Rosa's Island (42 page)

Rosa had said nothing but gazed into the fire. She had been sitting by its glow for hours, contemplating in silence the past events. It must have been Seamus, she thought, mourning his dead brother.

They had found another body too when the waters had receded. At least, they had found skeletal remains. Those of someone who had died long ago. Too long ago to be identified. The discovery had been made near Marsh Farm, close to where the ditch had collapsed, and at the inquest it had been decided that it was the missing Spaniard, Carlos, whose body had lain undetected at the bottom of the ditch until it was washed up by the river water. Today he was to be buried again, in a Christian manner, next to his wife where he belonged.

‘So what's 'news, Rosa?' Flo asked curiously.

Rosa took a deep breath. It was a big decision,
but one she was determined to make. One she had to make, otherwise she would never really know who she was.

‘The news is,' she said, and dared not look at Matthew for she knew for sure that she would see only shock and dismay. ‘The news is – that I'm going to Spain to meet my father's family.'

SHE LEFT BEFORE
winter began. Before the ghostly vapour of November mist hung over the fields and before the roads out of Sunk Island became an impassable morass through rain or snow. She also wanted to leave before she changed her mind, before the look of misery on Matthew's face persuaded her that she shouldn't go.

Jim had come up to her on the evening of the funeral and with his head bent had muttered, ‘I'm sorry, Rosa. It's because of me that you're leaving. Because of what I did.'

But he had already told Matthew of what had happened all those years before, a great outpouring of his grief and regret that he hadn't been man enough to speak out, and Matthew had told Rosa, and she in turn had remembered what their mother had said about trying to forgive should she discover something which caused her pain. She had put her arms around Jim's waist and hugged him. ‘That isn't 'reason I'm going and I know now that it wasn't your fault. It's finished now, Jim. We must put the past behind us.'

At the burial service, as she watched her father's remains being placed with her mother's, she had felt a great sense of peace that they were finally together, her mother no longer searching and her father found at last.

Towards James Drew she felt a numbness and wondered how someone who had appeared so God-fearing and righteous could have been so hypocritical and callous, with total disregard for others, paying only lip service to his religious beliefs. For John Byrne she felt only sadness that he had lived a tormented embittered life, and had offered up a silent prayer for his repose.

When the family realized that she wouldn't change her mind about going away, they had insisted that it was too dangerous and improper that she should travel alone, and she had replied that she didn't intend to, that she would advertise in a national newspaper for an experienced travelling companion.

This she did and had three replies. One, which she accepted, was from a man and wife, Mr and Mrs Bennett, who were travelling to Spain to visit their son who was a teacher in Zaragoza, and who was to be married to a lady of that country. They would be glad, they wrote, if she would care to accompany them, though they explained that it would be a difficult and hazardous journey, especially at that time of year. ‘Our son is to be married in May,' they wrote, ‘and we would therefore wish to be across France and at the foot of the Pyrenees, where we will wait for the winter snows to melt, before continuing our journey.'

Matthew drove her down the long straight
Ottringham road, towards Hull, where she was to catch the London coach the next morning. He had wanted to stay overnight at the inn to see her set off safely to London where she was to meet her companions, but she insisted that he return home. ‘This will be the least hazardous part of my journey,' she said, ‘and I must become accustomed to being self-reliant.'

He remained silent until they reached the boundary of Sunk Island, then he drew the mare to a halt and staring straight ahead, said, ‘I haven't tried to persuade you not to go, but I can't let you leave without saying that I shall feel as if I have lost my arms and legs and soul when you have gone. I shan't be whole again until you return.' He turned towards her. ‘You will return, Rosa? You will come back to me? To Sunk Island?'

She gently touched his face. ‘I'll miss you, Matthew. But I have to go. My gran once said that I had built a protective shell around me and I think that she was probably right. Half of me belongs here on Sunk Island, but I don't know where the other half belongs. I must go away to find out. I must break open that shell to find out who I really am.'

‘I love you, Rosa,' he said, and her heart went out to him.

