The Mallen Litter Read online

  When he felt Ruth’s arms going about him he did not thrust them off but turned towards her and held onto her, and, his face pressed between her young breasts, he tried to quell the avalanche that had been let loose in him.

  ‘There now. There now. Aw, me dear, me dear, let it out, let it out. It’ll ease you.’ She moved her hand over his hair and went on talking as if it were one of the boys she was holding. ‘Don’t mind nothin’; you’ll be all right. There now. There now.’

  By the time his crying eased, the dampness had penetrated through her cotton dress and her shift. When he finally raised his head he gazed up at her and muttered, ‘I’m ashamed, Ruthie, I’m ashamed.’

  ‘What of?’ Her voice was a trembling whisper now. ‘You’ve got nothin’ to be ashamed of.’ She did not add ‘sir’. ‘No’—she shook her head—‘you’ve got nothin’ in the wide world to be ashamed of. Your only trouble is you’re too good. But don’t worry, you’ll come out on top, you’ll see. D’you want my advice?’

  His silence was his answer and she said, softly, tentatively, ‘Let things lie. You can do no good by causing a rumpus. There…there’s the boys to think of. And given time who knows but that she’ll come to her senses.’

  He withdrew his arms from her waist but, still looking at her, he murmured, ‘You’re a great comfort, Ruthie; you always have been. It’ll be a lucky man who gets you.’

  ‘Huh!’ She turned abruptly from him and went to the stove, and it was as if there had been no emotional scene as she said lightly, ‘Lucky, you say? I only hope he agrees with you for I’m likely to lead him a hell of a life. I’m one for me own way, an’ as stubborn as an Irish donkey.’ There was a pause before she ended, flatly, ‘I’m goin’ to fill you a hot water bottle, then you’re going to bed.’

  After a moment, while he sat with his head bowed looking at his joined hands pressed hard down on his knees, he made a statement. ‘You think me a poor specimen, don’t you?’ he said.

  When she made no answer he lifted his head slowly. She was over by the sink; she had her back to him and some seconds passed before she turned around. She did not move but she looked at him across the space, and then she said, ‘I think you’re the finest gentleman I’ve ever met in me life, or I’m ever likely to, an’ I’ll be content to serve you as long as you want me, an’ in any way you want me. Any way…’

  Ten

  It was in February 1894 that Michael rented the cottage from Mrs Turner, at least he supplied the money, but it was rented under the name of Mrs Bensham.

  Barbara was greatly excited this morning and had difficulty in containing it. At breakfast she had informed Dan that tomorrow she was going on a shopping expedition with Mrs Turner.

  He raised his eyes and looked at her for a moment and said, ‘Oh!’ while he continued to stare at her. His reaction was slightly disconcerting; he had been disconcerting in many ways of late. He was drinking more heavily than he had done before but it hadn’t caused him to make extra demands on her; in fact, it was months since he had been to her room. He hadn’t seemed himself following the tooth extraction; he had been in bed for a week and she’d had to call the doctor when a secondary bleeding occurred from his gums. It was from then that he had changed. He appeared older, and at times very strange.

  More than once it had occurred to her that he might have knowledge of what was going on. But then she waved the idea aside; knowing Dan as he was, he wouldn’t be able to keep that to himself, he would have brought it into the open and begged her to give up Michael; or perhaps he would have reacted like his father might have done and sworn and cursed and threatened. But one thing she was certain of, he would not have ignored the matter and kept quiet.

  Yet there was something. But whatever it was it didn’t trouble her much. She did her duty, she ran the house well, and saw that the children were looked after, and she attended to their schooling, inasmuch as she went to see the headmaster when there were any complaints about Ben and his behaviour.

  Ben was a constant worry; he caused her more concern than Dan did. Whereas she saw Dan only at meals, twice a day, breakfast, and dinner in the evening, and not always then, the children were home from four o’clock in the afternoon, and, of course, she had them on top of her all the time during the holidays.

