Rosa's Island (27 page)

She lay on her bed and ran her fingers around her breasts, which were full and round, then smoothing them across her belly, she considered that she hadn't felt any movement for some time. She sighed. She hoped now that it wouldn't be long. Better to be over and done with and she could make a fresh start. A picture of the Irishman came into her head and she etched her fingers around her mouth where he had kissed her.

She played out a little scene where he and she and the baby left Sunk Island. Taking his arm, she turned her back on her family and especially on Rosa, and they rode away in a neat trap, like the one which Maggie had. I'll show them all, she thought drowsily. I'll teach them to look down on me. For that was what she felt. She had fallen from grace, not able to eat at her father's table, nothing more than a lowly servant.

If Rosa hadn't been here, Da would have been glad to have me back, even with the babby. If she hadn't been here I might never have gone away in the first place, and none of this would have happened. And so she absolved her guilt and transferred it to someone else. To Rosa, whom she had never liked.

‘Is yon young woman expecting?' Harry asked Rosa as he sat down at the table for his midday meal. The others hadn't come in yet and Mrs
Jennings had gone to the dairy to fetch some butter.

‘She is. But please don't mention it in front of Mr Drew.'

‘Can't disguise it, though.' He took a sup of ale that she had poured for him. ‘Can't hide summat like that.' He gave a sniff. ‘And 'chap won't marry her, I suppose, otherwise we'd have seen a wedding by now. I expect her da'll be preaching in 'church about sins of 'flesh, being sort o' man that he is. But she'll not be 'first and she'll not be 'last either. Why – I remember when I was a young chap—'

Rosa hushed him as she heard the sound of footsteps entering the house and Mr Drew was followed in by Matthew and Jim.

‘Dinner not on 'table?' Mr Drew barked.

‘It's ready,' Rosa said. ‘I didn't put it out as I know you like your rabbit pie straight from 'oven.'

‘Rabbit pie! Aye, it has to be hot – or else cold. Never just warm.' He sat down in his chair as Mrs Jennings came in and took the pie out of the oven, and Rosa dished up the floury potatoes.

‘Carrots! Mrs Drew allus did carrots with rabbit,' he muttered, but appeared mollified as, without a word, Mrs Jennings put in front of him a dish of carrots with a knob of melting yellow butter on top.

‘Tha's allus had a good hand at pastry, Mrs Jennings,' Harry said appreciatively as he ate. ‘I remember it well when I used to work for Mr Jennings. We allus knew where we would get good grub and where we wouldn't, and yours was allus one of 'best places.'

‘Ah well,' said Mrs Jennings. ‘Feed a man well and he won't stray far.'

‘Aye,' he cackled. ‘Or at least he'll allus be home in time for his dinner.'

Mr Drew glared at him. A red spot burned on each side of his face. ‘Let's have less talk, we've work to do this afternoon.'

‘Where's 'other young lass?' Harry ignored the admonishment. ‘She never eats with us at dinner time. I hope she's feeding herself up. Babby'll tek her strength if she doesn't.'

There was a momentary silence and Rosa tried to catch his gaze that she might implore him to be silent, but he ate and gossiped garrulously about somebody's pregnant daughter who didn't eat, and the baby took her nourishment until she was as thin as a skeleton.

‘That's enough,' Matthew began, but Mrs Jennings butted in. ‘You're talking rubbish, Harry Miller. Now, no more of this for you know nowt about it. If you must know, Delia has eaten her dinner already and is resting upstairs. More pie, Mr Drew?'

‘Well, now it's out,' Rosa said to her grandmother as they washed the dishes and dried them. ‘Now that Harry knows, everyone else on Sunk Island will hear about it before the week's out. He's a proper old woman for gossip.'

‘So we can stop pretending, can't we?' Mrs Jennings said. ‘It should have been told afore and it would have been over and done with. I'll go into Patrington tomorrow and buy a few things that she'll need – and some knitting wool for a start.'

‘And the day after I shall go to Hedon and visit Maggie,' Rosa determined. ‘I haven't had time to go and see her, I've always been so busy.' She reached across and kissed her gran on the cheek. ‘I'm so glad that you're here,' she said. ‘I know everything will be all right now.'

