So Long At the Fair (30 page)

Now, as Iris and Abbie cleared away the dishes and made the tea, the light-hearted conversation continued. Unable to get over the change in her younger daughters, Mrs Morris remarked again in wonder at how fine they had grown. Abbie knew well enough what her mother meant. Looking across the table at Lizzie, Abbie took in her bright, animated expression. Lizzie wore a dress of pale-blue voile with a white lace collar. She would be twenty in May and was ravishingly pretty. She was very much like Beatie in her facial appearance – even prettier if that were possible – but taller, and her thick, luxuriant hair was a little darker. She was quite unlike Beatie in personality, though. Whereas Beatie had had a shy, gentle nature, Lizzie was more like Eddie. She had an exuberant, voluble way, and was inclined to be impetuous and headstrong.

From Lizzie, Abbie’s glance moved to Iris as she came to the table bearing cups and the milk jug. Iris had reached eighteen that past October, and was as unlike Lizzie as it was possible to be. She was three or four inches shorter and not nearly as pretty. Her freckled face was too narrow, her jaw a little too long and her mouth a little too wide. Her hair, while being the prettiest corn colour, like Eddie’s, lacked the rich abundance of Lizzie’s locks. She was unlike Lizzie in personality, too, being more like Beatie. She did, however, own a cleverer mind than that of either Beatie or Lizzie – and perhaps even of Abbie herself, Abbie thought.

Having set down the cups, Iris began to remove the pudding dishes. As she went to take Abbie’s dish Abbie reached out and briefly touched her wrist in a little gesture of affection. Iris looked at her with a warm smile on her plain little face, at the same time briefly widening her blue eyes in acknowledgement of the gesture.

‘And I expect you girls have grown up in other ways too,’ Mrs Morris said to Iris. ‘I don’t doubt but that you’ve got some young man hanging around, have you?’

Taking her seat at the table again, Iris smiled and shook her head. ‘Not me. I haven’t got time for all that.’ As she finished speaking she flicked a glance at Lizzie. Mrs Morris saw the brief communication and at once turned to Lizzie.

‘But I suppose you have, Lizzie,’ she said.

Lizzie gave a little shrug.

‘Come on, then, tell us his name,’ Mrs Morris said with a chuckle. ‘I think I’ve got a right to know.’

Lizzie looked quickly from Iris to Abbie, then back to Iris. And in that moment Abbie saw panic in her eyes.

‘Well, yes,’ Lizzie said casually, turning back to her mother. ‘As a matter of fact I do have a young man.’

Her mother nodded. ‘I reckoned you would – a pretty girl like you. And what might be this young man’s name?’

‘His – his name is Adam. Adam Woodward.’

‘And –?’ her mother prompted. ‘Tell us about him, then.’ But before Lizzie could reply she turned to Iris. ‘Have you met him?’

Iris nodded. ‘Yes, I have. He’s very nice.’

‘And I suppose he’s handsome, is he?’ asked Mrs Morris to Lizzie. ‘Well, he’d have to be, wouldn’t he?’

‘Ah, he is that,’ Lizzie said. ‘He’s very handsome.’

‘Well,’ said her mother, ‘you know what they say: handsome is as handsome does.’

Lizzie laughed, but it was an odd sound, and Abbie, hearing it, felt a sudden, strange little chill about her heart.

‘And what does he do, this handsome Mr Adam Woodward?’ their mother enquired.

‘He’s a farmer,’ Lizzie replied.

‘A farmer?’ Her mother raised her eyebrows, impressed. ‘He owns a farm?’

‘No, no,’ Lizzie said quickly, ‘I mean he works on a farm. He’s a farmhand.’

‘Oh.’ Mrs Morris nodded, disappointed. ‘A farmhand.’

‘But he won’t always be,’ Lizzie said quickly. ‘He’s got brains and he’s going to do really well some day, I’m sure of it.’

Mrs Morris was looking at Lizzie appraisingly now. ‘You sound as if you’re quite smitten with him.’

Lizzie said nothing.

After a moment her mother added, ‘Now don’t take it amiss what I say, Lizzie, but don’t you go and throw yourself away on the first young lad who sets his cap at you. You’re a pretty girl and if you’re clever about it you can go a long way.’

Lizzie, remaining silent, looked briefly at Iris who sat with the teapot in her hand.

‘I’ve seen it happen more times than I care to recall,’ Mrs Morris said. ‘You act in haste and you’ll repent at leisure, remember that.’

