The Winter Baby Page 5

  ‘Yes, she did,’ he replied. ‘Tea up, Mother?’

  ‘Wash your hands in the scullery first; I don’t want you poking in my biscuit tin till you have,’ Jessie warned him. ‘Fill Kathleen’s big jug from the copper water too, before I put the clothes to boil.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll wash up upstairs and get changed, then see to Heather,’ Kathleen said. She’d already taken her boots off; they would need to be cleaned of mud and straw, she thought, before she walked into the village.

  Danny kept his boots on as he sipped his hot tea. His mother washed the flagged kitchen floor several times a day, but that was expected of the women of the house.

  ‘She’ll need some breeches if she’s going to ride,’ he told her.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, Danny, but I put Mary’s old breeks in the ragbag – I’ll have a look for them later. Mary was only twelve when she wore them, but I reckon they’ll fit our Skinny Lizzie.’

  ‘Sam gone down the brickworks?’ Danny enquired, changing the subject. He wouldn’t admit to himself how aroused he’d felt when he’d held Kathleen in his arms at the stable. She thinks of me as the one who saved her that day, he thought, and I suppose I am, but I should have told her gently that I am spoken for. The trouble is, I can’t stop feeling the way I do, and Marion is aware of that . . .

  ‘Not yet,’ Jessie said. ‘He went upstairs for something. He’s tidied up the yard and filled the water buckets. He’ll be down for his tea shortly.’

  ‘If you see Mrs Amos . . .’ Danny began diffidently.

  ‘I’ll tell her, shall I, that you want to make up with Marion?’

  ‘How do you always know what I intend to do, Mother?’

  ‘You’re my son, aren’t you? I know you from A to Z!’ Jessie replied. ‘Well, I suppose I had better take Heather upstairs for her bath.’

  As Jessie was about to climb the stairs, baby in arms, she met Sam coming down. ‘Turn around. You can deliver Heather to her mother and save my legs,’ she told him. He hoisted the baby to rest comfortably against his shoulder. Heather wasn’t afraid of his beard, he thought ruefully.

  He knocked on the bedroom door before he ventured in.

  Kathleen was standing at the washstand, clad only in her chemise. ‘Thank you, Sam. Put Heather in her basket on the stand, will you?’

  He did so, and then backed out of the door without a word. He’d glimpsed the scars on her back before she had turned round, and the sight had shocked him.

  *

  Jessie pushed the pram up the hill while Kathleen held one side of the handle, finding it to be hard work. ‘The wheels need a spot of oil,’ Jessie observed. The sun briefly shone before it disappeared between two ominous black clouds. A few spots of rain was all that fell, though, for the moment.

  There was plenty of hustle and bustle in the heart of the village, round the green.

  ‘What a wonderful pond!’ Kathleen exclaimed. ‘And the cottages – the bricks are such a lovely colour! It’s like a picture book. Is that the school?’

  Jessie nodded. ‘The boys did well there,’ she said proudly. ‘Sam’s still a keen reader. He has all the latest novels; he’s ordered Nostromo, though I’m not sure what it’s about. It’s written by Joseph Conrad – have you heard of him?’

  ‘No – I haven’t had time to read lately. I loved Black Beauty; it was a birthday present when I was ten, but that was left behind.’

  ‘Remind me to buy that new Daily Mirror newspaper for Sam. He says there’s much more news in it than the local paper; he likes to know what’s going on in the world,’ Jessie said, adding. ‘He asked me to buy you a bar of chocolate, too.’

  ‘Trying to fatten me up,’ Kathleen said ruefully. ‘Look, someone’s waving at you.’

  ‘That’s Mrs Amos – you didn’t chat to her on Christmas Day, did you? She’s Marion’s mother.’

  ‘I didn’t speak to Marion either; she’s Danny’s girlfriend, isn’t she?’

  ‘Well she is and she isn’t. They had a bit of a falling-out, but I’m going to offer the olive branch.’ Jessie waved vigorously in return.

  ‘Not the day for a walk,’ Mrs Amos said, looking under the hood of the pram at the baby. ‘Don’t keep her out too long in this miserable weather. When you’ve done your shopping, call in at my place on the way home and we’ll have a nice hot cup of tea.’ She rustled a paper bag in her basket. ‘I couldn’t resist these Kentish apple cakes in the baker’s, even though I’ve got some scones in the tin at home!’

