The Parson's Daughter Read online

  Without a word he waited for her to reach the bottom of the stairs; then taking her arm, he led her into the sitting room and, still silent, he pointed towards the couch.

  After she had been given the explanation why the horses were on the drive and her granddaughter lying with eyes closed on the couch, Jessica said, ‘Well, she can’t go tomorrow.’

  ‘No.’ Rebecca rose from her chair and, looking at Jessica, she said, ‘No, not tomorrow, Mother-in-law, but she must go.’ And Jessica said, ‘Yes, I agree with you entirely: blacking eyes and kneeing people in the belly, no matter who they are, has got to be stopped. Oh, yes’—she inclined her head towards her daughter-in-law—‘I agree with you.’

  Yet, a few minutes later, sitting by the side of her granddaughter, both her son and daughter-in-law having left the room, he to send Johnny for the doctor, she to get Hilda to prepare the bed with a hot oven shelf, Jessica took the limp hand in hers as she muttered to herself, ‘But Sundays will never be the same again.’

  PART TWO

  THE BLOSSOMING

  One

  ‘You are not sorry you haven’t gone?’

  ‘No, Grandmama.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes, Grandmama, very sure.’

  ‘You…you didn’t like her very much, did you?’

  ‘No, Grandmama, truthfully, I didn’t. Did you?’

  Jessica leant her grey head to one side and replied, ‘No, Nancy Ann, truthfully, I didn’t.’ Then they both smiled.

  ‘But you would have made a very pretty bridesmaid.’

  ‘You think so, Grandmama?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes.’

  ‘I’m gawky, Peggy says.’

  ‘Peggy!’ Jessica almost spat. ‘What does she know about it? You’re but fourteen yet and you’re developing fast. Give you another couple of years or so and you’ll be like I was at your age. And let me tell you—’ She now leant forward, a mischievous grin on her face as she whispered, ‘I was something to look at in those days. You know, I could have married a title.’

  ‘You could? Then why didn’t you?’

  ‘Oh’—Jessica leant back—‘I was in love; I loved your grandfather then.’

  ‘Didn’t you love him after?’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky, miss. Yes, of course I did. I loved him till the day he died. I wonder if Miss Nicolette Hobson will be able to say the same of James.’

  Nancy Ann made no reply, but if she had, her reply would have been, ‘I doubt it, Grandmama.’

  James had left university last year with a first class Honours Degree, and almost immediately had been offered a position to teach in a school in Bath. While at university he had made friends with a John Hobson, and for the past two years had spent weeks of his summer vacation at his home, which happened to be part of a large private school of which his father was headmaster. John Hobson had a sister. She was of the same age as James, and apparently their courtship had started immediately. He had returned home in the Easter vacation of ’78 to say that he was going to propose marriage to Miss Nicolette Hobson. At that time Nancy Ann recalled she had greeted this news with pleasure, for it seemed to prove that her lying had not been a lie after all. But from her first meeting with Miss Nicolette Hobson she had asked herself how James could possibly love her: she wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t even smart, but what she proved to them all to be, and within a very short time of entering the vicarage, was that she was a highly intelligent and knowledgeable young woman who knew her own mind and what she wanted; and it was apparent she wanted James. As her grandmama had said after their first meeting, ‘She talked at him as if they were already married, and the fool of a boy seemed to like it.’

  James was being married today and her mother and father had made the journey to Somerset, reluctantly, it would seem, on her mother’s part, for Nancy Ann knew her mama was vexed that her daughter had not been asked to act as a bridesmaid, an honour being enjoyed by two of Nicolette’s younger sisters and two cousins.

  Peter was acting as James’s best man, and he had said to her yesterday morning, before he left, that his heart wasn’t in it, and it was a shame she wasn’t coming. But she had assured him that she didn’t mind in the least. And this was true. Also that somebody had to stay at home to see to Grandmama.

