The Madness (26 page)

I hear a noise and I look back to the manor and see some large glass doors being opened on to the garden. Two maids walk out carrying a table. Others follow with chairs and trays laden with jugs and plates of food. They carry everything to the far end of the garden and arrange it all underneath the shade of an oak tree. As they walk back towards the manor, more people spill out of the glass doors. There’s the girl with the dark hair again. She floats over the lawn, the hem of her white lace dress trailing along behind her. A white parasol dangles from her wrist and she holds her head high. Some gentlemen follow behind her. They are hatless and wearing fancy silk vests in jewelled reds, greens and blues. They’re carrying small balls and metal hoops and large hammers. Two other girls in wide-brimmed hats and crinolines flounce out on to the lawn too and then, just as I’m wondering where Noah can be, he’s there, walking out of the glass doors with Prince by his side and another young man; a good-looking young man with fair hair and a pale moustache lounging across his upper lip. Noah and the fair-haired man are laughing at something. Noah punches him on the shoulder. ‘Arnold!’ he shouts. ‘You are incorrigible!’

I don’t know what the word means, but I can see how happy Noah looks. I want to go and join him, but it doesn’t feel right somehow with all those others there. So I stay where I am and watch awhile. At least I have him in me sights now.

One of the gentlemen hammers the metal hoops into the lawn. Then one by one, each person holds on to a hammer and tries, it seems, to hit a ball through a hoop. It seems a strange way to pass the day, but I’m sure if
I
was to have a go I’d knock a ball straight through the middle of one of those hoops. Prince runs from one person to another, stealing a rub behind the ears or a pat on the head. The girl with the dark hair can barely hold her hammer straight. Noah goes to her and stands behind her. He reaches his arms around her waist and places his hands next to hers on the hammer. They take a swing together and the girl laughs when the ball rolls slowly through the middle of a hoop. As Noah steps away his hand brushes a curl of hair from off her neck. Me mouth’s gone dry and me legs are shaking. I try to shout his name but only a thin croak comes out.

It’s Noah’s turn with the hammer now. He grips the handle and smiles at the girl with the dark hair before he swings his arms back and hits the ball hard. I watch it roll quickly across the lawn. It’s coming towards me. Noah shrugs his shoulders and lifts his hands in defeat. He drops the hammer on the lawn and begins loping across the lawn after the ball. Prince is running ahead of him. Strings of drool are flapping against his muzzle. The ball rolls to the edge of the lawn and stops just inches from me feet. In another moment Noah will be here. He’ll see I’ve come to find him. A picture flashes through me head. I’m out there with the rest of them, on the lawn, and I’m knocking balls through all the hoops and Noah’s got his arms around me waist and he’s whispering in me ear how much he’s missed me. Me tongue’s sticking to the roof of me mouth now and the palms of me hands are damp.

Prince stops by the ball and sniffs at it. He pushes at it with his wet snout, then his ears prick and the ball is forgotten as he sees me hiding around the corner. He barks once and wags his tail furiously. He leaps to greet me and his fat paws land square on me chest. Then suddenly Noah’s here too and he’s standing staring at me with an odd look on his face. I think if I open me mouth me heart will leap straight out of it.

‘What are you doing here?’ he hisses at me. He takes a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wipes it across his forehead. He looks back quickly over his shoulder. Prince whines and drops back to the ground to go and sit at Noah’s heel.

I take a deep swallow to loosen me tongue. ‘You  …  you never came,’ I whisper. ‘I waited for you. I  …  I waited for you. I knew something was wrong. So  …  so I came to you instead.’

Noah frowns. Someone shouts his name. ‘I’m coming!’ he yells back.

Noah shakes his head at me. ‘Look. I don’t know what you want. But you can’t stay here. Please. Go, before somebody sees you.’

Poor Noah. He’s panicking and scared. Frightened his father will see us together, I expect. ‘This isn’t what you want,’ I say quickly. ‘I know it’s not.’ I smile at him and hold out me hand to touch his arm. He flinches and moves back a step. Poor thing. He’s as nervous as a rabbit. I can’t go yet. There’s too much left to say. I want to tell him that we’re safe for a moment. No one can see us here. ‘Is it your father?’ I say gently. ‘Has he forbidden you to see me? We can go to him together, you know. I’ll help you to change his mind. He’ll soon see sense. Especially when we tell him about the baby.’ I know there isn’t a baby any more, but I’m not ashamed of me lie.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ A flush of pink is creeping up Noah’s neck from under his starched white collar.

