A Dinner Of Herbs (50 page)

would have

got somebody better than Harry Baker for his ugly duckling.

It was common knowledge why Harry was taking her: he had his eye open to the main

chance, had

Harry; although the lass wasn’t Roystan’s own, it was known he was very fond of her,

and would see her

all right. And that meant Harry would be all right, for his father would neither work nor want, and Harry

himself wasn’t all that eager; if he could take the easy way out, he did. And that’s what he was doing by

marrying Roystan’s big ‘un. And by! she was a big piece, and as plain as they came. She was credited

with having a nice enough nature, but it wasn’t the nature you looked across the table at in the long years

of marriage, it was a face, and the nicest nature in the world couldn’t do much to improve what God had

given you. So it was said. And Kate Roystan having inherited the sensibility of her

mother wasn’t

unaware of the gossip and chatter that her forthcoming marriage had evoked. And now, in a room at the

end of the long corridor which had been added to the house a few years back, she looked about her at

the familiar and loved objects she had grown up with, and she opened her mouth wide in order to take in

a great gasp of air in an endeavour to settle the turmoil that was churning up her stomach.

Slowly she

began to undress, and when she was in her nightgown she went to the seat that was

placed before the

mahogany dressing—table that stood crosswise in the corner of the room, and she sat

down so sharply

on the seat that the springs creaked. Then pushing towards the mirror a china tray that held some

trinkets, she put her forearms on the polished wood and laid her head on them.

Should she do it?

She was sick of the sound of these words in her mind. She had got this far so she must do it. That’s if

she wanted a family so badly. And how other would she ever be able to have a family?

This was the

one and only chance that would ever come her way. She had faced up to that. As also she had faced up

to the reason why Harry Baker had chosen her.

More rightly it could be said he had chosen

her father, or the man she thought of as her father, and the prosperity that was his.

She raised her head, at the same time pulling towards her the candle-stick that was

standing near the end

of the dressing-table, and now, leaning her face closer towards the mirror, she asked

another question of

it, one she had asked again and again over the years but had never received an answer: Why did she

look like this? She recalled the day she first asked herself this question through this mirror. She had

never really seen herself till then. But her father had been to a sale in a big house on the outskirts of

Haydon Bridge, and there had bought two full bedroom suites, both solid mahogany, and

one had a full

length mirror. She was fifteen at the time and she had looked at herself from head to foot.

It had been in

broad daylight and the sun was on her, and moving ever closer to the mirror she had

picked out her

features one by one. Why should her mouth be so wide and full-lipped when her sister

Maggie’s was

like a rosebud? Why was her nose so big, bigger than those of the twins? Why was her

hair straight

with no kink in it, not like Maggie’s soft waves, and Florrie’s that was all curls? Why was her skin

blotchy?

She had asked this particular question of her mother before. Because she drank too much cream, and

that all young people had blotchy skins, had been the answer. From that day she had

never touched

cream, and she still disliked it, and yet her skin now, if not blotchy, had a thick texture.

When she reached her eyes, she knew they were all right. Her father had said she had

beautiful eyes

and a nice voice, but she knew she would gladly exchange these two attributes to look

like Maggie or

Florrie.

Peg had once said to her, “You’ve got what none of the rest of us have, Kate, that’s a sort of—’ She

had stopped and fumbled for a word, then said, “ Appeal,” and went on to say, “ Perhaps character

would be a better word. People listen to you when you talk, they never do to me. “ Dear Peg. Sweet

Peg. She had loved Peg. The house had never

been the same since Peg and Walter had gone.

Tonight at the table she had thought, and with sadness, that her going was the reason for the first jolly

meal they had had in years. There had been times when the table had witnessed the most uproarious

meals, for her father didn’t believe in ‘speak when you’re spoken to’;

instead he encouraged them all to talk. But tonight they had given her a grand send-off, for it was the

last meal she would share with them.

Oh, there’d be the wedding feast, and that would be a feast indeed, for her mother and the girls had

worked like Trojans for the past week, baking and decorating meats and pies. and the

cake. It was a

sight to behold, white, no colour at all, virgin white.

The thought brought her to her feet and she stood for a moment, her arms folded about

her as if hugging

herself. There was one thing to be thankful for, she had no need to be ashamed of her

body. It was big

but it was well formed and firm. But what did that matter after all?

Your body was always wrapped up from your toes to your neck. It never saw the light of day, except

with one person. The thought brought her head to the side and her teeth clenching. She didn’t know

how she was going to stand that. It wasn’t that she wasn’t fond of Harry and grateful to him, but that

wasn’t love: it wasn’t the thing that existed between her mother and father, the thing that they couldn’t

hide whenever they looked at each other, the thing that had brought nine children into the world.

No, no she swung round now and walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it, her big firm hands

pressing her nightgown down between her knees children could come without love. OK

yes, yes. You

had only to look round the cottages swarming with hairns. It didn’t seem to matter if they died young,

there were always more to take their places, and while the women mourned, the men had

a solace, they

could drink themselves silly and probably get rid of their frustration afterwards in

brawling. Oh yes^ it

didn’t need love to bring a child into the world. So she could be sure of one thing, she would have a

family; and another thing, she’d make Harry work in order to get a decent farm.

And from the beginning she would tell him that they weren’t going to rely on her father’s kindness. No

doubt that would shock him, for she knew he had been receiving liberally of late.

In a few minutes time her mother and the girls would be coming in for a last chat. And that, she didn’t

think she could stand without breaking down. There must be no more talk from now on;

from now on

words would only induce tears and through tears her true feelings might be brought to the surface.

