Rosa's Island (10 page)

‘So, what Mr Drew thought – what we thought, I mean, was – would you ever consider our Jim for a husband? He's a fair bit older than you, of course, gone thirty is Jim. Not that that matters in a husband.' Mrs Drew went pink in the face. ‘He'd – he'd still be – well, I expect he'd like a family. That's what Mr Drew would expect anyway, and I'd like some grandbairns too. I allus thought that Henry would be married by now,' she sighed. ‘But it seems my lads don't want to leave home.'

Rosa was aghast. Marry Jim! She'd rather throw herself in the Humber. He had become more morose as he got older. He never smiled. Hardly ever said thank you, and when he'd stood back on first seeing Marsh Farm after she had swept and cleaned and got rid of his rubbish and made a fire in the grate, he'd only said
begrudgingly, ‘By heck, Rosa, I thought I'd got in 'wrong house.'

Jim was a man of few words, unlike Henry who was a man of many, especially when he'd been drinking.

‘You look after your lads too well, Aunt Ellen.' Rosa stood up and went to open the door wider as Maggie struggled with the tea tray, and so avoided answering the question. ‘That's why they don't want to find a wife and leave home.'

‘There can be no other reason,' Maggie said grimly. She had plainly heard most of the conversation and shook her head at Rosa.

‘So will you think about what we've asked, Rosa?' Mrs Drew said. ‘There's no rush, but if you'd keep it in mind.'

‘What does Jim think about it?' Rosa said, although she had already made up her mind.

Mrs Drew looked doubtful. ‘I don't think Mr Drew has mentioned it yet. He thought we should put 'idea to you first. He said Jim wouldn't object.'

‘Wouldn't dare to, you mean, Ma,' Maggie muttered. ‘He does owt Da tells him. He's right under his thumb.'

‘Now, Maggie,' Mrs Drew began, but Rosa poured the tea and interrupted, anxious to change the subject. ‘I've just remembered,' she said. ‘When I went to see my gran, she said that when I came here to live, she gave me a chest with some linen in it, for if I ever get wed,' she added, giving Mrs Drew some hope. ‘I can't remember seeing it.'

‘There was a chest. We brought it across from
Marsh Farm.' Mrs Drew furrowed her forehead. ‘Now where did it go?'

‘Up in 'loft, I expect, Ma,' Maggie said. ‘That's where most stuff goes that we don't need.'

‘Ah, well, you won't want it just yet, will you, Rosa?' Mrs Drew looked at her and raised her eyebrows.

‘I shan't need 'linen.' Rosa dashed her hopes. ‘But Gran thought there was an old squeeze box in it. I'd like to have a look at that. See if I can play it,' she added, taking a sip of tea.

Mrs Drew had misgivings, but Maggie frowned at her mother. ‘Why not, Ma? Why shouldn't we have a bit o' music now and then? Other folk do. I remember when we had 'party for 'Queen's coronation, our family was onny one not allowed to dance.'

Rosa remembered it too. Only she had danced. Henry had whisked her away behind a barn and swung her around in time to the music they could hear coming from the field, where they were having the feast. A fiddler was playing and then someone else joined in with a penny whistle. She'd clapped her hands and tapped her feet and Henry had spotted Matthew watching them and made him dance too. She had laughed at his blushes; Matthew had been prone to blush at most things then, but as if in defiance of her laughter, he had seized her hands and clumsily whirled her off her feet.

‘So can I go up into 'loft and have a look?' she asked. ‘Gran said there were some of my mother's things in the chest as well.'

‘Ask Matthew to go up. It's a bit tricky up
'ladder,' Maggie advised. ‘And it'll be full o' cobwebs and birds' nests.'

She asked him at supper. ‘Matthew,' she said. ‘Will you help me to look in 'loft? There's an old chest of my gran's somewhere and Maggie thinks it might be up there.'

‘A chest? What's an old chest of Mrs Jennings's doing here?' Mr Drew brusquely interrupted Matthew's reply.

‘It's one that came with me when I moved in.' Rosa looked across at him. Why does he have to constantly question everything? she wondered. ‘It's got some linen and things in it.'

‘Ah!' he said, and looked significantly at his wife. ‘Did we mention that little matter to Rosa, Mrs Drew?'