Maggie was a picture of health. Her skin was clear and her extra plumpness suited her. She was seated on a sofa with her feet up when Rosa arrived and she greeted her warmly. She showed her the baby clothes that she had knitted and the linen she had stitched for the crib, then eventually she asked about her sister.

‘How is Delia? Is she well?'

‘Not so well as you, Maggie, and your father still won't speak to her. It's as if he's pretending that she isn't there.'

‘Poor girl!' Maggie commiserated. ‘I'm so sorry. I was angry with her to begin with, but she won't have much of a life if she and her babby are to be hidden away.'

‘It's much easier now that my gran has come,' Rosa said. ‘She's so sensible. She's making Delia rest every day now, but,' she added, ‘she doesn't look as you do. Her skin is grey and sometimes she's sick. Gran thinks that 'babby will come soon.'

‘She's earlier than me then?' Maggie pondered. ‘And I thought we were 'same time. I've a month to go.' She gave a happy smile. ‘I just can't wait and neither can Fred.'

A few days later Delia started to be sick. She retched morning, noon and night and complained of pain in her back. ‘Ride for 'doctor, will
you, Jim,' Mrs Jennings said late on the third afternoon. ‘Summat's not right.'

Mr Drew heard Delia crying and wailing and pacing the floor up in her room as he was downstairs in the parlour trying to read his paper before supper. ‘Tell her to mek less noise,' he bellowed to Mrs Jennings. ‘Tell her it's her just punishment for 'sin she's committed and she must bear it quietly.'

‘And what of 'fellow who put her in this state?' Mrs Jennings answered sharply. ‘It teks two to mek a bairn. He's not suffering, is he? Men tek their pleasure and don't suffer consequences.'

He threw down his paper, got up from his chair and marched towards the kitchen door. He turned. ‘Men have bodily needs that are stronger than women's,' he cried in a tight hoarse voice. ‘Women must have 'strength and courage to resist them, not indulge them in their depraved sins. They must show them 'error of their wicked desires, not pander to them.'

He banged the door behind him and Mrs Jennings stared after him. ‘Well, well, well,' she exclaimed.

Jim was about to mount his horse to ride to Patrington when his father stormed out of the house and into the stable, bringing out his mare. ‘I'm going for 'doctor, Da. There's no need for you to go.'

His father mounted. ‘I'm not going for 'doctor,' he bellowed. ‘I'm going out, away from that Hades racket.'

‘But where are you going? It's late!'

His father wheeled his mount around and headed for the gate. ‘Never you mind. I'll be back in 'morning.'

It was a long dark ride and when he reached the town of Hull, instead of booking a room in the inn, he rode on to Leadenhall Square and tied his horse up outside the house. He rang the doorbell and a young woman he hadn't seen before answered it. He was very dishevelled after the ride and she half closed the door.

‘Tell Miss Emerald it's Mr Brown,' he barked at her.

She smiled and opened the door. ‘You'd better come in, Mr Brown. You've had a long journey by 'look of it.'

‘Aye. I need a bath.'

‘I'll see to it,' she said soothingly. ‘It will help to relax you.'

Miss Emerald appeared a few moments later. ‘How good to see you, Mr Brown. We thought you had forsaken us!'

‘No.' He felt exhausted. ‘Just busy.'

‘And now you need to unwind?'

‘Aye, I do, but I have to be off early in 'morning.'

‘I understand.' Her voice was soft and pleasant. ‘Just a brief visit this time?'

He was bathed and towelled and dressed in a robe and taken to a room, dimly lit and heavily swathed with hangings which smelled of exotic perfume making him feel quite dizzy. The women who were sent in to him were in turn vivacious, tender, rampant or provocative. They
whispered promises of so many delights, but they all failed to rouse him to sensual pleasure or gratification.

Each fair face and comely body which lay beside him on the crisp perfumed sheets shifted and transposed into the sad face and swollen body of his youngest daughter. The daughter who had fallen to the desires of a man as these women had fallen.

‘I'm a sinner,' he moaned, as they ran their sensuous fingers over his collapsed and drooping impotence.

‘Of course you are,' they murmured. ‘We all are. That is why you are here, so we can enjoy sinning together.'

