The Rope Carrier (4 page)

The slow-moving parade at last reached the church where the beehive-shaped Garland was removed from the head of the King and hauled on the end of a long rope up to the very top of the church tower. There was a moment of silence, almost a moment of sadness. All eyes looked up towards it. Minnie caught her breath.

She turned to look back towards that ever-watchful eye, the opening of the cave, and though she could not see it, the knowledge that it was there brought a gentle flood of warmth and strength. Was there magic in this ceremony? Was there magic in this place? There was magic in the depths of their
wonderful cave, Minnie felt sure of that. Her grandmother had known it, and blessed her with a dreary job . . . but she'd also blessed her with strength to carry it out.

“She will carry a rope and walk for ever. She shall be a spinner.”

Suddenly there was a great clopping of heavy hooves and a loud cheer as the King turned his horse around and the dancers took their places behind him. The procession set off again, and the dancers hurled themselves into the wild, abandoned criss-cross steps. There was laughter now, and singing. Food and drinks were brought out from the cottages. Minnie felt that she might burst with energy and cheerfulness. This was the best bit and she was going to enjoy herself. Dancing began and everyone joined in. Even the old ones pranced up and down. Minnie looked for a partner and saw that Sally had grabbed Ben Whittingham; Netty was dancing with some young man whom Minnie didn't know, but who wore a fine jacket and breeches. A stranger, and yet not quite; there was something that she recognized about him. Then she realized! She did know him, but what on earth was he doing here on Garland Day? It was the man called Josh, the Sheffield doctor's manservant.

She went pushing through the crowd of dancers to get to him, cursing as a heavy woman trod on her toe, while someone else kicked her shin.

When she reached Netty and her partner, she thrust her arm through the young man's.

“What you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with your master in Sheffield?”

“Let go of him, will you?” Netty looked cross for once.

But Josh turned round, smiling, and kissed the top of her head.

“I've walked from Sheffield to see your Garland. I'd heard about it but I'd never seen it. A grand do it is too.”

“Dance with me,” said Minnie.

“Nay,” said Netty. “He's my partner. Find your own, miss.”

“I'll dance with you next.” Josh winked as he said it.

Minnie turned away and shoved past the couples, back to the tables, grumbling as she went.

“I saw him first,” she told herself. “I saw him first outside our cave. He would never have gone in if it weren't for me.” Then she spied Ned Whittingham, raising a mug of ale to his lips. She grabbed the mug from him and took a good swig herself, then plonked it down on the nearest table.

“Tha's too little to be swigging at that, Minnie Dakin.”

“I'm big enough to do owt I want at the Garland,” she said.

Ned stared open-mouthed at her.

“Shut tha gob, Ned, and dance with me.”

Ned was too surprised to object and his mouth stretched into a wide smile as Minnie pulled him in amongst the mass of swirling dancers.

IT WAS FOUR
weeks after Garland Day that Josh Eyre again made the journey to Castleton. It was Sunday morning when he walked into the shade of the cavern and the good smell of mutton stew was drifting from the cottages. The ropewalks were empty and the winding wheels still while the workers sat on their doorsteps chatting, smoking pipes and drinking Dame Whittingham's ale.

Netty went running to hug Josh, her cheeks all pink with pleasure and shyness. She begged Annie to let him stay and to serve up the stew early, for it turned out that he'd set off at four o'clock that morning to walk from Sheffield and would have to be going back again in the afternoon, so that he could get back before dark, ready to serve the doctor his supper.

Minnie stared at him in disbelief. How could he walk that far and back in a day, just to spend an hour or two with their Netty? He'd used up his leave of one day a month on traipsing over the hills on those rough tracks. Of course he was a strong young man, though, you could see that. He had a comely face with a warm smile. She remembered thinking that right from the start, that day last autumn when she'd found him staring up at the cave entrance in horror.

“Fancy you coming all this way, Josh,” she said, jigging around him and Netty. “Fancy you coming to such a nasty hole as this. I can't think what can have made you want to come to such a horrid hole as this.”