‘Yes,' she said nervously. ‘But nothing has been decided.'

He nodded, a satisfied look upon his face. ‘No hurry, no hurry. Well, not too much anyway.'

His three sons looked at him, but he didn't speak further, tucking into his meat pie. They glanced at Maggie but she kept her head down.

‘Excuse me.' Henry got up from the table, obviously annoyed at being kept in the dark over whatever the little matter was. ‘I'm going out.'

‘Sit down,' his father thundered. ‘Have 'manners to wait until we've all finished.'

Henry crashed down into his seat again and glared at his father. His supper was left on his plate.

‘Can I have your pie if you don't want it, Henry?' Matthew reached across and scooped
the remains of his brother's supper onto his own plate. ‘Nice pie, Ma.'

‘Maggie made it,' his mother said quietly. ‘She's got a good hand at pastry.'

Maggie gazed across the table, not catching anyone's eye. Rosa thought that tears were not far away, as her eyes were glistening and she chewed hard on her bottom lip.

‘So will you, Matthew?' Rosa asked again.

He looked up from his plate. ‘What?'

‘Go up into 'loft.'

‘Aye. After supper and when I've finished putting 'pigs to bed.' He glanced at Rosa and for some reason which he couldn't fathom, the thought of being up in the loft with Rosa made him blush, which he hadn't done for a long time.

‘I'll give you a hand with 'pigs if you like,' she said and smiled at him, and he nodded and looked down at his plate.

She looked so eager, her dark eyes animated and bright as if the prospect of searching the loft was the most exciting thing she had ever done. But then, Rosa made most things exhilarating, he thought. Finding a plover's nest with the chicks in it, seeing a lamb born or watching a sparrowhawk in flight. She had the gift of making ordinary events seem special and in spite of himself, whatever she wanted him to do, he always knew that he would do it.

As she walked across the yard to the pig pen to help Matthew, Henry called to her. ‘Come here, I want you.' From the tone of his voice he was still angry and she knew that she would have to
soothe away the rage which was simmering over his father's behaviour.

‘I can't stand it any longer, Rosa. I'm sick to death of him.'

‘Henry!' she said. ‘You know the answer. You must get a job somewhere else. You're an experienced farmer, you could get a job as a foreman or hind anywhere in Holderness.'

‘I know.' He grabbed her hand. ‘Will you come wi' me?'

She was startled. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You're seventeen!'

She nodded, looking puzzled.

‘Well then? You're old enough to wed. We could ask your gran.'

‘To wed?' She almost laughed, but her laughter died for he looked so serious.

‘Aye.' He stared down at her. His eyes were very blue, like Matthew's, she thought, though he was not so handsome. ‘I've allus said that I'd marry you, haven't I?'

‘But I was a child and you were joking, Henry! And you only said it when you'd been drinking ale.'

‘Aye. It was onny time I dared say it, and I knew that folk would think it was 'drink talking. But it wasn't, Rosa. I allus knew that I'd marry you one day, when you'd grown up. So will you?' He took hold of her other hand. ‘We'll get wed and go away from here and set up a new life, away from
him
.'

She gazed up at him and felt sad. He was so unhappy and yet, in spite of his bravado, he dared not leave alone.

‘You've been like my brother, Henry,' she said softly. ‘How could I be your wife?' Besides, she thought, I would never have any freedom if I were married to you. I'd be forever at your beck and call, just the same as I would if I married Jim.

‘Well, that's 'best thing, isn't it? We know each other so well. You know what I like and you understand farming life. Besides, I'm right fond of you, Rosa.'

‘I can't, Henry.' She squeezed his hands, which were still holding hers. ‘It wouldn't be right. I love you as a brother, I could never love you as a husband.'

He put her hands to his lips and kissed them, but dropped them as Matthew came around the corner with a feeding bucket in each hand. Matthew stopped abruptly. ‘What's going on?' He stared at them. ‘Have you nowt to do?'

‘I might have,' Henry replied. ‘But I'm not going to do it. I'm going to 'hostelry. I'm going to get drunk.'

Matthew barely spoke to her as they fed the pigs and swept out the pens, then as they were almost finished, he said brusquely, ‘Was Henry bothering you?'

‘No,' she answered. ‘He wasn't. Not at all.'

