The Hamiltons of Ballydown (17 page)

She took a deep breath, noticed an unpleasant smell that reminded her of unemptied chamber pots, and wondered what had happened to Mrs Rea. She looked from Sarah to Hannah and towards the pile of suitcases now stacked by the front door.

‘I think perhaps we should change our clothes and have a cup of tea while Sam tells us about his accident,’ she began practically. ‘I’m sure Da will be home as soon as he can manage it.’

‘D’ye think I cou’d have a bite to eat, Ma?’ Sam asked, hobbling after her into the dairy. ‘I cou’den cut the bread standin’ on my good leg.’

‘How did you manage last night, Sam, when your father wasn’t here?’ she asked in turn, a look of horror on her face. ‘If you couldn’t cut bread on one leg you could hardly cook yourself bacon and eggs.’

‘Ach, it was a bit of a joke,’ he said, beaming at her. ‘There was a big heel left in the bin, about two inches thick, and I found a lump of cheese. I cou’den carry it back into the kitchen, so I had to munch it leanin’ against the sink,’ he said, cheerfully.

Rose shook her head as another thought struck her.

‘And how did you get upstairs on crutches, Sam?’

‘Well, I thought about it,’ he said with a soft laugh. ‘An’ I reckoned I stood a good chance of breakin’ the other, so I slept in the parlour,’ he explained. ‘I had a bit of luck though. You’d left the sheet and blanket on the table, so I wrapped them
round me an’ stretched out on the couch.

‘The stove went out when the coal bucket was empty,’ he went on. ‘I can get about fine, but if I use my arms for the crutches, I’ve no hands for anythin’ else. I never knew how handy legs were,’ he laughed, as he eyed the plate of bread and jam Rose had made while he was talking.

They waited patiently while Sam devoured half the plateful and drank a full mug of tea.

‘Well,’ he said, sighing comfortably as Hannah refilled his mug, ‘I can’t tell you much. I was bendin’ over the nearside wheel with an oilcan an’ I caught somethin’ move in the corner of my eye. The next thing I knew I was lyin’ on the ground bleedin’, wi’ m’ leg broke. No one saw what happened ’cept wee Billy. You remember Billy, don’t you, Ma? The wee lad usta be one of the flagmen?’

Rose nodded quickly, as his sisters urged him to go on.

‘Well, he said one of the empty wagons started rollin’ and I jumped outa the way, but it caught the back leg. He heard the crack, he says. He told the Boss about my leg when he came out of his office, but the Boss paid no attention to him. He just got out the kit and bandaged my head. But Billy ran away up the hill to Rathmore for Da and he came an’ took me straight over to yer man Stewart in Dromore,’ he went on, pausing to lower half the contents of his mug. ‘He said the leg was broke sure
enough and he set it right away. We were powerful lucky he was there. He’d just come in to his dinner an’ wou’da been away again in a few more minits. He asked after you, Ma, an’ said Miss Sinton told him you were enjoyin’ your holiday and feelin’ better. He was real pleased about that,’ he added, turning back to his bread and jam.

‘But when did the accident happen, Sam?’ Sarah burst out, her eyes grown wider as she listened to his story.

‘The day’s Saturday, isn’t it? Well, then it was this day two weeks.’

‘Two weeks ago,’ Rose repeated, taken aback. ‘And what have you been doing to amuse yourself when Da’s been at work?’ she asked, shocked at the thought of him hobbling around for that length of time.

‘I’ve read every book in the parlour from the Bible to the
Children’s Encyclopaedia
and half the novels forby,’ he said, grinning. ‘I liked
Pride and Prejudice
right well, but then I’d seen the play, so it was easier to get the hang of it than some of the others.’

Rose looked at Sam and smiled to herself. There was something about his irrepressible good humour that was utterly endearing. It wasn’t every young man who would ask for so little attention.

‘So why didn’t you tell me what happened when you wrote?’

‘Sure, I knew you’d worry,’ he said promptly. ‘Da and I discussed it and I said there was no need to trouble you, it was only a matter of weeks before I was back to work and none the worse. It mighta been different if it hadn’t been for Dr Stewart, but sure we knew not to go to the man in Banbridge,’ he said, polishing off the last of his bread and jam.

Rose smiled and said nothing. He was quite right. Until she’d seen him for herself, she’d certainly have worried. The news would have cast a very different light on that last week when they’d celebrated Hannah and Teddy’s engagement every day.

‘Sam, dear,’ she began, as one thought led to another. ‘What’s happened to Mrs Rea? Is she all right?’

‘Aye, she’s fine. She’d some relative ill, so she went to see to them. When she came back, she said she’d been offered a good place if she could take it right away. Da said she must go for she’d been good to us an’ we all knew she’d not be needed long once you were back.’

