Miss Mary Martha Crawford (15 page)

couldn't. She couldn't.

Peter Watson told Sarah, Annie and Daisy what had befallen young Peg Thoroycroft and they were all shocked, especially Sarah, and she said so in front of the doctor, and boldly, that it was a crying shame them only having one maid, and her a wee thing like Peg Thornycroft, and in a rambling house like The Habitation. She knew The Habitation, and she also knew Peg's grandmother. And what was the old woman going to do

now without Peg's support. Not just that shilling a week but the bits Peg took home on a Sunday had helped to keep her out of the

workhouse.

But by all accounts these last two years the pickings from the Crawford table had been so poor that a chicken would have turned its neb up at them.

Harry listened with interest to Sarah's talk. The more he learned

about the family in that habitation the better, for then perhaps he'd be able to understand the attitude of its young mistress. He buttoned up his coat and drew on his gloves as he remarked, "A poor table then.

Wouldn't suit you, would it, Sarah? "

"No, it wouldn't, doctor. Mind, it wasn't always like that; when Mrs.

Crawford was alive, it was a well run house. I remember as a girl

going past it many's the time when I used to go and see Nell

Thornycroft; that was when her man was alive. He was a drover, frozen to death he was in a snowdrift.

The do we had in '75 was nothing compared to it. Nobody could move in or out of the town for weeks. Aye--' she nodded at him 'the gardens

were well kept in those days and they had about half a dozen animals in the stables. The mistress used to ride a lot, and the children an'

all. I've seen them altogether, nice sight it was. But that's some

years back. Now from all accounts they're one step away from the

workhouse. It'll be standing in the soup queue they'll be next, and

you'll be a lucky one, doctor, if you get your money. "

B "You think so?" He raised his eyebrows and poked his blunt face towards her in his characteristic way, and she answered briefly, "Past thinkin', sure of it."

"Ah well." He nicked Fred's ear with his finger and thumb, saying now,

"I'll take it out of their hides if I don't. Gome on."

He had opened the door and the dog had bounded out, but before he could follow Fred, Sarah checked him with, "Tisn't fair takin' that poor animal out in the cold; he'll freeze up in that trap." He looked at her over his shoulder and said flatly, "Welt, I'm not leaving him here to be ruined. I think I'll do as the doctor' he jerked his head now

back towards the hall 'said should be done, stick him in a box in the yard."

Now she was bobbing her head at him.

"Aye, aye; I can see you doin' that, doctor that's after you've sneaked him up to your room. Daisy said your quilt wasnowt but foot marks

yesterday."

"Did she now?"

"Aye, she did now."

They grinned at each other, and he was laughing to himself as he went into the yard. He liked Sarah and the two young ones, but particularly Sarah. She put him in mind of his mother, although his mother would

certainly not have been pleased to know that she was classed on the

same social standing as Doctor Pippin's cook. Yet what had her own

mother before her been? Only one step removed in the servant

hierarchy, you could say, a housekeeper. But of course that was never alluded to, for the housekeeper had married her widowed master, and he a solicitor. Funny thing class; and strange too that there should be that in him which always tried to level it. He didn't know whether it was a genuine feeling of pity for the under-privileged, or just a

perverseness that he had acquired early in order to annoy that side of his mother which he hadn't liked. Yet it was that very side, her

pushing, her clinging on to the fringe of class, that had enabled him to be practising as a doctor today, for when his father had walked out leaving her with three children to fend for she could, like many

another woman, have given in and let her family be scattered among

relatives. But not she. She had used her one talent. Before she died nine years ago she had owned her own thriving hat shop; but he himself had not benefited from it for she had left everything to be shared

between his two sisters, thinking no doubt that she had done enough for him already. Or was it in case his wife should reap the benefit from all her hard work. Women were vindictive creatures, every damned one of them.

As he mounted the small trap Peter Watson said, "If you take my advice, doctor, you'll make your trip short and sharp' He nodded at him from where he was holding the horse's head, and Harry, looking up at the

sky, said, " Yes, perhaps you're right, it won't keep off much longer.

Up you come. Come on, put a move on, man. " He now hauled the dog up on to the seat beside him, took up the reins; then bending forward, he spoke to Peter Watson as if he might be overheard, saying, 'if the

doctor has to go out, you go along with him. The roads are slippery, he may need support."

Peter Watson held his eye knowingly for a moment, then nodded once,

saying on a laugh, "Aye, aye, he'll need sup port." If he had added,

"What! is he full already?" Harry wouldn't have been surprised for when Peter had been inside for his orders early this morning the old man had been sip ping then. It worried him, for he could see the old fool was killing himself.

"Get up there!" The horse trotted smartly out of the yard, along the side street and info die main road. A few minutes later they were

crossing the bridge over the river where the waters had risen

considerably during the night. Five minutes more and they were well

out of the town and bowling along a rough but passable main road. Here the air became ever colder, and the sky lower, and Harry, after peering into the distance without lifting his chin out of the deep collar of his coat, glanced down at Fred and said, "It won't be long now," and Fred looked back at him as if to say, "You're right," then swivelled his long body around in the seat until his muzzle was pressed against Harry's thigh. Again Harry looked down at him; then gathering the

reins into one hand, he thrust the other through the ribs in the back of the seat and groped to where he knew the extra rug lay; after

tugging it through the aperture he spread it over the dog, saying,

"Don't you dare leave a hair on it else the old fellow'll dock your tail up to your ribs."

Fred wriggled his body into a new position under the comfort of the

rug, but kept his muzzle clear of it and pointed upwards so that his glance should be ready to catch any look his master might drop on

him.

