ago, it was my fault that I had

her, not his. He wasn’t to blame. I made him. And don’t say a woman can’t make a man

do what she

wants. Some don’t need much coaxing, but let me tell you what I’ve never told you afore, he needed a

lot of coaxing. So there you have it, Hal Roystan. And you’ve spoilt something that was...

was—’ she

choked and now stammered through spurting tears, ‘bea ... beautiful.”

He was round the desk and holding her straining body to him, pleading with her now,

“Mary Ellen.

Mary Ellen. I’m sorry. I am. But I was scared, scared daft. I was, I was. I’d always

thought that there

could be twenty Roddys come back to see you and I wouldn’t turn a hair. But from the

minute I saw

him looking at you, I knew that he was regretting letting you go, and you recognizing

this. Why, lass, I

nearly went mad.

“Twas a wonder I didn’t hit him, especially at the last when I thought he was going to kiss you. I would,

I would, I would have hit him. Aw, Mary Ellen, don’t, don’t cry, please. It’s ‘cos I love you. I still feel

like a young lad inside about you. I’ve been so sure of me damn self all these years, and now I’m not

and never will be again.” As his arm slackened about her she looked up at him, and now, slowly taking

his face between her two hands, she muttered, “Oh, Hal, Hal, if you don’t know now,

there’s no way I

can make you believe it. And yes, I was sorry for him. I pitied him, and at the same time I was thanking

God things happened as they did, for I know now I’d never have been able to put up with him.

Underneath, he’s still Roddy Greenbank, out for number one. To use old Kate’s words,

I’d sooner have

a dinner of herbs with you than a fat ox with him.”

“Ah, lass.” He held her close, and after a moment he said, “Another thing that had me

sick, I thought

Kate would go off with him.”

“Never.”

“You didn’t think so?”

“No, it never crossed my mind. Anyway, if it had, I would have put it aside, knowing that Kate would

never do anything to hurt us, and that certainly would.”

“No.” He nodded his head.

“You’re right there.”

Kate knew that her attitude towards her father during his 452

long overdue visit was being discussed throughout the family, but John was the only one who had put a

pointed question to her.

“Did you like him, Kate?” he had said. And the telling pause that preceded her answer

was, in a way,

as explanatory to him as it was to her, “Yes and no.” To which he had said, “Well, you should know if

you do or you don’t.”

Yes, she supposed she should have been able to say precisely what her impression of the man was.

Yet, wasn’t it asking something of oneself to be able to define a character after such a short

acquaintance? One thing, though, she did know: if she hadn’t been so inwardly happy,

she might have

succumbed to the offer to visit him in France. And that, she knew, would have been

looked upon, at

least by her mother and father, as something of a betrayal. As it was now, her whole

reaction to the man

was tinged with pity, for his life, so successful on the surface, was barren underneath, and this she

considered to be a dear price to pay for his fame.

Altogether, his visit had disturbed her less than it had other members of the family

because all the while

she had been holding close to her heart the thought of Ben. And at this moment, all she wanted was to

get on a horse and race across those moors and feel his arms holding her.

Last night, it had not been her father’s visit that had troubled her dreams; but three times she had woken

up and questioned if it could be true that the man who had come out of nowhere and who, she imagined,

could have the choice of any girl he set his mind to, could he really love her? Was there not some catch

in it somewhere? At one period she had lain awake thinking. There must be. There must

be. This kind

of thing doesn’t happen. In the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm there was always an

ogre. Who could

represent the ogre in her life?

Her dad, Hal?

Sitting up in bed at this thought, she had whispered to herself, “No, no.” But her common sense had

protested, “Yes, yes.” Her dad was the ogre and he had to be

of coaxing. So there you have it, Hal Roystan. And you’ve spoilt something that was. was

—’ she

choked and now stammered through spurting tears, ‘bea . beautiful. “

He was round the desk and holding her straining body to him, pleading with her now,

“Mary Ellen.

Mary Ellen. I’m sorry. I am. But I was scared, scared daft. I was, I was. I’d always

thought that there

could be twenty Roddys come back to see you and I wouldn’t turn a hair. But from the

minute I saw

him looking at you, I knew that he was regretting letting you go, and you recognizing

this. Why, lass, I

nearly went mad.

“Twas a wonder I didn’t hit him, especially at the last when I thought he was going to kiss you. I would,

I would, I would have hit him. Aw, Mary Ellen, don’t, don’t cry, please. It’s ‘cos I love you. I still feel

like a young lad inside about you. I’ve been so sure of me damn self all these years, and now I’m not

and never will be again.” As his arm slackened about her she looked up at him, and now, slowly taking

his face between her two hands, she muttered, “Oh, Hal, Hal, if you don’t know now,

there’s no way I

can make you believe it. And yes, I was sorry for him. I pitied him, and at the same time I was thanking

God things happened as they did, for I know now I’d never have been able to put up with him.

