Rosa's Island (15 page)

‘Why not?' he asked curiously.

‘I don't know,' she whispered. ‘I only know that I can't.'

Christmas came and went without celebration. It was a long cold hard winter, the roads and tracks in and out of Sunk Island were impassable, the rainwater in the tanks froze and had to be smashed open each day, and the hens, ducks and geese were kept under cover in the shelter of the barns. March was wet and the dykes were full and overflowing and some of the banks broke under the pressure of water. The atmosphere in the house was strained and Mr Drew found fault with everyone and everything, and not until spring, when new lambs were born and birds began building their nests, and coltsfoot and cowslips started to appear on the banks, did their spirits rise once more.

‘We must give thanks for a new beginning,' Ellen Drew said one morning at breakfast. ‘It is what Henry would have wanted.'

Rosa nodded in agreement. Henry did want a new beginning, but had been afraid to take it. Matthew, who had been out since early morning attending a difficult lambing, sat down at the table and said, ‘We're a man short, Da. We could do with some help.'

‘We'll manage,' his father muttered. ‘We've finished ploughing and sowing, we'll be all right until June.'

‘But we couldn't have managed without John Gore's men giving us a hand,' Matthew argued.
‘We've a lot of acreage to cover now that 'land at Marsh Farm is ready.'

‘We'll manage, I said,' his father growled. ‘I make 'decisions about labour.'

Matthew's face flushed. ‘We'd do better to employ somebody on a permanent basis,' he persisted, ‘instead of casual labour. Jim doesn't live at Marsh Farm, we should get a family man to live in, somebody with a wife who can help at harvest—'

‘I said no!' his father bellowed. ‘I'll have nobody who isn't family working that land.' He stopped abruptly, as if he had said too much. ‘I'll have nothing more said about it.' He got up from the table and walked to the door, then turned to address his wife, ignoring Matthew, whose face worked in anger, and Rosa and Jim, who sat silently looking down at their breakfast plates.

‘I'm going into Hull first thing tomorrow morning, Mrs Drew,' he stated. ‘I'll be away a day or two.' He glanced towards Matthew and Jim. ‘I'm going to find another grain merchant. I'm not happy with 'one we've got.'

When he'd gone out of the room, Jim said in a low voice, ‘There's nowt wrong with 'merchant we use! What's up wi' him?'

‘Hush, Jim,' his mother said quietly. Her face was pale after the acrimonious exchange between Matthew and his father. She swallowed and looked down, then folded her hands together as if in prayer and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Your father has his reasons,' she murmured. ‘It's not for us to question him.'

Matthew got up from the table. ‘Not for us
to question him? I'm sorry, Ma, but if we can't question him, who can?' He was angry and spoke quickly. ‘This farm is our livelihood, mine and Jim's. We're no longer children who must be told what to do and when!'

‘
Fathers, provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged
,' Jim recited glumly. ‘I once read that in 'bible after Da had given me a beating for summat. He made me go upstairs and read 'bible and it opened on that page. I never forgot it.'

His mother looked distressed. ‘Your father has a lot of worries,' she began.

‘And we could take some of them from his shoulders,' Matthew maintained.

Jim shook his head. ‘Onny some of 'em.' His expression became impassive and defeated. ‘There's some worries we all have to live with for 'rest of our lives. There's nowt nor nobody can help us wi' some o' them.'

‘Whatever do you mean, Jim?' Rosa stared across at him and Mrs Drew put her hands to her mouth as if she had witnessed a revelation, but Jim said nothing more and rose from the table, pushed past Matthew and stumbled through the door.

JAMES DREW ROSE
at four thirty the next morning, dressed in his grey breeches, black leather boots and black jacket, and taking his stovepipe hat off the chest in the corner of the bedroom, crept quietly downstairs.

Ellen Drew, wide awake for some hours with the pain in her back, watched him from half-closed eyes, ready to feign sleep in an instant should her husband turn towards her. But he didn't, so intent was he on dressing and going downstairs. He hastily ate the bread and curd cheese which had been left for him on the kitchen table, and throwing his heavy cape over his shoulders stole out of the house towards the stable, saddled his sturdy mare and started his journey.

