White Water (19 page)

‘Hans Bucher!’ he told her. ‘’Tis him we’ve to thank for this. Hans Bucher, a so-called expert. A so-called engineer. He’s being brought over, no doubt at great expense, to take the work from men like me. What does a so-called expert know about mining? Damned foreigner! I’ll warrant he’s never sweated a seven hour shift, gasping for breath, shivering with cold — ’

‘You and who else?’ snapped his wife. ‘Who else is sacked?’

‘Oh, there’s plenty to keep me company. Tiddons has gone, and Tom Betts, Green, Simmons, old John Jenkins — and him with seven mouths to feed. He’s a poor worker, granted, but he’s older than most and he’s never missed a day’s work in his life, poor sod!’

‘No more have you.’

‘Aye. No more have I but it comes to the same thing. God’s mercy, I could kill him with my bare hands.’

‘Don’t talk so wild, Alec Boord.’

‘You’ll talk wild when
that’s
spent!’

‘We won’t starve,’ she said. ‘We never have.’

‘I’ve never lost my job before,’ he cried.

‘You’ll manage. Catch fish or a rabbit. There’s ways.’

‘Or a pheasant or a lamb! Want me to hang, do you?’

‘Don’t talk so soft.’ Her fear sharpened her tongue. ‘If you’ve lost your job you must find another. Not sit there on your arse, moaning.
If
there’s any other work to be found it’ll go to the first that asks.’

He gathered up the coins and flung them suddenly across the room. ‘Hans bloody Bucher! I’ll kill him, too! He’ll wish he’d stayed in Austria. I’d wring his neck till his eyes start out of his head!’

She got up slowly, moving with difficulty, and began to collect up the money. ‘Have you talked to the others? What’ve they to say to it? I’ll wager Simmons’ll not take it lying down, nor Betts neither.’

‘I talked to no one but I will. Aye, we’ll put our heads together.’

‘Well don’t come up with any crack-brained notions, Alec Boord. If you hang, what happens to me? They’ll not give me a bunch of flowers and shake my hand, that’s for certain. What about the Tuckers’ mine — Maudesley or whatever they call it? There’s maybe work there.’

‘Maudesley? God woman, the Maudesley mine is miles away! Twice the distance to Heron. By the time I’d walked home ’twould be time to go back.’

She straightened up with an effort and put the money into her apron pocket.

‘On the table with it,’ snapped Alec. ‘That money comes back to me and no arguments. I’m in no mood for it.’

‘It stays where ’tis,’ she said defiantly. ‘If this is all we’ve got I’ll not have you drink it away.’

He leapt to his feet and struck her across the side of the face. She fell backwards off the stool and he stood over her as she fumbled for the coins. When she held them out, he struck her hand from underneath so that the coins flew again. He leaned over her, threatening her with his clenched fists, muttering a string of obscenities, then strode to the door. He slammed it and stood outside, amazed that the moor was so beautiful while life was so hideous.

‘Hans Bucher is it?’ he muttered. ‘Bloody foreigners!’ Having found a scapegoat, he felt a little better, a little more in control. This was not the end. It couldn’t be. There had to be a way. Scowling, he whistled and a small terrier appeared, its head well down, its tail between its legs. Boord hesitated and then set off towards Simmons place, the dog trotting warily a short distance behind him.

*

Lorna wanted to cough, but she dared not for fear of disturbing the fish which, at any moment, would snap at Nat’s line. Instead she swallowed hard several times. She stood quietly behind Nat who sat under a willow, his gaze fixed on the cork which floated a few yards from the water’s edge. Beside him was a stone jar full of water in which several minnows swam. She leaned forward and whispered, ‘What will you catch?’

‘A perch,’ he answered.

‘How do you know ’twill be a perch? It might be a pike.’

‘’Twill be a perch.’

She looked around. ‘Where’s Brin?’ she asked.

‘Off about his own business, little monkey, but no doubt will be back when his belly rumbles.’ He glanced up at her, squinting into the sunlight. ‘And where’s that animal of yours?’

She scowled. ‘Gone otter hunting with the others. They said I was too young.’

‘So you came to plague me, is that it?’

‘Do I plague you, Nat?’

