The Innkeeper's Daughter (6 page)

Bella looked from one brother to the other. She felt anxious and disturbed. There seemed to be discord creeping into their lives. Surely Ma would want to stay here. It was their home. They’d all been born here, and she supposed that she wouldn’t really mind too much if Joe eventually took over the inn, providing he didn’t expect her to skivvy for him; but then, if she couldn’t be a teacher, she saw no reason why she shouldn’t be a licensee too, if she wanted to be. She sighed. But none of them were old enough. It would be years and years before that could happen.

She went back into the kitchen; her mother was sitting down gazing into the fire.

‘Ma,’ Bella said, sitting opposite her. ‘Do you want to stay here for ever?’

Her mother looked up. ‘Here?’ she said vaguely. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, we’ve always lived here, haven’t we? I can’t think of us ever going to live anywhere else. I used to think, you know, even when I dreamed that I might be a teacher, that wherever I went, I’d always come back here, back home to you and Father.’ There was a catch in her voice. ‘But it won’t be like that now, will it, and I just wondered if other things might change as well, and …’ She found it hard to put into words what she meant: that the Woodman, where she had been brought up, would always be home.

‘And if …’ She was hesitant, uncertain, confused even. Would her life be dependent on men like Mr Saunders, or their landlord whom she had never met, or even on her brother Joe? Not William – she knew that William wouldn’t be staying no matter what everyone else decided and that he wouldn’t have any influence on her life. ‘Well, I just wondered what would happen to us, that’s all.’

Her mother shook her head. ‘Child,’ she murmured, ‘how can I tell what’s coming? I’m having difficulty dealing wi’ present, let alone ’future. A year ago, who’d have thought I’d be a widow woman wi’ five bairns to tek care of and an inn to run.’ Her voice became melancholy. ‘Life’s dealt me a bitter blow and no mistake. This child I’m carrying’ll be a burden to me, for I thought I’d done wi’ all that.’

‘But we’re not children, Ma.’ Bella couldn’t ever recall seeing her mother so dispirited. ‘Joe and William don’t need looking after, they’re practically grown men, and I don’t either, even though Nell does; and I’ll help you wi’ new bairn.’

Her mother didn’t answer but continued to gaze into space. Then, as Bella leaned across her to swing the kettle over the fire to make tea, her mother said softly, as if Bella hadn’t said anything at all, ‘So I’m relying on you to help me with it, Bella; I’m sorry, but there it is.’

CHAPTER SIX

THE WOODMAN INN
had once been a simple country alehouse with a cellar for brewing and storing the ale, one small taproom with a table and bench for the customers, and an adjacent kitchen, which also served the household as a bedroom.

Over the years, as the narrow coast road opened up to the more adventurous travellers who braved the Holderness plain to reach the delights of sea and sand, the carpenter who lived there and his wife who brewed the ale decided that they should build on another room; they were often asked to provide accommodation for walkers, carriers and waggon drivers when they became bogged down in winter snow or mud. They were in any case short of space to house their four young sons and three daughters as well as themselves.

The carpenter called on his neighbours in the hamlet, as it was then – one a thatcher with not many calls on his time, one a labouring man and one a brickmaker – to help him build another room on to his house. After some ardent discussion over a particular tasty brew, it was decided that if they were to build two rooms instead of one, then so much the better, for the visitors, after enjoying a good night’s sleep, might also care to partake of a hearty breakfast in a cosy parlour.

A century later, when the carpenter, his wife and all his children had departed this life, the alehouse had grown significantly larger. It catered not only for the local trade but for even more visitors needing a rest stop as they traversed
the
countryside, and also as a meeting place for farmers, tradesmen, committee members and the like, of one club or another.

By the time Joseph and Sarah Thorp became tenants, the Woodman was a substantial square brick-building with a heavy wooden front door in the middle, a sash window on either side and two more above. At the side of the building could be seen the remnants of the original alehouse: a planked door into the kitchen, the slit of basement window set in the lower wall of brick and pebble and to the right of the door the original kitchen window, only now with three smaller windows on the floor above. Bella’s window was set in the roof, as was the narrow dormitory window at the rear of the building.

One cold November afternoon Bella took the sheets off the washing line in the paddock. In spite of the stiff easterly breeze that had been blowing all day, they were still damp. Annie had washed them on Monday, two days ago; yesterday had been wet and Bella had draped the sheets on the wooden clothes airer that hung above the range. She’d asked William to haul it up for her as the sheets were heavy and wet in spite of having been put twice through the mangle.

