A Carriage for the Midwife (8 page)

Susan gave a half-smile, but her eyes looked towards the new-cut grass that the women were raking up into a line of haycocks; Farmer Bennett’s eyes missed nothing.

‘Aye, master, this be Polly.’

‘And
this
be our brother Jack,’ added the younger sister as a small sun-browned boy sidled up to them and gave Edward a cross-eyed grin. Edward was surprised at his own instinctive recoil; why should Susan’s poor little brother send a shiver down his spine? After all, he couldn’t
help
having a squint.

‘And are your father and mother working in this field too?’ he asked, shading his eyes as he looked towards the circling haymakers, the men cutting, the women raking and gathering.

‘Oh, aye, Ma be o’er there wi’ Joby, and Da be—’ began Polly, but Susan cut in quite sharply.

‘If ’ee please, master, we ha’ to get on, or the farmer’ll be arter us fur gossipin’,’ she told him, and he glimpsed the shadow in her downcast grey eyes. He supposed it was the effect of poverty and the deaths of her three brothers that had brought about this change, yet he sensed a wariness in her look and tone, as if she were on her guard. It troubled the boy in a way that he was too young to understand, and reluctantly he took his leave and returned to the gate where he had left his horse. Osmond had ridden off, disgusted by Henry’s defence of Edward, but the young midshipman seemed inclined to talk as they rode at a leisurely pace back to the village centre.

‘What did Osmond mean when he spoke of your cousin Sophia, Edward? He said you had been – er – influenced by her.’

‘Cousin Sophy is a great friend to the poor, and she says that faith must be shown in good works or it is worth nothing,’ replied the boy promptly, having spoken at length with Sophia the previous day.

‘Is that what she says? And why didn’t I see her in church on Sunday?’ smiled Henry.

‘Because she quite often goes to Little St Giles to hear Parson Smart preach. She prefers him to Dr Gravett, she says.’

Henry laughed. ‘I don’t suppose the rector cares for her praise of poor Smart. But tell me more, Edward. I hear that Miss Glover visits filthy hovels where nobody else ventures.’

‘Yes, she stands up to drunken cottagers who mistreat their families – and when your mother threw out that fat dairymaid, Sophy took her in to save her from the workhouse.’

‘Ah, yes, the girl who was with child,’ nodded Henry, recalling his father’s stern questions at the time. ‘And didn’t I hear that both our mothers were offended some time ago when Miss Glover introduced a ragged, verminous child into the village school? Did you ever hear the outcome of that?’

Edward gave him a coldly triumphant look. ‘Yes, I did, Henry. Sophy took no notice of your mother or mine, and the child you speak of has far outstripped her so-called betters – in truth, she is the best pupil in the school!’

Too late Henry saw his blunter. ‘Edward! Are we speaking of the girl in the hayfield – your little friend Susan? Oh, I beg your pardon for my foolish words, I had no idea – I did not know ’twas she.’

‘Well, you know now, Henry. And our sisters have benefited, for they have to work that much harder to keep up with the charity child!’

That night Edward woke suddenly and sat up in bed, roused by the whine of a door hinge and a light patter of feet on the floorboards, followed by a creaking of Osmond’s bed and a suppressed gasp. A painted Chinese screen separated the two beds, and some instinct warned Edward not to call out.

Then the murmurings began.

‘Ah, I knew you were there – and you have come to me!’ Osmond sounded eager but also somewhat uncertain.

‘Hush, don’t wake y’r brother. Move over and make room f’r me.’

The voice was low and definitely female; Edward could hardly believe his ears. Sighs and murmurs followed, and Osmond made a sound that was almost like a groan.

‘Here, let me show you. Put y’r hand here—’ she whispered.

‘Oh, this is what I have lain awake longing for, night after night! And now you are here, my—’

‘Call me Jael, Osmond.’

‘Jael! Oh, Jael, you are so beautiful. Mm-mm!’

‘Kiss me, Osmond – ah, kiss me!’

Edward lay wide awake, tense in every muscle, holding his breath for fear of being heard; but the lovers were entirely absorbed in each other, and Edward had no choice but to listen as Mrs Ferris led his brother through the door from boyhood to man.

‘Oh, Jael, Jael, I’ve never known – this is my – oh! Ah! Jael –
Jael
!’

She laughed softly, tenderly. ‘Hush, hush, my sweet love. We mustn’t wake the boy.’

