A Country Marriage (30 page)

She tried to picture whether Richard Bundy was someone she knew; whether he was young or old; whether he… and then she stopped herself. Was that how it was going to be from now on: judging every man in the village against the likelihood of him being Lottie’s attacker?

‘What did he want?’ she became aware of Hannah asking, her mother-in-law’s interest striking her as minimal.

‘Well, he
said
he came by to see if we wanted help clearing up the barn.’

Or had he come down to see whether Lottie had said anything yet to place him under suspicion? No, no, no: stop thinking such thoughts, she chided herself.

‘Good of him, I suppose.’

‘Aye, although I think his real purpose was to be first to tell how Hooper’s ricks were fired last night.’

She blinked rapidly, noticing how Will now had his mother’s full attention.

‘Hooper’s? But that’s not a half-mile beyond the Marcombe turn.’

‘Aye. I’m surprised none of us seen the flames. Must have gone up like tinder.’

‘But as I pointed out,’ George was saying, making her turn in his direction and notice how he was picking at a lump of candle grease congealed on the mantel, ‘we’d have been in the barn.’

‘He said they can’t have been more than a week in the stack.’

Beside her, Hannah was shaking her head.

‘All that work…’

And having now seen for herself the amount of effort involved in the harvest, it was her own first thought, too, although for Will, there seemed to be another, more urgent concern.

‘And he was saying how it might serve us to post watch over our own stacks.’

She cast her eyes to Hannah. She looked perplexed.

‘But
we’ve
no bad business with anyone.’

‘That’s what
I
told him,’ George said, still toying with the candle.

‘Well, after all the work of getting it in, your pa won’t be much taken with the notion of yet
more
effort; not before we even set about the threshing of it.’

‘You don’t truly think someone could set
ours
afire?’ Ellen was now asking, her eyes darting between Will and George.

‘Ordinary times, I’d say no,’ her husband replied. ‘But things these days are different.’

‘Well I don’t mind telling you these wicked goings-on frighten me to my very bones.’

‘Look, truly, I don’t think we’ve reason to werret.’ This time it was George seeking to offer reassurance. ‘And if you’d seen Bundy talking just now, then maybe you’d think the same, since to my mind, he just got a bit swept up… you know, by the excitement of it happening so close-to.’

It struck her as an odd thing for George to say; after all, this was precisely the sort of thing that would normally get him fired up.

‘Well, you may be right, son but I’ll be praying for it all the same—’ But when her mother-in-law’s observation seemed to peter out, she glanced towards her, noticing the way that she was frowning. ‘
Now
what’s the matter, son?’

Having kept her thoughts on the matter of the arson to herself, she followed the line of Hannah’s eyes to Will’s face and from there, towards the door, where it became apparent what had caught his attention: it was Annie shuffling along the hallway towards them, head bowed and her arms wrapped about her body. Taking in the sight of her shrunken form – still clad in her nightgown – she allowed herself a smile. Clearly, she was suffering the effects of last night’s carousing. But when Annie slowly raised her head to look at them, her hand flew to her mouth.

‘Oh!’

‘Annie!’ Ellen’s reaction seemed equally horrified.

‘What in the name of…?’ she heard George starting to ask, and as she swivelled about to face him, she was struck by the colour of his face. White; his face had turned completely white. And when she turned back, it was to see Annie clutching at the doorframe for support, her demeanour hesitant and her face so badly disfigured that if it hadn’t been for her familiar mass of ebony hair, she might not have recognised her at all. One of her eyes was swollen so tightly shut that it had taken the form of an angry line, while on the other side of her face her cheekbone bore the livid shades of someone who had been in a bare-knuckle fight. Her bottom lip was so bruised that she didn’t seem able to close her mouth properly and, to the side of it, blood had dried brown and crusty over an inch-long cut.

‘Whatever did you do?’ she heard Ellen whisper, and noticed how she was shaking.

‘Nothin’ at all.’

‘Pah. That strikes me as unlikely.’

Astounded by her mother-in-law’s response she spun around to look at her. Had she truly just said that? And in such callous fashion, too? She glanced to Ellen, hoping to see that her reaction was more sympathetic but she seemed to have buried her face in Will’s shoulder.

‘Where is he?’ It was George who wanted to know, and when she turned to look at him, she could see that by his sides, he was clenching and unclenching his fists.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Here,’ Mary said, realising then that no one had gone to her aid. ‘Come an’ sit down.’

But once she had guided her onto a chair, she hunched over, avoiding their stares.

‘I heard you talking about Lottie,’ she started to say, raising her eyes just long enough to meet Martha’s.

‘Don’t go worrying yourself about that for a moment, love; first things first. Let me see what he’s done to you this time,’ and getting to her feet, Martha reached for her bag. Despite her sympathetic tone, though, Mary couldn’t help noticing that she showed no horror or even surprise. ‘You two,’ she added, addressing her attention to George and Will, ‘take yourselves off outside a while. Ellen, help Annie over here to the light, such as it is, an’ I’ll take a look.’ Slowly, Annie got up again and let Ellen help her across to the window where she leant against the sink for support. She didn’t want to stare – it seemed ghoulish somehow – but equally, she was finding it hard to look away; the scale of Annie’s disfigurement hard to take in. How could anyone – even Tom Strong – inflict such brutality? ‘Tell me if this hurts,’ Martha was now saying, lifting aside Annie’s hair and pressing her fingers along her cheekbones. ‘Tell me, was he drunk?’

‘No more ’n usual.’

‘So you resisted him.’

‘No more ’n usual.’

With an almost imperceptible shake of her head, Martha delved into her bag to bring out a small jar, and opening the stopper, began to smear something onto Annie’s cheek.