Rosa heard him, as did Matthew, but both lay in their bedrooms, one on either side of the narrow corridor at the top of the stairs, and waited until they heard the bolt on the door being drawn back. Rosa then turned over, no need yet to get up, but Matthew rose from his bed and pulling on a shirt and breeches padded
downstairs. From the kitchen window he watched his father mount his horse and ride away.

James Drew crossed his land and turned on to the rough track which led to the new turn-piked road to Ottringham. This new road cut the journey into the town of Hull by at least an hour, but it would still be mid-morning before he arrived.

He was churned up with self-reproach and condemnation, guilt and contrition, yet he urged his horse on into a canter as his mind dwelt lustily and wantonly on matters which had to be resolved before he descended into madness. He prayed aloud for help to overcome his weakness, yet his urges grew stronger as he rode, and he finally absolved and discharged the demons which he fought and let them capture him in fulsome and carnal chains.

Sweat was pouring from him as he crossed the old bridge into Hull and he turned into the High Street and trotted down to the George Inn, where he gave his lathered horse to a stable lad, went inside the inn and ordered a glass of ale and a slice of beef.

‘Ridden far?' the landlord asked as he drew his ale.

‘Holderness.' He replied briefly, for to give the name of Sunk Island always drew curiosity, and sometimes misplaced humour when men in their cups would stare down at his boots and ask if his feet were webbed.

‘Ah!' The landlord's interest waned. Holderness wasn't a place he knew, although he had heard of the isolated countryside which grew
good corn. ‘You'll want a room then?' he asked. ‘You won't be going back tonight?'

‘That's right.' James Drew was relieved that he didn't have to make the request himself. He felt his guilt always showed when asking for accommodation. ‘Two nights,' he said briskly. ‘Your best room. I've a deal of business to attend to.'

The landlord nodded. He had a good memory for faces and he remembered this man from a previous time. The countrymen stood out amongst the seamen and foreigners who frequented his inn. They were ill at ease, unused to being away from their quiet lands and plunged into the industrial hustle and bustle of town life. He remembered that his man had barely used his room, he'd staggered in late at night, not drunk with ale, but definitely inebriated and satiated with something heady.

‘A single room, sir?'

‘What? Oh! Yes! But a double bed if you please.'

‘I'll have to charge extra.' The landlord looked solemnly at him.

‘It doesn't matter,' he replied.

The landlord grinned. ‘Quite right, sir. I allus say there's nothing like a bit o' comfort when you're away from home.'

James Drew didn't answer this remark but after inspecting the room gave the landlord a deposit, asked him to be sure that the fire was kept in and the bed well aired, and stepped out into the High Street. He walked past the Corn Exchange and into the wide thoroughfare of
Lowgate. He hurried through shabby streets and past crowded courts, keeping his head averted from the women lounging in inn doorways, and on towards Leadenhall Square. He was in pursuit, not of a grain merchant, but of a different establishment where he knew, from previous visits, that he would be made more than welcome.

It was a square of ill repute. He had, on the first occasion, followed a young woman who had smiled at him and provocatively lifted her skirts to show her ankles. Like a man sleepwalking he had followed her, down narrow streets and alleyways until he was completely disorientated and quite lost. Then the girl had entered an alley and looked back at him over her shoulder. ‘I'm lost,' he said. ‘Can you help me to find my way?'

‘Course I can,' she'd said. Her voice was low and guttural. ‘Come down here wi' me and I'll put you right.'

He had followed her down the alley, and around the corner she had leaned against the wall and lifted her skirts revealing grimy naked legs and a young rounded body, and the man he thought he was had disappeared, leaving behind what he now knew to be his real self, a debauched and sinful monster in human shape.

The girl had finally cried out and tried to push him away but a violent lust was up and wouldn't be satisfied, and not until they were disturbed by others coming down the alley had he desisted. ‘That'll cost you,' the girl had panted. ‘You've had more than my regulars have.'

Breathing heavily he had turned out his
pocketbook and given her what she asked. ‘Can I see you again?' he'd pleaded.

