Children of the Tide (22 page)

‘You have a lover, yes?’ Madame Sinclair put her head to one side. ‘I should have known.’

‘Oh no! No, not at all – my cousin – Sammi.’

‘Sammi? A boy, yes?’

‘No. Not a boy. She’s called Sarah Maria, really. Only everyone calls her Sammi. Everybody loves her, including me. She’s my best friend. But my lover! No. Not Sammi!’

The very notion that Madame Sinclair assumed he would have a lover astonished him.
But I recognize that foreigners have a different view of things, especially Italians.
They are not hide-bound by convention as the English are with their prudish upbringing. They are warm-blooded and emotional. And I shall
, he determined,
throw aside all my preconceived judgements and beliefs. From now on I shall dare to say what I feel, and do what feels right!

‘Madame!’ His voice became husky as a question trembled on his lips. ‘I know that the request that I am about to ask may be a terrible imposition. But, but – would you sit for me? It is not considered derogatory for ladies to do so,’ he added hastily, mindful of the lecture he had been given by Miss Gregory, and despite his new-found liberation. ‘It is quite a proper thing to do.’

A smile flickered over her lips. ‘Yes, James, I am aware of that. Do you wish me to sit naked?’

James was dumbstruck. He shook his head.

‘For I could not do that.’ Her eyes looked into his. ‘My husband – you understand?’

‘Of course,’ he croaked. ‘I had forgotten!’

That night he lay on his bed in his basement room and through the uncurtained window looked up at the steps leading to the street, and thought of how, one day, he would paint Madame Mariabella Sinclair, if ever she would allow him. He would paint her in her conservatory with the pale and dark green foliage surrounding her, and a veil of transparent tulle draped around her.

‘Mariabella.’ He rolled the name around his tongue. ‘Mariabella! My beautiful Mary.’

‘So how much is all this going to cost me? I’m not made of brass!’

‘Oh, rubbish, Thomas. You haven’t spent anything on this place in years.’

Ellen stood her ground. She was half-way to winning. Thomas was the most generous of men, but it just didn’t occur to him that life could be made more pleasant with just a little effort and a minor investment of capital. ‘Think how much satisfaction Betsy would have with a new cooking range and a separate room for bathing. And you and the boys wouldn’t have to bathe under the pump or fetch water in if it was piped inside.’

‘Tha’ll have me going soft in my old age, being pampered.’ He glowered at her from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘Go on then – how much?’

‘An extension to the kitchen and another room above, a bathroom and a new kitchen range – how much do you think?’ she hedged.

‘Good heavens! You’ll have me bankrupt, woman!’ He hesitated, then said firmly, ‘I’ll not spend more’n a thousand.’

‘A thousand pounds!’ She had hoped for only half that amount. If he was willing to spend that much, then they could even build on another small room for a maid, and buy some more furnishings.

‘A thousand! Well, all right. I’ll make it eleven hundred, and not a penny more! There’ll be nowt left to bury me when I dee.’

‘Your sons and daughter might as well enjoy the benefits now, Thomas, as spend it on your funeral.
But don’t worry,’ she added with a wry twist of her lips, ‘when you die, I assure you we’ll not leave your bones on top.’

Betsy was overjoyed to hear that they were to have a proper bathroom, and although the water would still have to be carried upstairs, the water would be hot from the kitchen range; they wouldn’t have to boil kettles and pans when they wanted a bath.

‘And we’ll see if we can persuade your father to have a live-in maid. Someone young and lively; but you must train her properly,’ Ellen added, ‘or I will.’

Betsy looked downcast. ‘There’s no-one in the village that I would want to ask. Most of the young girls have gone into service in Hull. There’s only the older women, and they wouldn’t live in, and anyway, they don’t listen to what I say, but do things the way they want to.’

Poor Betsy
, Ellen thought.
She just muddles through
. She felt a pang of guilt.
I could have done more, but would I have done better? My own daughter is rebelling against my advice
. ‘We’ll find someone, Betsy,’ she persuaded. ‘We’ll find someone that you like, someone who’ll be glad to come to this fine place, once you’ve got a bigger kitchen and a new range, and we’ve put on a lick or two of fresh paint.’

Betsy got up and gave her a kiss. ‘Thank you, Aunt Ellen. I’m so grateful.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘Now all I want is a new dress for Gilbert’s wedding. Do you think we can squeeze a little more money out of Da?’