‘Who’ll haul up washing when I’m not here?’ he’d whispered. ‘Eh?’

She had shaken her head and said that she’d have to do it herself. ‘Don’t think that I can’t,’ she’d muttered, and today, even as her brothers ate their breakfast before going to work, she hadn’t asked them to help her pin the sheets to the washing line, but struggled to do it herself even though the wind had lashed them like the billowing sails of a ship.

She heard her mother’s voice calling from the kitchen door. ‘Bella. Bella! Can you come?’

Bella piled the sheets into the clothes basket and headed towards the house with it balanced on one hip. ‘I’m coming,’ she said. ‘What is it? There’s never a customer already?’

Her mother hung on to the doorframe. ‘No,’ she said. ‘At least I don’t think so.’

Now that her pregnancy was so far advanced Sarah kept
herself
mostly to the kitchen, where her main occupation was baking. She turned out scones and fruitcake, curd cheesecakes, Yorkshire parkin, small meat pies and various savouries, which Bella displayed under glass-domed covers on the counter in the taproom to tempt their customers.

Bella stifled a sigh. She had yet to fold the sheets and put them in the linen cupboard, and if they were still damp in the morning she would have to hang them outside yet again. She had asked Nell to set the table ready for when Joe and William came home; their meal, tea, as her mother always called it, was in the side oven keeping warm and they would all eat before opening the front door of the inn.

‘Bella,’ her mother said again. ‘It’s my time.’

‘What? Sorry? Time for what?’ She wasn’t really listening, but only thinking of what else there was to do; Joe and William would serve the customers while they were open, but after they had closed it would be left to her to clear away the dirty glasses and wash them, clean the counter and empty and wash the slop tray beneath the pumps, sweep the floor of tobacco ash and dirt from the customers’ boots, riddle the fire, and put up the guard. Then she would have to turn down the lamps and check that there were no candles burning in the smaller rooms. These rooms, the snugs, William called them, she cleaned out every morning, for lit only by candlelight she never felt comfortable, disturbed always by memories of her father.

‘Time,’ her mother repeated. ‘For birthing.’

‘For birthing?’ Bella mouthed the words. ‘Oh! You mean—’

‘What else?’ her mother said sharply. ‘Go find Nell and tell her to ask Mrs Simmonds to come.’

‘Don’t you want ’doctor?’ Bella licked her lips. ‘I can get Joe or William to—’

‘No. I don’t want any doctor.’ Her mother stepped back from the doorway to let Bella through. ‘Stupid girl; course I don’t want any man here. Why would I? Ada Simmonds knows what to do better’n any doctor.’

Bella put down the wash basket and kicked off her rubber
boots,
then ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She hadn’t been expecting this yet.

‘Are you sure, Ma?’ she said breathlessly.

‘Course I’m sure,’ her mother said abruptly. ‘Haven’t I had four bairns already? Don’t I know ’signs? Anyway,’ she said a trifle more tolerantly, as if she had just realized that Bella wouldn’t have known, ‘bairns come when they’re good and ready and this one’s ready now.’

‘Erm, had you better come in and sit down? Where is Nell? Has she laid ’table like I asked?’

‘I don’t know,’ her mother said wearily and turned towards the kitchen. ‘I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t answered.’

Bella went to the bottom of the stairs and called up. ‘Nell! Nell! Come down now. You’re needed for an errand. Be quick.

‘She’s not there and she’s not outside,’ she said, coming back. ‘I’d have seen her. And she hasn’t done ’table! She’s gone off somewhere. Should you be upstairs, Ma? Shall I take you up before I run for Mrs Simmonds myself?’

‘There’s no need to run.’ Her mother lowered herself on to a kitchen chair. ‘It won’t be here for hours, mebbe not even until morning.’

‘Oh! As long as that.’ Bella didn’t know how long it took. She had watched lambs being born, and puppies and kittens, and they seemed to pop out very quickly. She didn’t remember Nell being born, being not much more than a baby herself at the time. ‘So – do you want Mrs Simmonds to come now?’

‘I want her to know that things are happening,’ her mother explained slowly and carefully. ‘If she comes now, or at least as soon as she can, then she’ll be able to say how long it’ll tek. They have a way of telling,’ she added.

