So Long At the Fair Page 5

  When her box was packed, Abbie resumed her work in the cottage. Her mother seemed strangely preoccupied. Several times when Abbie spoke to her in the course of their work she gave no answer; she appeared not to hear, to be far away in some world of her own; then, when Abbie repeated her words, she would turn to her as if coming out of a dream. Once or twice Abbie was tempted to ask if there was something wrong, but each time she let the moment pass and put the question from her mind.

  That night when she lay in bed her thoughts centred once again on her own concerns. After tonight there would be only one more day and one more night, then she would be leaving for Eversleigh.

  From the other bed she could hear the soft, regular breathing of her younger sisters. They had been asleep for hours. As she should have been. Nervousness, excitement, however, all got in the way. Faintly, from the church, she heard the striking of the clock and counted the twelve strokes.

  She was not sure whether her mother had come to bed. When Eddie slept at the farm Mrs Morris stayed later than usual in the kitchen. Tonight Abbie had been aware on two occasions of her mother climbing the stairs – it was impossible to use them without causing a few creaks – and then descending again. But that second time had been over an hour ago and since then she had heard nothing more.

  From the church came the sound of the clock striking the hour of one. Abbie lay there for a few minutes longer and then, as quietly as she could, slipped from her bed and tiptoed out of the room.

  In the faint light that crept past the thin curtains at the little landing window she saw that the door to her mother’s room was closed. After hesitating for a moment she gingerly grasped the handle. It turned silently in her hand. Holding her breath, she gently eased open the door. The curtains at the window were still parted, and in the moonlight she saw that her mother’s bed lay empty and undisturbed.

  She turned back out onto the landing and went down the stairs. The kitchen too was empty.

  Where had her mother gone? Not to Mrs Marling again, surely; Mrs Marling’s baby, a boy, had been born two days ago.

  Abbie stood, wondering what to do. Then she moved to the door, put on her pattens and slipped out into the night. At the gate she looked up and down the lane. There was no one in sight and not one single lighted window was in view. The whole village seemed to be asleep. After a minute she turned and went back indoors.

  In the kitchen she took off her pattens and moved to the table. Taking a Lucifer match from its box she struck it and put the little flame to the wick of the half-burned candle. In the light of the flame she took Eddie’s old winter coat from its hook behind the door and wrapped it round her shoulders. The fire in the grate had long since died and the room had grown cold. Moving to the window seat, she sat down and settled herself to wait.

  She awoke with a start, stiff in her limbs, her bare feet cold in the early morning air. She stretched her arms and rubbed at her neck to ease the stiffness there. It was close on five o’clock and dawn was lighting the room. On the table the candle had burned out.

  After raking the ashes from the grate she lit a fire. Then she washed her face and hands, and went upstairs. In the bedroom, moving quietly so as not to waken the girls, she got dressed and then crept again into her mother’s room. Peering into the little wardrobe, she saw that her father’s clothes hung there neatly, while most of her mother’s things had gone.

  Back downstairs she made some tea and sat slowly drinking it at the table. She had been sitting there for ten minutes when she noticed the envelope. Glancing over in the direction of the range, she saw it on the mantelpiece, propped up against a little china dog that Eddie had won at the last May fair. She reached up to take it down – and found that there were two others behind it. Each was inscribed in her mother’s handwriting; the first was addressed simply: Frank; the second: Edward: the third: Abigail. All three envelopes were sealed.

  At the table she laid the envelopes before her, then, carefully, she took up the one addressed to herself and tore it open. Inside, folded, was a single sheet of flimsy notepaper. Opening it up, she read the words that her mother had written.

  My dear Abbie,

  Please see that your father and Eddie get these letters as soon as possible. It’s very important. Please be a good girl and look after your father and your brother and sisters. I’m very sorry about everything. Perhaps one day you’ll understand. I’ll try to write to you soon.

