A Dinner Of Herbs (80 page)

tightly at her

waist and gazed at the numerous men standing awkwardly sipping at mugs of mulled ale.

Men from

different walks of life had been coming and going all day since noon. This was after John and Tom had

gone over to the Bann. amans’ house and found the two horses in the stables. From there, they had

climbed the hills to Ben’s cottage, but found no one. They had been hardly able to see a hand before

them; the snow, being powder dry, was whirling like low clouds over the hills. The only live thing they

had seen between the swirling drifts of snow was a glimpse of a goat that had come out of its hut at the

bottom of the field. It was after this that they had set the alarm.

The only lead they had as to where Hal might have gone had been from Jamie Pollock.

But that had

turned out to be a wild-goose chase, and as the men said, nobody should have taken any notice of what

Jamie said, him being wrong in the head.

The manager from the mine said, “I’ll have a group out come dawn, Mrs. Roystan. Who

knows, he

could have taken shelter somewhere.” As far as he and the others helping in the search knew, they were

looking for only one man. It was Farmer Dickinson who said, “Funny, he should be

makin’ for

Bannaman’s place. Was he going to have a word with young Mr. Hamilton, him that’s

taking it over?”

“Aye, yes, just a word,” John answered, nodding at the But Farmer Dickinson’s curiosity was aroused:

“Wouldn’t have thought Hal had much time for anybody who took that place. Funny. Tis

funny,” he

said.

“Would you like some more beer?” Florrie was proffering the jug towards Farmer

Dickinson. And he,

smiling at her, said, “No, lass, thank you very much; I want to keep straight legs to get me home, and

that’s strong stuff, that is. Good an’ all.” He jerked his chin at her. And Florrie turned to another man,

saying, “Mr. Robson?” and he answered, “Yes, just a drop. It gets down to your toes, that does.”

Moving from the fireplace towards the table, Mary Ellen now said quietly, “Thank you

very much, one

and all. I’ll... I’ll be glad to see you in the mornin’.”

Buttoning up their coats and pulling their caps tight on to their heads, the men now said their goodbyes,

one after the other promising to be back at first light. And then she was left with her family.

“Come on, lass.” Annie was gently guiding her towards the settle, saying, “Sit yourself down; you can

do no good standing about. It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t come stumbling in that door at any

minute.”

“Oh, Annie, Annie.” Mary Ellen closed her eyes, then murmured, “What in the name of

God could have

happened to them?” Then looking at Annie again, she said, “Where’s Kate?”

“She’s all right. She’s all right. I’ve got her soaking her feet in her room. She was wet to the skin. And

the best thing you can do is to go and lie down for an hour or two.”

“Don’t be silly, Annie; I’ll never sleep again till I know what’s happened to him ... to them.” She now

looked towards Maggie who was placing a kettle on the hob and, leaning forward, she

cried at her, “I

hope you realize, girl, that this is all your fault. If your father’s dead you’ll have it on your conscience till

the day you die. And... “

“Mam. Mam’—John was standing over her “ Tis no good taking that line. It would have

come out

somehow, some time or other. It had to happen. “

Mary Ellen looked up at him and asked pityingly now, “But where could they have got

to? They must

both be together, their horses being in the stables. What in the name of God! could have happened to

them?”

“I don’t know, no more than you do, except one thing, if there was any violence it would come from

Father’s side not Ben’s.”

“What a thing to say.”

“Well, ‘tis true, Mam, isn’t it? Because let’s face it, when he’s aroused he’s like a bull charging straight

ahead.”

“Shut upJohn.”

“I’m only trying to point out to you that he would come to no harm through Ben.”

“Well, if it’s any news to you, I’m worried an’ all, and at bottom about the same thing that’s worrying

you, and that is, what he might have done to Ben. Oh God!” She put her two hands to her head and

gripped her hair.

“To think our family should come to this. Things were going too well for us, too

smoothly. It seems as if

there’s a curse on us an’ still connected with them Bannamans.” And when no one made

any attempt to

be more enlightening she turned about and, leaning her forearm on the mantelpiece,

dropped her head

onto it, and in her own fashion she began to pray.

At first light the men were again in the yard. There were ten of them altogether and they said there were

more to follow. They paired off in two’s, planning to keep within hailing distance of each other in case

they should come across what they were looking for. They spread out fan-wise, John and Tom plumping

once again for the road that led to the Bannamans’ farm, feeling that at least Ben might turn up.

Terry and Gabriel were left to see to the cattle, while Annie and Florrie took it upon themselves to see to

the hens and pigs.

It had stopped snowing sometime in the night, and now a thaw had set in and a weak sun was shining.

Inside the house Maggie was seeing to the fires, and Kate and Mary Ellen were alone in the kitchen.

They were both bleary—eyed as they had sat up all night, just dozing now and again.

Neither of them

had eaten anything, but they had drunk numerous cups of tea. And now Mary Ellen,

brewing once again,

turned from the hob at the sound of Kate’s sharp tone as she said, “I can’t just stay here, Mam;

I’ve got to go out looking. “

“There are plenty doing that, lass. Look how you came in last night.

We don’t want you bad. “

“I won’t take bad, but I’ve got to go out.” She turned away and hurried from the kitchen, leaving Mary

Ellen standing, asking herself once again just where it would end.

Five minutes later, when Kate returned to the kitchen, Mary Ellen gave her but a swift glance for there

was a sudden commotion in the yard.

She ran to the door, to see John and Tom and two of the searchers running towards the

harness-room.

Quickly, she went out into the yard, shouting, “What is it? What is it?”

“Be with you in a minute.” John had turned from the harness-room door.