One sat astride him and lowered herself so that her breasts were brushing his face and her nipples close to his mouth. He turned his head away. No. No, he groaned inwardly. She's with child! But he opened his mouth and sucked and sucked until the girl cried out that he was hurting. But still his body was flaccid and useless.

He blamed them, the women. ‘I'll not pay in full,' he told Miss Emerald as he prepared to leave. ‘They're not as good as they used to be.'

‘Perhaps you are a little tired?' she suggested, but her eyes were cold. ‘They are my best girls.'

He grunted and gave her only half of what she asked for and as she closed the door behind him, she slipped the money into the folds of her dress and called to a man sitting in another room, ‘Cross Mr Country Brown off our list. He'll not be coming back.'

THE DOCTOR WAS
out attending an emergency. ‘But
this
is an emergency,' Jim told the housekeeper. ‘My sister's babby is coming.'

She nodded her head. ‘Then it'll keep on coming whether 'doctor's there or not,' she said calmly. ‘There's no stopping 'em once they've started. I'll tell him,' she assured him, ‘just as soon as he gets in.'

There's no sense in me rushing back then, he thought, and headed for the nearest hostelry in the marketplace. There's nowt I can do. Though I expect it's similar to delivering a calf or a lamb, and I've done plenty of them. He ordered a glass of ale from the landlord. I wonder what she'll get and if da will let her stop? He realized that although his father had been persuaded that Delia should stay until her confinement, he hadn't said that she could stay after the child was born.

There'd be no harm in it, he pondered. Folks will talk, but not for long, and it'd be nice to have a little nipper around, 'specially if it's a lad and I could teach him about farming.

He turned to look around the room. It was an old hostelry, dark and smoky and lit by firelight and candles held in brackets on the walls. As he peered to see who else was in the room he saw a man leaning against the hearth wall watching him. It was John Byrne.

Jim turned away, but Byrne came across to him. ‘Don't often see you out here at night,' he said.

‘No, there's allus work to be done until late,' Jim replied briefly. ‘Not much time for socializing when you're a farmer.'

‘You could give it up.' Byrne dropped his voice. ‘There are other ways of making money.'

‘Illegal ways!' Jim muttered. ‘No thanks, I like to sleep with an easy conscience.'

Cynicism crossed Byrne's face. ‘And can you do that? There are few men who can say that they do.'

‘I've made a few mistakes,' Jim admitted tersely. ‘No need to add to 'em.'

Byrne gave a small shrug. ‘Your father is willing to take another chance.'

‘He's not willing. You've threatened him that you'll spread rumours about us.' Jim's voice was low and bitter. ‘Rumours about Carlos. Insinuations that he was murdered!'

Byrne looked astonished, then he laughed. ‘Is that what he said? That we'd spread rumours about somebody who went missing nearly twenty years ago?' He laughed again. ‘The old devil!'

Jim frowned. ‘Then what did you say? You put 'wind up him over summat.'

‘Well, it wasn't that! Although . . .' he added
slowly and gazed at Jim intently. ‘It's worth considering as a possibility. Why? I wonder—' He tapped his mouth with his fingers. ‘Why would he say such a thing to you if it wasn't true?'

Jim shuffled his feet. He didn't like the way the conversation was going. Byrne was too tricky for him, always had been. ‘There's no reason why he should say it,' he hedged.

‘Except that he didn't want you to know the real reason.' Byrne gave a sly smile. ‘Your precious da! So holier-than-thou! He wouldn't want his sons and daughters to find out why he'd agreed to go along with us in our little schemes.'

Jim stared at him. ‘And we don't want to know,' he vowed. ‘There's no reason to sully 'waters when they seem clear enough.'

‘Even though there's foul sediment lying beneath?' Byrne sneered.

‘Even then!' Jim put his glass down on the counter and turned towards the door, but was almost knocked over by a gang of local youths coming in.

‘There's one of 'em,' one in the crowd shouted. ‘Here! Irish!'

Byrne turned lazily towards them. ‘Would you be speaking to me?'

‘
Surr and that I would!
' another mimicked, then changed his tone to one of menace. ‘Some of you Irish have been making up to our lasses. And we'll not have it!'

Byrne looked him up and down. ‘Maybe you'll not, but the lasses are willing enough to have it. I speak from experience, I assure you of that.'