  Your loving Mother

  At seven o’clock Abbie went upstairs and woke Lizzie and Iris, and told them to get dressed. When they came downstairs she served them porridge, adding to it a little milk and honey. ‘Where’s Mam? Where’s Mam?’ they asked in plaintive, irritating tones, to which Abbie replied that their mother had gone out and would be back later.

  When they had eaten – Abbie herself was unable to swallow more than a spoonful or two – she got them into their coats.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Lizzie asked, her question at once echoed by Iris.

  ‘To White’s farm,’ Abbie said, ‘to see Eddie.’

  ‘What for?’ Iris asked.

  ‘Because we’ve got to.’

  When they were all ready, Abbie set the guard before the fire, then took the three letters and put them into her pocket. With the girls at her side, she left the cottage.

  It took about twenty minutes to reach the farmhouse and, on enquiring of the farmer’s wife for her brother, Abbie was directed to the stable yard.

  Eddie looked up in surprise as his sisters came towards him. ‘What’re you doin’ ’ere?’ he said, frowning.

  Abbie came to a halt some ten yards away. ‘Wait here,’ she said to the girls. ‘I want to talk to Eddie for a minute.’

  ‘What for?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Just do as I tell you,’ Abbie said sharply.

  Leaving the girls standing side by side, she went to where Eddie stood.

  His frown deepened as he saw the grave expression on her face. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  Abbie tried to frame words but none came, and suddenly her lip quivered and she burst into tears.

  ‘Good God, girl!’ Eddie said, all concern. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s Mam,’ she managed to get out at last. ‘She went out again last night, but this time she didn’t come back. And her clothes are gone from her room.’ From her pocket she brought out the letters. ‘Here . . .’ She handed one to him. ‘I got one as well, and there’s another one here for Father.’

  Eddie turned the envelope over in his dirty hands, then tore it open.

  Abbie watched his face as he unfolded the letter and read it. She saw his mouth twist and the sudden shine of tears in his eyes. ‘What does she say, Eddie?’

  He hesitated and swallowed before replying, ‘She’ve gone away. She’ve left us. She ain’t comin’ back no more.’

  Abbie began to cry again, silently, the tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Tell me what she says. What does she say?’

  ‘She says,’ he said, looking back at the letter, ‘that she’ve got to go away . . .’ His voice trembling, he began to read aloud from it. ‘“You’ve been a good son, Eddie, and from now on I want you to be a good brother to your sisters and look after them. It’s no use me trying to explain now why I’m leaving, but perhaps one day I’ll be able to, and you’ll be able to understand. I’m very sorry.”’ He paused. ‘She signs it “Your loving Mother”.’

  Suddenly the tears were flowing unchecked from his eyes and he sobbed out into the still morning air. He spun, took a few steps away, then turned back again. The tears were streaming down his face. In all her life, Abbie had never seen him weep like this. She watched as, in a fever of anguish, he tore at the letter, ripping it to pieces. ‘Well, she can go!’ he cried, letting the fragments of paper fall at his feet. ‘Let ’er go! Well manage without ’er. Let ’er go!’

  A little later, after a brief conversation with Mr White, Eddie was given permission to saddle one of the mares and ride to Bath
. He found his father working on site, mixing mortar. As Eddie approached, Frank Morris’s eyes registered alarm at the sight of his son there, so far from home. In silence Eddie delivered to him the third letter.

  His father read it and then turned away. ‘I’ll see the foreman. He’ll let me off – though of course I’ll lose the pay. It can’t be helped. Tell Abbie I’ll be back later on today.’

  ‘Where’s Mam gone, Father?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘She doesn’t say. Though I’ve no doubt she’s gone back to London.’

  ‘But – but why? Why would she want to go off alone and leave us like that?’

  ‘She hasn’t gone alone,’ his father said. ‘She’s gone with Jack Pattison. They’ve gone off together.’