  It was on this particular morning as she said goodbye to them in the hall that she noticed the shape of Ruth Foggety’s stomach. The girl had her hands on her hood, pulling it over her head, her cloak was open. Instead of her starched apron forming the usual slight mound over her print dress, Barbara’s astonished gaze took in the particular bulge, and immediately she connected it with the girl being sick. She remembered Harry telling her that Ruthie was sick. She recalled the incident vividly because he hadn’t used the word sick, he had said ‘thrown up’, and she had rebuked him sternly. And she had thought yet again, That girl, how can one expect them to speak correct English listening to that. Thrown up, indeed!

  Now, as indignation flooded her, she thought, The chit’s pregnant. But I’m not surprised. Not at all, not at all. Really! Just wait till she comes back, just wait.

  Immediately Ruth entered the house after seeing the children to school, Ada gave her the message that the mistress wanted to see her in the morning room, and at this they exchanged a knowing look. Then Ruth, taking off her hooded cloak handed it to Ada, saying softly, ‘Stick it in the kitchen for me for a minute, will you?’ after which she smoothed her hands slowly down over her apron, went towards the morning room, knocked on the door and when the order came for her to enter she went in.

  Barbara was standing in front of the china cabinet rearranging a set of figurines. She carefully closed the glass doors before she turned to face ‘that girl’, as she had always thought of her, then seating herself in a straight-backed chair she laid one hand over the other, palm upwards on her lap before she said sternly, ‘Well! Have you anything to tell me?’

  ‘What about, ma’am?’

  ‘Don’t prevaricate, girl. You’re in a certain condition, aren’t you?’

  ‘If you put it that way, yes, ma’am.’

  The nerve of the creature, the insolence. If she put it that way! Her voice was touched with her anger as she said, ‘Don’t be insolent, girl. And remember whom you’re talking to.’

  ‘I do, ma’am.’

  Barbara rose to her feet. She knew from the heat of her face that her whole complexion had turned red. She had the greatest desire to strike the creature.

  ‘You know you will have to leave?’

  There was no response from Ruth, but she held Barbara’s eyes and waited for her to speak again.

  ‘You understand what I’m saying to you, girl?’

  ‘I understand well enough, ma’am.’

  ‘The man, is…is he going to marry you?’

  ‘I should hardly think so, ma’am.’

  Really! Really! She said now; ‘I’ll allow you to stay until the end of the week, by which time I will have replaced you. This will also give you sufficient time to make fresh arrangements.’

  The girl stared at her, her round eyes seeming to bore into her, and then she said in an even tone, ‘As you say, ma’am, as you say,’ and with that she turned on her heel and walked out.

  It was on the point of Barbara’s tongue to call her back and tell her to stand there until she gave her leave to go, but instead she drew in a deep breath, sat down again and repeated, ‘I should hardly think so, ma’am.’

  The similarity of their situations did not strike her. She herself was a married woman, circumspect in all her doings except in one thing; even about this she had been most discreet. That girl had always annoyed her; she’d be glad to see the back of her. But now here she was faced with another problem: a new girl would need supervision for some time to come, and what was more, with the departure of that brazen piece she would have more trouble with Ben, because the boy, and she had to admit this, would take no notice of anyone but the girl. Well, from now on he would have to
be brought into line, and if he couldn’t be handled at home she would insist, really insist, that Dan send him away to school, and to one noted for its discipline, for if ever a child needed discipline he did.

  She was glad that she had told the girl she could remain until the end of the week, otherwise she doubted if she would have been able to get away tomorrow, and she must get away tomorrow.

  She rose to her feet. The girl had said it wasn’t likely she could marry the man. This must mean he was already married. He was likely some friend of that awful man, her father. What would he say when he knew? Her jaw dropped slightly when she realised that he must know already, although he no longer came to collect her wages; this procedure had ceased over a year ago when he had hurt his foot in the docks; instead, she returned home on her half-day once a fortnight.

  Well, she’d return home for good at the end of the week, on this she was determined. This was one thing Dan could not overlook. He had been on the girl’s side since she had first come here, and instead of chiding her for the way she answered back he laughed and called her cute. She wondered if he would put her present condition down to cuteness?