Underneath, he’s still Roddy Greenbank, out for number one. To use old Kate’s words,

I’d sooner have

a dinner of herbs with you than a fat ox with him.”

“Ah, lass.” He held her close, and after a moment he said, “Another thing that had me

sick, I thought

Kate would go off with him.”

Never. “

“You didn’t think so?”

“No, it never crossed my mind. Anyway, if it had, I would have put it aside, knowing that Kate would

never do anything to hurt us, and that certainly would.”

“No.” He nodded his head.

“You’re right there.”

Kate knew that her attitude towards her father during his 452

long overdue visit was being discussed throughout the family, but John was the only one who had put a

pointed question to her.

“Did you like him, Kate?” he had said. And the telling pause that preceded her answer

was, in a way,

as explanatory to him as it was to her, “Yes and no.” To which he had said, “Well, you should know if

you do or you don’t.”

Yes, she supposed she should have been able to say precisely what her impression of the man was.

Yet, wasn’t it asking something of oneself to be able to define a character after such a short

acquaintance? One thing, though, she did know: if she hadn’t been so inwardly happy,

she might have

succumbed to the offer to visit him in France. And that, she knew, would have been

looked upon, at

least by her mother and father, as something of a betrayal. As it was now, her whole

reaction to the man

was tinged with pity, for his life, so successful on the surface, was barren underneath, and this she

considered to be a dear price to pay for his fame.

Altogether, his visit had disturbed her less than it had other members of the family

because all the while

she had been holding close to her heart the thought of Ben. And at this moment, all she wanted was to

get on a horse and race across those moors and feel his arms holding her.

Last night, it had not been her father’s visit that had troubled her dreams; but three times she had woken

up and questioned if it could be true that the man who had come out of nowhere and who, she imagined,

could have the choice of any girl he set his mind to, could he really love her? Was there not some catch

in it somewhere? At one period she had lain awake thinking. There must be. There must

be. This kind

of thing doesn’t happen. In the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm there was always an

ogre. Who could

represent the ogre in her life?

Her dad, Hal?

Sitting up in bed at this thought, she had whispered to herself, “No, no.” But her common sense had

protested, “Yes, yes.” Her dad was the ogre and he had to be

overcome. But how? If Ben talked to him, would he listen to reason?

She had lain back and dropped off to sleep, and this morning she had forgotten the

answer she had

given to herself. At the breakfast table the conversation was general, purposely so it appeared to Kate.

Tom was saying, “Terry’s taking the sheep into Allendale this morning.” He was looking at Gabriel, and

Gabriel answered, “Well good Lord, there’s only a handful, he can manage those.”

“Tisn’t the sheep I’m thinking about,” Tom said, ‘it’s the return journey, him coming

straight back or

winding his way into one of the inns. You know what happened a week gone. “

“Funny that. “ They were all looking at their father now, and he chewed on a piece of

bacon before

saying with a smile, “You would say that Terry was the quietest fellow in the valley, yet put a couple of

pints of small ale into him and what have you? A rip-roaring wrecker.”

There were smiles all round the table now, and Gabriel said almost on a splutter, “I’ll never forget that

day when they tried to put him into the stocks.”

“Aye.” Tom laughed now.

“And you nearly went with him. You were hanging onto his coat tails, and I had to pick you up and

whack you.”

“I hear they’re going to take the stocks down....” Before Maggie could go on any further, Tom

interrupted her: “Well, as long as they don’t do away with the ducking stool, I’ll be quite happy.” And he

grinned at Maggie as she tossed her head, saying, “Oh, you!”

“Why are you sending the sheep in today?” This was from Mary Ellen and she was

looking at Hal now,

and after another bite and a large swallow of bacon, he answered her: “Well, if you want the truth on the

subject:

as in the past it’ll upset your delicate stomachs’—he glanced now at his daughters

‘there’s a crowdy

main on the morrow, and you know what Terry is forcockfighting. His pay will drop like bolts of

lightning down into the cockpit. “

“I think it’s terrible. It should be stopped.” FIorrie was not given to airing opinions and she had all their

attention now as she went on, “A cockfight is bad enough, two birds, but all those birds thrown into the

hole and people joying in their dying. I think it’s awful. And you, our Tom, should be ashamed of

yourself for....”

“Now, now, hold your hand a minute.” Tom was wagging his finger at her.

“I’m not the only one in this household that likes a bit of sport.”

“No, but you should have more sense.”

“Why should I have more sense than the others?” They were all laughing now at Tom’s

stretched face.

“Neither of them’—he glanced at his mother and father—’had any wits to pass on, they

had hardly

enough to keep themselves going.”

When the laughing uproar had subsided, FIorrie, looking across at Kate and as if giving the final word

on the subject, said, “And Kate can’t abide cock fighting Can you, Kate?”