Ellen smiled. ‘Go out to the trap and fetch me in the parcel that’s on the seat. When I went into Hull last, I went shopping at the draper’s. I bought a rose silk for you and a pale green silk for Sammi. It’s a present. Go on, go and fetch it in.

‘Will you come home?’ she asked Sammi when Betsy was out of the room. ‘We want you to come back so that we can discuss the child. Things are not what they seem, Sammi – and people will be talking.’

Sammi set her mouth stubbornly, then relented, her mother looked unhappy. ‘Soon, Mama. I have something in mind,’ she said before Betsy burst back into the room with the parcel.

They spent the next hour choosing the designs they would like, for Ellen had also brought a catalogue of the latest fashions. Betsy finally decided on a wide crinoline with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a contrasting darker rose basque and overskirt in muslin. On her head she would wear a small toque with a rose in the centre.

‘I can’t decide. I can’t decide,’ Sammi wailed. ‘Oh, which shall I have?’

‘This!’ said her mother. ‘This would suit you perfectly.’

The design was of a simple crinoline and over it, a lace mantle with a matching cape and full sleeves.

‘Yes,’ Betsy agreed. ‘And a spoon bonnet in the same green silk and an insert of the lace to frame your face and hair. Oh,’ she clasped her hands together, ‘I just can’t wait.’

And I am dreading the day
, Ellen thought.
Gilbert will be too embarrassed to speak to me, afraid I will give him away, and Mildred has completely closed up and won’t even discuss the child or James
.

Later, after supper, Uncle Thomas said that he wouldn’t go to the wedding; someone had to stay at home to work the sails, and George said that he hadn’t a mind to go either. ‘I’m not one for weddings and such-like fancy parties,’ he said. ‘So I’ll stay behind with Da.’

‘You’re just like Richard,’ Sammi complained. ‘He’s made the excuse that one of the cows will be ready to calf.’

‘Well, count me out.’ Mark had come in in the middle of the discussion. ‘I don’t fancy hobnobbing with all them toffs.’

‘But someone will have to escort Sammi and me,’ Betsy wailed. ‘Uncle William has ordered a chaise
because there won’t be room for all of us in theirs, not without crushing our gowns.’

‘Riding in a carriage now, are we?’ Mark mocked. ‘Not content with having ’house pulled apart, eh? By – folk’s ’ll think Fosters are made of brass!’

Tom remained silent, though he glanced at Sammi and then at his father.

‘Tha’ll be willing to go, Tom? We can’t disappoint Betsy and Sammi,’ his father asked. ‘If not, then I shall. I’ll not have ’young ladies going alone.’

‘No, I’ll go, Da,’ he said quietly, ‘I don’t mind.’

Sammi smiled across at him, she had been hoping that it would be Tom who would accompany them. He was much better company than Mark, who was such a cross-patch, though Tom had been rather quiet lately, not at all his usual self, and she wondered why, when she had smiled her gratitude, he turned away and didn’t give her an answering smile.

Betsy crept from her bed at five o’clock, tiptoed downstairs and out of the door. She slipped through the hedge and onto the path. Luke was there again as he’d said he would be; he took her hand and they sped towards the copse.

She had returned to him the last time as he had asked her to, and she’d realized that, even without the threat of exposure which she only half believed he meant, she would still have wanted to come to him. Their love-making, as he had so tenderly reassured her, was not painful at all, and though she had cried, it wasn’t with pain, but because her body had throbbed so much with wanting him so badly.

This morning the sky was overcast and as she lay with her head cradled beneath his arm, their desire fulfilled, they felt a few drops of rain pattering through the trees and she whispered that she had to go.

‘Not yet, Betsy.’ He gazed at her with sensual demanding eyes. ‘Not yet.’ He ran his big hands over
her smooth bare legs. ‘Don’t go. Wait a few more minutes. Please.’ He groaned and pulled her towards him, his strong legs around her hips. ‘Betsy Foster, I hadn’t planned for this. You’re driving me crazy.’