  She now looked at the clock on the sitting-room mantelpiece. It had just struck three and Jessica, following her gaze, said, ‘Yes, it will be over by now. We have lost James. Oh, yes, yes.’ She nodded her head vigorously towards Nancy Ann. ‘Don’t let us delude ourselves. That young madam will do her best to sever the ties with this end of the country, let me tell you.’ She wagged her finger at Nancy Ann, saying, ‘I know women. Oh, I know women.’ Then her voice changing and her expression softening, she said, ‘I only hope, my dear, I’ll live to see your wedding day, and from this house. Oh yes, I pray the good God will spare me till then.’

  ‘Oh, Grandmama, my wedding day? Me getting married? I shall never marry. I’m not…well, not that type.’

  ‘Oh! When did you come to this conclusion?’

  ‘Well, Belle…you know, Belle Tollington, my friend at school, she says there are types that marry and types that don’t.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense! And I suppose she says you’re not the type?’

  ‘Well…well, I feel, Grandmama…’

  ‘Oh, shut up! And that Belle wants a strap to her backside, that’s what she wants. How old is she?’

  ‘She’s nearly fifteen, like me.’

  ‘Well, my dear, the quicker you get a new friend the better. You will marry and you’ll marry early if you’re wise. Now some two years ago, I might have agreed with that Miss Belle.’ She laughed now. ‘Remember the day you had your fight with the McLoughlins? Well, I nearly gave you up myself on that particular Sunday. Eeh, my! The parson’s daughter giving the McLoughlin hooligan a black eye and kneeing him in the stomach. Oh, you can laugh. It’s funny now. And oh’—she flapped her hand—‘I remember when I related it to the boys Peter actually rolled on the floor. Apparently it was he who had shown you how to use your knee. Wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it was, like the wrestlers do.’ Nancy Ann laughed. ‘But it was James who showed me how to use a straight left.’

  ‘Anyway, you’ve grown out of all that. Praise be. That school has worked a small miracle on you. In the curriculum it said they turned out young ladies, and it’s no lie.’

  ‘Oh, Grandmama, huh!’

  Nancy Ann’s derisive ‘huh!’ caused Jessica to say, ‘What do you mean, huh? Well, they do, don’t they?’

  ‘You should see some of them in the dormitory tearing each other’s hair out, rolling about. My affray with Mick McLoughlin was child’s play.’

  ‘You don’t mean that. It’s another one of your tales.’

  ‘I do, Grandmama, it’s true. It nearly always happens towards the end of term. It’s frustration; it builds up over the weeks. It’s mostly with the girls who can’t go home at all. Well, say, with one that can’t go home. Her parents are abroad, or some such, and she’s always talking about her home life. I’ve often wanted to bring Eileen Talbot home. But…but then I thought Mama has enough to do, and she hasn’t been well.’

  ‘No, no, you’re right there. I’m worried at times about your mama. She hasn’t been well, as you say, but when you ask her how she’s feeling, she always says she’s quite all right. But the flesh is dropping off her. I’m going to have a word with Doctor McCann shortly about her. Well now, look, the day’s still bright, go out and get some air, make the best of it. Take Gyp with you; he doesn’t get much exercise these days, he’s getting fat, only don’t go down by the river with him on your own.’

  ‘Why not, Grandmama?’ She was standing by her grandmother’s chair now, and Jessica, lifting her hand, slapped at the thin arm, saying, ‘Why not, Grandmama? In that innocent tone of voice! Remember what happened one Sunday afternoon when you took him along there?’

  ‘Oh, that!’ She smiled now. ‘I’d forgott
en about that, it’s so long ago.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jessica mimicked; ‘oh, so long ago, all of two years in fact, a lifetime. Go on with you now, only keep to the road. And I mean that, because if anything happened I couldn’t cope…’

  ‘Oh, Grandmama! Really, you make me feel awful, you know; it is as if you imagine I go out looking for trouble.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear, I am sorry, for you’ve been so good of late. Your mama and papa are really proud of you. And they are delighted with your school reports. At least they are now.’ She pulled a face. ‘Those they received during that first year…Oh dear! Do you remember? When you didn’t settle in and had to be kept down. But what I mean, my dear, is I feel I’m responsible for all that happens in the house until they come back. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, Grandmama. Don’t worry, put your mind at ease. I’ll just go towards the old toll gate; I’ll not even go in the direction of the village and certainly not’—she now moved her head from side to side—‘anywhere near the McLoughlins.’ Then laughing again, she added, ‘It’s funny about the McLoughlins, isn’t it? I can pass them on the road now and nothing happens, in fact they give me a wide berth. Remember last Christmas when Mr McLoughlin gave me a rabbit. He had a sackful of them and he pulled one out of the top like a conjurer might out of a hat, and said, “There, missy, that’s for you. You’re a grand lass. You are that.”’