‘Well, ’tis my opinion that you’ve no bones broken, love but it’s nasty enough even so. This ointment is summat I make from blind nettle. It’ll help with the swelling but in truth, you’ll just have to wait for the worst of it to go down. It’s going to look real ugly for a fortnight or so but then it’ll start to fade. A nettle poultice might help it along. You mind how to make one?’

‘I’ve done it when James has hurt hisself.’

‘Good. Well, seems to me you were lucky this time, girl.’

‘Huh.’

‘What about anywhere else?’ Martha went on to ask, a question that to Mary’s mind seemed almost an afterthought. ‘Did he go for you anywhere else?’

‘He didn’t get that far. And anyways, tell me what happened to Lottie.’

At the tone of Annie’s reply, Martha stopped packing up her things and turned to look at her.

‘Do you already know summat of it, love?’

‘No, truly, I don’t, I just—’ her reply, though, was cut short by the back door flying open and George striding in.

‘So, where is he then?’

‘I told you, I don’t know.’

‘Well can’t you try and
think
, woman?’

‘
George
!
’
Mary exclaimed, wide-eyed at the abruptness of her husband’s manner. ‘She said she doesn’t
know
.’

‘Aye. Forgive me,’ he replied, wheeling away from them both, his anger evident from the tautness of his body. ‘It’s just that… well, he should be called to account for what he’s done.’

‘Maybe so,’ Annie seemed to agree. ‘But with the seven bells going on in my head right now, I’m not certain I’d remember much to be of any use, anyway.’

‘No, all right, like I said, forgive me.
But
,’ he said in a manner that made Mary look back at him, ‘what if you were to sit quiet for a minute, in the parlour perhaps, then do you think summat might come back to you?’

What was suddenly the matter with him, Mary wondered? An intruder had attacked poor Lottie and granted, she would concede that he had been angry but now, just because Tom had beaten Annie again, he seemed doubly indignant, if not more.

‘I’m not sure,’ she heard Annie replying.

‘I could sit with you a while, if you’d like,’ she suggested, concerned at the prospect of leaving Annie alone with George in his current, riled state, ‘if you’d rather not be on your own, that is.’

‘No, that’s all right, Mary,’ her husband seemed quick to reply on Annie’s behalf. ‘I need to hear it for myself, first-hand… if I’m to go after him, I mean.’

‘Aye. I’ll be fine, Mary. George is right. I should go an’ sit in the quiet. And think.’

Watching as Ellen moved to help Annie get to her feet, she glimpsed Hannah’s face, her expression seeming to verge on mistrust. And as she watched her husband following his sister-in-law along the hallway, she tried to ignore the tight feeling that seemed to be gripping her stomach.

*

In the bitter cold of the parlour, Annie hovered awkwardly as George closed the door behind him.

‘George…’

‘Shush,’ he said and in two paces, crossed the room to put his arms about her. ‘Forgive me my manner just then but I had to get you away from everyone.’ Seeing how she was trying to nod, he loosened his clasp. ‘So what happened? I thought you were of a mind not to tell him last night?’ As he stood there, holding her carefully against him, he was amazed at how calm he felt. He would have expected to be severely troubled by how this was unfolding and probably somewhat afraid, too, whereas in fact, his overriding feeling was turning out to be one of concern for her. Despite the dire circumstances, knowing now that she was carrying his child, he was taken aback by the ferocity of his desire to protect her. ‘Come, sit down,’ he said, guiding her to a chair and crouching before her. ‘If I’m going after him it would be a real help to know the truth of what happened.’

‘Don’t go after him, George. Don’t; it’s too late for me now. I been awake all night thinking about it and there’s only one thing for it; I got to leave.’

‘
Leave
? But go
where
, Annie?’

‘I ain’t the least idea. But I can’t be here when he gets back. He don’t even know about the baby yet.’

‘He
don’t
? But I thought… I thought that’s what all
this
was about?’ he gestured to her face, closing his eyes as he did so.

‘Aye and I can see how you’d think it.’

‘So what
was
it about then?’

‘I don’t know,
truly
I don’t. I came in from the barn. I was dead beat. I got into bed and fell asleep. Next thing I know, he’s storming through the door, coming round to where I’m lying and saying something like, ‘Get up.’ I was barely even awake. I recall deciding to tell him I was sick and I asked him to leave me alone but he grabbed a handful of my hair and started trying to pull me up by it. Even in the darkness I could see how angry he looked – you know how sore-headed he gets when he’s drunk – so I sat up. He told me to turn over, an’ I knew then what he wanted so I told him again to leave me alone, ’though I shouldn’t have wasted my breath. It does no good whatsoever to resist him when he gets like that. But I was thinking of the baby, like you told me. Then, maybe I accused him of being drunk because next thing I seen was his fist coming towards me. That’s when he did this side.’ She was raising her hand gingerly towards her left eye. ‘It took me by surprise, although I don’t know why. I remember falling backwards and him grabbing me here,’ she touched her arm just below her shoulder, ‘and then he threw me over… but I landed against the bedstead… and there was this sound; a crack.’

‘Then what?’ he asked, finding it hard to look at her; the dreadful disfigurement to her face pulling at something in his chest.

For a moment, he waited while she looked past him towards the door, evidently trying to remember.

‘I fell down flat and I fancy he thought he’d put me out cold. But I couldn’t think for the pain of it and so I didn’t move. I just lay there waiting for the worst, thinking that this was how I was going to die, there in our bed, at his hand. And then I couldn’t believe it… but I heard him
go
out
. I couldn’t believe he’d just
walked
away
. It was so
unlike
him. He seemed to just… I don’t know… change his mind or lose interest or summat.’

‘And he didn’t come back again?’