  When Dan came home at six o’clock he followed his usual procedure. He went to his room and washed himself, changed his coat, then went on up to the nursery where he talked with the boys, sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for as long as half an hour. Afterwards he came downstairs and went straight into the dining room. The meal was set for seven o’clock; supper, cook called it. Barbara gave it the name of dinner.

  Barbara was already in the dining room when he arrived. He inclined his head towards her and, as was also his rule of late, he did not address her first.

  As she took her place at the table he went to the sideboard and poured himself out a drink which he threw off in one draught.

  As the door opened and Ada entered carrying a tray, with Betty behind her carrying another, he took his seat at the table. It was then that Barbara said, ‘It has been a dreadful day, so cold.’

  ‘Yes, yes, very cold.’

  ‘Have you been busy?’

  ‘About the same as usual.’

  ‘I ordered Scotch broth, I thought it would be warming tonight.’

  ‘Scotch broth? Yes, yes; it’s always warming, Scotch broth.’

  When the plates of soup were put before them, they both began to eat, and by the time Ada had arranged the main course on the table they had finished their soup. She had placed the joint of lamb before the master and the three vegetable dishes before the mistress. As she took the soup plates away Barbara said to her, ‘Thank you, Ada; we’ll manage.’

  ‘Will I bring the iced pudding onto the table or will I leave it on the sideboard, ma’am?’

  ‘Leave it on the sideboard, Ada, thank you.’

  Alone once more, they made no pretence at conversation. When the main course was finished, Dan, rising from the table, muttered a mumbled excuse, and she said to him, ‘Don’t you want any pudding?’ and to this he answered, ‘No. No, thanks.’

  Her indignation rose when she saw that he was going to leave the room, leave her at the table with the meal unfinished. She said sharply, ‘I want to speak to you.’

  He stopped, his back towards her; then he slowly turned round and looked at her fully in the face for the first time since he had come in.

  ‘It’s about the girl.’

  ‘The girl?’ The expression on his face changed, his eyes screwed up as if he were at a loss to know to whom she was referring.

  ‘The girl, Ruth.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, Ruthie.’ His head nodded; he closed his eyes, then walked towards the fire. Again he had his back to her.

  ‘She’s in a certain condition.’

  His head came slowly round on his shoulder, his eyes slanted towards her and there was a half-smile on his face as he said, ‘Yes, isn’t it interesting?’

  ‘What! What do you say? Surely you heard what I said.’ His head remained in the same position. ‘Yes, yes, I heard what you said. And I said, isn’t it interesting? The only thing is I wonder you haven’t noticed before.’

  Her whole face drooped, her mouth opened, her bottom lip protruded, and then she said in genuine amazement, ‘You mean to say you knew that she was pregnant?’

  ‘Yes, of course I did. She must be four months or more.’

  ‘You stand there and tell me that you have known this, the girl who is looking after your sons, and you condone…’

  She actually jumped as he swung round and bawled, ‘Shut up!’

  They were staring at each other when the door opened and Ada appeared, saying, ‘Did you call, ma’am?’

  She had to drag her voice from her throat and use all her control to say with some semblance of calmness, ‘No, no, Ada. Leave the clearing until after. I’ll ring for you.’

  Ada flashed a keen glance between them before going out and closing the door, then Barbara, the colour flooding her face and her eyes blazing now, hissed, ‘Don’t you dare speak to me in that fashion.’

  ‘I’ll speak to you in what fashion I like.’ He had taken step towards her, and now as they glared at each other everything was clear to her, but being who she was, she had to pretend, she had to defend herself, ‘You’re mad,’ she said. ‘The…the drink is having an effect on you. Anyway—’ she stroked down the white ruffle that edged the front of her dress and, her head moving upwards, she said, ‘I’ve given her notice; she goes at the end of the week.’

  ‘She doesn’t go at the end of the week.’

