Bone Street/Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
YOUNG MARY
Onew evening Jack sat reading when suddenly he looked up from the paper, saying, “I’ve seen a piano to-day. I was out in town and saw it in a sale-room window—it’s got the polish knocked off and the notes don’t sound too clear. I tried it, one hand, and I think it’s been spoiled by bad use. The sale is on Friday. Shall I try for it?”
“How much do you think it will cost, Jack?” asked Mary. “We’ve only fifteen pounds and I want some of that for another purpose.”
“Oh, nothing like that,” he answered. “I’ll be surprised if it makes more than ten pounds. What do you say if you come over to-morrow noon, and we’ll look at it in my dinner hour.”
This was done, and Mary was of the opinion that if it was cleaned, it would be all right, or at least all right for them. Ten pounds was the limit put on, and Friday found them both in the audience of the sale, for Jack had received permission to be absent from work for an hour or two. Several lots were disposed of before the piano was reached, then the auctioneer announced, “A piano of good German make, been knocked about a bit, but otherwise perfectly sound. How much shall I say, please? Come now, give me a start. Will no one give me a bid? Well, I’ll start it myself. Five pounds. Any advance on five pounds? Five pounds ten shillings, do I hear?—well, it’s a bid, though a very poor one.”
Jack and Mary stood on the edge of the audience, and a slight nod caught the eye of the auctioneer.
“I’ve six pounds bid, six pounds ten shillings, seven pounds, seven pounds ten shillings. Any advance on seven pounds ten shillings? Come, come, two pounds spent on that piano and it’s worth twenty pounds, another five shillings offered.” Jack held up his hand. “Seven pounds fifteen shillings offered.” Again Jack held up his hand, Mary clutching at his sleeve. “Eight pounds fifteen shillings I’m bid,” said the auctioneer. “Going at eight pounds fifteen shillings, for the third and last time. Any advance on eight pounds fifteen shillings?” Mary held her breath. “Gone.” It was theirs for eight pounds fifteen shillings.
Their purchase paid for, they hired a man with a horse and cart to take it right away; that cost ten shillings, so the total cost was nine pounds five shillings, still leaving Mary some of her capital.
That night they were busy, and with the assistance of Mr. Grimshaw Jack removed the front of the piano, while Mary prepared tea. “Look, lass,” he exclaimed, “Muck!” And there was indeed an abundance of it— the felt-covered hammers were thick with dust. After tea, he took it completely to pieces, laying the keys carefully on the table while he cleaned the dirt away from the inside. Mary then produced polish and cloths, and when finally it was cleaned and the parts replaced, it sounded much better for the time that had been spent on it.
Hands washed, and tea things cleared away, the two men sat round the fire while Mary played to them.
“By gum, lad, tha’s got a bargain,” said Mr. Grimshaw. “That piano’s worth twenty pounds if it’s worth a shilling.”
Jack nodded agreement, while Mary after a few minutes’ playing, came and perched herself on his knee, and cuddling him said:
“Oh, you dearest of husbands, now there will be no dreary winter evenings. And I thank you, too, Mr. Grimshaw, for had it not been for the chickens and eggs there would have been no piano.”
Jack reflected it was worth spending the money on, for it would give pleasure.
One Saturday Jack was compelled to do the shopping himself, for Mary declined to come into town. No, she didn’t feel like it. He called in Bone Street before departing for home, and Marthalice wondering where Mary was, asked:
“How’s t’ lass?”
“Nay,” replied Jack, “I don’t know. I feel a bit bothered; she seems to be very quiet nowadays. She’s happy enough, but much quieter. I don’t understand her at all.”
Marthalice looked at him pityingly for a moment.
“Ay, you great bairn,” she said. “Doesn’t ta know what’s up wi’ t’lass? Are ta blind?”
He looked at her wonderingly, while a smile flickered for a moment across her face.
“Nay,” he said, “I don’t know what’s up, but she’s different somehow.”
“Well, if tha doesn’t know, I’ll tell thi,” said Marthalice. “There’ll soon be three on yer at your house instead of two.”
Jack looked at her bewildered, unable to grasp her meaning; but suddenly it dawned on him what she was talking about. He gasped.
“Do you really mean that . . . that . . . she’s going to . . .”
Marthalice nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I do mean, and anybody but a feckless man would ha’ known long since.”
Grabbing at his parcels and cap Jack was ready for departing, with his heart bumping fiercely at the anticipation of a new joy. His Mary—— He must indeed hurry home, and away he rushed for the station. Marthalice stared at the door a moment or two, a smile hovering round her face. “Ay, lad,” she said to herself, “there’s another experience coming for thi, an’ let’s hope she’ll come through it safe and sound; some don’t.”
The train travelled too slow for Jack, the distance to his house was too far; but eventually he arrived at the station, and hurrying down the lane reached the door at last. He entered with a new awe of his wife, and found her softly playing her beloved piano. He threw his arms round her, and with his face close to hers asked, “Is it true, lass? Is it true?”
“Is what true?” she asked with a blush.
Jack could see now how her face was drawn and nipped.
“Marthalice has been telling me that you are— that you’re going——”
She nodded. “Yes, dear, it’s quite true. And, oh, Jack, I do so want to be strong. I want it to be a fine, healthy baby. Just think, Jack. Our baby.” And for a time she sat holding him close, then jumping up, kissed him, and vainly trying to talk the dialect, said, “Breeten up, lad, breeten.” Then very tenderly, “Ay, my lad . . . It won’t be hard with our love to help us, and April is a long way off yet.”
