JAMES DREW PRAYED all the long way home. He prayed for forgiveness and for salvation. He also prayed most fervently that he would never see the two Irish brothers again, particularly the younger one.
He had almost forgotten the existence of John Byrne over the years, and only when Henry had told him that he had met Seamus, on the day when Rosa had played truant from school, had he even thought of them. He had the ability to forget conveniently anything that was abhorrent to him, able even to convince himself that any wrongdoing on his part was not his fault at all but due to the negligence of others.
For a month after his visit to Hull he was in good humour, the weather was fine, the drilling and sowing were finished and he and Jim and Matthew went out rook shooting. Though there were few trees on Sunk Island, the rooks flew in daily from Holderness to peck and pull at the burgeoning growth of corn. On the salt marsh a colony of black-headed gulls were breeding, and cormorants and herons were a frequent sight flying across the land.
Along the divisions of farmland, the few hawthorn hedges were smothered with creamy white blossom which filled the air with its sweet scent and provided shelter for hedge sparrows, wrens and fieldmice. Bees buzzed in the blossom and butterflies, peacock, tortoiseshell and white, opened their wings and fluttered on the warm air.
Early one morning after he had eaten his breakfast, Drew stood at the farm door looking out at the greening acreage, listening to the bleat of lambs and the incessant call of a cuckoo. There was a feeling of renewal, of reanimation, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks that they had survived the harsh winter.
He had lost a son, it was true, but he considered grimly that Henry wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t been drinking and lost his way. They had also lost a cow which had strayed and fallen into a dyke, but there had been no flooding, most of the dykes had held and the roofs of the house and barns were secure. But even as he contemplated the coming summer, he felt the stirring of his own blood, a physical energy and agitation which was setting him on fire.
He went back inside and climbed the stairs to the bedroom he shared with his wife, opened the door and stared down at her. ‘Ellen,’ he murmured. She didn’t stir, her face was white and her lips were bloodless and he knew that she was in pain. ‘Ellen!’
She opened her eyes and gazed at him. ‘What is it?’ She attempted to rise but the effort was too much and she fell back against her pillow. ‘Is there some trouble?’
He sat on the side of the bed. ‘No. No trouble.’ He stared out towards the window. He could see the gleam of brown river beyond the pasture-land. ‘I might have to go into Hull again. I – I need to get this business of ’corn merchant sorted out.’
‘Yes.’ She gazed at him, her pale eyes expressionless. ‘If you must.’
‘I thought I might go today. Lads can manage without me for a couple o’ days.’
She didn’t answer but continued to gaze at him.
‘They’re both out now. Will you tell them when they come back at dinner time? Or tell Rosa to tell them. Where is she anyway? She’s not in ’kitchen or in ’yard.’
His wife shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe helping with ’milking or collecting eggs.’ Her voice was low, as if it was an effort to speak.
‘Are you very sick?’ he said suddenly, turning towards her. ‘Shall I send for ’doctor?’
‘No. Not yet,’ she breathed. ‘I can manage for a bit.’
‘All right.’ He stood up and looked down at her. ‘If you’re sure? I don’t mind ’expense.’
She shook her head again and he felt a guilty sense of relief that he didn’t have to make a diversion to Patrington to call the doctor. He quickly changed his clothes into something suitable for the ride and to wear in town and hurried downstairs. His breathing was rapid and he stumbled as he went out of the door.
Rosa came across the yard towards the house. She was carrying a basket of eggs. ‘Going somewhere, Mr Drew?’
‘Aye.’ His voice was terse and defiant. It was nothing to do with her where he was going. ‘You’d better get inside,’ he said. ‘Mrs Drew isn’t well.’
‘I know that,’ she said boldly. ‘She needs the doctor.’
‘She can have one,’ he said angrily. ‘As soon as I get back I’ll send for him.’
‘It might be too late,’ she muttered and turning towards the door she went through it and closed it behind her.
She put the basket down beside the sink and pumped in some water, then carefully laid the eggs into it to wash them. She raised her eyes to the ceiling as she heard a sound and listened intently. She ran swiftly upstairs, holding up her skirt hem so that she didn’t fall, and into Mrs Drew’s bedroom.
‘Are you all right, Aunt Ellen? I thought I heard—’
Mrs Drew was sitting up but with her head bent low over the bed and her hands clasped together. She looked up and Rosa saw the pain in her face and saw too that she had been weeping. ‘Are you hurting?’ she said anxiously. ‘Shall I send Matthew for ’doctor?’
‘No, my dear,’ she said softly. ‘The doctor can do nothing for ’kind of affliction that I’ve got, and there’s a sickness in my heart that he can’t cure.’
Rosa sat on the bed and took hold of her hand. ‘Shall I send for Maggie to come? Or Flo? They can be spared I’m sure and they would cheer you up.’
‘No, don’t bother them. They have enough to do.’ Mrs Drew attempted a smile. ‘I’m quite happy with your company, but – but I would like to talk to ’parson. I haven’t been to church in a long time and there’s something I’d like to discuss with him.’
Rosa went in search of Matthew or Jim and found Matthew saddling up a horse in order to visit John Gore. ‘Can you go on to Patrington after you’ve been there?’ she asked. ‘Your ma wants to talk to the vicar.’
Matthew’s face changed colour. ‘She’s not worse, is she?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. ‘She’s been crying, but doesn’t want ’doctor to come.’
He came and stood in front of her. ‘But do you think ’doctor is needed?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I do, but your da said he would send for him when he gets back.’
‘Gets back? What do you mean? Where’s he gone?’