  She had dropped into the stance and accent of the Irishman and caused her grandmother to let out a bellow of a laugh, and as she dried her eyes she said, ‘You know, you have a gift there, keep practising it. One day you could entertain with it.’

  ‘I’ll do that, ma’am, I will, I will. ’Tis yourself I will pleasure. I will, I’ll practise it, honest to God!’ Almost before the last words were out of her mouth she put her hand tightly over it; then turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind her. But in the hall she could still hear her grandmama laughing, and as she took her coat out of the hall wardrobe she thought, Yes, I’ll do what Grandmama says. I will…I will practise at it. It’s the only accomplishment I seem to have.

  She pulled on her coat, then went to take her straw hat from the shelf above, but her hand stayed on it: Why should she wear it? She hated hats. She loved the wind through her hair and there was quite a breeze blowing today. Her mother and father weren’t here, there was no-one to chastise her for going outside with her head uncovered, and anyway, she was just going along the road.

  She went out through the side door and ran to Gyp where he was tethered as usual to the wall, and she endeavoured to silence his hysterical barking as she undid him. Then she was running through the gate and into the paddock, the dog bounding round her. In the middle of the field she stopped, slightly out of breath, and as she stood gasping while looking up into the sky there swept through her a feeling such as she had never before experienced. It came like lightning flashing, only it whirled upwards from the pit of her stomach and seemed to corkscrew out of the top of her head, lifting her from the ground. And now she was running again. Or was she dancing? The dog was barking its loudest as it raced away from her and raced back again. She came to a stop near the railings that bordered the field and as she leant over them the feeling seeped down through her and seemed to drain away through her legs.

  She turned her back to the railing and became limp for a moment. She was breathing deep and slowly. She had never before felt like that: it was, she thought, as if she had only in those moments become alive. Was this what they called joy? It had come and gone so quickly, yet her mind retained the essence of it, and she told herself she would never forget this moment, this thing that had made her feel beautiful for a flashing space in the middle of the meadow.

  Her hair ribbon had come loose and was dangling from the bottom of her four curls. Always when she was at home she put her hair into roller rags at night, but at school she had to plait her hair. It was long, thick and wavy and reached down below her shoulder blades; its colour was chestnut brown, and she knew it was nice. She considered it the only thing she possessed in the way of attraction, although Belle said, when she would later have to put it up she would have trouble with it because it was too coarse to fall into shape.

  Gyp was foraging in the grass and she called him to her, saying now, ‘Behave yourself. We’re going to walk along the road. And don’t forget you are now being attended by a young lady. Do you hear me?’ She laughed at herself and resisted the desire to run once more, for the road was now in sight.

  At the end of the field railings there was only a shallow ditch to be jumped, and then she was walking along the road, the dog trotting sedately by her side as if he really had taken his cue from her.

  She was nearing a part of the road where it narrowed and turned sharply towards the old turnpike gate, long since demolished, and with the keeper’s cottage in ruins to the side. This often provided habitation for tramps who had stripped most of the wood away from the building to make fires. But she had promised her grandmother she didn’t intend to go as far as that today, and so she was on the point of turning about when, above the noise of the wind that was swaying the trees along the edge of the wood to the left side of her, she heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs. She had actually turned round in the direction of home when she swung back again to see coming towards her, and at a terrifying rate from around the corner, a high dogcart driven by a woman. The horse was almost on top of her when with a scream and one swooping action she grabbed at the dog and took him with her headlong into the ditch.