  ‘I’m just going to the newsagent’s for a newspaper for Sam and ten cigarettes for Danny, and then we can walk back together. I thought of taking Kathleen round to look at the church, but I reckon the skies are about to open, don’t you?’

  ‘You shouldn’t encourage Danny to smoke; Marion disapproves of the habit,’ Mrs Amos said, looking at Kathleen, who remained silent.

  ‘Will Marion be at home?’ Jessie asked, tucking her purchases under the pram cover.

  ‘She will. She’s busy with her sewing – she’s thinking of going to the Big House, as they’ve asked her if she’d like to work part-time there. They need someone in charge of the linen, and she’s very neat with her darning.’

  ‘Oh, is there not much profit in the poultry nowadays? We’re getting very few eggs ourselves at the moment, but when it’s your living . . .’

  ‘She thinks she might as well earn some extra money, enjoy herself, if there’s no wedding on the horizon.’ Again Mrs Amos looked long and hard at Kathleen.

  Jessie was indignant. ‘Danny hasn’t been unfaithful to her, if that’s what you’re getting at. You can keep your cakes! Kathleen and I will go straight home from the shop!’

  Kathleen didn’t speak until they were back indoors. She’d changed the baby and settled down on the sofa to give her the bottle of milk that Jessie had warmed up. Jessie took off her boots and sat beside them. ‘I’m sorry Mrs Amos snubbed you like that, Kathleen. I suppose Marion is hoping to make Danny come to heel. They can think what they like, but I brought my lads up to respect women, not . . . I’m sorry; perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, my dear.’

  ‘It’s my entire fault,’ Kathleen said, dampening the baby’s dark hair with her tears. ‘It always is.’ She glanced down at her mother’s wedding ring. I wish that what Danny told Nurse Buss was true, she thought. I wish he really was the father of my baby . . .

  Jessie couldn’t bring herself to tell Danny about the falling-out with Mrs Amos. When he said that evening that he was going out for a while, she just nodded. ‘Don’t clatter about when you come home; I feel like an early night.’

  *

  ‘What do you want?’ Marion demanded when she opened the door that evening to find Danny and old Bob on the step.

  ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to ask you.’

  ‘If you’re about to say what I think you are, the answer is no, Danny Mason. You . . . you jilted me!’

  ‘How can you say that? We weren’t engaged, after all.’

  ‘But we were about to be, until you set eyes on that little Irish girl – when she’d just had a baby, too! How could you!’

  ‘I feel sorry for her, that’s all,’ he said in his defence. Then he turned, and Bob, who had been quivering on the cold step, rose to follow him. ‘I’m sorry, but if you can’t trust me, Marion, it’s no good me trying to explain. I’m seeing another side of you, I’m afraid. I thought we were in love . . .’

  ‘So did I, but I was wrong!’ She slammed the door before he could say any more.

  *

  Jessie was weary and still upset about falling out with Mrs Amos, so she went off early to bed as she’d said she would. ‘I’ll take Heather up with me, shall I, since she’s fallen asleep after her bottle. You enjoy the fire for a bit longer, Kathleen, and drink your cocoa, eh?’

  Kathleen put another log on the fire. Sam arrived home; she supposed he had been to the pub. He looked in to
say goodnight. ‘Where’s Mother?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s gone up already. Goodnight, Sam,’ she said.

  ‘Danny not back yet?’ he asked as he turned to go.

  ‘Wasn’t he in the pub with you?’ Kathleen asked abruptly.

  ‘I wasn’t there, I was at Doc Wiseman’s, and he invited me to have a game of chess. Satisfied?’ He didn’t wait for an answer.

  Kathleen was anxious, not satisfied. She watched the fire die down as she waited for Danny to come home. Around midnight, she closed her eyes and sleep overtook her.

  She woke suddenly and became aware that she was not alone. Danny was slumped with hunched shoulders next to her on the sofa, and Bob was stretched out on the rag rug, warming up. The room was dark, apart from the glow from the fire. He must have snuffed the candles out.

  ‘Oh, you’ve woken up at last,’ he said. ‘You’d better get off to bed. I’m not sure I’m steady enough to go upstairs.’

