The Hawthorns Bloom in May (17 page)

Charlie stared at Sam and then looked round at Joe, whose face had crumpled into a bitter grimace.

‘I’m sorry for you, sir, has this man to deal with,’ he said, nodding towards Sam. ‘But we’ll not forget him,’ he said nastily, as he followed Hutchinson and the two lads out of the yard without a backward glance.

Martha was standing in the doorway in her bare feet, a cardigan pulled on over her shift. Joe pushed his way past her without a word, his face like thunder as he made straight for his bedroom on the left hand side of the kitchen. The door banged loudly and from the bedroom on the right-hand side one of the babies sent up a wail of fear and anxiety.

‘Ye may see to that,’ said Sam, coolly. ‘I’ll make us a drop of tea.’

He lit a lamp, raked up the fire and pulled the smaller kettle forward over the flames, put the teapot and caddy ready on the edge of the table and sat down to wait. The kettle boiled before the child’s howls had subsided, so he made the tea, fetched milk and sugar and two mugs from the dresser. He sat, waiting for Martha, his head in his hands.

‘You’re a nice one,’ she declared, glaring at him, as she closed the bedroom door quietly and stamped back into the room. ‘Ye ought to be ashamed of yourself, lettin’ us down like that,’ she began, her hands on her hips. ‘Who do you think you are? What right have you to give orders roun’ here. This is Joe’s place an’ it’ll be mine one day.’

‘I’m your husband, Martha,’ he said steadily. ‘I’m the father of your children and the one who sees that you’re all well-cared for, though from the way you treat me you’d never think it’, he said, standing up. ‘But I’ve come to a decision tonight,’ he continued, not once raising his voice as he poured tea into the two mugs. ‘Unless you and Joe stop talkin’ behind my back, callin’ me names and makin’ little of me, I’m leavin’ this place. I’ll see you an’ the children don’t go without, but Joe can shift for himself. I’ll sell my stuff in the barn till I can find somewhere to begin again, some place where I’m not ashamed of the company I keep.’

‘An’ are you sayin’ that you’re ashamed of me, Sam Hamilton?’ she demanded furiously.

‘I’d be ashamed of any woman that did what you and Joe did behind my back.’

‘Sure it was for your own good,’ she said shortly. ‘Ye haven’t a bit of wit. The neighbours laugh at you with your queer ideas. An’ you’re not one bit loyal.’

‘Loyal, Martha? What does that mean to you?

Does it mean standin’ by me, or encouragin’ me, or does it mean cuddlin’ up to me when ye want what ye want and ignorin’ me round the house, except when ye need me to mind the children.’

‘I mean loyal to your country,’ she retorted, ignoring what he’d said. ‘What kind of a Protestant d’you think you are, turnin’ them men away after all the trouble they had to get them guns? I suppose you’ll just let the Fenians walk all over you, the way you walk over me an’ Joe.’

Sam looked at her closely, a small, angry woman in a flimsy shift, her breasts drooping, her belly protruding under the thin fabric, her bare legs paper-white, her feet dirty from the yard.

There was no use talking to her. From long experience, he knew she could keep at it all night, throwing things up at him, complaining at what he did, or didn’t do.

‘Martha, I’m not goin’ to argue with you,’ he said suddenly. ‘You don’t love me, an’ I sometimes wonder if you ever did, but we have eight children to rear an’ I’ll not have them neglected. You do your work an’ I’ll do mine, but keep a civil tongue in your head or we’ll have to come to some other arrangement,’ he said, drinking the remains of his tea at one long swallow.

She stared at him and looked for a moment or two as if she would simply begin to berate him again as if he hadn’t spoken. Instead, she turned on
her heel and went back into the bedroom.

He sat for a little, staring into the tiny blaze. For too long now, there’d be no pleasing her, outside of the bedroom, he thought wryly, and he’d no heart for any more of that now. Suddenly he stood up, raked down the flames and covered them with ash, ready for the morning. Picking up his torch, he unhooked his heavy winter coat from its place by the door, and went out into the damp, windy night.