“Leave him be, skinny Minnie,” Netty said. Josh reached
out to tickle Minnie, chasing her round Netty while Sally fetched out the bowls and banged them down sullenly onto the table-top.

It was while they were eating their meal that Josh first began talking about he and Netty getting married. Mr Dakin looked surprised, but Josh quickly put before them all his plans. He'd hired himself to the doctor last Michaelmas, thinking that he'd get a chance to travel, live well and wear decent clothes, but the doctor had been hard to please, and Josh had travelled no further than Manchester. He planned to go back to his own home in Sheffield when he was released from the doctor's service next Michaelmas, and return to work with his father as a file cutter. There was room in their family cottage for him and Netty, and his father was begging him to come back, for with all the new trade and workshops that were being set up in Sheffield, the demand for files was greater than ever and Josh's father could sell his files as fast as he could produce them.

John Dakin nodded his head and listened to this determined young man so full of plans and energy.

“Aye, aye. If you can do it all as you say and make it all work out, then I cannot see why you and our Netty should not be wed.”

Annie was not so sure. Sheffield seemed far away to her. It was all right for a strong healthy young man to walk here in a day with naught to carry but himself, but for a woman who'd likely be hampered by little ones, the journey would not be easy.

“You'll not see us much, Netty,” she said. “You'll be having your babies, and no mother there to help you. And besides, I've heard them say that a file cutter's wife needs to be able to help out . . . cut the files herself. File-cutting families work together, and all you know is how to spin a rope yarn.”

But Netty could only laugh and cling onto Josh's arm, and say that she could learn. Minnie sighed and grinned at the
pair of them. If she'd been old enough she'd have wanted to marry him too.

It was early in October that Josh came to Castleton, released from the doctor's service, ready to marry Netty. The sun shone on the day of the wedding, and Minnie and Sally shared their parents' bed, giving up their straw mattress to the couple. The family went on singing and drinking inside the cave late into the night, but they left Netty and Josh to have their wedding night in peace. They'd to get up early next morning to travel into Sheffield with the pack-horse train. Chapman Barber made the regular journey over the hills, bringing with him the ropemakers' hemp after it'd been beaten soft by the prisoners in Manchester jail. The mules left the Castle Inn at daybreak, and Netty and her baggage must be there if they wished for the ride and the protection from robbers that the pack-horse train might give.

Minnie could do nothing but grumble at being woken so early. Sally's feet had been sticking into her back all night and the unfamiliar sleeping arrangements had robbed them all of their rest. It was only when Netty was at last perched on the broad back of one of Chapman's mules, piled high behind with clothes tied in bundles, that Minnie suddenly realized just what she was losing. Sick panic arose. She was losing her best and kindest sister, the one who saved her from Sally's sharp tongue and her mother's demands.

“Netty,” she shouted, pulling at her ankle. Tears started up quickly and rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh, lawks,” said Netty, her chin trembling, “don't tha start that, our Minnie. Can't we be going, Chapman, or else I'll never do it.”

Chapman cried out, “Get a move on, then!”

John Dakin laid a length of his best rope across his daughter's knee, folded and twisted and tied up with ribbon.

“Think of thee father when tha hangs up thee washing, lass.”

Tears poured down Netty's face.

Josh picked Minnie up and tried to hug her, but she pushed him away.

“I'll take good care of her, little Minnie,” said Josh. “I promise you that.”

“You've stolen my sister,” she said and, as the lumbering train of mules clopped slowly away, nose to tail, with Josh walking beside Netty's mule, Minnie shouted after him, “I'll never forgive you for that.”

Minnie spent the rest of the day working hard and fast, snapping at everyone, and it was only when she went to bed and found Sally already there and the mattress soaked with tears that she stopped to think that someone else might be feeling the same.

Sally's tears shocked her. Sally never cried. She'd been her usual sour self these last few weeks, perhaps a little quieter than usual. All the fuss had been for Netty and Minnie hadn't given Sally a thought.

“Sally. D-don't.” She wasn't used to saying anything kind to Sally. It was awkward even to try.

Sally rolled over, turning her back as Minnie lay down beside her. “Don't cry, Sally. I don't like it if you cry. I want her, too. I can't think what it's going to be like without her.”

