The Hamiltons of Ballydown (18 page)

Sam picked up his fork and made an attempt to finish his champ. Through no fault of his own, he had lost the job he’d dreamt of since he was a little boy. Sarah could see his eyes glittering with moisture as he bent over his plate. The look on his face she’d never forget.

However concerned she might be for Sam, Rose knew an immediate visit to Banbridge was essential. While John was saddling up Dolly and backing her between the shafts of the trap, she had a word with Sarah and Hannah in the dairy.

‘Now, don’t exhaust yourselves trying to do everything that needs doing,’ she warned, as she saw them don aprons. ‘The most important thing is
the larder. It needs a good scrub before I get back. I don’t think they’ve had clean sheets for about a month and there’s a chamber pot somewhere. Don’t start scrubbing the kitchen floor. Just give it a sweep and we’ll do it a bit at a time, and don’t leave Sam on his own. Find him a job he can do sitting down. Poor love, I’ve never seen him so upset.’

‘Ma, is Jamie coming tomorrow?’ Hannah asked, as Rose collected her purse and shopping bags.

‘Well, I’d have thought so, given he couldn’t come this morning. Why, love?’

‘Oh, it’s just … I was thinking, if I’m off to Dublin next Saturday, I won’t see him for nearly a year if he doesn’t.’

‘Gracious, Hannah, you’re quite right. I think I’ve lost a weekend somewhere,’ she said, peering at the calendar over the sink. ‘Yes,
next
weekend is the
first
weekend in September. You leave London for Zurich the
second
weekend in September, but you’ve got to get to London first. What a good thing you reminded me.’

While Rose was reluctant to go shopping on her first afternoon at home, Dolly was quite delighted to be trotting along the main road on a fine, sunny afternoon. Already the lime trees were showing patches of pale yellow leaves, the chestnuts had hints of pink, and the mountain ashes were hung with clumps of red berries, bright as beads.

‘I didn’t tell Jamie about Hannah and Teddy,’
John said, turning to her as they bowled along. ‘I though she’d maybe like to tell him herself.’

‘So he doesn’t know she’s going away again?’ she said thoughtfully.

‘No, but he knows his brother’s in plaster an’ he hasn’t been to see him,’ he said, without taking his eyes off the road.

Rose sighed. Clearly, Jamie’s behaviour had not pleased his father while she’d been away, for almost everything John said about him was edged with sharpness. She could see he was still upset by Jamie’s failure to turn up at the quay this morning. It was, after all, only a few hundred yards from where he worked and a mere hour before his usual time.

‘Can we depend on him comin’ tomorrow, d’you think?’ John asked, when Rose explained about Hannah’s departure date.

‘No, I don’t think we can,’ she said slowly. ‘Maybe this was his Saturday morning off, the one he gets every two months or so. He might be away cycling with his friends over the weekend.’

‘Then he might very well have let me know,’ he retorted promptly. ‘I wrote last Sunday tellin’ him when ye’d be arrivin’ and suggestin’ where we’d meet, convenient for him. He had a whole week to drop me a line,’ he said, his tone aggrieved.

‘Would he get a telegram this late in the day if we sent it right away?’

‘Ach, I couldn’t rightly tell you. An’ sure if he’s
not at his lodgings we’d still be none the wiser.’

They drove on, turning over the problem Jamie’s silence had created for them.

‘There’s nothing for it,’ said John, as he swung the heavy shopping baskets up into the trap. ‘I may away up to Belfast meself an’ see what’s going on. Far better a couple of hours now than sittin’ wonderin’ tomorrow, is he or isn’t he comin’,’ he went on, seeing her troubled look. ‘Are ye sure ye’ll be all right with Dolly. She’s a bit fresh still.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Rose assured him, as he handed her the reins. ‘Bring him back with you if you can. Sam could do with a bit of company.’

‘Aye, I’ll do that. Mind yerself now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

She watched him stride away towards the station, turned Dolly in the busy street and wondered if it was really this morning she’d wakened up in a ship’s cabin, a stewardess offering her a cup of tea. It seemed now almost as far away as the beginning of the summer.

John was no more successful in meeting up with Jamie than Sam had been on the February evening when Rose had taken ill, but in broad daylight, on a pleasant, August day, he did succeed in gaining admission to the tall, red-brick house. The proprietoress, a dignified woman who prided herself on the superiority of her establishment, ushered him
into the young gentlemen’s empty parlour, but did not invite him to be seated.