But in fact Edward lay staring into the darkness long after she had glided away and Osmond had sunk into the deep sleep of satisfied desire.

At the same time Susan also lay awake beside the slumbering Polly. The day had ended dreadfully for her. Polly had been carted away by Doll, and although Susan had kept tight hold of Jack’s hand, the boy had been forced from her side when she was dragged down into the hollow where the ditch had dried out. What happened next had followed the usual sequence, and Susan dealt with it as she had taught herself to do: her whole body stiffened into rigidity, her eyes were tightly closed, her hands clenched into fists and her mind blanked out as if a curtain was drawn across her consciousness, separating it from what was being done to her unripe body. It was her way of coping, her means of survival until the day when she could escape and take Polly with her.

Yet now, as she lay beside the sister who needed her, she thought of Edward, so kind, so
clean
, so far removed from her hateful knowledge; and she started to weep silently in her loneliness, for there was nobody in the world who knew how she had been betrayed. Except the two who above all others should have looked after her.

So Susan shed tears as she mourned for her lost childhood, but noiselessly, so as not to wake her sister.

SUSAN WAS FOURTEEN
when her monthly flow began, and she never forgot the day. The bloodstain on her petticoat meant that her body was changing; there was already a burgeoning of her little breasts and a soft fuzz of hair in that secret place that was muddied with shame and pain. And she was taller; field labour had hardened the muscles of her arms and legs.

Susan stared at her own blood, the signs of womanhood, and some deep, primitive instinct sprung into life: this was her body, which belonged only to her. She was no longer a helpless victim, but a woman with rights over what was hers, and a duty to protect it. It was time to escape from the shadow.

What should she do? She could leave the Ash-Pits at any time and find work as a maidservant, in or out of doors, but there was Polly to be included in her plans. Susan decided to consult the lady who had helped her before and was known as a friend to poor women and children, so she called at the Glover cottage early one morning in August.

‘If ye please, Miss Glover, Oi need to find work f’r Polly an’ meself,’ she said carefully. ‘There be not enough to feed us all now the boys ha’ got bigger, an’ besides, Bartlemy be a drinker, an’ . . .’

She hesitated. Unable to tell the untellable, she had planned to say that her father regularly beat them, though in fact he never had.

Miss Glover listened and nodded without pressing Susan to finish the sentence.

‘I understand you, Susan. As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about this. Now that you have finished school, you need to start earning money for yourself rather than for your parents. Now, I hear that a laundrymaid is needed at Bever House. Would you like me to speak to Mrs Martin for you?’

‘Oh, but ye see, Miss Glover, ’tis Polly as well,’ said Susan anxiously. ‘Be there work f’r two laundry-maids?’

Sophia smiled and shook her head. ‘I really don’t know about Polly, Susan. She’s only twelve years old, isn’t she?’

‘Nearly thirteen. Oh, she can’t be left at the Ash-Pits wi’out me, Miss Glover!’

‘Why are you so worried about her, Susan? Do you mean that she would be in danger of being ill-treated?’

‘Oh, aye, Miss Glover, ill-treated.’ Susan grasped at the word. ‘He’ll – he’ll ill-treat her when he be drunken. Please, Miss Glover, Oi couldn’t leave her in that place!’

She clasped her hands together beseechingly, and Sophia was startled by the real terror in the wide grey eyes. This girl is hiding something, she thought, and the matter must be urgent.

‘All right, Susan, don’t worry, I will see what can be done. Go to your field work now, and leave this to me.’

Susan stared dumbly at her, as if wanting to say more but not knowing how. Sophia smiled reassuringly.

‘I promise, Susan.’

‘Thank ye, Miss Glover – oh, thank ye!’

Susan spoke from the heart, but the crisis came sooner than anticipated, for the very next evening the shadow pounced upon her in the bracken alongside Quarry Lane. Her brother Jack had been trotting along beside her, and quite suddenly disappeared.

‘Now, Sukey, be quick. Another little game wi’ yer dad, eh?’ – the sickeningly familiar growl.

His hands were on her buttocks, pulling up her skirt. A wool pad and bandage were in place to absorb her flow, yet she could sense the great fleshy thing ready to thrust between her thighs; but this time she neither bent over in submission, nor let herself be thrown to the ground. Instead she straightened up and turned round to face him, eye to eye, for the first time.

