the maltese angel (13 page)

little wife the more I understand your situation."

The leather apron around his stomach now began to wobble, and he bent his head and rubbed his sweat- covered face with his blackened hand as he muttered, "You should have heard my missis the other night when I was talking about your young lass. And you know what I said? I said, we all had regrets in life, and it was a pity that I hadn't clapped eyes on that dainty piece before Ward had, because he wouldn't have had a look in. And do you know what? She brought her hand across me

ear;

and her hand's not delicate, it's a mitt, I can tell you. "

Ward did not smile. At this moment he couldn't appreciate his friend's trend, which was an effort to lighten his humour, so that when he

turned slowly and went towards the open door of the forge, Charlie said, "Where you off to?"

And Ward's reply was short: "To both of them: The Hare and The Head; and I won't be drinking in either. But I'll tell Sam Longstaffe of The Hare and Michael Holden of The Head in no small voice so that their customers can hear me, that I'll not rest until I find out who did this. " He now shook the trap that was hanging from his hand.

"Then God help them." And with this, he walked down the street in the direction of the two inns.

In bed that night, holding Fanny in his arms, he said to her, "Don't go walking round the fields by yourself. Do you hear me? And don't go into the village again, unless Annie goes with you."

"But Ward, my dear, that won't happen again ... I mean what's happened today."

"No, it mightn't happen again; and yet it might. But other things could happen; and don't say " Why? " just do as I ask. Do you hear?"

"Yes, Ward, I hear."

"I love you."

"And I love you, too. Ward, so very much."

The weeks wore on; the months wore on; the weather remained

favourable, the crops were good; the prices in the market were

moderate, but healthy enough to allow Ward to make improvements. Not only did he have the yard stone-paved from the open barn right to the yard gates but he had the house painted and, what was more, he didn't engage Arthur Wilberforce, cousin to the verger, but a Mr. Percy

Connor, painter and decorator, who had a business in Fellburn. The village didn't like this at all: even his friends felt he was going too far, because everybody knew the village tried to be self-sufficient, and likes and dislikes were forgotten when they touched on a man's livelihood; even the gentry round about rarely went farther afield than the village for either victuals or inside and outside work. As Hannah Beaton confided to one of her customers, "That little dancer up there has wrought havoc in this place."

As for the little dancer herself, she no longer felt little:

she was carrying inside her a weight that grew heavier each day. She was almost on her time. Annie told her she had carried well: she

hadn't been sick at all, and she had been blithe in herself, which wasn't always the way with the first one.

It was now nearing the end of August. During the months past they'd harvested two crops of hay; and now they were stocking the last of the corn. Ward, Billy and the boy had been working from early morning, and during the day Annie and Fanny had brought out three meals to them; and to eat the last one they had not sat propped up against the hay cart, or seated in the shadow of the hedge. Instead, Fanny had laid a check cloth on the stubble, and they had all sat round and drunk of the cool beer and ate shives of bread and cheese and veal pie, and a great deal of laughter had ensued, mainly over Annie's chatter.

However, as soon as the meal was over, Ward and Billy rose and were away to resume work; but Carl, his mouth still wide with laughter, continued to stare at Annie, and she shouted at him, "Don't you laugh at me, young man, else I'll come over there and skite the hunger off you," and at this, Carl, still laughing, enquired, "What does that mean, Mrs. Annie, skite the hunger off you?"

Annie paused before replying, "Well, I don't really know, lad. Me mother used to use it. I suppose it's sort of saying, " look out or I'll box your ears"." Then she cried, "Mind where you're going!" and thrust out her hand as Fanny stumbled a little on the rough ground and, grabbing the basket from her, she said, "Give me that here!

You've got enough to carry with that lump of yours. Have you been

having any pains? "

"Not pains exactly, no; just a feeling."

"Well, from what I gather, you've got another week to go. But then I might have gathered wrong."

"Oh, I'll go another week. I mean to' she nodded at Annie 'because I'd love Mr. and Mrs. Killjoy to be here ... You won't mind them staying for a few days, will you, Annie?"