  There had been rain during the night and although there was no water lying, the grass and silt at the bottom was soggy, and as she lay gasping on top of the dog she knew she wasn’t hurt, nor it, but she also knew she was angry, in fact, consumed with anger, blazing with it. It was as strong as the wonderful feeling that she had experienced in the field only minutes earlier.

  Clawing her way out of the ditch, she stood in the roadway and looked to where the woman had pulled the horse to a standstill and when the voice, in a highfalutin tone, came to her, saying, ‘Are you all right?’ she screamed at her, ‘Yes, of course I’m all right. You have just about run me down. You are an idiot. That’s what you are.’ She had moved forward and was standing now glaring up into the face that hung above hers. It was a soft-skinned, plump face, topped by a high red velvet bonnet to match the velvet suit that had a white ruffle at the neck, and the neck of the wearer was fat.

  ‘You don’t know how to drive a cart, you shouldn’t be allowed on the road.’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’

  ‘I dare, and if I’d been dead, somebody would have said to you, How dare you drive like a madwoman! And look at your poor horse.’ She stepped to the side and pointed to the animal. It was in a lather. ‘There should be a law forbidding people like you being in charge of an animal. And look at me!’ She pointed to the streaks of mud on her light alpaca coat, and to the shoes covered with mud.

  ‘You should not have been meandering in the middle of a road. It is a public road.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what it is, a public road for all peoples, not for maniacs.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Never mind who I am, who are you? Because I intend to make a complaint against you.’ Dear, dear. She closed her eyes for a moment and put out her hand and grasped the wheel of the cart. She felt dizzy. Was it going to be a repeat of the McLoughlins’ business?

  At this point another dogcart came round the bend and when it was brought to a stop, the man driving it called, ‘You must have gone hell for leather and come over the field. That’s cheating, Rene.’

  Nancy Ann’s dizziness ebbed, and it was she who answered the newcomer, shouting, ‘Yes, she went hell for leather, and nearly killed me and the dog. You want to give her lessons in driving. Come on, Gyp!’ She called to the dog, and now began to walk past the dogcart, but when she came to the horse’s head she stopped and pointed to it and, looking back at the infuriated fa
ce of the lady, she said, ‘Look! Poor thing, it’s foaming at the mouth.’ Then squaring her shoulders, she walked away, attempting to keep to a beeline although her legs were trembling so much that she wanted to drop down onto the grass verge and rest a while.

  The man drove his cart closer to the young woman’s side now, saying, ‘What was all that about?’ And she, her deep blue eyes blazing, replied, ‘She fell into the ditch as I came round the corner. Insolent little slut! Who is she? Do you know?’

  ‘How should I know? You are here more often than me.’

  ‘She’s the parson’s daughter.’ The voice came from the bank bordering the wood, and there jumped down into the road a tall man carrying a gun. And the woman addressed him, saying, ‘Parson’s daughter? How do you know, Larry?’

  Before the man could answer the man in the other dogcart put in, ‘Oh, Larry knows everything and everyone.’

  ‘Yes, yes, you could say that.’ There was a coolness in the tone and it had an ominous ring. And this for the man in the other dogcart seemed to close the matter for he turned his horse about and trotted it off. But the woman continued to look at the man with the gun who was now standing close to her, and she said, ‘The same one I suppose that you tell me the tale about being a miniature Amazon?’

  ‘The very same one, although she’s grown somewhat and looks promising from what view I had of her.’

  ‘Well, parson’s daughter or no, she’s an uncouth little slut and wants putting in her place. I’ll see Dennison as soon as I get back. He should do something, and I’ll see that he does.’

  The man smiled into the round furious blue eyes now and, his voice still cool, he said, ‘Yes, I would do that, Mrs Poulter Myers. Yes, I would do that.’

  ‘Oh, you!’ She flounced round in the seat, jerked sharply at the reins, crying, ‘Get up, there!’ then turned the horse and dogcart in the narrow road, almost backing into the ditch as she did so; following which, she wielded the whip and once again sent the animal into a gallop. And the man standing in the road pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows, nodded to himself, then jumped the ditch and re-entered the wood.