Fred was eight years old, at least as far as Harry could guess. He had first seen him on the day he buried his wife. It had been a day

similar to this one, heavy with the promise of snow in the air. It was as he walked from the grave-side that he noticed the dog. It had

crossed his path twice; he had almost tripped over it the second

time.

It was a weird looking animal, definitely a mongrel and half starved.

But it was no unusual sight, for there were hundreds of such animals roaming the city streets.

He recalled that someone had guided him into the sole cab and closed the door. There had been no one to return to the lodgings with him.

He was living in Manchester at the time and had been there only a

matter of three weeks. It was his second appointment since qualifying eighteen months previously and he was then merely an assistant, with no hope of ever becoming an 'assistant with a view', as was his position ^

now.

He had known perfectly well that it was madness to marry so early in his career, but when emotions run high people do mad things. But in

his case he hadn't only saddled himself with his wife saddled wasn't the correct word, for Katie, give her her due, had been no burden, not like her fifteen- year-old sister; she it was who had ruined their

happiness. Yet to be quite fair, he had asked himself more than once if those first few weeks of bliss would have lasted even with out

Angela's irritating presence while moving from one temporary post to the other, and scraping and saving the while, in order to have

something to fall back on when he should be lucky enough to buy himself a third, or even a half share in some practice, which could only be

done by taking a depleted salary over a long number of years.

Yes, that was the question he frequently asked himself. Would her love have stood up to such trials, in addition to her having to contend with his own impatient brusque nature and uneven temper? It was two days

after the funeral when he saw the dog again. It was unmistakable,

standing out from all the other mongrels in that it gave evidence, and prominently, of at least three of its forbears. It was on the step

outside his lodgings and he had stopped and looked down on it, and it had looked up at him, then turned and followed him. It followed him

for the rest of that day, waiting outside houses large and small, and when finally he reached home there it was still at his heels but with its legs looking as if at any moment that they might refuse to support its elongated body for one step further. ; Once he had fed it he knew that he had made a mistake. It was back the next day, and the next.

On the fourth night he sneaked it into his room.

If he hadn't he knew that he would have found it frozen stiff on the doorstep the following morning. That was the beginning. Whatever

rooms he'd had since they had shared.

Over the years he had fallen into the habit of talking to the dog and had made himself believe that it understood every word he said, and

this seemed to be proved true be cause never did he give it an order but it obeyed implicitly, "Stay!" he would say when he left the trap for any length of time, and when he returned he would find him sitting in the middle of the driving seat, his nose in line with the horse's tail. It was a guard position, but ruefully Harry had to admit to

himself that that was all it was; it was merely a fake deterrent, for the animal in spite of his size was timid.

"Well, here we go; hold on to your tail." He issued the warning jocularly as he turned the horse from the main road on to the rough

track, then added soberly, "I wonder how we'll find the little one this morning.... And what will be the mood of her ladyship when we walk in?

There's the making of a dour spinster if ever I saw one."

When he drew the horse to a halt in the yard he did not immediately

alight but looked about him. This was the first time he had seen the place in daylight. It was just as Sarah said, it looked as if it were going to rack and ruin. The house was sturdy enough, being built of

stone. But it was an odd shape, the middle part seeming to have

sunk.

It looked as if three buildings had steps leading up to long glass

windows similar to the main steps leading to the front door. The gable ends were dripping with creepers and ivy. These put him in mind of

huge moustaches.

Altogether it was a strange-looking place, which was probably why it had acquired the odd nickname of "The Habitation'. To his mind the inhabitants too had acquired some of its oddness. Those three girls!

He couldn't place. them in any social category, their isolation had

left them classless, neither fish, nor fowl, nor good red meat.

"Good morning." He looked towards the back door where Dilly was standing, and she answered, "Good mornin', doctor."

He nodded towards the stables, saying now, "Is the boy about? I don't know how long I'm likely to be and so I'd like. the horse taken out of the shafts for a while; there's a bag of feed in the back."

"I'll call him, doctor."

He now bent slightly to the dog standing by his side and, I patting its head, said, "Go along with Bessie." Then he turned. and went into the kitchen.

Putting his bag on the table, he asked, "How is she?"

"In deep pain, doctor. She came to for a bit around dawn and it was in me heart to wish she hadn't."

He nodded, then picking up the bag again, he walked out of the kitchen and into the hall. Here he looked about him for a moment thinking.

It's quaint inside an' all, and damn cold. He took off his outer coat and threw it over a chair, then went towards the study < When he opened the door there was, he saw, only one of the younger sisters beside the couch. He nodded at her, saying quietly, "Good morning."

Nancy had risen to her feet. She did not return his greeting but said,

"She keeps waking up and crying, doctor." There was the sound of tears in her own voice.

He walked towards the couch and sat down and looked at the small white, pain-seared face; then gently he put his hand under the sheet-covered makeshift cage and his fingers moved over the small bare breast. Her heart was still beating rapidly and feebly. If she took on a fever or pneumonia there would be no hope for her, and perhaps that would be

just as well for then there'd be no weeks of agony to face, and at the end a return to lifting dead weight iron kettles. What people expected from their servants! And from a child this size. He now drew the

sheet from off the cage, and then he was staring down at the oil-soaked strips of linen covering the two thin shanks of legs.

So quick did he, jerk his head that a crack sounded in his neck.

"Who did that?" He was pointing.

As Nancy stared into the face that was now flushed- with anger she

stammered^ "Martha Mary. She ... she thought it ... it might ease the pain."

Where is she? "

Nancy pointed her finger slowly upwards, then stammered, "Up...

upstairs. She... she went to wash...." "Go and get her."

Damn and blast her! for an interfering young snipe. He could

understand when he was up against a medical opinion as to what was the right treatment for burns, scalds or in .