Quickly she got up from the bed and extinguished the candle; then getting between the

sheets, she turned

on her side and buried her face in the pillow, and as she had done as a child she put the end of her thumb

in her mouth and began biting on it.

At the other end of the corridor Mary Ellen climbed into the big four-poster and laid her head on the arm

that was waiting for her, and Hal said, “Now stop worrying;

everything’s going to be all right. As you said yourself, it’s her only chance. The only thing I wish is, it

was somebody different who was giving it to her. But still, she seems to get on with him.

“

“She doesn’t, else she would be willing to talk; she pretended to be asleep. And ... and Hal, I hope you

realize you’ll have him on your back for a long time.”

“Oh, no, I won’t.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I gave it to him plain this afternoon when I gave him....”

“What did you give him?”

“Oh. A few bob to get him set up.”

“You’ve been settin’ him up for months now. What did you give him?”

“Well, I gave him a hundred pounds.”

“A hundred pounds!”

“Aye, yes, and keep your voice down, I gave him a

hundred pounds. But I told him that was the last and he had to build on that, and it was a damn sight

more than I ever had to build on. “

She did not remind him: “You’re wrong there, my dear. Don’t forget you built on the two hundred odd

guineas stolen money that I found.” The few pounds he had got from the mill company

for the loss of his

father and the stigma he had endured for years would have hardly started him keeping

chickens. But no,

he liked to think he started from scratch.

And after all perhaps he had, because he had always been of a determined nature. Even as a young lad,

during the years they had fought like cat and dog, he seemed to have one purpose in mind and that was

to show them, which meant, getting on.

“I wouldn’t have given him anything like that until after the morrow,” she said.

“Don’t worry, everything will go all right. Anyway’—his voice rose ‘we are talkin’ as if he was doing us

a bloody favour. In getting her, he’s damned lucky. Now I’m telling you. If the fellows around here had

had any sense at all, she would have been snapped up long afore this.

I’m going to say this to you, Mary Ellen’—his voice dropped now “I’ve never said it

afore, but it’s just

this, and it’s a funny thing for me to say, but she’s worth more to me than all me own.

Aye, I suppose it

was because how she came into the world. I was the first to hold her. I was the first to feed her. I was

the first to wipe her clean. So she’s always meant a lot to me, has Kate, and always will.”

“Oh, Hal, Hal.” Her arms were around him and they were pressed close together.

“My dear, dear, Hal. I love you, as much now as the day when I first said it.”

“Well’—his voice was gentle now ‘that’s all I want to hear, lass, ever in me life.... Ever in me life.”

She stood in the middle of the room dressed in a gown of white satin which brought out the curves in the

figure as never before. Her long straight hair was wound in tight coils above the ears. She stood

perfectly still while Maggie lifted up the short veil and placed it on her head, saying,

“Nobody’ll have seen

headgear like this afore in the church; it’s what the grand ladies wear. Bend your head so I can stick the

pins in, you don’t want it to fly off. But listen to that wind, we could all fly off the day.”

Florrie, standing in front of Kate, said quietly, “Oh, you look bonny, Kate.”

“Don’t.” The word was sharp and held a touch of bitterness, and before Florrie could

make any further

comment, Maggie moved to her side and, pushing the half veil back on to the front of

Kate’s head, said

somewhat begrudgingly, “Well, you do, the day. And neither of us has got a figure like yours so just

think on that. Here’s me like a yard of pipe water; when I look at me bust I envy the

cows.”

At this Florrie nearly choked, and Kate, giving a shaky laugh, said, “I’m sorry. I’m ... I’m all worked

up, and nervous.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be on their wedding day. If ever I get married I think they’ll have to carry me there

on a door. And now you’ve set the ball rolling, it mightn’t be all that long before that happens.”

Maggie nodded towards Florrie and she, chuckling, said, “Which one of them will be the unlucky

fellow? Or will you get them all to the church and take your pick?”

“Aw, you.” Maggie laughingly pushed her younger sister to the side, and as she did so

the door opened

and Mary Ellen entered the room. She was dressed in a wine-coloured corduroy suit with a small

matching hat and over her arm she carried a white lace shawl.

“Aren’t you two ready yet?” She looked from one to the other of the girls, and Maggie, who definitely

had inherited her mother’s ready tongue, replied, “We’ve only got our bonnets to put on.

But we

couldn’t afford two hours titivating ourselves like somebody we know.”

She glanced at Florrie, laughter in her eyes, and Florrie, going up to her mother said,

“You look lovely,

Mam, and that colour suits you. I knew it would when I saw it in the shop.”

“Well, I’ve had me doubts, ‘cos I don’t hold with shop-bought things.

Go on, get yourselves off, both of you. “

They were about to scurry away when Florrie turned and, going back to Kate, she kissed her warmly

while muttering, “Be happy, Kate. Be happy.”

When the door had closed on them, Mary Ellen went to her daughter and there was a

tremor in her

voice as she asked, “Ready?”

“Yes, Mam, as much as ever I’ll be.”

“You’ll be all right, you’ll be all right.” Simultaneously their arms went out and they held each other for a

moment; then Mary Ellen, pressing herself away and aiming to be matter of fact, said,

“I’m crushing your

frock. And look at the shawl,” moving now behind her daughter and shaking out the very fine white lace

shawl that she had spent many months making. She placed it round Kate’s shoulders and

as she did so

she closed her eyes tightly and bit on her lower lip to stop the tears flowing. Then without once more

looking at Kate she held out her hand, saying huskily, “Come, they’re all waitin’.”