‘And when was that, Sam?’ asked Hannah, whose eye had been lingering on the cobwebs and the dark patina of the unwashed floor.

‘About a month ago,’ he said vaguely. ‘It must have been just before Elizabeth and Hugh went off. Da and I managed fine until I broke the leg. We were going to have a good clean up for you comin’ home, but there’s been one thing after another at the mills.
Da’s been back and forth every time anythin’ goes wrong.’

‘Sam, what about Dolly? Has she had breakfast?’ Sarah demanded.

‘Dolly’s fine. Don’t worry. The grass is good after all the rain and Da left her hay yesterday. She’ll not go hungry. But she’s lonely. She comes runnin’ whenever she hears me clumpin’ along,’ he said, looking from one to the other. ‘I think she’s missed ye.’

‘Could we go now, Ma? Just for a minute?’ asked Sarah. ‘Then we’ll come back and see what jobs you want us to do.’

‘All right. Don’t be very long. I may need you to go down to MacMurray’s or into town for some shopping,’ warned Rose, whose first glance at the larder and store cupboards had not been encouraging.

A little later when Sam had hobbled off to the privy, Rose heard footsteps at the door. Thinking it was the girls, she stepped back into the kitchen. She was just in time to see John come over the threshold.

‘Ach Rose dear,’ he said, relief and joy written all over his face, as he strode across the room and put his arms round her.

‘John, dear, I’m so glad to see you,’ she said, kissing him.

Only when he released her and held her at arms length to look at her, was she sure of what she’d
glimpsed as he’d crossed the threshold, the worn and haggard look on his face.

‘Why didn’t you tell me, John, about Mrs Rea and then about Sam?’ she asked gently.

His working trousers crinkled at the waist where he’d tightened his belt. He had most certainly lost weight.

‘Aye, and that’s not the half of it,’ he said, sounding remarkably cheerful. ‘Sure none of it matters now I have ye home an’ ye lookin’ so well. Where’s all our family?’ he went on, looking round the kitchen.

‘Sam’s in the privy after two mugs of tea,’ she replied laughing, ‘Sarah and Hannah are away to say hello to Dolly.’

‘And Jamie? Where’s he?’

‘I don’t know, John,’ she said slowly. ‘He wasn’t there to meet us. We waited an hour or more and then came on by ourselves.’

‘Ach Rose, ach Rose,’ said John, his voice catching, ‘what sort of a welcome home was that? When the fire sprung up again I thought to meself, well, at least Jamie’s there to help them and warn them about Sam. Rose’ll guess I coulden get away. Ach Rose,’ he repeated again, his face distraught.

‘Never mind, love. I
was
worried when none of you were there, but I don’t think we need be concerned about Jamie,’ she said reassuringly. ‘He might just have overslept if he was out on Friday
night, or maybe he had some meeting first thing. He’d have known you and Sam were there.’

‘But sure he knew about Sam,’ replied John sharply. ‘I told him about his accident when I wrote with the day and time to come to meet ye.’

Rose caught the look on John’s face and was about to reply when two figures passed the front window.

‘Da,’ cried Sarah, flinging her arms round him as she and Hannah dashed into the kitchen. ‘We didn’t hear you,’ she explained, breathless with excitement, as John hugged them both. ‘But then Dolly whinnied and we heard Bess answer, so we knew it had to be you.’

‘My goodness, yer both lookin’ great,’ said John. ‘I suppose I’m lucky I amn’t losin’ the both of you,’ he said, slyly, as he glanced from one to the other, one daughter engaged to be married, the other no longer the lively schoolgirl he’d waved goodbye to, two months ago.

‘Sam, how are ye son, did ye manage all right last night?’ he asked anxiously, as Sam followed them more slowly. ‘Sure I thought I’d have your mother and the girls back here in time to make your breakfast. But ye can never tell with fire,’ he went on, shaking his head.

He sat down abruptly and pulled off his boots which were spattered with ash and splashed with water.

‘We all thought it was well doused and it was lookin’ like rain forby. Then, the next thing we know the nightwatchman was knocking us up to tell us it had got goin’ again.’

‘What started it, Da?’ asked Sam, as he lowered himself carefully into the other armchair.

‘Oh, the usual,’ John replied, the weariness obvious now in his voice. ‘Always the same with an engine house. High temperature, dry air, fumes from the lubricating oils. A stray spark from somewhere. Possibly even spontaneous combustion. The afternoons have been hot even if the nights are gettin’ cold, and the big double doors have to be kept closed at all times to stop the childer gettin’ in,’ he said, looking up at them, as he stretched his feet backwards and forwards to ease them.