Sammi lay awake, staring at the empty bed. Betsy had gone again and there was only one reason why she would go out of the house at this early hour. Luke Reedbarrow.
I can do nothing
, she fretted.
I cannot advise her of her foolishness, for it is probably too late for that, and if I tell Tom or Uncle Thomas, then I lose Betsy’s trust and friendship. And I couldn’t, anyway. I would be too embarrassed to speak of it, especially to Tom, for he doesn’t seem to have the same regard for me as he once had
. She wept a few tears, for Betsy and the trouble she might bring, for Tom who seemed always to avoid her, for James who, apart from a brief note to say he was going to London, still hadn’t written to ask about Adam or send her money for him, and a few tears of self-pity.

I’ll speak to Mrs Bishop today and put forward my proposition, and then after Gilbert’s wedding I think I shall go home. It will appease Mama and Pa, and Betsy will probably prefer it now she has Luke to think about
. She looked up at the window and saw a few drops of rain spattering down the glass.
She’ll be back soon
, she thought drowsily,
now that it’s raining
. She snuggled down between the sheets.
Well, you can make your own excuses this time, Betsy Foster, if anyone should catch you. I’m going back to sleep
.

Mark heard the sound of the rain on the window and thought of the barn where the carts and harnesses were kept and where, on a higher level, fodder and grain were stored. He looked across at George who shared the room, fast asleep and gently snoring. ‘Damn it,’ he breathed, ‘I’d better get up. If those tiles have slipped again the rain will pour in.’

He pulled on a shirt and pair of breeches and went downstairs. The outside door was unlocked and he
frowned. Who was last to bed? It was Da, and he never forgot. He wondered if Tom had heard the rain, too, and had gone out to check the barn roof, but the door to Tom’s room had been firmly closed as usual, and he would surely have left it open had he come out, in case of waking anyone? Dismissing the query, he ran across the yard towards the barn. The rain wasn’t heavy, though the sky was grey with the promise of more, and going inside the building he looked up and saw daylight seeping through the roof. He got out a ladder and propped it up against the wall, put the roof ladder over his shoulder and, climbing up, he placed it on the roof and climbed up to the ridge.

Two tiles had slipped at the top of the roof, so he sat astride the ridge and leaned across and pushed them back into position, noting as he did so that the nails had perished.
I’ll have to come back up when ’rain has stopped and put in some new nails
, he decided.
That should fix them
.

He looked around before he prepared to climb down. He couldn’t see the sea today. Sea and sky merged together in a dank grey mist which obliterated the horizon and hovered over the farmland of Monkston, dispersing into drifting vaporous strands over Tillington. He turned to look the other way across the fields: the corn was ripening nicely, this drop of rain wouldn’t do any harm. ’
Farmers’ll have a good crop, though I expect they’ll grumble as usual, and we’ll have our noses to ’grindstone
.

He stopped his ruminating. Someone – two people – were coming down the path from the copse. He narrowed his eyes. Luke Reedbarrow, his huge frame was unmistakable, and a girl with him, tucked almost under his arm.
Randy beggar, I can guess where he’s been! But what lass would meet him at this time of ’morning?

He drew in a sharp breath. Betsy! Not Betsy! Anger consumed him as they drew nearer, oblivious of him, so absorbed were they in each other. His breath
hissed between his teeth as he saw them stop, and Luke bent his head to kiss her and ran wandering hands across her breasts and around her hips and buttocks.

He slid down the roof ladder and left it there and ran down the other ladder to the ground. ‘I’ll show her, little bitch,’ he seethed as he ran across the yard to the house. He went inside and locked the door and bolted it and stood waiting inside.

She lifted the sneck, rattling it gently when it wouldn’t open. He heard the soft thump as she put her shoulder to it and heard with malevolent satisfaction the hiss of rain as it came down faster. Gently he eased back the bolt and turned the key and as she once more put her weight behind the door, he opened it and she fell into the threshold.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded. ‘Did you lock the door?’

‘What do I think
I’m
doing? More like what have
you
been doing? As if anybody couldn’t guess. Just look at thee, tha dirty little whore.’

She caught her breath and as she jumped to her feet she lashed out at him, hitting him across the face. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that. What right have you to say such things to your own sister?’

‘Sister!’ He clenched his fist as if to return the blow. ‘It’s no sister of mine who goes out at this hour to meet some village lecher. I saw thee – like last time, on ’footpath.’

Betsy’s face blanched. ‘Luke’s no lecher. I love him.’

‘Love him!’ Mark sneered. ‘Half of lasses in ’village love him. Tha doesn’t think he’ll ask thee to marry him?’