“Huh,” sobbed Sally. “'Tis not for that fat cow that I cry.”

“What then?”

There was silence while Minnie thought hard. Then she turned towards Sally and put her hand around Sally's waist.

“I liked him, too,” she said. “I saw him first. I spoke to him first.”

“Huh? You? Skinny Minnie?”

Sally giggled. She turned over and cuddled Minnie. They both laughed and giggled until at last they were worn out and fell asleep.

CHAPMAN BARBER BROUGHT
them messages and news of Netty from time to time as he passed through Castleton on his journeys from Sheffield to Manchester. It wasn't long before they heard that Netty was to have a child, and the following September Netty and Josh, with their tiny daughter bundled in soft cotton wrappings, came riding back to Castleton with the mules.

They stayed for one happy week which Minnie remembered for a long time. A week of hugging and chattering, of laughing and passing the baby from knee to knee around the fire while they ate warming stews from Annie's cooking pot.

Netty could not stop talking about the great size and bustle of Sheffield, and the good trade that Josh and his father were doing, though Josh's father had not been so well lately and Josh had needed to do most of the work. His mother was a skilled cutter, too, and she helped whenever she could.

“Even I am learning,” Netty told them. “I was getting quite clever with it – wasn't I, Josh? – till I got so big with our little Marianne that I couldn't hold the chisel straight. Oh lawks, I wish you could see how they go on in Sheffield, though. The town is full of young lads that they call 'prentices. Such a sight they are, for when they're taken on, the mester buys 'em breeches. Decent leather if they're lucky, but how them lads do grow and those breeches have to last them whatever. I've never seen so many great lads all bursting out of their breeches.”

“That don't sound decent to me,” said Annie.

“Oh lawks, it ain't, is it Josh? They're running round with little aprons to cover themselves. Sometimes it's hessian breeches they get and that's just as bad, for as you know it stretches, and them as has hessian breeches has to hitch them all the time.”

“I wish I could see 'em,” said Minnie.

“You wouldn't if you saw Jack, our 'prentice,” said Netty. “He's about as much use as I don't know what, but he's come to us when when his father died. So we do the best we can.”

Soon the visitors had to go. Netty was afraid for her baby if they stayed any longer; they must get back before the cold weather came. Minnie begged them to take her back to Sheffield with them but Annie would not hear of such a thing, and there were more tears and clinging when they came to leave.

Minnie needed the cheerful memories of that week. They kept her going through the sadness and the difficulties which followed. Her oldest sister, Sarah, died giving birth to her tenth child the following winter. There were seven surviving little ones, and Annie took the oldest four to live in the cave with the ropemakers. Sally married Ben Whittingham and went to live in his cottage and work on one of the Whittingham ropewalks. Minnie found to her surprise that she missed the sharp, wicked gossips that they'd shared at night; they'd grown closer since Netty had gone. Now Minnie did her best to play big sister to poor Sarah's squabbling youngsters who invaded her bed once Sally had gone.

Netty couldn't make a visit the following year for she'd given birth to a boy who'd died after a few days of life, leaving her worn out and miserable. The next few years brought the happy news of two fine healthy boys, born with only twelve months between them. While Netty had her hands full with her three little ones, Annie was busy with Sarah's children, so the two
families couldn't manage to see each other. Sally listened to the Sheffield news in silence. There was no sign of babies for her yet.

It was just before Easter in the year that Minnie was fourteen when Chapman Barber came into the cave. Minnie and her father had been up early that morning, taking the taut rope down from the tall pulley poles. They'd thrown off the heavy stones that weighted the rope and took the stretch from it, then they'd dipped it in the size trough. Minnie had become clever and capable at all these jobs, though she hadn't grown a great deal taller and sighed with despair at the skinniness of her arms. She'd even mastered the secret knots and twists for making whips, though it was more by her father's patience and her mother's faith than by her own hard work. Now Minnie was threatening the children and shouting at them to turn the wheel steady so that she could polish the finished rope with horsehair as they wound it onto the drums.