So Long At the Fair (18 page)

Abbie observed her sister-in-law as they ate. Looking even prettier in her pregnancy, Violet was her usual animated self – and, Abbie thought, a good match for Eddie, whose exuberance seemed to have been tempered not one bit by marriage. Sometimes, watching the two, observing their high spirits and listening to their chatter, Abbie wondered what their home life must be like. Rather loud and boisterous, she had no doubt. But no other way would have suited her brother. No milksop Sunday-schoolteacher type for him.

‘Oh, yes,’ Violet said, ‘I almost forgot.’ Putting down her cup, she took a letter from her bag. ‘We heard from Lizzie yesterday.’ She passed the letter over to Frank Morris who unfolded it and began to read.

Lizzie and Iris had recently been back to Flaxdown for their annual summer vacations, their holidays overlapping, so that for one week they had been together at the cottage. As always, Abbie had been delighted to see her sisters, and their visit had passed all too quickly. Lizzie was nineteen now, and Iris would be eighteen in the autumn. While Iris was still in service in Bath, where she had stayed more or less contentedly for the past three years, Lizzie had tended to move around. This year had seen yet another change for her; on leaving Flaxdown after her summer holiday she had gone to fresh employment in the home of a wealthy family who lived just outside Trowbridge.

‘Well, she seems to be settling in,’ Frank Morris said as he passed the letter to Abbie. ‘Though sometimes I think the girl will never be content.’

Abbie read the short letter. Lizzie wrote that the first two weeks in her new post had gone well and went on to say that she was soon to be temporarily promoted to lady’s maid to a visitor to her employer’s house. Although a little nervous at the prospect, she was nevertheless pleased.

As Abbie passed the letter back, Violet said, ‘I’ll write to her next week. If I leave it to Eddie it’ll never get answered.’

‘Well,’ Eddie gave a dismissive wave of his hand, ‘I ain’t got time for such things.’

Abbie smiled. Her brother didn’t alter. Studying him now, she silently observed that the only change in him over the years had been a minor one in his physical appearance – a slight alteration to the shape of his nose.

That, the breaking of his nose, had taken place almost four years ago, just a month after Beatie’s death.

Abbie and her father had been at the cottage one Sunday afternoon when Eddie had come in with his knuckles bruised and bloody, his eye blackened and his nose bleeding and hugely swollen. Abbie had tended to his wounds, but for all her persistent questioning she had got nothing out of him as to the cause of his injuries.

The following evening, however, while walking through the village, she had run into Manny Harper, one of Eddie’s friends and workmates from the farm. On seeing Abbie he at once asked how Eddie was.

‘He’s not too bad,’ she replied, ‘though I don’t think his nose will ever be the same again.’

Manny shook his head in a gesture of sympathy and sucked in the air between his clenched teeth.

‘You were with him, weren’t you?’ Abbie said.

‘Oh, yes.’ Manny said with a nod. ‘I was that.’

Abbie sighed. ‘It must have been some fight, that’s all I can say.’

‘It certainly was.’

‘Really.’ Abbie nodded with pursed lips. ‘You don’t look any the worse for it.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t involved,’ Manny said. ‘I just stood by and watched.’

‘You stood by – and did nothing to help him?’ She gazed at him levelly. ‘And you’re his friend, Emmanuel?’

‘What?’ Manny frowned. ‘I didn’t give ‘I’m no ’elp because ’e didn’t want no ’elp.’

‘He chose to suffer like that?’

‘Suffer?’ Manny’s frown deepened. ‘It wasn’t Eddie who suffered. It was Greening.’

‘Greening? Tom Greening?’

Manny looked at her gravely, as if aware of the pain that the name must bring. ‘The same.’

Greening had indeed left Lullington shortly before Beatie’s death and he had stayed away, lodging, Abbie had heard, with relatives in Bath. He had remained there during the time of Beatie’s funeral and for many days afterwards. Then one day Eddie had quietly told her that the young man had returned to his family home. ‘’E realizes ’e can’t stay away for ever,’ Eddie had said. ‘’E’ve got to come ’ome at some time.’

Looking into his face, Abbie had seen the naked loathing in his eyes. ‘Eddie,’ she said, ‘what have you got in mind? You’re not going to do anything foolish, are you?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not gunna do anything foolish; I’m gunna do something smart and sensible. I’m gunna find the snivellin’ bastard and break ’is neck.’