  That evening, after her father had returned, grave-faced, from Bath, Abbie went to tell Jane and Mrs Carroll what had happened. When they had sympathized and given her what comfort they could, Jane asked what she intended to do about her post at Marylea House. Abbie replied that she would have to write to Mrs Curren and tell her that she could not work for her after all, that from now on she would be needed at home. After some discussion it was decided that, if Mrs Curren would accept her, Jane would go in Abbie’s place. So after Abbie had left, Mrs Carroll went to tell Mr Taggart that she and Jane would like to travel with him to Westbury the following day instead of the Morrises.

  They approached Marylea House the next morning with some trepidation. They need not have worried, however. Mrs Curren was immediately agreeable – for, as she remarked, Jane had only lost out in the first place through the fall of a coin.

  Later, after a rest over a cup of tea, Mrs Carroll and Jane went into the yard where they embraced and said their goodbyes. Then, with tears in her eyes, and watched by Jane from the gate, Mrs Carroll set off back on the dusty road to Flaxdown.

  While Jane was learning her duties in Eversleigh, Abbie was trying to deal with the changes in her own life. At first she lived in hope that her mother would return, but the days dragged by and Mrs Morris did not come. How, Abbie wondered, could her mother leave them? It was understandable for a wife to want to escape from a husband who ill-used her and gave no thought to her happiness, but her father was a kind, considerate man. In any case, the relationship between husband and wife apart, how could a woman desert her children?

  It was their father who broke the news to Lizzie and Iris. Their mother had had to go away, he told them, and might not be back for a time. They had wept till their eyes were red and swollen, always asking the same questions: Where did she go? When would she come back? Abbie and her father and brother had no answers for them.

  Beatie heard the news from her father who wrote to her that weekend. Abbie wrote a couple of days later. From her mother Beatie heard nothing. Much distressed, she tearfully confided in her mistress, who did what she could to comfort her and told her that she should go home to see her family. She could go in the trap on Saturday with the groom and he would call for her the following day.

  Beatie arrived in Flaxdown early that Saturday afternoon, and was met outside by Lizzie and Iiris. ‘Mam’s gone away,’ Lizzie said dolefully, to which Beatie replied that she knew. Then, while the trap driver set off for the Harp and Horses, she followed the two girls indoors where Abbie was awaiting her arrival. A few minutes later, when the girls had gone out to play again, she and Abbie sat at the table drinking tea.

  ‘What about the people in the village?’ Beatie asked. ‘Do they know about it?’

  ‘They must do,’ Abbie replied. ‘And what they don’t know for certain they’ll get by putting two and two together. Everybody must know she’s gone – and that Mr Pattison’s gone too. It won’t be hard for people to work it out.’

  ‘Have you seen Mrs Pattison?’

  ‘No – and I feel right sorry for her too. She’s a funny, pathetic little woman, but well-meaning enough. Still, she must be managing. At least the post office is still open.’

  Later their father arrived from Bath, then Eddie came in from the farm. Beatie and Abbie had prepared supper, and afterwards they spent the evening together, all six of them.

  Abbie knew that her father was crushed by their mother’s departure, while her brother, she quickly realized, nursed a bitterness towards her; she could see it in his set mouth and in his reluctance to speak of her. As he had never been one for staying about the house, but was usually off with his friends, Abbie had thought that he might be less affected by their mother’s going. But she was wrong; he was clearly very affected by her desertion.

  That night, Abbie and Beatie lay together in bed. In the other bed, Lizzie and Iris were already asleep.

  ‘What about your Tom?’ Abbie whispered into the dark. ‘Does he know you’ve come here?’

  ‘Yes, I sent him a note. I told him I had to come.’

  ‘Did you say why?’

  ‘No.’ There was silence for a moment, then Beatie added, ‘I’m afraid of what’ll happen when he finds out about Mam. More particularly when his parents find out. What will they think?’

  ‘What can they think? What are you talking about?’

  Beatie sighed. ‘Everything’s been going so well lately with Tom and me. I know his folks don’t think I’m good enough for him, but now that I’ve met them a couple of times things have been getting better. But now this has happened – our mam going off with some man from the village. They won’t want him courting a girl whose mother’s done that. They won’t want scandal brought into the family.’

  ‘Perhaps they won’t find out about it.’