He crossed to the barn, picked up the lantern his visitors had lit and climbed the wooden stair to the loft above. He looked around to see if he had some old sacks somewhere, but if he had he couldn’t find them. He blew out the lantern carefully, wrapped himself in his greatcoat, lay down on the dusty floorboards and fell fast asleep.

Despite the growing tension that followed the very successful gun-running in Ulster and the continuous disturbing news from Europe, spring-time in County Down proceeded, quite indifferent to the affairs of men and women. The hawthorns dipped their branches, so richly showered with creamy blossom they could have been laden with snow. The gorse bushes flamed an unbelievably brilliant yellow, the meadows glistened with new growth and cow parsley danced along the hedgerows, a lacy white curtain in the warm breezes.

When Rose and John drove to Armagh on the second Saturday in June for the Annual Celebration Day with the Sintons, the sky was a perfect blue. From the tall windows of James and Mary’s handsome Georgian house, the assembled company surveyed the familiar summer scene.
Beyond the shady, tree-lined walk that encircled The Mall the white figures of the cricketers moved through the heat haze shimmering above the pitch. White-haired, but still robust, James pointed out to his guests that drought had already worn bare the short grass of the outfield. The pitch itself was as hard as nails.

Everyone was in good spirits. Elizabeth and Richard had been an addition to the original family parties for many years, but Sam Hamilton had not appeared in Armagh since his marriage, though he’d always been such a favourite with Mary Sinton. Both James and Mary were clearly delighted to welcome Alex for the first time. He’d been invited the previous year, but he hadn’t felt he could quite manage such an important family occasion so soon. It helped Alex make up his mind when his good friend Sam announced he was free to come.

‘I don’t approve of speeches,’ said James, standing at the head of the lunch table, ‘so this won’t take long, but I can’t let today pass without a word.’

There was a murmur of warm encouragement from the assembled company.

‘You may not have done the calculation, but it is twenty-five years ago this week since Rose and Sarah celebrated their joint birthday on the Armagh Methodist’s excursion to Warrenpoint.
We all know what happened that day,’ he went on, a little more soberly. ‘Without our dear Rose some of us would certainly not be sitting here today.’

Rose blushed, as she always did, whenever James spoke of her part in persuading his family to jump out of the run-away train. Even after all this time, she still could hardly believe what had happened.

‘We have met now for twenty-five years, each year a different mix of Hamiltons and Sintons. We have suffered our losses,’ he continued crisply, not wanting to cast a shadow on such a happy occasion, ‘but we have had our gains. And today we welcome Alex.’

He beamed broadly at the young man.

‘Friends,’ he said, ‘let us give thanks as we do each year,
for love and life and friendship
.’

‘
For love and life and friendship
,’ they repeated, as they stood and raised their glasses.

After a long, leisurely lunch spent catching up on the doings of all the family members not present, they strolled across the road, heading for the dappled shade on the mall. As they followed Sam and Mary Sinton down the shallow steps leading to the White Walk, Sarah found Alex at her side. Rose had warned Sarah that Mary was having trouble with her hips, but Mary made light of it, though
Sarah could see how glad she was of Sam’s strong arm to help her down the steps.

‘Sam’s in good spirits today, isn’t he?’ Alex said quietly, after they’d paused for a moment to let Sarah point out the courthouse, the cathedrals, the two Presbyterian churches and the library.

‘Yes, he is,’ said Sarah, beaming at him. ‘Did
you
persuade him to come?’

‘No, ma’am,’ he said, grinning at her, ‘much as I’d like to take the credit for it. It was
he
persuaded me.’

‘Well, I
am
delighted. I haven’t seen Sam look so happy for a long time.’

Alex fell silent.

‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’

‘Correct.’

‘And why is that?’ she said, a hint of anxiety creeping into her voice.

‘Can’t think how to put it,’ he confessed wryly.

‘Just say it, Alex. When have I ever been annoyed with you for telling me something I needed to know?’

‘Right.’

Sarah waited patiently. He was normally so direct with her, she couldn’t imagine what was giving him such difficulty.