‘Eddie, no!’ Reaching out, Abbie had clung to his arm. ‘Don’t, I beg you. You’ll only bring more trouble. And think how much Father’s suffering as it is. You’ll only make it worse.’

In the end she had got him to promise – albeit very reluctantly – not to go after Greening.

And that, she had thought, was the end of it. Now, however, here was Manny Harper telling her that Eddie’s injuries had come as the result of a fight with the young man.

When she had seen Eddie later that evening she told him of her conversation with Manny and taxed him with his broken promise. He listened to her outburst then said calmly, ‘D’you want to know what ’appened?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I didn’t go lookin’ for ’im,’ he said. ‘I just ’appened to see ’im. Manny and me was on the road to Lullington when Greening come along. And that was it. I went for ’im.’ Turning, he looked at his reflection in the glass, one hand touching at his swollen nose. ‘Unfortunately for me ’e was carryin’ a stick – and as I run at ’im ’e swung at me with it and caught me across the face. God, it rocked me, I’ll tell you, but it didn’t stop me. And ’e soon dropped it.’ He gave a bitter smile, his strangely altered features looking even more distorted. ‘I ’ad ’im crying out for mercy, I did.’

‘Don’t go on,’ Abbie said. ‘I don’t want to hear.’

‘No, listen,’ he said. ‘I want to tell you – because I’m glad. I’m glad. I don’t care what ’appens, I’ll never regret what I done.’ He gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘Well, I give him what ’e asked for – mercy. I was merciful. I was merciful in that I didn’t kill the bastard. But I tell you, by the time I’d finished with ’im ’e might well ’ave wished I ’ad. I ended up pitchin’ ’im into the ditch – which was brimful after the rain. He ’ardly ’ad the strength to pull hisself out.’

‘Oh – Eddie – he could have you up for assault. You could go to prison.’

‘I wouldn’t care. It’d be worth the price. ’E threatened all of that anyway. But don’t worry, it won’t ’appen. ’E’d be too bloody scared of what might come out.’

Tom Greening, it was soon commonly known, had sustained a great deal of bruising, a broken nose, a broken jaw and the loss of a tooth. And, Abbie had to admit to herself on hearing the news, she was not sorry – although for a while she had continued to fear possible repercussions on Eddie. But Eddie had been right: apart from the gossip – which was rife and told with relish – nothing more was heard of the incident.

‘But one thing I find very disappointing about the whole thing,’ Abbie had said rather self-righteously to Eddie on hearing the catalogue of Greening’s injuries, ‘is that you broke your promise to me. You gave me your word that you wouldn’t fight with him and you did.’

Eddie considered this for a moment, then, giving a little nod, said, ‘Ah, that’s right, I did. I broke me promise, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, you did.’

‘And I s’pose you’re waitin’ now for me to apologize, are you? Well, you can go on waitin’. I admit, I broke me promise, and I’ll tell you also that I’d do the same thing all over again.’ One corner of his mouth turning up, he’d added, ‘There’s another lesson for you, our Abs. You can’t depend on nobody, can you?’

Now, sitting facing her brother across the kitchen table, Abbie looked at his broken nose and remarked to herself that he would never be quite so handsome again. But there again, Thomas Greening would be even less so.

Later, as Eddie and Violet left the cottage to return to their own home, Abbie and her father stood at the front gate watching as the two of them walked arm in arm down the lane.

‘They make a nice couple,’ Frank Morris said, his eyes following the pair.

Abbie nodded agreement. ‘Yes. A bit mad and a bit wild, but nice.’

Her father said, ‘You were somewhat set against that girl, as I recall.’

‘Indeed I was.’ Abbie pulled a face at him and then smiled. ‘Which just goes to show that occasionally even I can make a mistake.’

Chapter Twelve

After three days of almost non-stop rain the sun had come out again and the Saturday market at Warminster was teeming with people. Abbie and Jane were among them. They had driven into the town with Mr and Mrs Cole, a Flaxdown farmer and his wife, and were to meet them at four o’clock for the ride back. Now, having spent some time wandering around the stalls and the shops of the town, they wanted to get some refreshment before starting back.