Abbie felt a sudden stab of resentment at her mother’s words. She thrust the feeling aside – after all, she told herself, it was natural that a mother should want the best for her daughters.

‘And how old is this young man?’ Mrs Morris said now.

‘He’s older than I am,’ Lizzie said.

‘And how old is that?’

‘Twenty-two.’

‘Twenty-two. Well, that’s not so much older – though it’s old enough to start showing a little sense. And he comes from Lullington, does he?’

‘Yes. His family lives there.’

‘Have you met his family?’

‘Some of them.’

‘Some of them? How many are there?’

‘Well –’ Lizzie shrugged, ‘there’s his mam and dad, and his brothers and sisters.’

‘How many brothers and sisters?’

‘He’s got six brothers and four sisters.’

Mrs Morris stared at her for a moment, then turned a wide-eyed glance to Abbie, as if seeking an endorsement of her own dismay. With difficulty Abbie dropped her gaze.

‘Eleven children,’ Mrs Morris observed. ‘How can people do it? Have they no control?’

Iris spoke up at this. ‘But Mother, there are plenty of families with more than eleven children.’

‘I’m well aware of that,’ Mrs Morris said. ‘And I’m sure that they’re well aware of it too. How could they fail to be? All those mouths clamouring to be fed. All those bodies to be clothed. It’s no wonder they’re as poor as church mice. You’d think people would have more self-control.’

Lizzie said nothing, but Abbie could see from her set mouth that she was growing increasingly unhappy. ‘A lot of people like big families,’ Abbie said.

‘You truly believe that?’ said her mother. ‘You really think wives enjoy endless childbearing and living in poverty and squalor?’

Abbie shrugged. ‘I don’t mean everyone. But – well, look at the Queen.’

‘Indeed look at the Queen,’ said Mrs Morris. ‘The Queen doesn’t have to care for her children if she has no inclination, does she? If her children cry there’re a dozen nursemaids to pick them up and comfort them. And she certainly doesn’t have to scrape and save to clothe and feed them, does she?’ She shook her head in deep disapproval, then to Lizzie she said:

‘Don’t you listen to your sisters, Lizzie. You just remember what I say – don’t go and commit yourself to the first good-looking young man who comes along. I know what it’s like, young love. You young people think you’re the only ones it’s ever happened to. You think nobody older than you has any idea what it’s like. You think you’ve discovered it all. But you have no idea in reality. You look at some young man and think you’ll love him for ever – and that if you can’t have him you’ll die. Isn’t that what you think? Oh, Lizzie, my dear girl, it isn’t really like that at all. Believe me, the world’s full of young men and if you don’t have this Mr Woodward or whatever his name is there’ll be another one come along who’s just as fine, just as handsome. And no doubt doing better than a mere farmhand. A girl like you should be able to have her choice.’

A little moment of hesitation, then Lizzie said, ‘I’ve already made it – my choice.’

Mrs Morris looked at her for a second in silence, then said, ‘Well, you say that now. But you’re so young. You wait – you’ll get another position in another town and you’ll meet somebody else. Then you’ll forget all about this young man.’

‘I shan’t.’

‘Believe me, you will. I know what I’m talking about.’

‘I shan’t be moving to another position. I’m not moving away from Lullington.’

‘How do you know that? How can you be so sure what’s going to happen? You can see into the future, can you?’

‘Well, no, but – I know.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘I – I just know.’

With these words another glance passed between herself and Iris. Seeing the exchange, their mother frowned, a flash of irritation touching her features. ‘What’s going on?’ she said. ‘Is there something I’m missing?’

Lizzie hesitated, then, said, giving a wide, forced smile, ‘Well, I s’pose I may as well tell all of you my news. You’ve got to know at some time . . .’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m going to be married. Next month, as a matter of fact.’

Silence in the room. Mrs Morris turned to Abbie. ‘Did you know about this?’

Abbie shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘What about you?’ Mrs Morris looked at Iris. ‘It’s obvious that you knew all about it.’

Iris nodded. ‘Well – yes.’

Mrs Morris turned back to Lizzie. ‘Next month, eh? It’s all happening very quickly. And I don’t suppose anybody’d need to be a genius to realize the reason for such a great rush.’

Lizzie said nothing, just stared down at her cup.

Her mother looked at her and slowly nodded. ‘So I’m right about that. When is it to be?’

Lizzie raised her eyes. ‘The wedding?’

‘No, not the wedding. You’ve already told us that’s taking place next month. I’m talking about the baby. When d’you expect that?’