  ‘You smell of beer – and cigarettes,’ she told him, shocked.

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ he said, his voice slurred.

  ‘I’ll help you up to your room. Jessie won’t be happy until she knows you’re there.’

  She tried to pull him up; he swayed and clung to her. ‘Let’s go, then.’

  ‘We’ve got to go to work in the morning,’ she reminded him.

  Sam was standing at the top of the stairs in his nightshirt, looking down on them as they struggled up step by step. ‘Leave him to me,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll put him to bed.’ The door to their shared bedroom was open and he steered his brother inside. Kathleen made her way past the empty room that she knew had been Mary’s, and crept as quietly as she could over to her own bed.

  A voice came from the other bed. ‘Thank you, Kathleen,’ Jessie sighed.

  Kathleen undressed quickly, left her clothes in a heap on the end of the bed and slid between the covers. Jessie had provided a hot-water bottle earlier, and she warmed her feet on it gratefully. She hoped Heather would not wake again for a few hours. She lay for a while feeling forlorn. They were a happy family till I came, she thought. Oh why do I always upset folk wherever I go?

  SEVEN

  Kathleen awoke with a start. It took her a few moments to realise that she had overslept; that Jessie’s bed and Heather’s Moses basket were empty. The little clock on the washstand was ticking away noisily as usual, and she checked the time: 7.30 a.m.! Someone had delivered her jug of hot water, which was still steaming, so whoever it was had seen her sleeping, she thought.

  She washed and dressed hurriedly. On top of the now folded clothes she had discarded she saw a pair of corduroy knee breeches and some thick socks: oh, so I’m expected to go to the stables as soon as possible.

  As she reached the stairs, she heard a rumbling noise. It must be Danny snoring, she thought indignantly; like a . . . pig!

  She rapped on his door and said loudly, ‘Wake up!’ before going downstairs. She was greeted by Sam in the hall carrying the milk pails.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, as if nothing was untoward. ‘Have your breakfast and then we must get to the stables and see to the horses. Danny not stirred yet?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Heather?’

  ‘In the kitchen with her doting grandma.’ Sam actually smiled. ‘No one’s cross with you, Kathleen; you were a great help last night. Lead the way, these buckets are heavy.’ As he followed her, he added, ‘Those breeks fit you like a glove.’

  Kathleen couldn’t think of anything to say to that, but she was blushing because of where his gaze was riveted.

  ‘Your scrambled eggs will be all rubbery, I’m afraid; they don’t like being warmed up,’ Jessie said, and then, with a smile, ‘Oh, I’m glad the breeches look good on you! Not that I usually like women in trousers – they are hardly a feminine garment, are they?’

  As she ate her breakfast, Kathleen thought ruefully: I read more into Sam’s opinion than I should have . . . How could I look attractive in well-worn breeches with a big patch on the bottom? She smiled at her own foolishness and glanced at Heather, kicking her legs up and down in the pram, gurgling. She’s a very happy baby, she realised, thanks to dear Jessie. I wasn’t sure I could love her, but now I know I do. It is a good feeling.

  Jessie poured fresh cups of tea and then sat at the table for a short rest. ‘Kathleen, Sam and I were talking earlier, and I think it’s time you and Heather had a room of your own,’ she said.

  Sam put in, ‘Mother needs a good night’s sleep now that she looks after the baby most of the day while you are working.’

  Jessie frowned at her elder son; it wasn’t his place to reprove Kathleen, she thought. ‘You can have the room next to mine, so I’ll be nearby if you need me in the night,’ she added.

  ‘But . . . that’s Mary’s room, isn’t it? Where you keep all her things,’ Kathleen faltered.

  ‘My dear, the trunk can remain in the corner, but Mary was a happy girl, always smiling, until she caught scarlet fever. So my memories are of her as she was before she was ill, and I know she wouldn’t mind you being in that room.’

  ‘Danny and I can move the furniture around as you would like it,’ Sam offered. He saw the tears glistening in Kathleen’s eyes and added, ‘You are one of the family now, and the baby is too. We’ll take care of you . . . Now, shall I wake my brother up nicely, or pour a jug of cold water over his head?’

  ‘You’d better not,’ Jessie warned him. ‘The water would go all over the bedclothes!’