‘He didn’t say, but he was dressed ’same as he was when he went into Hull last month.’
Matthew lashed his whip in the air with a sudden spurt of anger. ‘Damn and blast him! What on earth is he doing?’
Rosa remained silent for a moment, then said, ‘When you’re in Patrington seeing ’vicar, will you call on Flo? See if she can come over for a day. Gran won’t mind.’
He said that he would and, digging his heels into the horse’s flanks, rode off to Patrington to ask the vicar to call.
The incumbent of the church on Sunk Island also served the parish of Patrington and had made the journey on horseback across the marshes for many years. It was no hardship for him therefore to saddle up immediately and set off to visit one of his most faithful parishioners.
‘Dear lady,’ he said, when he arrived that same afternoon and was shown upstairs, ‘I should have called before!’
‘Not at all.’ She smiled, for she was fond of this gentle man. ‘I know how busy you are and I know that I was in your thoughts.’
‘Indeed you always are, my dear. You are one of my most steadfast parishioners, as is Mr Drew. Is he not at home today?’
‘He has had to go into Hull, on private business,’ she said softly, ‘and it is of my husband that I wish to speak.’
She folded her hands together and murmured, ‘I am dying, Mr Metcalf,’ and she raised her hand to grasp his as he exclaimed in dismay. ‘But I don’t wish to speak of myself. Not yet at any rate, though your prayers will be welcome when ’time comes.’
The vicar put his hands together and closed his eyes.
‘I want you to pray for Mr Drew,’ she said quietly. ‘He is in great need of salvation. His soul is in peril and I am afraid that he will descend into Hell without the power of prayer.’
The vicar opened his eyes and gazed at her in astonishment. ‘Dear lady!’ he said. ‘He is a most devout man. A regular worshipper at church!’
‘He is a hypocrite,’ she whispered, ‘and he must not be allowed to influence others. He pays lip devotion only and you must relieve him of his duties as churchwarden. Please,’ she said earnestly. ‘I beg you, he has committed many wrongs. Pray for him now before it’s too late. I pray for him every day, but I’m getting weaker and I’m afraid that when I’m gone he will be past redemption.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I once had great love for him, even though I knew he was a sinner. Now I have to make my own peace with God, to ask forgiveness for my sin of overlooking my husband’s weaknesses.’
‘You cannot take on the burden of another’s sins,’ he urged. ‘Your husband must take the responsibility of exculpating them himself.’
‘You won’t tell him that I have discussed this with you?’ she begged. ‘He will deny everything.’
‘Then if he has sinned so grievously as you say, and yet denies everything, he is lost,’ he murmured, and knelt at the side of the bed. ‘But we will pray together now that he sees the error of his ways, and for the mercy of his soul.’
Flo came later that evening and said that Mrs Jennings insisted that she should stay for a day or two. ‘She said you must visit her, Rosa, she hasn’t seen you for weeks.’
‘I know,’ Rosa said. In spite of her telling Matthew that there would be changes after Maggie had gone and that she wouldn’t be at everyone’s beck and call, she found that she had so little time to spare now that Mrs Drew was ill that the days just flew by. She hadn’t been to the riverbank or walked along the side of the dykes to watch for frogs and newts, nor had she seen her favourite bird, the heron, for weeks, and her grandmother must feel sorely neglected without a visit from her, she thought.
‘Go on, go out for some fresh air. Take a walk. I know that’s what you like to do,’ Flo urged.
Rosa fetched her shawl and said that she wouldn’t be long.
‘No hurry. I’ll see to Ma and to supper. It’s a lovely evening. Make ’most of it.’
Rosa saw Matthew and Jim coming towards her. ‘Flo’s here,’ she called. ‘She’s seeing to supper, but not yet. You’ll have to wait till she’s had a chat with your ma.’
‘Is Da coming back tonight?’ Jim asked. ‘Do you know where he’s gone?’
‘No, I told Matthew he was dressed as if he was going to Hull. Perhaps Aunt Ellen knows, but I haven’t asked her as the vicar was here most of the afternoon.’
‘Why?’ Matthew asked Jim. ‘Did you want him for summat?’
‘It’s just one of ’dykes at Marsh Farm. I need to speak to him about it. It needs shoring up.’
‘Well, see to it then! You don’t have to ask Da about that. Get one of ’labourers to do it.’ Matthew frowned at his older brother, wondering why he needed to speak to their father about such a simple thing.
Jim shuffled his feet. ‘No, I’d better ask. It’s one we had trouble with afore. It’s been weakened, I think.’
‘Then it needs fixing.’ Matthew was sharp. ‘If there’s a high tide it might fail.’
‘I’ll go and ask Ma what he said.’ Jim moved towards the house. ‘He’ll mebbe be back later tonight.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Rosa murmured. ‘He took an overnight bag with him.’ Then she shrugged. She didn’t want to waste the evening discussing Mr Drew. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ she said to Matthew. ‘I need to stretch my legs.’
‘Would you like company?’ he asked. ‘Or do you need to be alone?’
She looked up at him and smiled so that he wouldn’t take offence. ‘I need to be alone,’ she said softly. ‘Just this once.’ She put her hand into his. ‘Your mother is very ill, Matthew. I think you should go to her. Sit with her and Flo and Jim, and tomorrow send for Maggie and Delia and the twins to come.’
The reality of what she was saying hit him hard and he swallowed as a lump came into his throat. He was sad for his mother, but he had been expecting it. Only, what would Rosa do if – when – his mother died? Would she stay here with them? This is why she wants to be alone, he pondered. She’s going to think about her future.