He was talking rapidly to the men. Then he ran to her and, taking her by the arm, almost dragged her

back into the kitchen. And there was a smile on his face as he looked from her to Kate, th&n back to

her again, saying, “He’s all right... both of them. Ben made his way down the hills. We met him on the

road. He’s a bit exhausted. He was coming for a stretcher, a canvas one;

he says a door’s no good, too slippery up there. “

“Why a stretcher? Why a stretcher?” Mary Ellen was clutching him.

“Tis all right. Tis all right, Mam,” John said, catching hold of his mother’s hand.

“He’s had a blow on the head and his ankle’s broken, but he’s....”

“Who did that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But he’s alive and he’s all right, Ben says.”

“Ben. How is Ben?”

John looked at Kate and paused before he answered, “All right, Kate, but, naturally, tired.

He must

have had a time of it up there.”

“I’ll ... I’ll go along with you.”

“No, no. “ He now patted her shoulder.

“You’d only be in the way. You’ll be needed here. Anyway you’ll have to get the bed

ready, the

warming-pan going and plenty of hot bricks.”

“How long are you likely to be?”

He paused a moment thinking, then said, “Two hours I should say will see us down. Now

there! Cheer

up, they’re all right.” He looked from one to the other, and Mary Ellen said, “Thanks be to God.” But

Kate didn’t speak, for the wave of relief that was passing through her made her feel faint, and in case she

should do something silly she turned quickly about and hurried out of the kitchen. And when she reached

her own room she dropped onto her knees by the side of the bed and said deeply and

profoundly,

“Thank you. Thank you.” She wasn’t given to praying, she hadn’t been brought up to

pray. The only

member of the family, she thought, who said a nightly prayer was Florrie. But she herself over the past

twenty—four hours had made up for her lapse of years; every step she had taken through the snow

yesterday had been accompanied by a beseeching prayer, especially while she was trying to reach the

cottage and being sick at the thought of what she might find there. The only reason why she hadn’t

succeeded in getting that far was that she had met the boys coming down and they had

found it empty

and, as they had said, “Everything left tidy.”

Slowly she rose from her knees and got out of her outdoor things before going downstairs again to await

the return of her father and Ben, for surely they would bring Ben back with them.

Two and a half hours later when the almost exhausted men carried the canvas sling into the kitchen, Ben

wasn’t

among those accompanying them.

When they laid Hal gently down on the mat before the fire Mary Ellen dropped on to her knees by his

side and, touching the only exposed part of him besides his eyes, which was his cheek-

bone, she said,

“Oh, my dear, my dear.” And at this he brought his hands from underneath the blanket

that covered him

and, gripping hers, he said, “Tis all right, lass, ‘tis all right. Get me to bed and warm, and I’ll be as fit as a

fiddle in no time.”

Looking down into his face now, she saw that it was haggard and grey;

then getting to her feet, she looked at her two sons and at the other two men who had

helped to carry

him the last part of the journey, and she said, “Would you take him up?”

At this, willing voices from others around said, “We’ll do it, missis, they’ve done their stint.” And the

man laughed as they picked up the four poles that were threaded through the canvas

sheet, and, Mary

Ellen leading the way, they followed her out of the room. And as the door closed on them a strange thing

happened, strange at least to John and Tom and the rest of the men who were crowded in the kitchen,

for Annie, big Annie as she was known, buckled at the knees and fell in a dead faint

down by the side of

the table.

“Well, did you ever see anything like that?”

“Lift her up onto the settle.”

“Get some burnt paper, lass.”

“Well! I never thought Annie was one for fainting.”

Kate rolled up a wad of paper, and lit it at the fire, then nipped it out before going to the settle and

waving it backward and forward under Annie’s nose, the while thinking. No, no one

would imagine any

one as big as Annie fainting; big people were supposed to be tough and didn’t do silly things like that.

They weren’t to know that Annie loved her father almost as much as her mother did,

perhaps equally, or

more so, because her life had been frustrated. No one had ever put this into actual words except that

time when her mother had said, “Annie’s

always been very fond of your father,” and she had laughingly added, “ Funny, but I

think she had hopes

in that quarter at one time. “

Yes, it was funny, to everybody but Annie.

“There you are, lass. Come on, come on. Now what made you go and do that?” The man

patted

Annie’s cheek.

Annie slowly opened her eyes, wetted her lips, and looked at Kate, and Kate, now taking her by the

arm, heaved her up, saying, “Come and lie down for a while and I’ll bring you a cup of tea.” And with

this she led her through the men and out into the hall and to the sitting-room, and there, pressing her

down into the couch, she lifted her feet up, arranged a cushion at her head, then. bending over her, said,

“You stay put there.”

“It was a daft thing to do.”

“We’re all daft at the moment, Annie. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

As Kate went to move away, Annie gripped her wrist and, staring up into her face, she

said, “Whatever

happens, go to him, lass. Don’t let your life be wasted, because you’ll never meet another like him

around these quarters, you won’t. As for your dad, he’s had his life, or most of it. So follow your heart,

lass.”

“I will, Annie. I intend to do so, no matter what happens.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer, then Kate went from the room.

The men had left the kitchen, but Florrie and Maggie were hurrying up the room carrying hot bricks

wrapped in blankets. There was only Tom left. He was standing before the fire, one hand holding a mug

of tea, the other held out to the blaze.

Going to him, she asked quietly, “Where’s Ben?”

“He ... he went off to the farm.”

“How was he?”

Tired, I would say. “

“What had happened up there?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. He wasn’t for talking much. But he had attended to Dad,

got his boot

off, cut off the sock and things. It’s a bad break. He must have gone through it.”

“You don’t know what happened?”

“No.”

“If they were in the cottage, why didn’t you find them before?”

“Because they weren’t there.” His voice had an impatient ring to it.

As she said, “I’m sorry,” the far door opened and Florrie came running into the room,