Lizzie lowered her eyes again and gave a little shrug. ‘I’m not sure. Probably around the middle of September.’

Her mother nodded. ‘How long have you known this young man?’

‘Just under a year.’

When Mrs Morris spoke again there was contempt in her voice and in her face. ‘You’re nothing but a little fool,’ she said. ‘I so looked forward to seeing you girls again and when I do I get greeted with this news. God – it’s so depressing.’

Abbie herself had been taken aback at Lizzie’s news and at the implication of it. Nevertheless she could not listen to her mother’s words and remain unmoved.

‘Oh, Mother – please,’ she said, ‘don’t say that. If it’s what Lizzie wants then we have to accept it.’

‘What she wants?’ her mother said. ‘It isn’t what she wants. The girl’s got no choice in the matter. She’s got herself into a pickle and there’s no other way out of it.’ She turned to Lizzie. ‘You’re a fool to go and get yourself in a mess like this. I hoped you’d have more sense.’ She turned away in disgust.

Lizzie stared at her and then, suddenly dissolving into tears, burst out, ‘I wish I hadn’t come here today! I wish I’d stayed in Lullington.’

Iris got up, went to Lizzie’s side and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’

‘All right!’ Mrs Morris said scornfully. ‘You think it’s all right, do you? Well, if you think that then it’s clear you’ve got no more brains than your sister. And it’s obvious that she’s got none.’

‘Mother,’ Abbie said, ‘let’s not make this even more unpleasant.’

‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ her mother said. ‘You’re even more foolish. You had it all and threw it away.’

‘We’re not talking about me,’ Abbie said. ‘We’re talking about Lizzie. And where she’s concerned there’s nothing to be done about it now. It’s happened and we have to make the best of it. Or rather, Lizzie has to make the best of it. It’s what it all means to her that’s important.’

‘Well,’ Mrs Morris said, ‘you can see very well what it’s going to mean to her. She’ll be having a dozen brats around her feet before she knows where she is.’

Lizzie got up from the table. ‘I’m not staying.’

‘No, Lizzie – come on, now.’ Abbie got up and joined Iris at Lizzie’s side. ‘It’ll be all right. You just gave us a bit of a shock, that’s all.’

‘Why should it matter to anyone else what I do?’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s my life and I can live it any way I like.’

‘Oh, that’s rich,’ said Mrs Morris to the ceiling. ‘She can live her life any way she likes. I think not. ‘She turned to Lizzie. ‘You are not going to live your life the way you like – that’s one thing you can be sure of. Your life’s mapped out for you now, that’s clear to anybody. From now on you haven’t got any choice in what happens to you. It’s going to be one lifetime’s slog of trying to make ends meet – that’s what it’s going to be for you.’

‘Abbie,’ Lizzie cried out to her elder sister, ‘make her stop. Please, make her stop.’

Abbie put her arms around Lizzie, drawing her closer. ‘Mother,’ she said over Lizzie’s head, ‘I think you’re being cruel and very hard on the girl. At a time like this she needs all the support she can get.’

‘Well, I’m sorry,’ Mrs Morris said disdainfully, ‘but if she expects me to condone her stupidity she’ll have to wait a mighty long time.’

Breaking from the circle of Abbie’s embrace, Lizzie turned to her mother and said passionately, ‘I don’t expect anything from you! I would be a fool to do that!’ Striding across the room, she snatched her coat from the hook on the door. ‘I’m going. I’m not staying here.’ Looking back at her mother she added, tears shining in her eyes, ‘I love Adam. I love him and he loves me. And we’re going to be married. And we want to be married. So what does it matter to you or anyone else how we do it? And so what if we’ll never be rich? We’ll have each other and that’s what we want. And anyway, it’s
our
lives.’ She turned to Abbie. ‘Abbie, I’m sorry to leave like this after all the trouble you’ve gone to, but I can’t stay.’ To her younger sister she said, ‘You stay if you want to, our Iris, but I’m going.’

Iris stood undecided for a moment, watching as Lizzie pulled on her coat, then said: ‘I’ll come with you.’ She could not look her mother in the face.

Lizzie, putting on her bonnet, moved to the door. ‘I’ll see you at our Eddie’s, Iris. I’ll wait for you there.’

‘That’s right,’ Mrs Morris said, ‘you go to your brother’s. At least you all know which side he’s on.’

Lizzie looked at her for a moment, then turned and ran out, the door banging behind her. As Abbie started across the room after her, her mother said, ‘Let her go.’ Abbie came to a stop. ‘Don’t you care?’ she asked.