The Rag Nymph (aka The Forester Girl) Read online

  Millie was smiling widely at her friend as she proffered the coloured plate; saying, ‘I…I baked some currant buns for you.’

  ‘They’re for your mother, love.’ Aggie was smiling brightly at Annabel.

  ‘Oh, then Mama will love them. Oh, here she is. Mama, Millie has brought you a present; they’re currant buns. She makes lovely cakes. I told you.’

  It says much for the calibre of Mrs Kirkley that, after greeting Aggie with an inclination of her head and a smile, she looked at Millie, who was handing her the present, and said, ‘Oh, thank you very much, Millie; I’m sure they’ll be delightful. We must have them for tea. Jessie—’ She turned towards the maid, who was standing apart and, handing her the plate, she said, ‘Have these put on the table for tea, please.’

  The maid took the plate from her mistress as if it were hot. Then Mrs Kirkley led the way into her drawing room and there, after indicating that they should all be seated, she looked at Millie, saying, ‘Well, isn’t this nice! I’m so pleased to see you again. And how are you?’

  ‘Very well, ma’am, very well.’

  ‘Have you been attending school at all?’

  ‘No; not yet; but we’—she glanced towards Aggie—‘we are thinking about it, considering it.’

  ‘Oh, well then, that in a way will be a pity, at least for us, because the proposition that Annabel indicated in her letter is to do with a post for you.’ She inclined her head deeply now; then, after a moment she turned her attention to Aggie, saying, ‘You see, my cousin is looking for a nursemaid to help with her six children. It would be a very good position for any young girl, and a happy one. My cousin is married to the bailiff on Mr Crane-Boulder’s estate. They are the mill owners, you know.’ As if by way of explanation that a cousin of hers should be married to a bailiff, she now added, ‘My cousin was very young when she married. Her husband is from a good family; in fact he is distantly connected with the Crane-Boulder’s family, but…but he was the youngest son, and you know what positions go to the younger sons.’

  She held out her hand, palm upwards now, and moved her head slowly as she looked at Aggie as if she were talking to a friend who would understand that a cousin of hers had not married beneath her. And then she went on, ‘They live in the grounds. Not in the lodge; it is a very nice, large house. It would have to be’—her smile widened—‘with six children, wouldn’t it? Well, there it is. I’m sure that you would want to talk this over, but if you do feel you can consider it’—she was still addressing Aggie—‘I could ask my cousin to keep the position open for a week or two. In the meantime, I am sure if Millie here would like to go and see my cousin and discuss the whole situation, my husband would be delighted to provide escort.’

  She did not add, ‘He would jump at the chance of someone filling that post, so that he wouldn’t be asked to take the children off Rose’s hands until she is once more fixed up with someone who could manage her unruly crowd, as well as herself and the house.’ By the end of last year, when they had three of the children, he had been almost driven to distraction. He blamed Rose, and wouldn’t have a word said against William.

  Oh yes, he would take Millie there. And she, too, felt the girl would fit in. She was certainly still young enough to play with children but, in a way, she seemed to have an old head on those shoulders.

  And so she smiled now as she said, ‘There it is. You must, as I said, have time to think about it.’

  ‘I would have thought there’s plenty of lasses ready to jump into such jobs, ma’am, jobs of all kinds bein’ scarce.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, there are plenty of…girls, Mrs Winkowski, but they are not the type my cousin would appreciate. She has already experienced some. As I’m sure you know, the majority of girls seeking such posts can neither read nor write and are of such low intelligence that they have no control over the children; in fact, the children soon take advantage of them. Children are very wily, you know. So, thinking it needed someone superior who might fit the requirements of the position, I thought of Millie as a most suitable person, and decided to put the proposition to you, Mrs Winkowski. Of course, that is if you don’t intend to allow her to continue with her schooling. Yet I’m sure she will learn a lot from being in contact with my cousin and her husband, not to mention with the Crane-Boulders themselves, you know, the owners of the estate, because they socialise liberally. Ah’—she looked towards the door—‘there is the signal for tea. Would you like to come along…?’

  They had tea, just the four of them. Mrs Kirkley ate one of Millie’s buns and praised it highly; and after Annabel had eaten one, and then asked if she might have another, her mother exclaimed in mock sternness, ‘Oh, Annabel! Your manners!’

