The Straw Halter (4 page)

‘I was an ugly little boy.’

She laughed. ‘How do you know? No one came over to you and said, “You are an ugly little boy,” did they?’

Suddenly there was an uncanny silence, she could hear no sounds at all, not even her own breathing. Daniel broke it with a single word which came out as almost a sob.

‘Yes,’ he said.

He looked so vulnerable sitting opposite her, his head bowed and very still, almost as if he were afraid to move. She rose swiftly, went across and put her arms round his shoulders in a big hug.

‘Who, Daniel, who said that to you? Joseph?’

His head sunk lower on to his chest and she could feel him
trembling. ‘No, not Joseph. My mother.’ As she laid her cheek against his she tasted the salty dampness of his tears.

Betsy knew she was pregnant the morning after she conceived. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than she had to rush for the slop-bucket. The sickness left her feeling weak, and she went back to sit on the bed for a few minutes to recover. Her thoughts flew to what they had eaten for supper last night. Pork, vegetables and a thick gravy. This had never given her any problems before.

She still felt decidedly queasy and slowly made her way downstairs to empty the bucket. Daniel would be in for his breakfast soon. The very thought of preparing food made her heave again, and it was then that she realized she was with child.

A surge of joy filled her being. She loved Daniel and wanted his child, but also there was the thought deep within her that she was safe. After all the years of abuse with George Hatton which had made her dread the physical side of marriage and, at times, had almost broken her spirit, she was overwhelmed with shock that she could, after all, conceive.

Not that Daniel had expressed a need for a family above all other considerations, yet, somehow, it still made her feel good. It would surely please him, and more and more Betsy wanted to please her husband. Slowly she ran her hands over her stomach. She would nurture their child, was even now doing so, would feel it move within her, would suckle it, play and teach it even as Mrs Wallasey had taught her in those wonderful years when she was working at Wren Court. A child, a baby, she thought, how will Daniel react?

He would be pleased, of course he would, even though he
had such a different attitude to her first husband. He would want a baby and they could afford it. In those first months of marriage to Daniel she had had a firm grip on their financial affairs.

‘You are an unusual woman, Betsy,’ he said to her once.

‘Unusual. I don’t understand what you mean Daniel.’

‘Most women wouldn’t have any idea about finance and certainly would not become involved in the money side of the farm.’

‘I’m not most women, I’m me. I can reason and work things out as well as you can. As most women would be able to given the right chances.’

‘There’s no need to bristle like that, I agree with you, my love. It’s the rest of the world you have to convince.’

‘I suppose so. But how, Daniel? When women are bartered for in the market-place,’ her gaze went towards the door where the straw halter hung, the one symbol her husband refused to
relinquish
. During the time they had been together they had grown closer than she would have believed possible, yet that necklace of straw was always there, reminding her of her status.

‘It will come,’ he’d said then, ‘to the ones who want it. Many who have known nothing else simply accept their place but you have seen a different way of life and have learnt so much. The answer is to educate everybody, regardless of gender, so that each person has an equal chance in life.’ He walked over and put his arm round her shoulder, ‘There will always be some who are leaders and some who are led. You are strong, like my mother, she too is a strong woman.’

‘She doesn’t approve of me.’

‘That makes us even more of a pair,’ he said quietly, ‘because she doesn’t approve of me either.’

‘Why do you think that, Daniel?’

He shrugged dismissively, ‘Because she has never liked me. I was the odd one always. She doted on Joseph when he was born, she treated my cousins from over the hill with more
affection
than she ever showed to me. I have often wondered why she hated me so much.’

‘I’ve only seen her once I know, dear, but I don’t think she hates you. She—’

‘Leave it,’ he said suddenly. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, about any of them.’

Now, with the knowledge of a child of her own she wondered again about Daniel’s family. His mother, fair like her younger son, Joseph, had hardly made her feel welcome the day they went to Sandilands Farm. She was plump, with piercing blue eyes and a rather coarse skin, and Betsy could see that once she had probably been pretty. Now, after she had spent years out in all weathers, the elements had taken their toll. She had given them thick chunks of home-made bread with cheese, but conversation had been stilted. Betsy knew she had not contributed much herself and Daniel had seemed almost surly.