So her secret known, the sewing was openly brought out after tea, instead of being done during Jack’s absence. Shortly afterwards, Mr. Grimshaw came in, and catching sight of the article Mary was sewing, looked enquiringly at Jack. Jack nodded, and the elder man silently held out his hand for a shake, while Mary sewed on contentedly.
One day early in April Jack was called into the office of Mr. Harman. On arriving there he also found Mr. Meyson. He looked round, wondering what was the matter; so far as he was aware, his work had been satisfactory.
“Sit down, Bradley,” said the boss. Jack did so, still wondering. “I’ve been watching you lately,” said Mr. Harman, “and I’m well satisfied with you. How would you like to spend a few weeks in the country?”
Jack looked at him enquiringly.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Well,” said the boss, “the English clip will be coming along soon, and I want a reliable man to superintend the collecting and packing in Lincolnshire. It will mean more wages for you, but it will mean you being absent from home for at least six weeks. I don’t want you to make your mind up at once. I’ll give you until the week-end to talk it over with your wife. Of course, you will be paid expenses while you are away, and you can come home for the weekends.”
“When should I have to go?” asked Jack.
“The last week in June,” was the reply. “Now consider it and let me know on Monday.”
Jack thanked him, and thinking deeply, departed. That night he asked Mary her opinion, but she was all for accepting the position.
“I will be all right here. Mr. Grimshaw is always at hand to look after me, and besides, I will have other company before then. Oh, Jack, it’s such a chance, you really must take it. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right.”
They called in Mr. Grimshaw for consultation, and all three decided that Jack should take the opportunity. Next morning he informed Mr. Meyson of his decision. “I’m very glad,” said the latter, “for I know you can be relied on. How did the wife take it?” he enquired. And Jack told him her opinion. The elder man nodded approvingly. “That’s the kind of a woman,” he said. Jack nodded.
As time went on, in anticipation of what was to come, Marthalice was installed in the spare bedroom, for Mary was determined that no woman but her would do, and while Marthalice had misgivings about leaving her house in charge of the three lassies, Mary and her expected baby pulled, so she decided to leave Bone Street, issuing many instructions as to the carrying on of the establishment until her return.
Happily for Jack, the important event happened while he was at work, and one evening when arriving home, he realised what had happened, as Mary was not in her accustomed place. His heart went pit-a-pat, and throwing his cap down, he mounted the stairs two at a time, and, never, never would he forget the sight. Mary was lying in bed with a white face, while Marthalice sat at the bedside with a small red bundle of humanity on her knee. There she sat, crooning ever so softly; but on Jack’s unceremonious arrival, lifted the baby in her arms, and remarked in her own inimitable way, “Nah then, lad, here it is, how’s ta like it? A grand lass.”
Jack looked at the baby and then to Mary, who answered him with a happy smile on her face. He choked, and very tenderly bent over his wife and kissed her. Then Marthalice leaned over and said, “What did I tell you, there’s three of you now,” and with a burst of enthusiasm, “Nivver, nivver did I see a grander lass. Bless thi,” she cried, burying her face in the baby’s clothes, “tha’rt a grand ’un.” But baby resented such treatment and squalled lustily. Just a few minutes with his wife and another peep at the baby, and then he departed downstairs for his tea; but when Marthalice had gone into the kitchen, he escaped back to Mary. “Ay, my lad,” she said, “I’m glad it’s over. Isn’t she a beautiful baby? And look at her hair. Auburn, like yours, Jack.”
“And your eyes, lass,” he replied.
And so they admired until Marthalice called up the stairs, “Are ta coming to thi tea, or mun I fetch thi?” So he had to go.
After tea he tended the poultry, then with Old Curiosity Shop prepared to spend an evening reading to Mary and Marthalice, and indeed it was pleasant in that simple room while the light lasted for reading. Of course there were interludes in which the baby was admired, kissed and cuddled, and after it was too late to read by daylight, Marthalice commanded a stop. “That’ll do, lad, we are going to have an early night. Go and tell Mr. Grimshaw that if he’ll come in the kitchen he can hev a look at the bairn. Then it’s to bed for Mary and me. Tha can stop up a bit if tha likes, but t’lass has gone through too much to-day, an’ I feel as if I want a rest.” So Mr. Grimshaw duly admired the baby and soon everything was quiet in that cottage.
Next day Jack called at Bone Street before going to work, and slipped a note from Marthalice under the door, giving the lassies the news. Jack added a P.S. that he would call at tea-time to take the girls over to see the new arrival. He called as promised, and whilst taking tea, had to go through a good deal of chaff, which he took smilingly. They departed for the station, and soon the lassies were admiring “the most beautiful baby in the world.”
“What are you going to call her, Jack?” asked The Imp, and Jack with a smile across at Mary, answered, “Why, that’s not for me to decide. But my mother’s name was Mary, and——”
“Then tha’ll hev to call her after thi mother, or thi wife,” said Marthalice; “there’s nowt else for it.” Both Mary and Jack were of this opinion, and so Mary was the name agreed upon.
Baby Mary thrived wonderfully, which was not to be wondered at, there in the country away from the smoke of the busy town. And then there was but a week to go before the day of parting was near. His work was to take him to Lincolnshire, in a small village near Gainsborough.
The Monday morning found him at the station with Mary and the baby waving adieu. Mr. Harman and Mr. Meyson were also there together with four sorters, whose duty it was to class the fleeces as they were brought to the collecting-stations. While Mary tried to be brave, Jack could see that she was feeling the parting very much. However, she managed to hold her feelings in check, and holding baby up to be kissed, she bade him good-bye. “Cheer up,” he said. “I’ll be home on Saturday and I’ll write every day to tell you my experiences, and you’ll write back, won’t you?”
“I will, every day, Jack,” she promised. And Jack departed, while Mary returned home with her baby.