‘That’s in the rules now, about the doors, and right and proper too, for the sake of the wee lads and lasses that know no better than to sneak in for a look and then get hurt. But closed doors means bad ventilation,’ he summed up, as he got to his feet and hunted for a pair of shoes.

When Rose found how few hours of sleep John had had the previous night she persuaded him to go and lie on the bed while she set about getting some lunch. With everyone already hungry from either a very early start or no breakfast, or both, she looked more carefully at the larder. Apart from
half a baker’s loaf that smelt mouldy, even if it didn’t show any very obvious signs, the only other item in there was some bacon with a very strong smell and two eggs. She’d used the last of the milk when they’d made a fresh pot of tea for John.

She smiled to herself as she went out to the stable in search of potatoes, thinking of lunches at Ashley Park. Homely enough meals, a shepherd’s pie or cold meats, but always beautifully served with vegetables straight in from the garden and bowls of fresh fruit for dessert.

To her great relief there were potatoes in the sack, though some of them had sprouted in the heat. She gathered up what she needed, collected a handful of scallions from the patch by the back door and went back into the dairy where Sarah was scrubbing the stained Belfast sink.

‘What next, Ma?’ she asked, rinsing away the scouring powder.

‘MacMurray’s. You’d better both go. Three pints of milk, a dozen eggs, two pounds of butter, or whatever they can spare. Take my purse in case we owe them for what Young Bill’s been delivering.’

By noon, Sam had peeled all the potatoes, Rose had fine chopped the scallions and Sarah and Hannah had arrived back with everything she’d asked for together with the local news as well. When John tramped back downstairs in his socks, he sniffed appreciatively.

‘Man, that smell’s good. We made champ a couple o’ times, diden we, Sam? But it diden smell as good as that.’

‘Come on then, come to the table. I’ve made plenty for there’s no bread and no cheese. Does anyone want a glass of milk?’

She served a pale green mound, topped with a generous knob of butter, onto each plate. Silence reigned for some minutes until Hannah and Sarah paused to deliver the news from MacMurray’s.

‘Michael says the price of butter has dropped again,’ said Sarah, between mouthfuls. ‘There’s so much coming in from New Zealand the packing station says they can’t compete in price.’

‘And he’s worried about his potatoes,’ added Hannah sympathetically. ‘He says he’s sprayed a second time, but he’s heard rumours from the west coast they’ve had blight, but no one is letting on and if he loses his potatoes on top of the drop in his butter money …’

Hannah paused as a figure appeared in the doorway, knocking on it politely as if it were not wide open.

‘Billy, how are ye?’ called John. ‘Come on in.’

‘No, I’ll no disturb ye at yer meal,’ said Billy, coming in and handing Sam an envelope. ‘Are ye doin’ rightly, Sam?’ he asked, as Sam put down his fork, took the large envelope and looked at it curiously.

‘The best at all, Billy,’ replied Sam promptly. ‘Is this my pay?’

‘Aye, I woud think so. I’ll come up one evenin’ in the week,’ he said, nodding at Rose and John and shyly avoiding Hannah and Sarah. ‘Be seein’ ye,’ he called cheerfully over his shoulder as he darted off.

‘That was good of him to come up with yer pay, Sam,’ said John warmly. ‘An’ he came last week as well.’

‘He’s a good sort, wee Billy, though he hasn’t much hands for anything,’ said Sam, as he studied the envelope curiously. ‘He was lucky to get the job sweepin’ up when the flagmen all went. His Da wasn’t so lucky, I hear he’s lookin’ for work yet.’

‘That’s near a year now,’ said John, as he held out his plate for a second helping. ‘Does his Ma work?’

‘Aye, she’s in the bleach works with one of his sisters, but the wee sister’s only a half timer,’ he said, as he tore open the envelope.

A small shower of coins fell on the table, some of them running on their edges till they encountered the milk jug. They collapsed with a small clatter as Sam drew out of the envelope some grubby banknotes and a battered brown card. He stared at the card open-mouthed and then looked from John to Rose and back again.

‘What’s that, Sam?’ Sarah burst out, staring at him across the table.

Sam looked inside the envelope again, but there was nothing there.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asked flatly as he handed the brown card to his father.

John took it from his hand, glanced at it and pressed his lips together.

‘Aye, it is,’ he said, nodding grimly. ‘I’d never have thought yer man Thompson capable of doin’ that, an’ you there from the minit ye left school,’ he said quietly, as he pushed away his plate. ‘I’m not sure he can do this to you, Sam, an’ I’ll make it my business to find out. Whatever happens we’ll get over it somehow. Now finish your dinner like a good man. It’s not the end of the world.’