Bone Street/Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
COUNTRY LIFE
They arrived at Gainsborough in the early part of the afternoon, and after going to the hotel where Mr. Harman was staying, Mr. Meyson and Jack took the train for the village which was to be Jack’s headquarters, accompanied by his two classers, and by four o’clock they reached their destination.
Their headquarters were a great barn situated in a farmyard near the village, and Mr. Meyson explained to Jack that the farmers round about would bring their fleeces, which he would weigh and give them a receipt for. The wool would then be sorted into its different qualities and finally despatched to Beckton.
“You’ll manage all right, and if you feel in any difficulty, just send for me and I’ll see you through.” With these words Mr. Meyson departed. The sorters were experienced hands at the job, and had previously secured lodgings where they had lived the year before, so Jack set out to find lodgings for himself, and going into the road made his way to the village. Walking through the small place, he saw the village policeman and immediately there jumped into his mind his experience many years before when he had asked a policeman to direct him to lodgings. What a change between then and now! Then he was homeless and poor, with no prospect but hunger before him. Now he was happy and contented, and comparatively well off. Still pondering, he approached the policeman. “Can you tell me, please,” he asked, “where I can get decent lodgings?” The policeman looked at him enquiringly, and Jack took up the question. “I’m here for a few weeks at Mulberry Farm collecting wool.”
“Oh,” said the policeman, “you’re one of them wool chaps, eh? Well, there’s Widow Thompson, and I know she has a spare room. I think you’ll be comfortable there. You see the post office? well, it’s two doors lower down.” Jack thanked him and knocking at the door of Widow Thompson’s, an old lady answered the knock. She was wearing a print dress and a sun-bonnet covered her head. Her face was brown and wrinkled, and a pair of pleasant eyes peered at him through steel-rimmed glasses.
“Mrs. Thompson?” asked Jack.
“Aye, lad, it is,” she replied, and Jack explained that he required lodgings. Soon an arrangement was made, and as he was allowed liberally for lodging money, he decided to pay just as liberally. On entering the kitchen he looked round with a sigh of content, for without doubt, he could be comfortable here. It was a nice room, and the arm-chair at each side of the hearth looked homely and inviting. She showed him his room, with its huge four-poster bed. This took up the main part of the room, the other furniture being a dressing-table and washhand-stand, at which Jack washed prior to having his tea.
Tea over, he proceeded to write to Mary. “I think,” he said, “I’ll have to arrange for you to spend a few days here with baby. Anyway, think it over, and when I come home this week-end, we’ll talk about it.” He took his letter out to post, ensuring its arrival for next morning as promised. A stroll up to the farm where he was to work, and after a talk with the farmer, he returned to his lodgings and was soon in bed.
That week was an experience for Jack. The farmers brought in their fleeces, sometimes loose, sometimes in huge bags. Jack and the sorters would pile the wool on the weighing machine, a receipt would be given, then the sorters would examine each fleece, pulling out a staple of wool, before throwing it into the appropriate pile. In between the arrival of the farmers, a huge sheet would be slung between two baulks, and the fleeces thrown in, well-trodden down, and then sewn up ready for despatch. By Wednesday noon, they had nearly twenty full sheets waiting for the railway lorry which was to take them away, and with the assistance of the farm labourers, these were loaded, and their first fruit went away to Beckton, there to be thoroughly sorted, combed and spun, then finally turned into broadcloth for the world’s wearers.
It was hard work, especially the packing, and Jack took his share as well as he could, all the time being careful not to overtax the strength of his arm. Generally, he was content after tea to write his letter home, and after posting and a walk, was ready for bed before ten o’clock. His lodgings were exceedingly comfortable. A good landlady, good homely food, and a good bed. What more could a man want? The old lady was interested in him and listened quietly while Jack talked of his wife and baby, telling her what a wonderful child it was.
Mr. Meyson, accompanied by Mr. Harman, visited him once at the barn, but when they saw the methods and manner in which their work was being carried out departed well satisfied with their choice. Saturday arrived, and Jack was to depart in the late forenoon to spend the week-end at home, and while the work had not dragged, on account of the interest he had taken in it, he was delighted to again have the opportunity of seeing his loved ones. Friday evening he wrote Mary, informing her of the time he expected to arrive, and as anticipated she was there at the station to meet him. Shamelessly he kissed them both on the platform at Beckton, and proudly carried his baby across the town to the Midland Station, where they departed for home, with Mary walking contentedly at his side.
Mary had arranged that the family from Bone Street should spend the Sunday with them, and all that afternoon her baby was the property of the girls, and The Imp was indeed a proud girl when baby Mary fell asleep in her arms.
Marthalice was not so well. The doctor had been called in and had prescribed quiet and a change of air, so she arranged to stay with Mary for a week or two, and the girls returned home without her.