She confirmed that young Mr Hamilton had been out late on the previous evening and had not appeared at breakfast. He had been at lunch, however, and had then set off with some of the other young gentlemen for a tea party, to be followed by supper and dancing. Naturally, she had not enquired where this entertainment was to be held, but one of her staff
had
mentioned Helen’s Bay, a favourite location for the senior management at Harlands.

She provided John with a pencil and a sheet of paper upon which to leave a message, after which she wished him good afternoon.

‘What exactly did you say in your note, John?’ Rose asked, next morning, as she rubbed rosemary over a shoulder of lamb.

‘Ach, I can’t exactly mind,’ he admitted, leaning against the wall of the dairy, watching her. ‘I said you were sorry not to see him yesterday and we’d be expecting him for dinner. Something like that. With yer woman standin’ over me as if I were goin’ to pinch the silver, I had the dickens own job to think what to put. But I’d say he’ll come.’

Jamie was angry his father’s note mentioned his failure to turn up at the docks. As he read it over and over again, what made him angrier still was what he took to be an order to come home the following day,
because his mother and sisters wanted to see him. He was so furious at this intrusion into his weekend plans, he considered ignoring the note altogether. But by the time he’d finished breakfast, he decided he’d have to go.

As every mile passed, he thought of the young managers he should have been meeting that afternoon at Waterside, the large, elegant home of his immediate superior. All he could think of was the wasted opportunity. He would be twenty-one in October, his apprenticeship complete. Now his whole attention was focused on the next critical step, Junior Manager. The warm sunshine of early autumn was lost on him as he strode out of the station, his resentment growing with every stride.

Rose was checking the table in the parlour when she heard footsteps on the garden path. She cast a final glance at the six places laid with the best china, the cutlery Sam had polished so devotedly and the small posy of flowers Hannah had made up from florets of delphinium. She paused, suddenly uneasy. Reverting to a habit out of the long past, she smoothed her skirt, as she’d done throughout all her years of service, whenever she went to answer a bell.

‘Jamie, how lovely to see you,’ she said, crossing the kitchen and embracing him warmly.

‘You’re looking well, Ma,’ he said, glancing round the room as she released him.

‘And so are you, Jamie. Very smart indeed,’ she said honestly.

Hannah was mending Sam’s working trousers, Sarah had just finished peeling and slicing the apples for the pudding. Sam had put down his newspaper. The first greetings over, all three observed their brother as he stood awkwardly by the kitchen table.

‘Where’s Da?’ he said casually, addressing his mother.

‘He’s just gone up to Rathdrum to see to Bess, he’ll be back shortly,’ she said, doing her best to make him feel easy. ‘Would you like some lemonade, Jamie, it must have been warm walking out from the station?’

‘No thanks, Ma, don’t bother. I’m used to it. I do a lot of walking.’

Rose collected up the prepared apples and felt acutely the unease his presence had produced all around her. Apart from the hellos, she’d half heard in the parlour, she hadn’t registered another exchange between the four young people.

Sarah stood up and wiped her hands on her apron.

‘Would you like to see the pictures we brought back from our visit?’

‘Oh yes. What a good idea’ he said, a hint of humouring in his tone.

Rose wiped and dried the kitchen table and Sarah collected her precious album from the
parlour and pulled up two chairs, side-by-side at the table. He sat down and nodded as she turned the pages, explained who the people were and where each of the pictures had been taken. Sam watched them, listening attentively. Having spent much of the previous afternoon studying the photographs for himself, he knew exactly what Sarah was describing. Hannah appeared completely absorbed in her mending, the pretty ring on her engagement finger occasionally catching the light.

Jamie said very little. ‘That’s good of Ma,’ he volunteered at one point. ‘So that’s Lady Anne, is it?’ he added later. But mostly Sarah had to be content with nods and grunts.

She didn’t tell him she’d taken the pictures herself and he showed no curiosity whatever about them. Only when they came to the last pages and he spotted the picture of Hannah and Teddy under the rose covered arch did he throw out a sudden sharp question.

‘So, who’s the boyfriend, Hannah?’ he said, looking across at her.

‘He’s not a boyfriend, Jamie,’ she answered quietly. ‘He’s my fiancé. We’ll be getting married next year when I come back from Switzerland,’ she added coolly, catching his eye for a brief moment.