He smiled. ‘Reckon I can bear it,’ he said, ‘as long as you don’t frighten the fish.’

Lorna sighed. ‘I wish
I
had a rod,’ she said.

‘But you haven’t, so sit by me and tell me softly what news of Heron. I haven’t seen you for more than a month — Ah!’ He pulled on the rod and a small fish came into view. Lorna giggled but Nat lowered it gently into the water again.

‘Was that a perch? ’Twas very small,’ she said innocently.

He grinned. ‘That was the bait, as well you know! The perch will see the minnow and snap it up and then
I
shall snap
him
up.’

‘Is a perch much bigger than a minnow?’

‘Much bigger. You’ll see.’

She settled herself on the grass beside him and stared earnestly at the cork which moved slowly over the surface of the water. ‘And what if it doesn’t snap at the minnow?’ she asked.

‘Then I shall try another bait. A brandling worm or maybe a small frog. Or even a small girl!’

She gave a little scream and glanced at him anxiously. ‘A fish won’t snap at a girl,’ she said. ‘Will it?’

He laughed. ‘The perch is a very bold biter,’ he told her. ‘I knew a man once dabbled his toes in the water to see how cold it was and snap! The perch had him by the toe and in two shakes of a lamb’s tail had tumbled him into the river and pulled him away so fast that he was never seen again.’

Lorna thought about it and then shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said.

He shrugged by way of answer and continued to study his cork. ‘How’s that brother of yours — young Piers?’ he asked. ‘Gone away to school yet?’

‘Not yet. He goes in September and a good riddance. He teases me and Mama scolds him.’

‘You’ll miss him when he goes — Ah! Another bite. Now stay still … ’ Deftly, he began to play his fish, guiding it into the shallows. ‘The net!’ he told her. ‘Take up the net and put it into the water — Oh! he’s gone again. Slipped away, and look, he’s taken the minnow! I told you he was a bold biter. And strong too. That was a big fish. But this time we’ll try a frog.’

He pulled a grimy cloth from his pocket and carefully unwrapped a small green frog.

Lorna watched fascinated as he slipped the hook through the loose skin of the frog’s leg. ‘’Tis still alive!’ she screamed, seeing the frog wriggle.

‘Aye. He must be, then he’ll swim up and down in the water and the perch will say “minnow for dinner, frog for dessert”.’

‘Will he?’

‘Aye, he will. You’ll hear him if you listen hard.’

When the frog was fastened to his satisfaction he swung it into the water with hardly a splash and the two of them settled down again to watch and wait.

‘And what of the baby that’s due at Ladyford?’ asked Nat. ‘Is that born yet?’

The little girl shook her head. ‘’Tis soon though and Nina is so fat! I shall have a baby when I grow up.’

‘You’ll need a husband first.’

‘I shall wed Martin.’

Nat laughed. ‘He’s your half brother. You can’t wed
him
!’

‘Oliver, then. He has gone back to sea but when he comes home again.’

‘He has a wife already!’

Her face fell then brightened suddenly. ‘Then you, Nat! You haven’t got a wife.’

‘No, I haven’t. Nor like to. Nought but a trial, women. I’d sooner stay single.’

‘Then I’ll wed Hans Bucher,’ said the little girl. ‘He’s a good man and Papa says he is sharp as a needle. Papa says he has a brilliant mind. He is only thirty-one and I shall ask him to wait for me. He has a small beard that tickles and he smells of lavender water.’

‘Does he indeed!’

‘Aye. He and Papa are going to build a big machine. They will have to build it down the mine for ’twill be too big to go down the shaft. And they will have a pony to turn the wheel.’

‘A pony?’ Nat turned to stare at her. ‘A pony down a mine?’

‘Aye. He will live down there and have a comfortable bed of straw and they will take his dinner down.’

‘A pony down a mine! And this is Master Bucher’s idea?’

‘Aye.’

‘And what do — Ssh! Keep very still and quiet!’ he whispered. ‘Here’s another. He liked the frog! And this — time — I’ll
have
him!’ With a swift smooth movement he landed the fish and it lay floundering on the grass behind them. It was over a foot in length and its deep body was covered in thick, dry scales. Two large fins stood up from its back and Sharp teeth were visible inside the large mouth. Quickly he extracted the hook and slipped the fish into the net.

