Page 120 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

CHAPTER TWENTY

William was having a smoke out in the yard with Cyril when one of the stable-boys came in, looking furtive.

‘Here, you, William – there’s someone wants yer.’

William straightened up, frowning at the grin on the grubby face. He was first footman now, a position that should be accorded respect by mere dung-shovellers. ‘What way is that to talk? You got a message, you deliver it proper.’

‘Ho, yuss, yer lordship,’ the boy mocked. ‘Yer presence is required out there,’ he jerked his head, ‘hif you’d be so kind.’

Cyril sniggered. William tried to frown at him and at the boy simultaneously. ‘Is it Mr Giddins wants me?’

‘Naw – what’d the boss want wiv a waspie?’ The stable hands called the footmen wasps because of their striped waistcoats. ‘It’s a laydee wants yer – and quick about it!’

‘Ooh, a laydee!’ Cyril mocked. ‘William’s a great one for the laydees!’

‘It’s prob’ly my mum,’ William said hastily. ‘Is she all right?’ he demanded of the boy.

‘It ain’t yer ma,’ the boy said with an indescribable leer, and disappeared.

William hurried out of the yard, and as he rounded the corner he saw a figure lurking behind the big bush that grew by the stableyard gate. An arm came out and beckoned him urgently, and he recognised the bottle-green velvet sleeve of Tabby’s favourite jacket. He joined her behind the bush, his loins giving a now-familiar surge of welcome. ‘Tab,’ he said. ‘It’s lovely to see you, but I can’t do it, not here. Anyone could see. And I can’t go anywhere – I’m on duty.’

Tabby fastened her hand round his forearm as if to stop him fleeing. ‘I’ve not come for that,’ she said sternly. ‘Lord, how your mind does run on one thing! I want to talk to you.’

‘Can’t it wait? I haven’t got long – I was just having a fag.’

‘No, it can’t wait. I got to talk to you now.’ She looked up into his eyes, dragging them back from their natural propensity to slither down her cleavage. ‘I’m in trouble.’

‘How’s that?’ he asked nervously, but wanting to help. She was his girl, after all. ‘It’s not old man Corbie, is it? Is he having a go at you again?’ Corbie had told Tabby off for sneaking out of the bar to see William, and he felt both indignant and guilty.

‘It’s not Corbie,’ she said impatiently. ‘This is serious, William. Will you just shut up and listen?’

‘Course,’ he said, slightly hurt. He folded his arms and ostentatiously closed his mouth.

His silence seemed to put her off. She chewed her lip, her eyes shifting away from his face and back. Finally, she said, ‘I’m expecting.’ The news didn’t seem to register with him. She tried again. ‘I’m having a baby.’

‘Oh,’ he said. He stared, his brain obviously working slowly through what was, after all, a short sentence.

She grew impatient. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say – oh?’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ he said stumblingly. ‘I’ve never – no one never – a baby?’

‘Yes, a baby. So what’re you going to do about it?’ This was obviously too complex a question for him. She simplified: ‘You and me, we’ve got to get spliced. Before the baby comes.’

‘Oh,’ said William again. ‘Married?’ He’d got there at last. ‘But—’

‘Don’t you “but” me, William Sweeting,’ she said in low fury. ‘We got to get spliced, and that’s all about it! You had your fun, and fun don’t come free. Got to be paid for. I’m not having this here baby out of wedlock, with everyone pointing at me, while you get away scot-free—’

He caught hold of her arms. ‘Tab, Tab, I don’t mean to. I don’t want nobody pointing at you. And this baby . . .’ A soppy look crossed his face. ‘A real baby? I’m going to be a dad?’

‘It’s real all right,’ she said grimly. ‘So what’re you going to do?’

The soppiness faded. ‘But, Tab, I don’t see how I can marry you. I’d never be allowed. You can’t be a married footman. And I got to live in. Footmen can’t live out.’

‘You know all that, when you’ve never asked?’

‘But I do know,’ he said anxiously. ‘It’s the truth. Honest, Tab, I wouldn’t lie to you. I’d never get permission to get married. I’d lose me job, and then what?’

‘You’ll have to get a different job,’ she said remorselessly. ‘You’ve got to support me and the baby. I can keep working at the Dog for a bit—’