‘You know when I’ve a day’s holiday and I borrow your motor, I go over and work with Sam,’ he began easily enough. ‘Well, two weeks back I
had all Saturday as well as Sunday, because there’s been a lot of overtime.’

‘Yes, I remember,’ she said quickly. ‘You said you might stay over if I didn’t need the car.’

‘Sam offered me a bed.’

‘Good Heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘Where on earth
did
he put you? Ma says the four little ones are top and tail in one big bed, Charley and Billy are in with Uncle Joe on mattresses, and there are two cradles in Martha and Sam’s room.’

‘Up in the loft, Sarah,’ he replied, looking at her cautiously. ‘He has his bed up there now and two proper beds for Charley and Billy. I had both the mattresses. One on top of the other. Very comfortable they were too.’

‘And how was Martha?’ Sarah asked cautiously.

‘Better than usual. She was actually quite civil, which makes a change.’

‘And Uncle Joe?’ she went on, wondering what could possibly have happened to make Martha behave decently.

‘No great change there. A face that would sour milk, as I think the expression is in these parts, but he didn’t say very much about anything, certainly not in front of me.’

‘And the children, Alex,’ she continued, puzzled by the picture that was emerging. ‘What about them?’

‘Wearing shoes and boots,’ he replied, raising an eyebrow.

‘Oh, Alex, what wonderful news,’ she said, beaming at him. ‘Ma will be
so
pleased. She really did worry about them in the bad weather. But why were you so uneasy about telling me all this?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Well, I thought you’d be upset about the bed in the loft.’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ she said nodding. ‘But I’m not sure what joy there ever was for Sam in that other bed,’ she added, her lips tightening. ‘At least this way he seems to have taken back his self-respect.’

Alex nodded vigorously.

‘You won’t go doing what Sam did, will you, Alex?’ she said after a pause. ‘I don’t think I could bear it.’

‘Don’t worry about that, Sarah,’ he replied, his face lighting up with that sudden beaming smile which made him look almost handsome. ‘In Canada, farm servants like me were invisible because they didn’t matter. If there was one thing I had plenty of opportunity to observe, it was the misery a man and a woman can inflict on each other, if they have no love and no respect each for the other.’

Sarah’s good spirits rose even further when she and Alex drove Sam back to Liskeyborough. When they arrived, Martha was nowhere to be seen but an
older woman introduced herself as Aunt Charlotte. She said she looked after the children on Saturdays while their mother went visiting.

A pleasant person, whom the little ones obviously liked, she scooped up the sweets and chocolates Sarah and Alex had bought for them in Armagh and distributed a modest ration.

‘Oh Alex, it has been such a good day,’ Sarah said, as they turned into the drive at Rathdrum. ‘I’m just so delighted that things are better for Sam. Will you stay and have a bite to eat with me, or have you a lady friend awaiting you?’ she asked, her eyes shining with pleasure.

‘I’ll stay,’ he said, grinning. ‘I’m still a free man. I’ll not tie the knot till I see you settled,’ he said, laughing, as he gave her a hand down from the motor before he put it away.

The letter was sitting on the kitchen table where Mrs Beatty knew she couldn’t miss it. It was thin, almost certainly only a single sheet, and postmarked Berlin. She was still staring at it anxiously when Alex came back into the kitchen.

‘Sarah, what’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know yet. But something is,’ she said, her hands shaking as she tore open the envelope.

‘Here, sit down and read it properly,’ he said, pushing a kitchen chair up behind her.

‘It’s from Simon,’ she said, distractedly.

Alex had to smile to himself. Who else was
likely to be in Berlin? He ran the tap to get fresh water and set the glass on the table beside her.

‘Can I help or is it private?’ he asked quietly.

By way of reply, she handed him the brief note written from Petersburg but posted in Berlin.

Alex carefully averted his gaze from the loving good wishes and the scrawled signature.

‘What’s the problem, Sarah? You can go over
next weekend, can’t you? You want to see Hannah anyway.’

‘But what about the children and their holiday? And work?’ she said distractedly. ‘I can’t just go off like that. It would mean sailing next Saturday night.’

‘I’m free next Saturday afternoon. I’ll take you to the boat,’ he said, amused, yet sympathetic, when he saw how agitated she was.