His mother had issued instructions to Joseph about what to buy when he went to market next day but had practically ignored her and Daniel. Betsy wondered whether his mother knew that he had bought her, and an embarrassed flush filled her cheeks even now, at the thought of it.

But that was in the past. She had had no choice then, although she had tried to escape from George Hatton on the journey to market. It had been a weak attempt, she realized, for how would she have fared with no money or food and no prospect of work until the next hiring-fair? She had felt so angry when she knew he was selling her; it still simmered within her,
yet it had turned out so well. Daniel was as unlike George as it was possible to be. He discussed things with her. About the farm, the house, the country.…

As she set the breakfast things out her thoughts returned to her single visit to Daniel’s family and she wondered afresh why his mother seemed to dislike him so much. For although she had said the opposite to Daniel to try to reassure him, she knew he spoke the truth. She sensed it very strongly in the
atmosphere
. She also knew that Joseph, like his brother, could read and write, but after meeting the boys’ mother Betsy doubted if she could. Perhaps that was why she was so disagreeable, because Joseph would surely have told her that Daniel’s wife was not illiterate. Was she jealous? Did she feel inferior? Mentally Betsy shook herself. This wouldn’t do, she had work to get through, and the lovely thought which she was holding close to herself, that she was with child brought a happiness to her heart. This evening, when they sat down after their meal she would tell Daniel, because she knew without waiting for further proof that she was pregnant.

By suppertime Betsy had changed her mind about revealing her condition too soon. Even though she was sure she was carrying Daniel’s child it might be best to wait a week or two at least. She hugged the knowledge to herself for the rest of the evening, but next morning when she rose she had to dash for the bucket again. Fortunately Daniel was already downstairs, but on the third day he came up for something he had forgotten and caught her on her knees over the receptacle.

‘Betsy, what is it, my darling?’ When he saw what was happening he gently rubbed her back and once it was over helped her up. ‘You are ill.’ In spite of the deep concern in his
voice her mind flew back to his question at the market,
Are you healthy
? and her angry reply brought a flush to Daniel’s cheeks.

‘Of course I’m not. Having a baby isn’t an illness, it’s a perfectly natural state.’ She regretted her outburst immediately. It was not how she had wanted to tell him the news.

‘I’m sorry,’ her voice caught on a sob, ‘I meant to tell you properly, not like this.’

He caught her to him. ‘It’s all right, there’s nothing to worry about Betsy. Women have babies all the time and everything will be fine. You are pleased, aren’t you?’

Torn between frustration that he should think she was worried about giving birth, and what she now recognized as genuine concern when he had thought she really was ill, she tried to laugh, but it came out as a little sob and as he stroked her hair and held her close she was powerless to stop the tears gushing from her eyes.

‘Oh Daniel, I’m being so stupid and weak.’ She moved from the circle of his arm. ‘I’m sorry, I was going to tell you once I was certain. I am certain. Do you want a child, Daniel?’

‘Of course I do. Do you?’

‘Yes, oh yes.’ His arms engulfed her once more and his strong workworn hands stroked her hair tenderly.

The sickness went on for two months, but once that
early-morning
stint was over she insisted on doing everything the same as before. Daniel wouldn’t allow her to do anything that involved lifting or moving even the lightest of loads, and she was glad that he was out on the farm for most of the day, for she feared her temper would flare if he became too protective.

She sang as she worked about the house and in the dairy and began to think about names for the baby. Not after either of their
parents, but perhaps Daniel for a boy and Elizabeth for a girl. She shivered with the warmth of feeling this baby was
engendering
in her and the pleasure she anticipated in discussing it all with Daniel.

Three months into her pregnancy she miscarried. Daniel insisted on fetching the village midwife to her in spite of her protests that ‘It’s too late, she can do nothing now that I cannot do for myself.’