‘Noah! Have you got lost?’ a voice shouts in the distance. Prince barks excitedly and bounds off back to the gardens.

Noah stuffs his handkerchief back in his vest pocket and bends to pick up the ball. ‘I want you to go now, Marnie,’ he says stiffly. ‘You have no business being here. Go now. Before you get thrown out for trespassing.’

‘But Noah!’ I reach me hand out to him again, but he’s turned and is heading away from me. ‘Noah!’ I urge. I manage to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs me off and as he walks away his handkerchief falls at me feet.

‘Just go!’ he pleads.

And then he’s gone. I hear a babble of voices and Prince barking and I’m ready to go after him, to show me face in front of all the others. But instead I bend down and pick up Noah’s handkerchief. Did he mean to drop it there for me? To give me something else of his while we can’t be together? This handkerchief is made of the finest silk. I smooth it in me hands, then I lift it to me nose and breathe in Noah’s scent. I’ve never smelled anything like it before. It’s sweeter than Miss Cranston’s on baking day or wet grass on a spring morning. It smells fresher than a stack of clean linen or a spray of sea foam. It’s better than all the good things I’ve ever smelled in me whole life, all mixed up together. I fold it carefully and tuck it in me apron pocket. ‘Thank you, Noah,’ I whisper.

I make me way back down the road to the village. I feel lighter now and contented. It’ll take some time, but at least I know what’s wrong now. We’ll make it right with Sir John somehow. He wouldn’t see his son unhappy, I’m certain of it. But for now, I’ve another piece of Noah safe in me pocket and the sun is shining brighter than a new penny.

61

The Journal of Noah de Clevedon

Clevedon. APRIL 5th 1869, Monday

What is that girl thinking? Coming here and telling me she is with child? Lord above, is she completely insane? She had no belly that I could see, and if she is with child I am certain it can’t be mine. Heaven knows how many other men she has lain with, she is such a wild one. Why oh why did I ever befriend her?

I must shake her off. I cannot have our association brought to Father’s attention or indeed to Cissie’s. The nerve of her! To come to the manor like that, and to sneak around spying! I’ve a mind to confide in Arnold. He will know what to do. It is an annoyance I could do without, as I am quite intent on asking Lord Baird for his daughter’s hand in marriage before the week is out!

62

Red-Hot Angry Words

It’s been busy this last week. Everyone in the world wants to be in Clevedon, promenading on the pier or bathing in the sea. From early morning to late in the afternoon the bathing machines are trundled to the water’s edge. I’ve dipped so many fragile and paper-light ladies that their faces and bodies look and feel all the same to me now. They scrunch up their features and mewl like babies; until I plunge them under, that is. That’s the best part of all. When I see their eyes grow big as saucers and their chicken-bone fingers grasp at the air, I want to laugh out loud. I don’t of course. I just murmur niceties to them, like, ‘
There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?’
or, ‘
My, my, madam, your complexion looks much improved already
.’

They come to the sea for strength, but not one of them knows the true might of the ocean. They would all drown in an instant if I was to let go of their bony waists. It’s a strange thing to hold their lives in me hand, to have them cling to me and trust me, when out of their bathing gowns they wouldn’t give me the time of day.

Noah’s on me mind the whole time. Every time I close me eyes I see his face; his perfect face: his pale smooth skin, the turn of his mouth and the despair in his eyes that I want to kiss away. I’ve put his handkerchief with the other one under the firebrick in the backyard. I try not to smell it too often as I don’t want to sniff the scent of him away.

