the maltese angel (14 page)

Well, well! So this was his daughter. But he hoped she wouldn't grow up to look like him, like her mother, yes. Oh, yes, she must look like her mother.

"Satisfied?"

He turned and looked at the midwife. As he put it to himself, he had no room for her; besides being a blowsy piece, she had a very slack tongue. Nevertheless, she was good at her job, so he understood; and although it had taken a long time, she had been good at this one. And so he answered her, "Yes, you could say I'm satisfied."

"Not disappointed because it wasn't a lad?"

He was quick to reply, "No; oh no; as long as my wife is all right, that's all that matters to me."

"Aye, well, she's come through; and not many squeaks out of her, which'

she now turned and looked towards the bed 'when you come to think of it is odd, because she's not as big as two penn' orth of copper. Still, she's done it. It doesn't really surprise me, though, because I meet all kinds in this line of business."

Then with a sly grin, she said, "Seeing how you've suffered in this lot, are you for trying again?"

His countenance darkened, and she did not 'wait for what would have been a brusque reply, but went out laughing.

He returned to the bed, and sitting down on the edge of it, he leant over and placed his lips gently on hers. Then, his face hanging over hers, he whispered, "This must never happen again. It has been torment."

She closed her eyes while saying, "Oh, Ward. You can be very funny at times."

"I'm not being funny, Granny Shipton," he said and gently tweaked her nose; but when she smiled and sighed, then closed her eyes, he said,

"You're tired, my love. Go to sleep."

Without opening her eyes, she said softly, "I have been thinking of names, and I wonder if you would mind Flora, because, as you know, Mr.

and Mrs. Killjoy have, in a way, become as dear as parents to me. If it had been a boy, I should have liked Kenneth, Mr. Killjoy's name."

He, too, had been thinking of names, but those of his father and

mother, John and Jessie. He liked the name Jessie. He simply said,

"Whatever you wish, my dear; I only know if it had been a boy, I would have been dead against Hayward."

"5

He watched her smile widen; yet her eyes still remained closed.

Slowly he rose from the bed; then quietly he walked around it again and looked on the child.

Flora Gibson. It was a nondescript name somehow. Flora Gibson. He'd much rather have Jessie .. He'd put it to her later.

Only the very necessary work was done on the farm that day. The

weather was still very dry: the stocks could remain for a day or two before being gathered in. What was more, Ward was definitely needed at the house to receive the number of visitors. The first was Fred

Newberry; and he took hold of Ward's hands and shook them up and down, much to the new father's embarrassment, for it happened in the yard, and not only Billy and the boy were there looking on, but Annie was, too, from the kitchen door; and they all listened to Fred gabbling,

"Oh, I am pleased, man. I am pleased. And the lass ... a girl. Mam said straight away you'd be calling it Jessie; and Dad's got a great idea for a christening cake. Mam's coming over later. She's bringing some sugar dollies. Dad's baking them now. Eeh! I am glad you've got it over."

At this Ward was forced to let out a bellow of laughter in which Billy joined, and the boy too; but Annie from the kitchen door cried, "You're a fool, Fred Newberry. Always were and always will be. Why aren't you surprised that the father isn't in bed with a binder on?"

At this, it was her husband who let out a bellow of a laugh, in which Fred joined as he answered Annie back, saying, "Well, I only know that Dad says he suffered twice as much during Mam's carrying the three of us than she did. And he had to get drunk each time to help him get over it."

"Oh you're an idiot, all right." Ward thumped Fred on the back, then urged him towards the kitchen door, saying, "Come in and have a drink."

Maisie Dempster was the next visitor; and she cooed over the mother and baby. Then Jane Oldham, the shoemaker's wife, called. But she

wouldn't accept the invitation to go upstairs to see the mother and baby:

she had been unable to have children of her own, and it was known that this brought on dark bouts in which she might weep a lot. However, she called to pay her respects and to leave a basket of fruit, all picked from their garden.