  ‘Oh, they will. Scandal like that. They probably know about it already.’

  ‘But they’ll know it don’t make any difference to what you are. It don’t change you. Whatever our mam’s done it don’t make you into a different person.’

  ‘Well, I know that and you know that – but I’m afraid they won’t see it that way.’

  ‘I’m sure they will. But what about Tom? He’s a grown man. He’s got some say in what happens to him.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but . . . well, he’ll only go against them so far. Stands to reason. Oh, Abbie, I love him. I couldn’t bear it if anything should go wrong.’

  ‘Nothing’s going to go wrong. And if Tom loves you as he says he does it won’t make any difference.’

  Beatie returned to her duties the following day and on the Wednesday Abbie received a letter from her. It was full of hope and happiness. She and Tom had talked, Beatie wrote, and everything was going to be all right. Although Tom had already learned about their mother’s departure he did not appear to be unduly perturbed by the knowledge. And as for his parents, although they were unhappy about it he was sure that in time their doubts would pass.

  Abbie sighed with relief on reading Beatie’s letter. It had been a lingering concern in connection with her mother’s leaving. But now it was over and Beatie, like the rest of them, could start to get on with her life again.

  PART TWO

  Chapter Five

  ‘D’you realize what today is?’ Abbie asked, looking up from the table where she sat writing a letter.

  Eddie, standing at the mirror, gave a nod. ‘It’s Friday.’

  ‘I don’t mean the day. I mean the date.’

  He turned, gazed at her blankly for a second then said, ‘It’s the seventh, is it?’

  ‘Yes. Six years tonight since Mother went.’

  They spoke of their mother only rarely and when they did it was as if they were speaking of some distant relative, or some acquaintance who had once touched their lives but was no longer a part of them. In all those six years they had heard not one single word from her beyond the three letters she had left behind on the night of her going.

  And neither had they had much word of her. All they knew was that she was no longer with Jack Pattison. Not long after the two of them had left the village Pattison’s wife had given up the post office and moved to Bath to live with her mother. A year or so later, Eddie came to Abbie with the ne
ws that Pattison had returned to his wife and that they were once again living together.

  For a little while Eddie had considered going to Bath to find Pattison, to ‘teach him a lesson’, but after consideration he had decided against it. Perhaps, Abbie had thought, having never forgiven their mother for her action, he no longer cared that much about her.

  Eddie, now showing no interest in the anniversary of their mother’s going, turned back to the glass. Abbie watched him as he smoothed a palm over his hair. Nearly twenty, he was a good-looking young man, straight, broad in the shoulders and already taller than their father. He looked very fit with his smooth skin bronzed by the sun, which had also bleached the crown of his fair hair a pale shade of yellow. Abbie studied him, taking in his wide-set grey eyes, his straight, perfectly shaped nose. Tonight he was wearing his best jacket, his new corduroy trousers and his best shirt. He stepped back for a final appraisal, then moved to the vase of flowers that stood in the centre of the table and selected a pink rose, its bud just half opened. Turning back to the glass, he tried the flower against his jacket, then, satisfied, cut the stem with his pocket knife and pinned it into his buttonhole.

  ‘And very fetching indeed,’ Abbie said approvingly. ‘I’m sure Violet will be most taken with you.’

  He shot a glance of suspicion at her, which she met with eyes of innocence. Smiling, she said, ‘No, Eddie, it looks very nice. Truly.’

  ‘Yeh?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  Apart from his maturing he had not changed that much over the years, she thought. He was still the same warm-hearted, exuberant rough diamond. It was just that now some of his interests were different. Whereas in earlier days he had spent his leisure time in boisterous pursuits with his friends, he now preferred, when it was possible, to spend it with one Violet Neville, the third daughter in a family of eight who lived on the other side of the green. Violet, seventeen years old and very pretty, was away in service in Devizes for most of the year, so Eddie’s meetings with her were few and far between. At present, however, she was back home in Flaxdown for her annual summer holiday, and she and Eddie met as often as they could.