She'd agreed, for a price. ‘But not here,' she'd said slyly. ‘If you carry on like that, I want a bed to lie on.'

Over the years she had been replaced by other women, each giving more than the last, and he expecting more each time; he had also on occasions suffered infections from these women, which dulled his ardour and caused him pain. He silently vowed he would resist temptation, but his lascivious nature did not remain dampened for long and at last he found a brothel with ‘clean' women, where he could indulge himself all day and sometimes all night, staggering back to his hostelry debauched and dissipated. His conscience only rose up in admonishment as he rode home to his patient wife, who, he was sure, if she knew, would forgive him his lustful sins as she forgave him all of his others.

He knocked on the door of the house in the corner of the square and a girl opened it. ‘Hello, Mr Brown,' she smiled. ‘Long time since we last saw you!'

He had given that name on his first visit, but had discovered subsequently that all the customers were given the same name. What he didn't know was that the ladies of the establishment had their own way of knowing who was who. Consequently he was Mr Country Brown; there was Mr Beverley Brown, Mr Hessle Brown, Mr Magistrate Brown, Mr Black Brown and Mr Toff Brown. Others were given names according to their physical attributes, Mr Fat Belly Brown,
Mr Big Brown and Mr Nothing Much Brown. Each Mr Brown was convinced that he was anonymous and incognito.

‘So pleased to see you again.' Madame Emerald floated towards him. She had thick red hair and was dressed in diaphanous blue which revealed her ample bosom. Around her neck she wore a huge emerald on a gold chain and she smelt of heavy exotic spice.

‘I have someone here who would suit you perfectly, Mr Brown,' she whispered. ‘She has such stamina!' She gave him a knowing smile and clutched his arm with strong fingers. ‘Not quite as unquenchable as you,' she purred. ‘But if she tires, don't worry, there are others who can take her place.'

He felt powerful and mighty at her words, like Hercules or Atlas, and he couldn't wait to climb the stairs, to fecundate and impregnate his chosen partner with his virility, and he closed his mind to the bible's disapproval of wasteful seed and consigned to oblivion the truth that these women were there only for his pleasure and not conception.

It was dusk as he left the house with the promise that he would return the next day. His legs were weak and his back ached and he cursed his aging body. I'll have supper and an early night, he promised himself, and perhaps I won't go back tomorrow, but will go home, calling first at the Corn Exchange to chat with some of the merchants.

By thinking on this, he almost convinced himself that that was the reason he had come to the town, as he had told his family, and not just for his bodily pleasures. But his inflamed senses knew that his needs were not yet satisfied and that he would return to the women in the house who had pleasured and tormented him, and who in turn had succumbed to his gross and rampant demands.

He had almost reached the High Street when he saw two men walking towards him. There was something about their swagger and their laughter that struck him as familiar, but before he could turn a corner away from them they had seen him, and he was confronted by two people he had hoped never to meet again.

‘Mr Drew!' said the older one. ‘How grand to see you again. Just look who's here, John! Who would have expected it, here in the middle of this fine town?'

James Drew nodded his greetings and reluctantly took the proffered handshakes of Seamus Byrne and his brother John.

‘So what brings you to town, Mr Drew?' Seamus asked. ‘A spot of business?'

‘A meeting at 'Corn Exchange,' Drew said quickly. ‘I'm thinking of changing my merchant.'

‘Ah!' Seamus Byrne touched the side of his nose. ‘Legitimate business, eh?'

‘Of course,' Drew replied huffily. ‘Of course legitimate.'

‘Still dealing out of Stone Creek?' the younger man asked quietly. ‘Much shipping, is there?' His face was pallid as if he had not seen much sun.

James Drew shuffled his feet. ‘Yes, more now that Patrington Haven is silting up.'

‘Patrington Haven is silting up?' John Byrne queried. ‘And it was such a busy haven when I was a young fellow.' He stared at James Drew, not taking his eyes from his face. ‘That's a few years ago, of course.'

‘Eighteen at least.' His brother glanced at him. ‘Eighteen since you were last in Holderness, John.'