  It was when tea was over that Mrs Kirkley said to her daughter, ‘Would you like to take Millie round the garden, dear?’ And when Annabel exclaimed, ‘Oh, yes, Mama,’ the two girls turned towards each other before hurrying from the room. Aggie, of course, knew she was in for what was termed a bit of confidential chat; and she wasn’t mistaken, because Mrs Kirkley, without any preamble, began by saying, ‘There is more than one reason why I have suggested this position for Millie. You know, Mrs Winkowski, girls will talk, and I suppose it was during one of Millie’s lonely periods while under the sisters that she confided in Annabel why she had been sent to the school. It was because of her fear and your concern regarding a certain man who seemed bent on…well, how can one put it, except by plainly saying abducting her. And for what purpose we won’t go into. She is aware, as you yourself only too well know, that her looks are bound to attract attention, and that beautiful hair; its colour is so unusual that that alone will draw eyes to it. Well, need I point out?’

  ‘No, you needn’t, ma’am. As for the abduction business, I think we can say that’s over. We’ve never seen hilt nor hair of that man for well over a year now. He could be gone from the town.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ The delicate eyebrows were raised. ‘On the other hand, there is the possibility he couldn’t. But there, you are the best judge of that. only put it to you. By the way, do you know much about her mother?’

  ‘No, ma’am, only that she died before her time and had been a lady’s maid.’

  ‘Oh, indeed; a lady’s maid? Ah yes; likely it is from the mother that the child gets that air she possesses…Or was it from the father, do you think? Do you know anything about him?’

  ‘Only that he seemed to be in a decent position, and that he died.’

  ‘Oh. Oh.’ Mrs Kirkley sat back in her chair. ‘I’m so glad we’ve had this little talk; and it’s so nice to think that she and Annabel are friends. Annabel thinks the world of her.’ She did not go on to express the next thought in her mind: thank goodness Annabel was going away to school, and very soon the association would be closed, for its continuance would create an impossible situation.

  It was Aggie who now rose first from her chair and so bringing the conversation to an end by saying, ‘Well, ma’am, I thank you for your hospitality, and also for your kindness to the child. I’ll think over what you’ve said, and also put it to Ben. He’s a sort of help and partner, and he’s had part of the rearing of her from the time I took her, and his advice is always sensible. So now we must be off.’

  ‘Of course. Of course. I’ll call the girls.’

  The goodbyes were said; Annabel and Millie clasped hands, but Mrs Kirkley gently prevented her daughter from seeing their guests to the gate. And perhaps it was just as well because there, on the seat of the rag cart and sitting as patiently as the pony was standing, was Ben. And from the pavement he looked a big, decently dressed young man, for his head and shoulders were well above the back of the seat.

  On sight of them, he jumped down and first helped Aggie, then Millie up, and lastly squeezed himself corner-wise into the seat, took up the reins, and shouted, ‘Gee up, there!’ And so they made for home.

  A short time later they were sitting round the table. Aggie had explained to Ben what had turned out to be the reason f
or their invitation to tea; and now she broke into his silence by saying, ‘Well! Can’t you say something?’

  What he said was, ‘It’s not for me to say, Aggie, it’s for her. Let her go and see if she fancies staying there. Ten miles out, you say, and there’s a squad of kids to look after?’ He turned to Millie, saying, ‘How does that appeal to you: six kids, the eldest ten?’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind that, not for a time anyway. Perhaps I wouldn’t like to stay there very long, because, as I said, I might want to go to school again. But,’ she now smiled from one to the other, ‘it would be an experience; and, as Annabel told me, I’d get one and six a week and a half day off, besides a full day every month.’ She made a face now as she added, ‘Annabel seemed to think that was generous.’

  ‘Well, compared to the leave they get in the big houses I suppose it is; half a day a month for some of them, and then no leave at all if they’re known to come from the workhouse, or one of the settlements. Well, it seems that you’d like to go and take a look at the place and the people before you make your mind up; and I suppose that’s only right. But have you thought what I’m goin’ to do here, left on me own? This place’ll turn into a hovel again. And what about our fancy meals, eh?’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Aggie’—she put her hand across the table towards the plump elbow resting there—‘I won’t go. As I said before, I could go to half-day school here. Yes; why not? It’s a silly idea, and I’m big enough to take care of myself now…’ Her voice trailed off as the two pairs of eyes fixed on her and her head drooped as she said, ‘That was a silly thing to say. But you could always take me and fetch me back as you did before.’ She had addressed herself to Ben, and he said, ‘Aye, I could. But you know something? For your own good, at least for the next year or so, I think you’d be best out of the way. And at the bottom of this one’s heart’—he thumbed towards Aggie –‘I’m sure she thinks the same. And I promise you something: I won’t let the house get into a hovel; I’ll do a bit of cleanin’ up meself. And if she would only let me have Annie round’—his thumb was wagging again—‘the place would be spotless.’