‘But the children, what about them?’ she asked, her eyes wide and staring.

‘Well, they’re at school till the 27th, aren’t they? I can ask for time off and take Rose over to pick them up. They can stay with Rose, or Rose and John can move in here till you come back,’ he said practically. ‘You’ll just have to take them to Portrush or Ballycastle instead of Cleeve and Ashleigh.’

‘But I can’t take
more
time off,’ she said shortly.

‘Sarah, you’re a director, not a weaver,’ he said gently. ‘Of course you can. Besides, you know perfectly well Elizabeth, or Richard, or both, would stand in for you if you want to give the children a holiday later on.’

‘It’s so sudden,’ she said, staring at the thin sheet of paper.

He followed her gaze and noticed the date. ‘It
has
taken a long time to come,’ he said soothingly.

‘No, it hasn’t,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘That’s
the date in Russia. There’s twelve days difference between the Gregorian calendar and ours. He was in such a hurry, he forgot to correct it. Sometimes he puts both.’

‘That must make life difficult when you’re doing business with other countries,’ Alex reflected.

‘Yes, it does,’ she said abstractedly.

She put the letter down and picked up the note Mrs Beatty had left, staring at it as uncomprehendingly as she had at Simon’s missive.

‘You
must
go, Sarah,’ he said quietly.

‘Why?’ she replied baldly.

‘Because you love him,’ he said simply. ‘Love, life and friendship, as James said. That’s what it’s all about. You can’t turn your back on that. It would be like not getting out of the train when you’ve been told why you should.’

She nodded slowly.

‘Perhaps, you’re right,’ she said, sounding quite exhausted. ‘Mrs Beatty has left us a Shepherd’s pie. Is that all right?’

He smiled and nodded.

‘Lunch was lovely, but it seems like a long time ago now,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Perhaps a bite to eat would help settle you. Would you like me to heat it up?’ he asked, still smiling, as he went and found the matches and lit the stove.

‘I can hardly believe I’m here, Hannah,’ Sarah said with a sigh, as she looked round the familiar sitting room at Cleeve Hall the following Sunday afternoon. ‘Only a week ago, I was in Armagh talking to Mary and James about you and Teddy and the children. I never dreamt I’d be sitting having tea with you so soon.’

‘I’m so delighted to see you, Sarah,’ Hannah replied warmly. ‘I
know
it’s a big disappointment about Simon’s leave, but I have you here
now
, all to myself for at least a couple of days. I’m going to enjoy every minute of it,’ she said smiling, as she sat herself down in the window seat. ‘Now where shall we start?’

They both laughed, for there seemed so much to share it was difficult indeed to know where to begin.

Hannah was as pleased as Sarah about the changes Sam had made in his life and delighted at Helen and Hugh’s progress at school. Then she asked about the labour difficulties troubling the four mills and how both their parents were responding to it.

In turn, Sarah wanted to know exactly how the current state of affairs in the country and in Europe was affecting Teddy. His seat in Parliament was considered a safe one, but Teddy himself was increasingly critical of the cabinet and their failure to address the problems the outbreak of war might produce.

As they talked, Sarah grew increasingly aware that Hannah’s life was far from easy, her responsibilities growing all the time. Teddy was working long hours and wasn’t always free to come home at weekends, but if Hannah wanted to spend time with him in London, it meant leaving eight year old Elizabeth and six year old Anne with the housekeeper and their governess. She was constantly having to divide herself between two homes, both of which needed her active presence.

‘There’ll not be a problem next year when they both go to school,’ she said practically, as she explained why she could be so busy, she scarcely had time to write letters, ‘but it’s
now
that matters, isn’t it?’

Sarah was surprised to find her sister’s tone so firm, her look so sombre.

‘Somehow I feel one is being pressed more and more to make decisions about now.
Just
now,’ Hannah said, after a pause. ‘It used to be one thought about the future and talked about all sorts of plans and possibilities. At least Teddy and I always did. But suddenly, the future seems so uncertain, so difficult to predict, that all one can do is think about
now
.’