"Oh, my goodness me! girl," and Annie let out a long slow breath.

"It isn't my house. I've told you afore, you've got to know your place, like I know mine. You can have who you like: the old Queen if you like, or that juggler friend of yours and his pal; you can do what you like in your own .."

"Annie, I know, I know; I am well aware of that, but I hold you in such regard that I don't want to put on you with more work, or displease you."

They had now reached the yard and Annie walked on without answering.

She pushed the door open so that her mistress could precede her through the boot room

and into the kitchen; and there, dropping the basket of crockery on to the table, she bent over it before she said, "You know, sometimes, ma'am, I think you're too good to be true, and it's just as well I am who I am else you'd be taken advantage of up to the hilt."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't Annie! I'm not as simple as it might appear."

"Oh, ma'am; there's nothing simple about you. Funny thing is, you've got a head on your shoulders; but you get too soft about people, you could be taken in."

"Annie."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I am now going to say to you what I have heard my husband say so often in his way of appreciation ... Shut up!"

She now lumbered round the table and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Annie biting on her lip to stop herself from laughing; but as she saw the door close on her mistress, she said to herself, "Just think what this house would have been like if he had taken that big hulk. Dear God in heaven! I should go on me knees and thank God for big mercies, not little ones."

She was on the point of scooping up the dishes from the table to take them to the sink when she heard her name being called, but in a way she hadn't heard before, for this time it was in the nature of a cry.

Within seconds she was in the hall, there to see Fanny clinging to the stanchion of the parlour door.

"Lord above!" Annie almost carried the bent form towards the couch, and there she exclaimed, "It's coming?"

Lying back, and her eyes closed. Fanny made a slight movement with her head as she muttered, "Bad pain."

"Lordy!" Annie straightened up, looked about the room as if waiting to be directed what to do, then said, "Not a soul in the yard. Now, do I go for them? or do I get you upstairs?"

The answer came from Fanny who, sitting forward, said, "It's eased off; but if you would help me upstairs, and then ... get Ward."

"Yes. Yes, that's the best thing. Come on now."

A few minutes later, in the middle of undressing, Fanny was again

brought double with pain; and with this, Annie exclaimed, "You're not going to wait for Mrs. Killjoy then?"

The spasm passed, and Fanny breathing heavily muttered, "Go and get Ward, please Annie ... now."

And to this Annie replied, "I think it's Billy who's more necessary than your lord and master at this minute, lass. He'll have to get the midwife an Doctor Wheatley, that's if the old sod's sober enough, yet I hope he isn't, so the young 'un can come. Will you be all right?"

"I'll be all right." Left alone. Fanny finished her undressing and climbed into bed; and there, lying back amidst the pillows, she closed her eyes, and now, as if appealing to an unseen but present force, she said, "Help me through this and bring my child into life," then lay quiet.

Presently she nodded her head twice and, as if in reply to a

suggestion, she let her body sink into the depths of the feather

tick.

"It isn't seemly; you can't go in."

"Seemly be damned I could do something. It's gone on too long."

"You're not talking about a cow. What d'you think you could do? Put your arm in up to the elbow? I tell you it'll come in its own time, as Doctor Wheatley said."

"Doctor Wheatley. Where is he now? He should be back here."

"Master Ward' Annie put out her hand and rested it on Ward's shoulder "

I know how you feel. It seems it's always the same with the first, the man gives birth an' all;

but it eases off with the second and third and fourth .. at least so they tell me. "

He stared down into her face, then muttered, "Oh! Annie, I'm

frightened. It's been going on since seven last night; now it's

half-past two in the morning. And ... and she's not the heifer type, is she?"

"No. No, she's not, lad. But it's amazing how calm she keeps in between times. But you go on downstairs and get Billy to make another pot of tea."

"It's no time since the last."

"I know. I know. But it's hot work in there; and Kate must have lost a couple of pounds already in sweat, I should think." She made an attempt at smiling as she pushed him away.