‘And I love you,' she whispered. ‘As I always have. You must hold that knowledge in your heart.' He kissed her then and she saw tears glisten in his eyes, but hope dawning too, even though she had made no promises of when she would return.

It was a bright sharp morning and the sun shone over the fields, giving the clear brilliant light which was so special to Sunk Island. There were no rain clouds and here and there where flood water was still held in pools and dew ponds, the sun caught it and cast a reflected scintillating dazzle across the land.

‘Look,' Matthew said, with a break in his voice as he remembered her fondness for the long-legged wading bird. ‘There's your heron. He's left his nest to see you off.'

A grey heron stood with its head hunched into its shoulders near to a dip in the land which was filled with water. Then, as if disturbed, it lifted its long neck and pointed its yellow bill towards them and in awkward flapping flight lifted off and flew across the meadow towards the marshland and the river.

One spring had passed and now there was another and she was on her way home. She had written to give an approximate date of return, but the journey had gone well, much better than the expedition out, when she had seen more snow than she had seen in her life before, and she arrived in England earlier than expected. She bade goodbye to her companions, who were returning at the same time, and travelled by coach from Dover to London then Hull, where she hired a horse and trap and set off alone to Sunk Island.

The weather was warm and the fields and meadows of Holderness were dry, the greening corn swaying and rippling like a gentle tide, and
she decided that rather than take the road from Ottringham she would travel on towards Patrington, and cross the bridge over onto Sunk Island.

Her heart beat faster as the horse clip-clopped over the bridge and she could see before her Marsh Farm, her old home. The barn was rebuilt and there was smoke curling from the farmhouse chimney. She smiled, Jim must have turned over a new leaf, or maybe Gran has been in and made it like home again. She urged the horse on and stopped at the farm gate.

There were pigs in the pen and piglets squeaking, and around the yard hens were scratching and there was a dog lying by the door. It barked when it saw her and ran to the gate to greet her. The door opened and Matthew came out. He stood in amazement for a moment and then rushed towards her, sweeping her out of the trap and into his arms.

‘Rosa – oh Rosa! Why didn't you say – I would have come to meet you.' His words tumbled over each other in his joy to see her.

‘I wanted to come on my own,' she said. ‘I wanted to savour the moment when I stepped onto Sunk Island again. To feel its peace and tranquillity.'

He held her away from him, ‘Is it really you?' She seemed to have a warm glow about her, the effect of the Spanish sun he supposed, and she was wearing a red travelling outfit and not the dark one she had worn on her outward journey. Then he smoothed his hands over her glossy black hair which was knotted behind her head
and held with red braid and a sparkling comb. ‘Or am I dreaming as I have done so many times before?'

‘It's me,' she smiled. ‘Just 'same as before.'

He rushed back to the house to close the door and told the dog to stay and jumped into the trap with her, taking the reins to drive to Home Farm.

‘So where's Jim?' she asked. ‘I saw 'smoke coming from the chimney.'

‘He's out in 'fields somewhere. We've been lighting fires every day.' He shrugged and shuffled in the seat as he spoke. ‘Keeping it aired as Gran Jennings says we should. You'd notice 'barn has been rebuilt?'

She nodded. He seemed different, or was it that she was looking at him through different eyes? Through grown-up eyes which had seen so many other sights on her travels, and not the familiar eyes of a girl who had grown up with him. He was more mature, more handsome, more vital than the boy she had known. His face and arms were sun-browned and his back and shoulders seemed broader, and she felt a curious excitement just looking at him.

‘You must tell me all that has been happening,' she said, and as she looked around saw that the fields had dried from the flood, although some had been left fallow and where there were some wet patches, clumps of yellow kingcups and pennywort were growing. She gazed across towards the embankment and saw that it had been rebuilt.

‘Oh, we go on much the same,' he said softly,
turning towards her. ‘Nothing much happens here on Sunk Island as you well know. We plough and sow and reap and go about our business, just as always, and the river keeps on flowing.'