I’m thinking of him now, as me last customer of the day climbs up the steps back into the bathing machine. She’s panting like a dog, but just like all the rest of the bathers, she’s trying to keep hold of her dignity despite being as wet and bedraggled as an old dishcloth. I wade out of the sea and round the machine to lead the horse back up the beach. This is the worst bit. Me costume is so heavy with water it feels the weight of a suit of armour and me stockings fall down me legs like wrinkles of leathery skin. It’s a struggle without me stick and I’m glad I’ve got the horse’s harness to hold on to. Me leg’s feeling stronger these days though, I’m sure of it. I’m scared to think it in case it’s not true, but what if working in the sea all day is curing me at last? I wish I could tell this to Noah, and not just in a letter.

But I will write him another one tonight, like I’ve done every day this week. I don’t care if Smoaker notices his paper missing; I have to let Noah know how much I love him.

There’s still customers waiting at the hut when I get there. But none of them are mine. I finish earlier than the other dippers, so I can go back to Ratcatcher’s Row and mind Ma. Smoaker doesn’t know it, but once I’ve changed back into me frock, I don’t go straight to Ma. I walk up to the manor first and take the letter I wrote the night before. It’s always the same maid who answers the door, and now she just snatches the letters from me hand without hardly looking at me. The letter I wrote last night is in the pocket of me frock. As I walk the road to the manor, I think about the words I wrote and hope they’ll bring some comfort to Noah.

My love Noah,

I’m still here waiting for you. Our child is growing bigger by the day. Have you spoken to your father yet? Be brave and do it soon. We are meant to be together. We both know it to be true. Send word to me soon.

Remember how much I love you.

Marnie

As I near the Grand door of the manor, I take the letter from me pocket and as always I look around me and up at Noah’s chamber window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I’m sure Sir John must be keeping him prisoner in there. But I’m puzzled as to why Noah is never at his window looking out for me, when he must know by now I always deliver his letter at this time of day.

I pull the old rope of the doorbell and it clangs loudly in the still air of early evening. A moment passes and I hear footsteps echoing from inside. There’s the clank of metal latches and the door swings open. I hold the letter out in front of me and set a smile on me lips. Then the best thing in the world happens. It’s not the hard-faced maid peering out me from the shadows of the manor, but Noah himself. Me hand drops to me side.

‘Noah!’ I gasp.

Noah stands for a moment, like he’s so glad to see me he doesn’t know what to say.

‘I knew if I kept coming I’d soon see you,’ I say. I start to climb the few steps towards him. ‘Oh, Noah! What are we going to do? I can’t bear it much longer.’

Noah takes me arm and leads me back down the steps. His grip is tight. He turns me to face him and looks straight in me eyes. When he begins to talk, his voice is low and slow and deliberate. ‘I have no idea what is going on in your head, Marnie. But you have to stop this now. If you ever thought there was anything between us, you were wrong. Stop sending me letters. Stop coming to the manor. There can
never
be anything between us. Do you understand?’

I watch his mouth move and I hear the sounds he’s making. His face is so earnest and I want to hold it in me hands. I remember the touch of
his
hands on me twisted foot: the shock of it, the warmth of it and the rightness of it. And I remember how our bodies were together on the beach and how he made me his. I want to keep the memory of it all for ever. I hear his words all right. But I don’t want to. He put these feelings in me and it’s too much for me to bear on me own. It’s not fair if he won’t share. I stick me chin out at him. ‘You don’t mean what you’re saying. I don’t believe you.’

‘Marnie, I cannot say it any clearer.’ He lowers his voice and clenches his teeth. ‘You are just a village girl and I am the son of Sir John de Clevedon. What happened between us should never have been. You must leave me alone now or I shall be forced to call upon the law. I shall deny ever knowing you and no one will believe anything you say. Leave now. Please.’ He walks up the steps to the Grand door and as he steps into the manor he turns his head. ‘Go now, Marnie, and don’t ever bother me again.’

As he starts to close the door, red-hot angry words bubble up me throat and fly from me mouth. ‘I don’t care for your fancy words, Noah de Clevedon!’ I shout. ‘But I know you love me!’ The door closes with a bang and a rattle. ‘I know you love me! I know you love me!’ I scream at the blank wood. I can’t believe he’s done that. I can’t believe he’s shut the door in me face. I stand where I am for an age, thinking all sorts and nothing at the same time. Eventually all the anger runs out of me and I sag in the middle like an old straw mattress.