‘Switzerland?’ he said, even more sharply. ‘What on earth are you going there for?’

‘You could call it job training, if you like,’ she
said steadily. ‘You’re learning to build ships, I’m going to learn how to run an establishment.’

‘You mean a finishing school, don’t you?’ he retorted, an ill-suppressed sneer in his tone.

‘If you like,’ she said easily.

‘Ach, hello Jamie,’ said John, as he strode into the kitchen and saw the two figures seated side by side at the table. ‘It’s great to see you,’ he added, as Jamie stood up and took his outstretched hand. ‘I hope we’re not puttin’ out yer plans for today,’ he went on agreeably, ‘but we’d a bit o’ news we thought we ought to celebrate.’

‘So I’ve just heard,’ said Jamie flatly, staring at Hannah, the tiny wink of diamonds catching his eye now he knew where to look.

Rose came in from the dairy with a pie dish in her hands. Hannah dropped her sewing to bend down and open the oven door for her. The smell of roasting lamb filled the kitchen.

‘Not long now, everyone. Are you all hungry?’ she asked, glad to see Sarah had managed to get Jamie to sit down.

She gave John a reassuring glance. Last night, in the privacy of their own bed, he’d admitted he never knew what to do to be right with young Jamie. He was doing his best now, but he wasn’t getting a great deal of help from Jamie.

As she went back to the dairy, she heard John ask about the production schedule on the
Oceanic
.
Whipping cream for the apple pie, she learnt that a launch date had been proposed for January ’99 by which time Jamie hoped to be a Junior Manager. There was another silence and then she heard Jamie asking Sam when he hoped to be back at work. She caught the sharp note in Sarah’s voice as she asked Jamie about compensation for injury in the shipyards. At least twelve men a year died in accidents and dozens were injured, particularly by falling rivets, she said. But Jamie didn’t appear to know anything about such matters.

It was a relief to everyone when Rose called them to the table and she and Hannah set about serving the sizzling roast with a rich gravy and fresh vegetables from the garden.

‘Nothin’ like your mother’s good home cookin’, eh, Jamie?’ said John pleasantly, as he observed how quickly he cleared his plate.

‘No, not on an apprentice’s wage,’ he said, coolly.

‘Well, you won’t be on that for much longer, will you, love?’ Rose offered, aware of John’s uneasy movement by her side.

‘No, thank goodness. It’s only two months now till I’m twenty-one.’

‘And a year and five months till
your
ship is launched,’ said Sarah abruptly.

‘All being well,’ he replied dubiously. ‘Assuming your friend Lord Ashley and his like don’t manage to sell us out to Dublin with another Home Rule
Bill. If he does, I can tell you it’ll be the end of the yards in Belfast. Harlands looked for space on the Mersey the last time there was one and they’d do the same again. But what would he care if ten thousand loyal Protestants lost their jobs?’

There was a moment’s stunned silence.

‘And what about the five hundred Catholics that do most of the dirty work?’ Sarah demanded promptly.

‘That’s their look out,’ he said turning and facing her. ‘Ulster is Protestant and we don’t need idle Catholics to take up jobs when we could find better men to do them.’

‘Are you suggestin’ Jamie,’ said John slowly and carefully, ‘that a Catholic worker is not the equal of a Protestant?’

‘Yes, I am,’ he replied quickly. ‘There’s nothing but trouble with the Catholics in the yard. We’d be far better off without them.’

‘Do you not think some of the trouble might arise from the way they’re treated?’ demanded Sarah, turning in her seat to stare at him.

Rose looked across the table and saw the determined look on Jamie’s face. If he’d set out deliberately to provoke his father he couldn’t have made a better start. She moved her knee cautiously to touch John’s, hoping a gentle reminder of her presence would steady him.

‘Is that what they teach you in the Lodge, Jamie?’
said Sam in a conversational tone as he finished up the last morsel on his plate.

Rose and John stared at Sam in amazement.

‘Lodge?’ Rose repeated incredulously. ‘Have
you
joined a Lodge, Jamie?’ she asked, looking at him directly.

‘Yes, I have,’ he replied firmly. ‘The Orange Order is the only organisation with any sense. They see the way the wind’s blowing. If we loyal Protestants don’t look out for ourselves, you’ll have a bunch of Catholic farmers in power in Dublin with no knowledge of industry and no interest in anything but their own problems,’ he went on, addressing himself to John and Sam and pointedly ignoring everyone else.