‘You'd tell me if he did?'

She stopped what she was doing and leaned against the broom handle. ‘And what would you do? Fight him?'

He looked away from her. ‘If necessary. Yes.'

She smiled and said gently, ‘I've nothing to
fear from Henry. He's just asked me to marry him.'

He lifted his head and she saw the startled apprehensive expression. ‘And,' his voice was husky, ‘what was your answer?'

‘What would you think? I said no.' She gazed at him and saw the flush on his cheeks. ‘Just as I shall say no to Jim.'

He gasped. ‘Jim has asked you? Jim! Never!'

‘Well, not exactly Jim! Your da asked your ma to ask me on his behalf.' She continued to watch his expression, which seemed to be changing from anxiety and concern to doubt and incredulity. ‘I don't think Jim knows yet, so don't tell him or Henry.'

‘But why?' He raised his voice. ‘I can understand Henry, but why Jim? He's not 'slightest bit interested in getting married. He'll never leave home!'

‘Your da wants him settled at Marsh Farm and he won't do that without a wife.'

‘So – what did you tell Da? He doesn't like to have his plans upset.'

‘I'm not afraid of him,' she said simply, and watched a pale shadow cross his face as she gave him the answer. ‘I'll just tell him that I can't possibly marry the men who have been like brothers to me.'

‘
MIND WHERE YOU
put your feet. Walk on 'joists. Don't go falling through 'ceiling or we'll both be for it!'

‘I won't.' Rosa trod carefully, following Matthew along the huge loft and holding up the lantern. ‘Maggie was right, it's full of old birds' nests. Phew!' She shook her head as a disturbed bat flew across her face.

‘Look, there's our old rocking horse! Ma had it made for Jim when he was a babby and we all played on it.' Matthew crawled on his hands and knees into a corner where the rocking horse sat alone. He patted the horse's head sentimentally. ‘He's not got much mane left. Ma said that its hair came from one of our shire hosses.' He moved further along. ‘How big is this chest that we're looking for?'

‘I don't know. I think – yes, I vaguely remember putting clean paper into a box of sorts, but I can't remember 'size. It would have been my grandda's farm chest, I expect.'

‘Ah, this might be it.' Matthew's voice was
muffled as he moved further along the loft. ‘Bring 'lantern over here.'

There were other old boxes perched on the wooden joists, and old rag rugs and surplus pieces of furniture, stools and chairs with broken cane bottoms. Behind all of these was a wooden chest.

Matthew lifted the lid. The chest was full, the contents covered over with brown paper.

‘That's it,' Rosa said excitedly. ‘I remember it now.'

‘We'll never get it down on our own,' he said. ‘I'll have to ask Jim or Henry to help me.'

‘It doesn't matter about getting it down,' she murmured, lifting up the top layer of paper and rummaging underneath. ‘I can look up here for what I need.' She suddenly thought that she didn't want all of the Drew family to see her looking through the contents. This was hers, brought from home, part of her heritage and that of her mother's.

‘Shall I stop and help you?'

She gave him a quick smile. Matthew was an exception. She didn't mind him looking. ‘Won't you be bored?' she said. ‘It's only old stuff.'

‘No, I like rooting amongst old things, but I won't touch anything, honest.'

‘All right.' She gave him the lantern and he fixed it to a nail on one of the top spars where it shone a halo of light upon them. She pulled off the layers of paper and handed them to him. He carefully folded them and placed them on the joist.

The first thing she found was her mother's
shawl. She remembered it, an exotic rich dark blue with a peacock-feather design embroidered on it. She put it close to her face, shut her eyes and breathed in. She could smell her mother, a faint perfume of lavender and rose water. Tears gathered in her eyes and she felt her throat tighten.

‘Are you all right, Rosa?' Matthew asked quietly. ‘It might be upsetting for you looking at your ma's things.'

At his gentle words, she started to weep. ‘Ma said that my da had given her this, before he went away,' she cried, and Matthew drew nearer and put his arm around her.

‘Don't cry, Rosa,' he said softly. ‘I don't like to see you upset.' She put her head against his shoulder and he bent his head to feel her silky hair against his face.

‘I'm all right,' she said, her voice muffled against him. ‘Really I am.'