Frank and Jane Noble were the last to call; and Frank was already

talking about the christening. But it was as they were leaving and he was helping his wife up into the trap that he saw Carl. The boy was carrying a bucket of swill from the boiler house towards the pig sty, and he called to him, "Would you like to come to the magic lantern show this evening, Carl?"

The boy stopped, put down the bucket, and he was on the point of

expressing his delight, but he looked towards Ward, who was standing near the curate; and Ward answered for him, saying, "Get your work done, and you may go."

The boy picked up the bucket again, and without having said a word, hurried away, and Frank Noble, turning to Ward, said, "You've got a good boy there. And Fanny has done a wonderful job on him. He can

read whole passages of the Bible, as good as myself."

At this, Ward put on a mock serious expression as he replied, "I'm not interested in what he can do with the Bible, but how quick he can carry that swill."

"Go on with you!" Frank thrust him aside; then mounted the trap, and Jane, from her seat, called to the boy, "We start at seven, Carl," and Carl answered, "Yes, ma'am." Then stood still while watching the trap leave the yard; that is until Ward's voice caused him to jump: "You'll get your work done standing there gaping, won't you?"

Carl did not immediately turn and run; but he stared at Ward, saying,

"Would would you let me have a look at the baby, master?"

Ward pulled a long face as if he were listening to an impossible

request; then shaking his head as if addressing company, he said, "And he's going out to a magic lantern show? It doesn't matter to him about the evening chores. Oh no. And now he's asking for more time off in order to see the baby." He adopted a false glare as he stared down on the boy; but then quickly he thrust out his hand and, laughing, grabbed the thin veined arm as he said, "Come on. Come on. You'll see the baby."

However, their hurried progress was checked by Annie emerging from the bedroom and demanding, "Where do you think you're going?" And she looked from one to the other, then ended, "Eh?"

"I am taking this young gentleman to see my daughter. Is there any harm in that?"

"Could be. Could be," said Annie.

"Stay there till I see if they're ready to receive you."

She pushed open the bedroom door, put her head round, saying, "You've got more visitors; are you up to it?"

If there was an answer it was inaudible, but Annie stood aside and allowed them to pass her, Ward still holding the boy by the hand.

Oh! Hello, Carl. "

"Hello, ma'am. Are you better?"

"Yes. Yes, Carl. Thank you. You've come to see the baby?"

"Yes, ma'am. Please."

"Well, there she is, in the cradle."

They both watched the boy now walk towards the cradle and stand looking down on the child. Then his hand, in the act of moving downwards,

wavered, and he looked across the bed towards them, saying, The hand's clean," and immediately returned his attention to the child, resting his forefinger on the tiny fist, and when it was grabbed his face

became alight and he actually gurgled; and turning to them again, he whispered, " She's got my finger. "

Ward glanced at Fanny, and she at him, and the look they exchanged was soft with understanding: the boy was experiencing, next to suckling, one of the first natural instincts of a baby, but the impression on Carl's face was as if it could never have happened before; and it

hadn't, not in his world.

When his finger was released, he lifted his hand and looked at it; then his lips were drawn in between his teeth as if to suppress some inner emotion connected with either tears or laughter, but with

something new and strange springing from the depths of his growing and groping mind.

He now left the cradle and, walking to the side of the bed, he said,

"She is beautiful ... lovely, ma'am. Thank you."

He did not look at his master, but turned and went from the room,

across the landing, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where Annie said, "Well, what d'you think?" But he gave her no reply; he did not even stop, leaving her gaping after him and saying aloud, "Well, I'll bejiggered! That was a response and a half."

The boy now made his way across to the stables, but not into the cow shed or into the barn, but up the ladder and into his room. And there he sat on the side of his shakedown bed, his eyes fixed on the sloping rafters above as he questioned his feelings: he had felt wonderful when the baby was holding his finger; then of a sudden when he had looked at his mistress that nightmare feeling had attacked him again, not of being flailed, or screaming out when the salt was thrown on to his back and hearing Mr. Zedmond's drunken, insane laughter. No;

it wasn't that feeling, but another, not unlinked with the past. Of the fearful dread of Mr. Brown, the workhouse master? No, it wasn't that either, but a fear of some sort. He couldn't understand it

because it is

had come upon him in that happy room, and in that happy house. Perhaps something was going to happen to himself that would make them get rid of him, send him away? Oh, that was silly thinking. He would never do anything to upset either the master or mistress, or Mr. Billy, or Mrs.