‘So will you be all right on your own while I run down to ’village? If I see Joe or William I’ll ask them to go and then I’ll come straight back.’

‘Yes.’ Her mother arched her back slightly as if it ached and put her hand there. ‘I’ll be all right. And when you come back mebbe you’ll wrap up a hot brick to put against my back.’

‘I’ll heat it now.’ Bella went to the cupboard where they kept
a
clean brick especially for the purpose, wrapped it in a piece of old sheet and put it in the oven. ‘It’ll be warm when I come back. Don’t try to go upstairs on your own, will you?’ she said, lacing up her boots. She had a sudden vision of her father going down the cellar steps and then not being able to get up them again. ‘I’ll not be long,’ she said nervously as she went out of the door.

She saw her brothers walking up the hill and ran towards them.

‘Where’re you off to?’ Joe said. ‘Have you got tea ready? I’m starving.’

‘Ma’s started wi’ babby,’ she said, flustered. ‘I’ve to fetch Mrs Simmonds. Your tea’s in ’oven, but don’t start till I get back.’

‘What ’we having?’ Joe asked. ‘You didn’t give us much packing up for dinner.’

‘Didn’t you hear me?’ she snapped. ‘I just said that Ma’s started wi’ babby and all you’re bothered about is your empty belly!’

‘I’ll fetch her,’ William offered. ‘Mrs Simmonds, I mean. Where does she live?’

‘You know where Lizzie Stephens lives? Next door to her. It’s ’cottage with ’green door. Can you ask her to come as soon as possible, please?’

William handed his work bag to Joe, turned about and sped back the way he had come. Bella watched him go with some relief; she had felt uneasy leaving her mother alone, the image of her father dominating her mind.

She turned back and began to run up the hill.

‘Hey,’ Joe called after her. ‘Put ’kettle on for a cup o’ tea.’

‘I will,’ she muttered. ‘But not for you.’

She made her mother a pot of tea, told her that William had gone for Mrs Simmonds, and put the warm brick at her back. She asked her if she’d like something to eat but Sarah said not. Bella hovered, not knowing what to do next, and her mother sighed.

‘Just get on wi’ whatever you have to do, Bella,’ she said.
‘Don’t
just stand there. Set ’table for tea; ’lads’ll be here in a minute. Wherever has Nell got to?’

‘I don’t know, and it’s getting dark. I don’t want to have to go and look for her.’

There came a clamour of voices from outside and the door was opened by Joe, who was followed in by Nell.

‘William’s on his way,’ Joe said. ‘He’s halfway up ’hill. Hey up, Ma! You all right?’

‘As right as I’m ever likely to be,’ she mumbled. ‘Where’ve you been, Nell?’

Nell spun round in a circle with her arms held high. ‘Just larkin’ about,’ she said airily.

‘Larkin’ about!’ Bella said furiously. ‘You were supposed to be setting ’table. Do it now. Then I’ll dish up. There’s a clean cloth in ’drawer.’

With a resigned grimace Nell did as she asked, but she put the cloth on the table so that it hung lower on one side than the other and then spun round again as if dancing.

‘Cutlery!’ Bella thundered. ‘For goodness’ sake, do I have to tell you every little thing?’

‘Bella!’ her mother said sharply. ‘You’re mekkin’ my head ache. Do it yourself if she can’t do it right.’

William came in. ‘Mrs Simmonds’ll be half an hour, Ma. Is that all right? She said to run back if it isn’t and she’ll come straight away. I think she was just putting ’food on ’table.’

Sarah nodded. ‘Yes.’ She handed Bella her cup. ‘I think I might go upstairs,’ she murmured. ‘Will you come up wi’ me?’

Bella put down the handful of cutlery and jabbed sharply with her forefinger to indicate that Nell should finish setting the table, then went to help her mother out of the chair.

‘I’m not an invalid.’ Her mother shook off her proffered hand. ‘I can manage. I just want to tell you what I’ll need.’

‘I’m starving,’ Joe said and sat down at the table. ‘What ’we having?’

Bella sighed. It seemed that she couldn’t do right for doing wrong. ‘Cheese pudding and boiled ham,’ she muttered. ‘Like it or lump it.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

BY THE TIME
Mrs Simmonds arrived everyone had eaten and Bella had asked Nell to clear away and start the dishes. Her sister had begun to grumble but stopped when Mrs Simmonds knocked on the kitchen door and came straight in.