  It wasn’t only his tone, it was something in the look on his face that took the stiffness from her carriage. Her shoulders drooped, her body seemed to shrink. A moment ago she had thought everything was clear to her. What had been clear was the fact that he knew about her and Michael, but now what she was faced with was something else, something he was telling her. In his defence of the girl he was telling her…Oh no, no! He couldn’t. Not in this house with that girl, that common creature—she still could not see any similarity between their cases. Her voice rose and her words came out almost on a squeak as she cried, ‘I…I won’t have her looking after my sons.’

  ‘No? Well, she’ll continue to look after my sons. What is more, her child will be born here.’

  ‘I…I won’t allow it.’

  ‘You what! What did I hear you say?’ He was laughing at her but there was no mirth in his laughter, rather he looked like a devil, a compact small devil. Then, the grim laughter sliding from his face, he said, ‘This is my house, I give the orders. Remember that. I’ll repeat it, this is my house and I give the orders. You said you had something to say to me. Was that all, to tell me that Ruthie is going to have a child?’

  He waited and he watched the emotions pass over her face and he willed himself to feel no compassion.

  For her part she could not believe that this was the same man who had begged for her favours for years and been grateful for the scraps she had offered him. She felt that if she stayed another moment under his malevolent stare she would collapse. She turned slowly about and went from the room and up the stairs into the bedroom, and she did not sit on the bed, she lay on it, fully dressed she lay on it and gripped the coverlet.

  Well, it had to come. This was the end, and thank God for it! She’d be seeing Michael tomorrow…After a moment, during which she lay with her hand across her eyes, she thought, I’ll miss the children, Jonathan in particular. Yes, I’ll miss Jonathan. But nothing will matter once I’m with Michael. I can have more children, Michael’s children. Michael’s children.

  Eleven

  Barbara was lying on a bed in a strange room in a cottage she had seen for the first time an hour ago and she didn’t care for it, either inside or out.

  But here she was in Michael’s arms, her eyes closed tight, her head buried in the bare flesh of his shoulder, her lips pressed tightly together, but her ears wide open to what he was telling her.

  ‘I can’t, I can’t, Barbara. Oh God in heaven, you know it’s
the only thing I want in life just to be with you, but I can’t. Hannah has never been right since the fever. She needs me…she demands to go with me everywhere, she hardly lets me out of her sight. And…and the others, Mother used to do a lot about the place, now she hardly lifts her hand outside the house. Since I put my foot down and told her who was master she’s taken the attitude of letting me get on with it; she used to see to the dairy, now she does it only when it pleases her. And Sarah, well, she finds it awkward.’ The last words were mumbled; then on a loud tone he ended, ‘A whole day’s cream went sour yesterday, only fit for the pigs. There was hell to pay last night…Barbara, my love.’

  He tried to look into her face but she turned it away from him, and her head came from his shoulder and onto the pillow and his voice sounded distant now as it came to her, muttering, ‘If…if you feel this way about it, sure about it, then do it, leave him. You can live here—we can fix it up better than it is now—and I’ll get across whenever I can. You know that, don’t you?’

  He moved his lips in her hair. ‘All I want is to be near you, close, close, like this.’ He pressed his body tight against hers. ‘But there are so many things, responsibilities…Barbara, Barbara, look at me, say something.’

  She turned on her back and looked at him but she couldn’t say anything. She felt that she had been turned into a dumb animal, a trapped, dumb animal. If she were to speak her thoughts at this moment she would have cried at him, ‘I can leave Dan and the children, I can step out into the world with hardly a penny for I have little of my own, I’ll even lose the respectability of being a married woman, and what do you offer? This dreadful, mean cottage, without gas, or water, except what water can be carried from the brook, and you would expect me to live alone here, day following day, just waiting for you coming once a week. And then one hour, two at the most, and you’d be gone. And so great is my love for you that I would suffer it if you really wanted that, but you don’t. You don’t want me to leave Dan or the children, for then I would be another responsibility. Oh Michael, Michael, don’t let me think that Brigie was right; you’re not a weak man, you’re not, you’re not. Brigie has been proved wrong so many times; dear God, let her be proved wrong again!’