Annie. They had all been so kind to him. And he knew that the master liked him. Well, otherwise he wouldn't have kept him from the

beginning, would he? Sometimes he bawled at him; but it was mostly in fun; and he could always tell.

Why was he sitting here? The master wouldn't be joking if he found him up here at this time of the day. What was the matter with him? Was he going wrong in the head?

He sprang from the pallet; but paused a moment to stick out his

forefinger and to look at it. He started to smile: she had gripped it, hadn't she? and really tight.

Then in a rush he made for the ladder.

There were only ten children at the magic lantern show. Apart from Carl, they were the children of the families from the Hollow. If the show had taken place in the schoolroom most of the village would have been there, but not those from the Hollow, and Frank Noble had

purposely set up the apparatus in the little church to give the Hollow children a treat. It did not matter to him that the parents seldom attended his services, and he understood: in any case, a number of them were Catholics in whom the feeling of hell-fire was strong, and any Catholic would be bound straight for that place were he to enter a Protestant church. But the children were different, and the parents seemed to think this way too. Perhaps they considered their offspring would only go to Purgatory for committing what would have been for them a mortal sin.

Anyway, the children enjoyed the show immensely. Carl, with the rest, rocked on the form when the donkey kicked the man with the stick into the air. And the following plate was better still, because the donkey was now chasing the man with the stick. Then there was the lovely one of the bird feeding its young. But the one that the Reverend kept on longest was that of Jesus sitting among a group of children. He had a lovely face. He hadn't a beard, and his hair was fair and fell on his shoulders, and he was dressed in a white gown.

But Carl wasn't exactly familiar with this particular picture. In the workhouse, he had heard a lot about Jesus and how kind he was,

especially to children. This was from the preacher, yet none of the staffer the master seemed to have heard of him. They knew a lot about the

devil, though, and what he could do; and when he was farmed out he was to find that there was no doubt about the power of the devil.

The Reverend had made the show last for more than an hour, for he had given a commentary on each slide, his remarks being amusing enough to keep the children laughing heartily.

After the show, sweetmeats were distributed by Mrs. Noble, then the children quickly dispersed to their so-called homes, which were little more than hovels.

Carl was the last to leave; and as Frank and Jane stood with him at the church door, Frank said, "You're going to be blown about on your walk home, Carl," and pointed to where the tops of the trees were swaying.

"The moon's on a wild rampage tonight. She doesn't know whether to stay in or come out. But you know your way back, don't you?"

"Oh yes, sir."

"Well' Frank Noble pointed again to where the scudding clouds were blocking out the moonlight " I would run when she's out and walk when she's in. "

Carl laughed and said, "I'll do that, sir.

"Tis good advice."

"Oh, I always give good advice, Carl."

"Yes, you do, sir." Carl was still laughing; then he added, "Good night, sir. And good night to you, ma'am. And thank you for the

evening. It has been wonderful." Then with a touch of humour, he added, "I hope the donkey caught that man and kicked him hard." And with this he hurried away, Frank and Jane Noble's laughter following him.

He was feeling pleased with himself: he had made the parson and his wife laugh.

The moon was riding through a clear patch of sky now. It was a lovely night, in spite of the wind. Well, it had been dry and warm for

ages.

Tomorrow, they'd get the last of the corn in. They would have had it in today if the baby hadn't come.

He skirted the woodland, for although the moon was bright, he did not know how long it would stay that way and he didn't want to be caught in the dark among all the trees. He didn't like the dark. The cellar on that farm had been black, pitch black. Two whole days .. No, he

mustn't start thinking about that again . He would take the bridle path that led to the village, and half-way along he would climb the wall with the help of the old oak whose roots went under the wall and the lower branches over it. This way he would drop into the corn field where they had finished stacking the stocks yesterday.