‘Stop it! Oi won’t have ’ee, never again.’

After a moment’s glaring hesitation he lunged at her, grabbing at her gown; that was when she began to scream and hit out with both fists, so that he had to duck and dodge.

‘Hush up, Sukey, hush up, yer little fool,’ he muttered, and, seizing her round the waist, he put a hand over her open mouth. She sunk her teeth hard into it, and he yelped.

‘Damn ’ee, yer little cat, wha’s up wi’ ye? Shut yer mouth, can’t ’ee, else folks’ll hear!’

But now the rage and fury – and the bitter sorrow – pent up for four years burst forth in retribution, and Susan discovered a strength she had not known she possessed. She attacked him like a wild animal, kicking and punching, using her nails as claws and all the while spitting out a stream of defiance.

‘No! No! Stop, Oi won’t have ’ee, never! Stop, stop, Oi won’t have ’ee – Oi hates ’ee!’

It took him completely unawares.

‘Shut yer mouth, yer silly bitch – aaah! Keep yer noise down, will ’ee? Ouch! Damn ’ee!’

He put up his arms to shield himself, but she screamed and hit out all the more, raising her voice and planting a kick squarely into his hated male part. A howl of agony went up as he doubled over, clutching at himself and cursing while Susan turned and ran like the wind, away from the sight, the sound, the touch and the loathsome smell of him.

Never again, never again – and although she gasped and sobbed as she ran blindly on, she was conscious of a huge relief. For it had been an exhilarating experience, a striking back against what she had mutely endured for so long but had never in her heart accepted. It was over, finished, done!
She was free!

Just for a split second she saw Jack’s face above the bracken, his crossed eyes staring in two directions, his mouth agape. Then he disappeared. Susan could not guess what he might have seen, but knew he must have heard; only later did she realise that the boy had regularly stood guard as lookout.

When she reached Mill Lane, instead of following it towards Ash-Pit End, she turned up the steep track leading to the Bennetts’ farm. Her pace slackened but she stumbled on until she reached the house and continued round to the back yard. The kitchen door was open, and Susan leaned against it, panting and dishevelled. Her new-found strength seemed to drain from her, and she raised imploring eyes to the farmer’s wife, who stared at her in astonishment.

Sarah Bennett was having a trying time. In the middle of preparations for her daughter Sally’s wedding to a young country attorney, two maidservants had left to better themselves in Belhampton, and Bessie, her youngest, born after little Annie’s death, was down with the measles. The men would be coming in for their supper, and Thomas would roar if it wasn’t on the table. And now here was the Lucket girl with some dire message, by the look of it.

‘What is it, Susan? What’s happened?’ she demanded sharply.

‘Ha’ ye got a place f’r a maid, Mrs Bennett?’ begged Susan between gasps. ‘Oi’ll work f’r nothin’ but a crust o’ bread an’ sleep on the floor, only don’t send me away.’

In normal circumstances no Lucket would be allowed over the doorstep, but the girl looked ready to drop, and Sarah relented.

‘Go wash your face in the pail by the scullery, and then come and stir this pot, Susan. And keep out o’ the farmer’s way, or he’ll send you packing.’

Miss Marianne Bennett had appeared on Sophia’s doorstep in the summer dusk, wrapped in a hooded cloak.

‘I’ve got a note for you from poor Susan Lucket, Miss Glover,’ she said importantly, handing over a torn piece of paper. ‘My mother doesn’t know I’ve come, but Susan begged me. She’s in a bad way, Miss Glover,’ she added, lowering her voice and clearly enjoying every moment of her secret errand.

‘Merciful heaven, Marianne, what do you mean?’ cried Sophia in alarm, forgetting to ask the girl to sit down as she studied the scrawled message.

Dear Mis Glover pleas for Love of God take Poly who will be beat by Farther

I am at the Benets to be maid

Pleas safe her this night Susan Lucket

Sophia frowned and bit her lip. ‘Has your mother taken Susan in as a maidservant, Marianne?’ she asked.

‘Yes, today, only an hour or two ago, and Susan asked me to come to you straightway, Miss Glover,’ replied Marianne with a significant look. ‘There are terrible stories told o’ the Luckets, you know. They call the mother Mad Doll.’

She went on to give a fairly vivid account of Susan’s sudden appearance at the farmhouse, and Sophia realised that whatever the reason for Susan’s fear for her sister, there was no time to be lost.