  ‘Oh well, drink your tea, Kathleen, and we’ll get on with our jobs at the stables. Then I’ll take you to the brickworks and you can decide if you’d like to help me as well as Danny.’

  ‘You could share me, you mean?’ she asked naïvely.

  Sam laughed out loud at her remark, and Kathleen caught a flash of his good white teeth, usually obscured by the beard and moustache. She suddenly realised that he was clean-shaven today. Jessie was smiling too, as she scooped the baby up from the pram and exclaimed, ‘Damp pants again – time to change your napkin, young lady. Sam, off you both go, and be back for lunch at one.’

  *

  They did the usual chores. Kathleen scraped the stable floor clean and spread fresh straw. Then came the enjoyable part, she thought, with currycomb and brush, teasing out tangles in the horses’ tails and manes.

  ‘I could do with a stepladder,’ she said as she stretched up to groom Big Ben, the shire horse. He was patient, not skittish like Red Ruby.

  Sam was attending to the donkey’s hooves. ‘He doesn’t get enough exercise, unlike the buggy pony, I’m afraid. Still, in a year or two, Heather will be able to sit on his back. I hope she has a feeling for horses like you; they like to nuzzle in your soft little hands. Maybe my big hands are too calloused because of the bricks.’

  Kathleen felt a warm glow inside. They really do want me to stay, she thought. ‘Has the foal a name?’ she asked. ‘Danny didn’t say.’ The foal was red like her mother, with a white flash on the forehead.

  ‘Mother suggested Grasshopper, after the local legend. Did she tell you about that?’

  She shook her head, so he went on, ‘The Greshams from Holt in Norfolk acquired the manors of Titsey, Tatsfield, Westerham and Lingfield in the sixteenth century. They have a grasshopper on their coat of arms. The founder of the family was said to be Roger de Gresham, who was discovered as a newborn baby abandoned in a field; he was saved by a lad studying grasshoppers chirping in the long grass, where the baby was hidden. Later, Sir Thomas Gresham built the original Royal Exchange in London, which was destroyed in the Great Fire of London . . . Am I boring you, Kathleen? You look far away.’

  ‘No, I think the story of the grasshopper is . . . entrancing!’ she said. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘Well, Thomas Gresham was also involved in foiling the Gunpowder Plot, Guy Fawkes and all that, in 1605. The interesting connection with Tatsfield is that the felon who betrayed his fellow con
spirators escaped and galloped on his horse past Church Corner in the village, or so they say . . . You’re yawning, I see, so I’ll stop the history lesson there.’

  ‘Sorry, I was listening, honestly, but I was looking at the foal and thinking that Grasshopper is a good name. And I was thinking about what Jessie said: that you were very clever when you were at school.’

  ‘Oh, did she say that? I wanted to go on to university and study history, but my dad . . . Well, he said, “Learn to do a hard day’s work first, boy!” When he died, I knew I’d have to help support my mother, especially when we lost my sister too. Danny, of course, is her favourite son, though she’d never admit it, so he gets away with a lot that she wouldn’t tolerate from me.’ He smiled at Kathleen, ‘It doesn’t worry me. He’ll inherit the farm one day and I already have the brickworks! Let’s go there now, eh?’

  *

  They went through a five-barred gate and along a wide path with woodland on either side. They came upon the brickworks suddenly, and after stepping down from the buggy, went down steps into a hollow. Kathleen surprised herself when she literally skipped round the circular courtyard where the bricks were originally dug and fired, which was now sealed off with many odd bricks in different shades of yellow, red and blue. There was a pump in one corner and a pile of bricks the other side. Beyond was a field, where Sam explained that a pit would be dug, since the old one was exhausted.

  Kathleen saw on a rise to one side a range of black-tarred barns. ‘That’s where my uncle lived for years on and off,’ Sam pointed out. ‘I used to come here with him sometimes and learn all about brick making. I’ll build my own house alongside the big barn when the clay pit is ready.’

  They pumped up some water for the pony, now cropping the grass. Then Sam took Kathleen into the big barn, where he boiled a kettle on a small stove. They sat together on a wooden settle, talking while they munched on the rather stale biscuits Sam produced from a tin and sipped hot tea. She wondered whether the biscuits dated back to his uncle’s time there.