  The look that Aggie fixed on him silenced his tongue but left his face in a wide grin.

  Aggie rose from the chair and went into the scullery, and Ben, reaching along the table, covered Millie’s hand with his own, and she turned and gazed at him.

  There was always something comforting about Ben: she felt that she loved him as much as she did Mrs Aggie. And on the thought, she lifted the hand, the squat unusually clean hand, and held it against her cheek.

  ‘Oh, Millie love. Millie.’

  There was something in his voice that made her want to throw herself into his arms; but then she knew that Aggie wouldn’t like that. Mrs Aggie wasn’t for shows of affection, which she felt was a pity, for love should have an expression.

  Five

  Up to the previous evening there had been questions bandied back and forth between Aggie and Ben as to whether, after all, it would be necessary for Millie to take the post she had been offered. But at half-past seven the next morning they knew they had made the right decision. In fact, for a moment the situation facing Millie seemed to be God-directed when, at seven o’clock, as soon as Ben had opened the gates, a Mrs Walton came hurrying in.

  ‘You haven’t seen anything of our Betty, have you, Ben?’ she asked.

  ‘Betty? No. No, Mrs Walton. Why? Is she lost?’

  The woman looked around the yard as if she expected to see her daughter emerge from one of the doors or from behind a pile of rubbish. Then she repeated, ‘Lost? Oh, aye, she’s lost. But himself said this would happen, because I was always washin’ her bloody hair and keepin’ her face scab-free, unlicing her an’ the rest, instead of gettin’ meself out to work. He said it’s my fault; but I did it for the best.’ And now, her hand outstretched, and with a break in her voice, she appealed to Ben: ‘Don’t tell me she’s been picked up. It’s been the fear of me life, because she’s so wayward. Scamperin’ round the market whenever I let her out of my sight. And she was bonny. You know she was bonny.’

  ‘Aye.’ Ben nodded at her. ‘Aye, she was bonny, Mrs Walton. How long has she been gone?’

  ‘Since last night. Since last night. She wasn’t outside the bar waitin’ for him. He always’—again the hand was expressive—‘he always goes in on his way from the mill. He gets dry, you know…the flax. Feels choked at times. And anyway, if he knows she’s there it brings him home. And now he’s in a rage. He never went in this mornin’, and he’s knocked on every door in Foley Street. But if they had her there, d’you think they would let him know? Now he keeps blamin’ me for keepin’ her clean. Being the first of the lasses, she was always his favourite; the lads didn’t seem to matter. What am I gonna do?’

  ‘Have you been to the pollis?’

  ‘Oh, aye. Aye, I went to the pollis. But what’ll they do? Himself is right: half of them must be in the pay of the Foley Street mob. Well, it’s funny, isn’t it, that they never manage to find any missin’ youngsters. And it’s funny an’ all that the dirty buggers don’t go for the ragged-arsed lot that’s swarmin’ the place. No, they take their pick. Oh, my God! Ben, if she’s gone it’ll kill him. I tell you, it’ll kill him. And then he’ll go for one of those buggers, an’ he’ll do for ’em. Then what’ll it be? Swingin’, or Australia. And we were just gettin’ on our feet, three of the lads workin’ and himself bringin’ it in, at least what’s left after his Friday night dos. But, nevertheless, we managed. An’ you know yourself, I’ve come every week here and set them up in different bits and pieces.’

  She turned from him now and looked towards the house door where Millie was standing. And she stared at the girl for a full minute, before turning to Ben again and with a helpless gesture saying, ‘My God! It’s a wonder that one’s escaped.’ Then she added, with a plea in her voice again, ‘You get around, Ben. And your Annie, if all tales are true, she’s got a relative that’s no better than she should be an’ livin’ nicely on it. Perhaps you could find out somethin’ through her…would you, Ben?’

