‘You like my Charlie?’ he said. ‘Got a bunch of them, all Charlies, barned up back home. The lads tend them while I’m on the canal.’
He told me people called him Quinlan. If the boy had a name I didn’t hear it. I led the way, pulling the water cart under the trees. Quinlan followed with the cow. He was not much taller than me, but powerfully built. He wore a kind of smock that showed his knees and his huge calves. The boy trailed after with some fish from the canal and a bag of fresh squirrels.
Back at the O, I poured Quinlan a drink and he took a seat by the fire, while the boy stayed outside with the cow. For a while I was busy helping Dell make the rabbit stew. There weren’t many wanting food but we thought more might come in later and what was left would keep for another day. When I went back to fill Quinlan’s mug, Madge was sitting by him with Walt in her arms. I went back again later with some stew for Quinlan and a cup of the gravy for Madge and I stopped to cuddle Walt and kiss his little squinting face, and I felt Quinlan’s eyes on me and saw the way he gnawed without thinking at the inside of his mouth, while his eyes slid up and down.
It was a quiet evening. And when all but a few had left or settled to their beds, I went again to take Walt for his feed. Trev had joined them by the fire, as he does sometimes to show welcome to a stranger. I lifted Walt from Madge’s lap and turned away, and felt the hairs rise on my neck as if Quinlan’s eyes could reach through the air and touch me.
I sat where I could feel the fire’s warmth, but out of sight behind a curtain because I wouldn’t have people see me with my clothes unbuttoned. The scrounger women are not so particular, but I still keep to village ways. Walt was in a fussy mood and wouldn’t settle, so I put him to my shoulder to rock him and hum a low tune that I remember my gran singing to me.
On the other side of the curtain Quinlan was talking. ‘She’s not bad looking, and plump enough, with a nice pair of bags on her. A bit pale. But she’ll colour up with outdoor work. I’ll offer a good price.’
I thought at first it was the cow he meant, and wondered why he would think of selling her and who’d pull his boat for him if he did.
‘She’s a face filler, mind, I can see that,’ he said. ‘Don’t suppose there’s much left for your sows once she’s done with the scraps. I’ll take her off your plate for all that, and the tadpole with her.’ I knew then he meant me. I’m heavy still from carrying Walt and swollen with milk.
I waited for what Trevor would say, but it was Madge who answered. ‘And we get what in return?’
‘There are plenty can haul water and cook a rabbit stew. You don’t need this girl eating double.’
‘She’s a worker,’ Madge said, ‘and sharp at everything.’
‘And we like her.’ It was Trevor at last speaking up for me. ‘Dell likes her. She’s family.’
‘You know how the world goes,’ Quinlan said. ‘I’m in the leather racket. Charlie leather. Four pelts I give you and you let me take the girl. I’ve three good lads to help make her welcome. She’ll cook for them when I’m on the road.’
‘It’s a good offer, Trev,’ Madge said. ‘How many years before that tiddler’s grown to pull his weight? And who’s to say there won’t be more where he come from?’
There was nothing then but the crackle of the fire and the murmur of talk from the others at the O. From Trevor I could only hear sighing. Then he spoke again in a sad, wheedling voice. ‘She’s happy here, see, her and the boy. I heard your offer, but what’s in it for her is all I’m asking?’
‘Look, I’m set up. Got the space. Got more meat than I know what to do with. Live in my barn, you do all right.’
‘Well you can ask her yourself, I suppose. She came free and can leave free.’
‘Wo,’ Quinlan said, ‘I don’t do business with no girl. We spit on it, man to man, she don’t need asking.’
I heard Dell calling for me then and was afraid to be found listening. So I took Walt with me on my hip and set about gathering the dishes to be scraped and stacked, all the while dizzy with fear.
I told Dell when we had a moment alone in the kitchen. It put her in a rage, though she kept her voice low. ‘I know his sort,’ she said. ‘You’d be skivvied hollow. See his boy, standing out now in the cold. Dead on his feet. And at least the boy gets snoring time. Cheeses, Ag, you’d be nursing his precious charlies all day and then he’d be slobbering at you. And the lads he speaks of, they’ll all want their turn. And what does he want with a kid? You leave here with Quinlan, Walt won’t live to see another spring. He’ll get plump, all right. He’ll be fattened for the pot.’
I told her that Trevor had spoken up for me and said it must be my choice. She calmed down then. But how feeble Trevor had sounded I did not say. Walt began to squirm and whimper, so I sat in a high-backed chair in the darkest corner of the kitchen near the log pile and let him feed. This time he was ready and took it eagerly. I felt the force of his mouth on me and the pulse of it, stronger than my heartbeat, reaching deep down inside. I thought of all the jobs to be done. Tidying and sweeping. Damping the fire in the stove. Taking the stew from the heat before it spoiled. It was a good stew, with parsnips and onions, and a good rich flavour of thyme and rosemary. It had been a quiet night and there’d be plenty for tomorrow. Warmed by the stove, I let my eyes close and gave way to sleep.
I woke to feel the roughness of a man’s hand on me. I was uncovered, and still tender from Walt’s sucking. Rigid with fear, holding the baby tight, I opened my eyes. There was very little light, only the red glow from the stove. But I could see it was Quinlan. He had pulled his smock up to his waist and stood as naked as Old Sigh, his thing nudging at me and twitching like a creature with its own will. I drew my head back as far as the chair would let me.
‘Your turn, sweetheart,’ he said, ‘your turn to suck.’
I shut my mouth tight then, and my eyes too, and held on to Walt. I hummed maybe in my fear but couldn’t think straight to make any other sound.
‘Don’t be like that,’ he said. ‘You’re with me now. It’s settled.’ His voice was soft but there was menace in it.
From another room came the clatter of dishes and the scraping of chairs across the floor as Dell and Trevor worked, and from outside among the ruins the soft scrabbling noises of creatures that like darkness. After a moment I heard the hiss of Quinlan’s breath. His hand moved and withdrew. I waited sick with terror to feel it again, calloused, palsied, damp with sweat, settling on some other part of me. I remembered Brendan the night he took me from the red room, his hands reaching up under my skirt. But the strange disturbance I felt then was a pale shadow of this fear that seemed to rob me of motion.
When nothing came, I opened my eyes and saw that there was a knife at Quinlan’s throat and it was Dell behind him holding it. I watched them in the light of the fire. Dell looked ready to kill, but I could see no fear in Quinlan’s face, only cunning.
I looked down only to see if Walt was still sleeping and to lift him closer, but when I raised my eyes again everything had changed. Quinlan had turned about and forced Dell to her knees, gripping her wrist to keep the knife safe. Her cry had brought Trevor running from the outer room. There was a desperate scramble then, all three tangled together, and the firelight throwing their huge shadows on the wall. I stood, pushing my chair back. I could think of nothing except keeping Walt from harm. Laying him in the log basket by the stove, I looked about for something to fight with in case Quinlan should come for me again.