When he entered the kitchen he realised, by the way he pulled himself to his feet, that Billy had been nodding in the chair; but even so the question he would ask of Ward was plain enough in his eyes, and for answer Ward shook his head; it was the boy, who had been sitting on the low crack et at the other side of the fireplace, his arm around Pip, the poodle Mrs. Killjoy had brought as a present for Fanny, who

spoke.

"I ... I rubbed Delia's stomach. I kept rubbing it and she stopped whingeing," he said.

Both men now looked at the boy, and it was Billy who said, "What d'you mean, you kept rubbin' her stomach? She must have had it in the middle of the night, around two o'clock?"

Carl hung his head now, saying, "Aye, I know. But... but Delia ... she knows me. " He now glanced at Ward.

"And so ... and so I came down and sat with her."

Three days previously, one of the cows had calved somewhat before its time. She hadn't been too well and they had been dosing her. She had been placed in the rest box, as they called the section that was railed off at the end of the byre.

The two men exchanged glances, but it was Billy who said, "No wonder you were dozy an' asleep on your feet tother day. The beasts know what to do without your help, young man." But the chastising words did not carry any harshness, rather a note of kindness and understanding. Ward now walked slowly to the window through which the moonlight was

streaming.

It was like daylight outside. A wind was blowing and he could see

wisps of straw being lifted here and there as if they were dancing .

Dancing. He drew his lower lip tightly between his teeth. If anything happened to her he would go mad. Yes; surely he would. He wanted a child, but not at her expense. Last night, while holding her as the pains increased, he had thought, I shall soon have a son, and he had felt elated. But no longer.

He turned towards the boy. The dog was making that thin whining sound as he strained from the boy's arms to go towards the door. That dog loved her. It had never willingly left her side since the day it had arrived. And that boy loved her, too. And he was a good boy; a boy who would stay up half the night to comfort an animal was a good boy.

He could hope if he did have a son he would grow up like this

youngster.

There he was again: it didn't matter whether it was a son or a

daughter; the only thing that mattered was that she should come through this alive.

He turned from the window, remembering why he had come downstairs, and said to Billy, "They want more tea up there."

Almost before he had finished speaking Annie's voice came to them from a distance, and at the sound they all three dashed to the kitchen door and into the lamplit hall, to come to a stop at the foot of the stairs and look up to Annie who was shouting down to them, "It's come! the hairn. It's a girl."

There was a split second of disappointment before Ward leapt to the stairs, only to be checked by Annie's strong arms and her saying, "Now look! Hold your hand a minute. Hold your hand. You can't go in there yet. She's in a bit of a mess, and she'll want to be cleaned up. But I'll bring the baim out in a minute. She's big and bonny." She laughed outright and pushed him none

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too gently in the chest, crying, "She's like you. Got your hair already."

He made no further protest, but stood now with his back against the landing wall, his head dropped almost on to his chest. She had come through and he had a daughter. Well, he had a daughter ..

It was almost a half hour later when he saw his daughter; but it was to his wife he went first. And after standing for a moment looking down on her almost deadly white face, he dropped on to his knees by the side of the bed and laid his head on her shoulder while his hand stroked her face; and as Kate Holden said later to Hannah Beaton in the grocery store, "You never did see anything like it: on his knees he was, as if she was the Queen of England who had just delivered.

Although that would have been a miracle at her age, wouldn't it?

Still, talk about excess and palaver. Not like a man at all, he

wasn't, but like some daft lad. And what he gets out of her two pen north of nothing beats me, because she's hardly a bit of flesh on her bones. Talk about being bewitched. "

And at this moment, Ward felt bewitched: his angel, as he thought of her privately, had come through and given him offspring.

Presently, he lifted his head, rose from the bed, and walked round the foot of it to where a wooden cradle stood, draped in white lace. And he looked down on his daughter for the first time.

The face was wrinkled; the eyelids were opening and shutting; the lips were moving in and out; and there was a tuft of hair, almost black, like his own.