Linda Finlay - The Girl with the Amber Comb

‘That’s something I suppose,’ he sighed. ‘Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Red.’

‘But I thought you were staying for supper,’ she called, as he made for the door.

‘If you want your letter and supplies delivered today, I’d better get going. Tell George I’ll have that talk with him next year. It’d probably a bit insensitive now anyhow.’

‘What talk?’ she asked but he was already outside hefting the sack over his shoulder. Picking up his unfinished trap, she continued weaving, her thoughts running amok. While she had great affection for him, she couldn’t even think of furthering their relationship at this time.

‘Somethin’ smells good,’ George said sniffing the air appreciatively as he shuffled wearily into their tiny living room. Throwing his battered felt cap down onto the settle, he noticed the table set for two and frowned. ‘No Clem?’ he asked.

Eliza looked up from the pan where she was frying the eel Old Conger had skinned and presented to her as a birthday gift. Luckily, she’d just managed to finish both traps before he’d arrived.

‘He was delivering my letter and vegetables to Stoke for me,’ she replied tipping the sizzling food onto two plates. George frowned again, sinking into his chair and barely giving his supper a glance. He waited whilst Eliza poured tea from the pot then stared at her questioningly.

‘Been bossing him about again have you?’ he asked, hazel eyes sharp as they bored into hers.

‘Not at all, although he was acting strangely today. Kept going on about us being friends when we’ve known each other since school. Oh, and he said something about having his talk with you next year, whatever that means. Seeing her Gramfer’s frown deepen, she changed the subject. ‘We might not be able to afford to have the traditional goose for Michaelmas Day but this eel’s really tasty with the taiters fried alongside, don’t you think?’

To her relief, he nodded and began tucking into his meal. He was looking pensive though, and Eliza had a feeling the subject wasn’t over. Sure enough, as soon as he’d finished eating, he pushed his plate to one side.

‘That were grand, Eliza.’ He sat back in his chair and began stroking his beard, a sure sign something was troubling him. ‘Hard to believe you’re seventeen, young lady. Did I tell you that your grammer were the same age when we wed? Right bonny she was, flaxen hair curlin’ round her head like a halo, lips red as the ripest cherries. Didn’t stand a chance when she looked in my direction, I can tell you. We had a good marriage,’ he sighed and stared into the fire. Then pulling himself back to the present, he leaned forward and patted Eliza’s hand. ‘Want the same for you now. And young Clem—’

‘Is a friend,’ she butted in. ‘A good friend, but that’s it,’ she added firmly.

‘And that’s a very good foundation on which to base a marriage. It’s not all hearts and flowers, you know.’

‘Look Gramfer, I’m not ready to begin thinking about marriage. ‘It’s bad enough I’ve had to give up the job I loved.’

‘Oh yes, sorry, I forgot,’ he mumbled, his brow puckering.

‘I’m happy taking over the basket business but one day, I want to go out and meet new people like Mammer did.’

‘Pastures new aren’t always greater or greener. Sometimes they’re full of prickles and creeps, folk who take advantage as Della found out, to all our costs,’ he sighed.

‘Yet you let her go and find out for herself,’ she persisted.

‘Couldn’t stop her. Wilful as an unbroken filly she was.’

‘I know you and Grammer have lived here all your lives but—’

‘Now that’s where you’re wrong, young lady,’ he exclaimed, cutting her short. ‘We haven’t always lived in a dank cott like this.’ He grimaced and waved his hand around the shadowy, smoke filled room. ‘Moved here from Bridgwater when Della got herself … well we moved away from the nosebags to spare her reputation. Cors we didn’t know there’d be … complications,’ he shook his head and sighed again.

Assuming he was referring to her mother dying in childbirth, Eliza nodded and remained quiet.

‘Started out by rentin’ a few withy beds,’ he went on a few moments later. ‘And through sheer hard work, managed to buy and increase them year on year. Now our plot extends as far as you can see. Mary, bless her, supported my venture by learnin’ the basket-making from old Harry in Worth.’

‘I never realised,’ she murmured, taken aback by his revelation. She’d never dreamt they’d lived anywhere other than on Sedge Moor.

‘There’s a lot you don’t realise, my girl. Now my Mary’s been taken, tis up to me to see you settled before I’m called to join her. When Clem said he wanted to talk about your future, I were that pleased I intended giftin’ you my withy beds. Thought it’d give you a good start so you won’t have to scrimp and save like we had to. He’s a good fellow, one of the best. Works hard making all them deliveries along the Parrett on his father’s barge then navigatin’ the narrow rhynes on his trow. Which he bought through his own efforts. He’ll make a fine husband, girl, mark my words.’

‘Some day, maybe,’ she agreed, to appease him. ‘But just now isn’t the time to think about it.’

‘Well, don’t dally too long, Eliza. I hear young Bethan’s set her bonnet at him and her brother’s encouraging her. They’ve only been in Stathe a few months and she’s not wastin’ any time.’

‘Well, not having a brother, I shall have to make my own choice, won’t I?’ Eliza retorted. Her gramfer winced, clutching at his chest so that she wished she hadn’t spoken so brusquely. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, patting his shoulder. He smiled at her sadly through rheumy eyes.

‘Just think on, Eliza. Clem passes by their cottage most days. Happen he’ll not wait around for a hurdy ’ead like you to make up her mind.’ Eliza grimaced at the reference to her wild red tresses. Although her grammer had insisted they were one of her best assets, she considered them the bane of her life. ‘Still, I’ve no right to expect you to stay here. I’m quite capable of lookin’ out for myself,’ he declared stoutly.

‘Oh Gramfer, there’s no need, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,’ she assured him. Even as she uttered the words her heart was sinking lower than the uppers of her well-worn boots as she saw her dream disappearing. But he’d looked after her since she was born and it was obvious that the loss of his beloved wife, along with years of being out in all weathers, were taking their toll. Not that he’d ever admit it. However, she loved him dearly and it was now her turn to care for him. Summoning a smile she patted his hand, and eyes suspiciously moist, he turned away.

‘Fire’s smokier than ever this night,’ he grunted.

Giving him time to collect himself, Eliza pondered on her future. Perhaps when her gramfer had had time to adjust, and the outstanding order from Longstones was fulfilled, she could go and see the school mistress, ask if she’d consider re-engaging her for a few hours a week. Their humble home wouldn’t take long to clean, apart from those cursed cobwebs, she thought watching them swaying like filmy ribbons of lace in the draught from the chimney.

‘Nearly forgot,’ Gramfer said, smiling as she refilled his mug and sat back down beside him. ‘Mrs Finch’s darter’s expecting and she’d like you to make one of them virtue rattles for her future grandchild. Over the moon she is. Must be nice to have something to look forward to,’ he smiled, his features softening. Eliza smothered a sigh, all too aware of where his thoughts were taking him.

‘Well that is good news,’ she agreed.