It took Betsy a long time to recover. She alternated between tears and temper. ‘I’ve never been a cry-baby,’ she said to Daniel after one particularly bad spell, ‘so why am I now?’ Yet whenever he offered comfort she turned on him until he too lost his temper.

One night he said, ‘The most important thing is that you are all right. I thought I was going to lose you, Betsy, and I don’t think I could bear that.’

‘But I lost the baby. It was your baby too but you don’t seem to care about it now.’

‘Of course I do, but you are more important to me than all the babies in the world. Betsy, it’s so long since you loved me.…’ But she turned away.

Betsy was amazed at how devastated she felt over losing her unborn child. Sometimes her misery was so great she didn’t know what to do with herself. If Daniel was gentle with her she turned on him for acting stupidly and if he was tough she turned on him too, accusing him of not caring about anything but his own comfort. She knew she was being totally unfair and this added to the guilt she felt, because although she had proved she could conceive, she hadn’t been able to carry to full term. She slept badly and longed for the comfort of the old days at Wren Court and her special lady. She could have talked to her about this and maybe it would have helped.

Before Mrs Wallasey died they had discussed so many
situations
and problems. ‘There is usually an answer to most of our troubles,’ she remembered Mrs Wallasey saying once, ‘although sometimes it isn’t the one we seek. Mostly you just have to get through as best you can, Betsy. Women are stronger in that respect than men I think.’

Betsy clung to the memory. She was strong, she
was
strong enough to overcome this setback but she needed time. Time to get the hurt out of her system, and although she loved her husband dearly now, part of her shied from him and she retreated more and more into herself, refusing to go to market on the pretext of things to do in the house and dairy.

When Daniel suggested they should pay a visit to her mother Betsy shook her head.

‘Why, my darling, why?’

‘Because she doesn’t care about me, never has. I’ve managed all these years without her and I don’t need her now.’

‘But she’s family, Betsy, your own family. When we do have a family of our own I would want them to visit us.’

She turned away sharply. ‘We haven’t a family, we lost our baby, or don’t you remember?’

Without moving nearer he said softly, ‘I will never forget, but one day we will have children together Betsy.’

She remained silent, trying to stem the trembling that had begun inside her. Then she turned and ran from the room. That night he climbed silently into bed beside her, not touching, not even giving her the perfunctory kiss which he had been doing in spite of her coldness.

She lay awake for hours, long after he had turned over on his side and gone to sleep. She felt guilty because she knew she was behaving badly, yet seemed powerless to stop. She didn’t
realize that she was crying until a great sob shook her body and she turned her head into the pillow to stifle the sound. Suddenly she felt Daniel’s arms cradling her and heard his voice murmuring endearments.

‘I’m no use, Daniel. I can’t even have our child.’

‘Of course you can, my dearest. God has His reasons and that one wasn’t meant to be. I still need you desperately.’

‘Oh Daniel. I never thought I could feel like this. I’m as weak and vulnerable as any woman.’ As she buried her face against his chest she didn’t see the laughter in his eyes.

‘You – weak! Never. You are going to show the world that women are as good as men – and I shall help you do so, never fear.’

Jim, the farm-hand, lived alone in a tiny cottage down the lane from the farm. This had once belonged to his widowed aunt with whom he lived until she died. He went home at the end of each day, but when Thomas Shooter came to the farm seeking work during haymaking Daniel let him sleep in the loft above the stable. He was tall, fair-skinned and blue-eyed but there was an arrogance in his manner that Betsy found irritating beyond words. Not that he was anything but polite to her for the brief time he was in the kitchen. For Daniel’s sake, because he needed the extra help badly for a few weeks, she kept silent but she was not unaware of the way he ogled her while pretending not to. It revived memories of why she had been married off to George Hatton when she was fifteen. This new farm-hand was no better than her old master had been and she felt relief that he was temporary and that once haymaking and harvest was finished he would be on his way.