She made no answer but gazed at the vast open landscape of fields and meadows, at the scattered farmhouses and cottages, and the infinite expanse of sky with pale clouds drifting across it. She heard the trilling cry of curlews as they swooped and glided towards the estuary, she saw a kestrel hovering high over the dykes and the flight of a sparrowhawk as it dipped low over the hedges, and knew that she was glad to be home.

The next morning she was well rested from her long journey and came down to breakfast which Delia had prepared, and ate with Jim and Matthew. Her grandmother was busy in the back kitchen, preparing the midday meal for the labourers who were laying new drains on the land. Delia kept glancing at her and said eventually, ‘Weren't you scared, Rosa, travelling all that way to a foreign land?'

‘Yes,' she replied honestly. ‘I was, and on that first night in the inn in Hull, I almost changed my mind about going.'

She glanced at Matthew and remembered their poignant goodbye as he had left her there. ‘There were so many strange noises in the inn, footsteps on 'stairs and people talking, that I was very nervous of being alone, and I locked my bedroom door and lodged a chair against the knob in case anyone should try to come in. I could hear such a clamour of people, dogs
barking and clattering of carts and carriages outside my window, that I could hardly get to sleep, and I determined that 'following morning I would leave a message with the London coach that I was unable to travel, and get 'carrier back to Patrington.

‘But the next morning was bright and sunny and 'coach was waiting, and the coachman so friendly and obliging, that I decided that at least I would travel to London as my seat was already booked.' Her eyes brightened. ‘And I enjoyed the journey, even though the coach was very rocky; there were so many things to see and towns to pass through, and then Mr and Mrs Bennett were there to meet me at my destination, and I could tell immediately that they were very experienced travellers and so assured of what to do that it made it easier for me to decide to go on after all.

‘If you like, tonight after supper, I'll tell you all about it. About crossing 'Pyrenees on a mule and who I met.'

Delia nodded but looked anxious and started to clear away the dishes.

‘Your gran says that I must take you for a walk to 'river this morning, Rosa.' Matthew beamed at her – he seemed so elated. ‘She's most insistent so we'd better humour her!'

‘Aye,' Mrs Jennings called, having heard their chatter. ‘Go now. Don't delay. 'Tide'll be turning.'

‘That's what I want to do, more than anything,' Rosa said softly. ‘To look at the Humber. I've missed it so much.'

Delia sat down at the table after Rosa and Matthew had gone out and pensively gazed into space. ‘What's up, Delia?' Jim laced up his boots.

‘I was just wondering what it'll be like now that Rosa's back.' She pressed her lips together. ‘There'll be three women in 'house and it's not as if Gran Jennings is our ma or that Rosa is my sister! Not a proper sister. I don't know how it'll work out.' She put her hand over her mouth and her eyes were filled with anxiety.

‘Listen,' Jim said softly and leant towards her. ‘You know that we've been doing up Marsh Farm house and that Matthew's been spending a deal o' time there?'

She nodded and bit on her lip as he continued. ‘Well, we've had tenancy changed over. I'm going to run Home Farm and Matthew's got Marsh. There were too many memories there for me ever to make a go of it, but we didn't want to lose it and Matthew said he'd like to have it. Now,' he lowered his voice. ‘I reckon that Matthew will ask for her – Rosa, I mean – and if she'll have him, then they'll go to live at Marsh Farm and you and me'll stop here.'

‘But I'm no housekeeper,' she moaned. ‘You know I'm not!'

‘I know that you're better now, under Gran Jennings's instructions, than you were twelve months ago.'

She conceded that that was true and he went on, ‘So, if Rosa accepts our Matthew, then you and me and Gran Jennings'll stop here.' He patted her hand. ‘And she'll mek you into a good
cook and one day some young chap'll come along and see your bonny face, and when he finds out you can cook and bake and keep house as well, why, then he'll carry you off and I'll onny have Gran Jennings to look after me!'

She started to smile in spite of her misgivings. ‘But what if somebody should tell about me – and my babby,' she sniffled. ‘Nobody would want me then if they find out.'