‘Feel how heavy it is!’ he told her proudly. ‘’Twill cook very sweetly for my supper. So, will you catch one now? I’ll bait the hook for you.’

She hesitated. ‘I’d best go home,’ she said. ‘Or they’ll send Matt again to search for me.’ She sighed.

He twisted the net to make his fish secure. ‘I’ll walk with you to the stepping stones,’ he offered, ‘if you promise not to wed me.’

She stared at him, laughed and ran away. Then she flung up her arms and turned a cartwheel with a flurry of petticoats. She fell and sat up laughing and tousled, jumped up, ran ahead and turned another one.

Thomas lay in the bed at Ladyford. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep. He was conscious of Melissa’s hand holding his and felt the brightness of sunlight against his eyelids. He was very ill, he knew. Weak and ill and so very tired. It would be so easy to fall into a sleep and to slip from there into the longest sleep. There were times when the idea almost appealed — when his body burned with fever, and his mind grew dark with strange fantasies or his chest pained him beyond all tolerance. The physician had prescribed a draught that took away the pain, but it sent him to sleep also, and into such horrid nightmares that he woke in a sweat of fear and cried for Melissa to comfort him. Usually it was her sweet face he saw when he opened his eyes. Occasionally it was Maggie’s. He preferred not to take the draught and now felt that he drifted like a rudderless ship somewhere between life and death. He wanted to stay alive to be with Melissa.

Her fingers stroked his hand, gently and rhythmically and occasionally she bent forward and lifted his hand to kiss it. Sometimes she murmured his name and he would move his fingers in return, to show that he was still conscious — still with her. When she sighed, he wanted to put his arms round her and comfort her, but he had no strength left. If she wept it was silently and he knew she did not want to distress him. Once he heard a choking sob and managed to make a small inarticulate sound in his throat that was meant to be ‘Melissa’. She had flung herself onto the bed in a paroxysm of passionate weeping and he had lain powerless to help her, until Maggie happened into the room and he heard her homely voice comforting and sensed that Melissa was being led away to rest.

The door opened and Maggie entered the bedchamber.

‘I’ve brought hot milk,’ she said cheerfully, ‘and I’ve stirred a good spoonful of honey into it and a generous drop of brandy. Shall I feed him while you stretch your poor legs?’

Melissa hesitated, wanting to do everything for her husband, but she recognized Maggie’s need, too. She had no one in the world to call her own and she valued the opportunity to care for Thomas.

Melissa stood up. ‘Try him with it, Maggie, while I just take a turn around the room. I confess my limbs grow stiff. You will hear my bones creak.’

Eagerly Maggie sat down on the vacant stool while Melissa watched from the window.

‘Now then, my dear,’ said Maggie cheerfully. ‘Here’s Maggie with a drop of something warming. Milk, honey and brandy and I don’t know what else. Oh, and a pinch of nutmeg. A few sips of this and we’ll have you well again in no time. You’ll be leaping about the room like a frisky horse, I’ll warrant. Open your mouth, my dear — a little wider and I can slip the spoon in — So! There, ’tis good and nourishing and light for the digestion. Never been known to fail, has this. Now, let’s see if you can do it again — wait. I’ll mop your chin. In goes the spoon! I could do with a drop of this myself. Make a new woman of me and not before time … Ah, Melissa! He’s opening his eyes! Quick, come and see!’

Melissa needed no second bidding and flew across the room to the bedside. Thomas
had
opened his eyes and he turned his head slowly towards her.

‘Oh my dearest Thomas!’ cried Melissa. ‘How splendid. You are awake and taking nourishment! ’Tis a very good sign, isn’t it Maggie? Oh do say ’tis a hopeful sign.’

‘Why, ’tis most certainly,’ Maggie agreed, equally thrilled. ‘We shall have you up and about in a week or so, perky as a cricket. In goes another spoonful — Ah, Melissa will wipe your chin. What a fortunate man you are. Two devoted nurses, one on either side of your bed. There’s plenty of men would be in your shoes, Thomas Benet, I’ll be bound.’