Jack told them all about his work, and what a lovely village it was, situated away from the main road on a branch railway line. Everything was as restful as an old-world place should be. After their guests had gone, and Mr. Grimshaw had departed to lock up, Jack remarked, “I’ve been thinking, lass, that if Mr. Grimshaw will look after the poultry, you and Marthalice could spend a week with me. I’m sure Mrs. Thompson would make you and baby comfortable, and it would be a change for you. Marthalice, now what do you say?” And what could Mary say, but, “Oh, Jack, that would be lovely!” “Do come with us, Marthalice, there’s a dear.” That good lady was rapidly finding out that they would eventually get their own way, and besides, she did need a change, so she smilingly agreed. “Let’s ask Mr. Grimshaw.”
They put it to him and of course he agreed, telling them he could manage quite easily.
It was arranged that instead of Jack coming home the following week-end, they would catch the morning train which would arrive at Gainsborough by noon, where Jack would meet them, and bring them to the village, providing, of course, that Mrs. Thompson had no objections.
Again he bade them good-bye, but the parting was easier this time, and immediately on arriving at his lodgings he asked Mrs. Thompson if she could accommodate Mary and Marthalice for a week, to which proposal the old lady agreed with enthusiasm, for was there not a young baby coming along with them. “Oh yes, they will be made as comfortable as possible,” Jack was told; and so the next Saturday noon saw Jack at Gainsborough station, and as the train steamed in, Mary was at the window excitedly waving her hand. The train stopped, and she jumped into his arms, while Marthalice quietly stepped out of the carriage with precious baby Mary. The baby’s perambulator was in the luggage van, and after Jack had secured it, she quietly placed baby in it, saying:
“I think this is t’grandest bairn that ivver lived. She’s just ligged (laid) as quiet as owt this last hour.”
“She isn’t my baby any more,” said Mary, “except at feeding time.”
Marthalice looked at her smilingly.
“Stop it,” she said. “Tha knows I love t’little lass, and tha’s noan jealous, for all yer mak out to be.”
“Jealous, you old dear,” replied the girl. “Jealous of you; why next to baby and Jack, you’re the dearest person in the world to me.”
And the two pair of eyes looked at other with perfect understanding.
They arrived at Mrs. Thompson’s, Jack proudly carrying the baby, with Mary and the elder woman following. Marthalice’s eyes strayed round critically, and noting the cleanliness and orderliness of the room, came to the conclusion she could be quite comfortable here, so after being introduced to Mrs. Thompson, proceeded to take off her pelise and bonnet. It was arranged that the two elder women should occupy the same room, and soon the three women were talking babies. Mrs. Thompson’s children were all married and settled down in the villages round about, and they sat long over their after dinner cup of tea, while Jack listened, comfortably ensconsed in the arm-chair with baby in his arms. After dinner, Mary and he walked over the farm, while baby slept, and he showed her where he collected the wool; and afterwards, with the farmer’s permission, they walked round inspecting the stock, all of which took Mary’s mind back to the old days; but soon she became uneasy and wanted to return, for baby Mary was such a hungry morsel of humanity. So they returned to Widow Thompson’s, to find both women still gloating over “ahr Mary,” as Marthalice called her. Of course mother Mary joined in the worshipful company.
After tea they all took a walk into the country, Jack and Mary leading with the baby in the pram, while the two elder women came on in the rear. They sauntered gently, for Marthalice was not too fit, although she declared she was better by now. “A week here an’ I sal be as fit as ivver I wor,” she declared. But a mile of the country lanes was more than sufficient for them, so they retraced their steps to the quiet village, ready for supper and bed. Baby was also overcome with the journey and fresh air, and by ten all were peacefully sleeping.
Sunday morning broke fine and dry, and again they walked round. This time Marthalice accompanied them to the farm, and as she had never previously seen one, everything was interesting to her. After tea she declared if she went on like this she would be able to walk ten miles in a week, and indeed she improved so wonderfully that Jack was determined to induce her to stay longer if such a thing were possible. Cautiously he wrote to Bone Street, telling them of the decided improvement in her health, and suggesting they should write to her advising another week’s stay, which they did. Then he suggested the same to Mary, who was delighted with the proposal, and before next Saturday Marthalice had agreed, though reluctantly, for she was not sure ” at them lassies ud not all be mucked up without her on t’spot.” But, as Jack said, she would be more fit to take them in hand after another week; so it was arranged that they should stay another week and return on the Saturday; as by then Jack would only have another two or three weeks to be absent from home. For the next Sunday Jack planned a full day, and they enquired of Mrs. Thompson as to which was the easiest way.
“Well,” she replied, “it’s all fairly easy walking round here, but if I was you, I’d turn to the left from the village, and you get the high road about threequarters of a mile down. Hanborough village is about another quarter of a mile further on, and it’s a beautiful village, rather larger than this, with a nice old church which is worth seeing.”
They decided that if Marthalice was equal to the walk, they would take her advice. “Of course I can manage it,” she said. “I’m all right now, bless yer. I nivver felt better in all mi life; besides, a walk will do me good.” So it was settled that next day they would spend the entire afternoon out of doors, and visit the village indicated by Mrs. Thompson, who promised to have a warm meal prepared for them on their return.