On the main street they entered a small inn where they found a vacant space on one of the benches. From the maid they ordered bread and cheese and tea, and when it was served they sat eating and drinking while all about them the other customers came and went. Against the sound of the noisy chatter Jane sighed and said, ‘I can’t believe that my holiday is over. Two weeks. This time tomorrow I shall be on my way back to London.’ She was to leave at first light in the morning, riding in a neighbour’s carriage to Westbury, where she would then take a train on the first stage of her journey back to London.

With the last sip of tea drunk and the last crumb of bread eaten the two girls went back out onto the street. There they set off towards a chemist’s shop where Abbie intended to buy a tonic for her father who was confined at home with a fever and a heavy cold. On reaching the shop they entered its small, cramped interior to find two customers already there, one of whom, a tall man, was being served by the elderly proprietor.

The tall man’s transaction completed, he picked up his package and left the premises while the chemist turned his attention to the middle-aged man who was waiting his turn. The latter had begun to make an enquiry about a particular ointment when the proprietor interrupted him to ask, gesturing to an umbrella that hung on the counter’s edge: ‘Is this yours, sir?’ The customer replied that it was not, at which the proprietor remarked that it must therefore belong to the man who had just left. After a moment’s hesitation, Abbie said that she would go after him and, putting down her basket, took the umbrella and hurried out of the shop.

Emerging onto the narrow pavement, she looked about her and caught sight of the man some thirty or so yards away approaching a barber’s shop. She started towards him, but as she did so he disappeared through the doorway. Moments later, coming to a halt at the open door, she glanced into the interior. A stout man with a white towel round his throat was reclining in the barber’s chair, being shaved. The tall man, the man she had pursued, was sitting nearby, reading a newspaper. Hesitant to invade such an essentially masculine province, Abbie did not know what to do and merely hovered on the step looking in, hoping that the man would glance up and catch her eye. He did not, however, but remained as he was, dark head bent over his paper.

As Abbie stood there, feeling increasingly self-conscious, the barber moved around his supine customer, looked up and caught sight of her. He said with a wide smile, ‘Yes, Miss. A nice haircut and beard trim? Don’t be afraid. We don’t bite.’

His words brought the attention of the other two men, and they looked towards her and chuckled. As the younger man caught her eye she held up the umbrella. ‘Sir – I’m not sure, but I think you left this in the chemist’s.’

He looked from the umbrella to the package and bag on the seat beside him, then said with a groan, ‘Oh, I’ll be forgetting my head next.’ Getting up, he came to her and took the umbrella from her outstretched hand. ‘Thank you so much,’ he said. ‘It’s very kind of you.’ Glancing past her head at the darkening sky, he added, ‘And it looks as if I might need it very soon.’

Returning to the chemist’s shop, Abbie made her purchase of cough mixture and tonic, then together she and Jane stepped out briskly in the direction of The Fleece. It was almost four, time for their ride back to Flaxdown.

On reaching the inn, however, they could see no sign of Mr and Mrs Cole, and when the couple had still not appeared by four thirty Abbie remarked that they had better think about making other arrangements. As she finished speaking the landlord, a burly-looking man, came over to them.

‘Are you Miss Morris and Miss Carroll?’

Abbie and Jane said that they were.

‘I got a message for you from Mr Cole,’ he said. ‘They’ve ’ad to go on back. His missus was took bad. Nothin’ too serious, but ’e’ve took her back to Flaxdown. They left just on ’alf past one.’

The young women thanked the man and as he returned to his work they looked around in the hope of seeing a familiar face. There was no one and after a few moments they made their way outside. They had no choice now but to walk and, adjusting their shopping baskets over their arms, they set off.

They had been walking for some twenty-five minutes under an increasingly darkening sky when the heavens opened and the rain came teeming down. Skirts flying, they dashed for cover under an oak at the roadside, and stood there in the tree’s shelter, watching as the rain fell.

After several minutes they saw a horse-drawn carriage, a phaeton, appear over the crest of a hill. As it drew nearer Abbie moved out from their shelter with raised hand. At once the carriage came to a halt and, as she walked towards it, stepping gingerly in the muddy road, she saw to her surprise that the driver was the man whose umbrella she had returned in the barber’s shop.

‘Well, well,’ he said, smiling, ‘so we meet again.’