  ‘Yes, certainly, Mrs Walton. I’ve got to go on an errand this mornin’, but as soon as I get back, I’ll…well, I’ll do the rounds and I’ll come along an’ tell you. You’re in Booth Court, aren’t you?’

  ‘Aye, number fifty-six. Three floors up. Ta. Thank you.’ She turned now and glanced towards Millie again before hurrying from the yard. Instinctively, Millie made her way across to Ben, saying, ‘Is she in trouble?’ And he looked straight into her face as he answered, ‘Aye, she’s in trouble. Her little girl has gone missin’. You know her, Betty, the lively one; she was into everythin’ in the yard here.’

  Without saying anything further, Millie turned and went back into the house; and Ben followed her, there to see Aggie shambling into the room, and although her eyes looked full of sleep, their powers of discernment were indeed wide awake. ‘What’s up now?’ she demanded.

  ‘Little Betty Walton has gone missing,’ Ben answered. He didn’t say, ‘He’s at it again and he’s getting nearer.’ But after a moment’s silence he said, as if casually, ‘She’s a scamper, that one; into every hole and corner, if I remember rightly, so she’s likely stayed out late and is frightened to go home—if old man Walton had a load on she’d be introduced to the buckle end of his belt. He could be paralytic and she could bring him home, but…’

  ‘Aye. Aye,’ put in Aggie. ‘But it’s about time there was some breakfast on the table. And you’ve got a journey before you, you two, so let’s get down to the business of the day. And you, Ben Smith, Jones or Robinson, spruce yourself up, because it’s among the gentry you’ll be goin’.’

  They had left The Courts, passed the countless rows of back-to-back houses, no cleaner, no more sanitary than the half-mile of buildings behind them. They had crossed the market, the shopping centre, passed the churches, chapels and religious meeting rooms, fighting to outdo each other and the countless bars; even hoping through the wave
of religious revival, and the example set by the Queen herself, that they would eventually withdraw sinners from the flames of hellfire and place them in the arms of the Lord.

  And then there were the mills. Everywhere you looked there were the mills: cotton mills, textile mills, grim forbidding buildings all of them, many cheek by jowl with the slums they had created.

  Then, as if a dividing line had been drawn across the outskirts of the town, the scene changed: Ben was now driving the cart past terraced houses with lace curtains at the windows, and the bath-bricked steps leading to painted front doors, with here and there a little maid scrubbing the steps, or sluicing the pavement outside the small railed gardens.

  These were the homes of the upper working class, the artisans, clerical workers, shopwalkers.

  They now reached what appeared to be open country, but which soon became large areas of garden, each surrounding a single house approached from the roadway through magnificent iron gates.

  ‘Be prepared to bend your knee, and keep your mouth shut. And yes, bite your tongue.’ He grinned at her.

  ‘Well, I just might have to, mightn’t I? But would you ever do it?’

  ‘Me?’ He pushed out his chest. ‘Never! What you call a free soul, that’s me; free as the wind.’

  ‘Except for Mrs Aggie and the yard.’

  ‘Don’t be pert with me, miss. But aye, you’re right, except for Mrs Aggie and the yard. We must never forget, mind, either you or me, if it hadn’t been for Mrs Aggie and her yard, God knows where we would have been at this minute. She could easily have given me the push after her dad died, and taken on somebody…well, more presentable, like.’

  ‘You’re very presentable, Ben, very.’ She looked him up and down now, and yes, he was very presentable. She had never seen him dressed as he was this morning. He was wearing the suit belonging to that old man who had died. Chinese Charlie had altered the lot to fit him, and he had pressed it, too, and it had made such a difference to Ben. He looked…well, she couldn’t put a name to how he looked. She discarded handsome, yet he had such a nice face and plenty of brown hair and his upper body was so fine. It was only his legs. What a pity about his legs. If they’d only been a few inches longer; or perhaps if his upper body wasn’t so big then his legs wouldn’t be so noticeable. And he had a nice voice. He didn’t always speak correctly, but still he had a nice voice. Everything about him was nice. She liked Ben. Yes, she liked Ben. Impulsively now, she put her hand out and laid it on his, saying quietly, ‘I’m going to miss you all over again, Ben, that’s if I take this place.’