Chapter 29

Mummers

 

 

Half the village was gathered on the quayside, together with the usual assortment of day-trippers and holiday cottage owners all in a ring around the edge of the fish-quay. It was bitterly cold today and the air was still except for the noise of the seagulls, circling to find discarded chips. If anyone else told her today that it was “too cold for snow” Cass thought she might scream. Several of her parishioners in the crowd had said so already, and now Jack Thorburn was giving it a go too.

‘All right there, Vicar? Chilly enough for you?’ he had greeted her as she and Anna walked onto the quayside, Anna leading the way to what she said was the best vantage point, over by the harbour wall next to the ramp down to the beach, where they could climb on the steps to see over the heads of the crowd thronging the quayside in front of them. Jack and Marian had sought the steps too; Marian was so tiny that with even the smallest of crowds in front of her she wouldn’t be able to see anything.

‘Very cold!’ Cass agreed with Jack, waiting for his next little comment.

‘Too cold for snow, though, I reckon. Are you coming back to the pub afterwards? We usually have a bit of a sing-song, like. It would be good if you came,’ Cass looked sideways at him. It appeared to be a genuine invitation, given with some warmth of spirit – what was going on? She waited for the double entendre or the little dig at her that was sure to follow, but he said nothing more.

‘Ay, come back Vicar. There’s soup on the go – the dancers always need a warm through, and some of them have some soup to go with their whisky!’ Marian joked.

‘Go on then. I’ll come,’ Cass said with a smile. ‘But for the Lord’s sake don’t let me drink any of your mulled wine!’

‘Ay, I’ve heard it can be a bit potent,’ Jack said ingenuously.

‘Here they come!’ Anna said, as on the air Cass heard a drum beat in the distance. Down the hill from Quay Street came a motley crew led by a woman with a snare drum and a man playing a squeeze box – even without the guitar and with his face painted in green and blue stripes there was no mistaking Hal at the front of the procession. He wore the same as the group of dancers who came down the hill behind him, bearing their battered metal “swords” which were basically flat staves of metal. Their red coats were covered with ribbons and rags that looked as if they had seen better days – many, many better days. In the still, cold air on the quayside Cass could even smell the “old clothes” smell they gave off; stored in someone’s attic for the rest of the year no doubt.

In some ways, they reminded her of the maidens’ garlands in the church, trailing the memories of the clothes that had been cut up to make the ragged coats: satin from a bridesmaid’s dress, florals that were once somebody’s summer skirt, woollen strips from an old suit, all mixed up and sewn together to make the sword dancers outfits. Under their painted faces, red and blue and green, Cass thought she recognised several people – there was Graham, definitely looking as if his coat had once fitted him somewhat better than it did today, and surely that couldn’t be June beside him in a new looking jacket with neatly matched pink ribbons? Although, given the neat, beautifully colour co-ordinated lines of ribbons - none of the haphazard scraps that decorated the other coats - who else could it be?

The musicians and dancers stopped in a loose circle around the edge of the quayside, waiting for the actors to enter and Cass sneaked through the crowd to where June was standing with her back to her.

‘June? Is that you?’

‘Oh! Vicar, hello.’ June didn’t move from her position, but she looked over her shoulder to talk to Cass. ‘Yes, Graham talked me into this. I didn’t think it would be my kind of thing at all, but they needed another dancer, and he asked and I thought … well, it was something we could do together. I’m going to help remake the coats during the year too, they’re all a bit …’ even under the pink face paint, Cass could see June wrinkling up her nose, ‘… well, they’ve seen better days, haven’t they?’

‘They have indeed,’ Cass agreed. ‘It’s good to see you getting involved with village things.’

‘I was surprised when Graham asked after all this time … and I was even more surprised at myself for saying yes! I don’t know what made him think of it, but he’s been asking me to join in with all kinds of things recently – even to help him out with the cottages!’

‘And is that making a difference? Do you feel a bit more part of things?’

‘I do. I should have tried a bit harder a bit earlier, instead of just hankering after going back to Saddleton. Rawscar’s not a bad place, when all’s said and done – just takes a bit of effort, that’s all. And I’m glad to see you’ve taken your own advice too – it’s good to see you more involved with the village and all that. Since you’ve been down at Maidensbower.’

Cass hadn’t thought that she was any more involved, but there was the concert, and the evensong, and those trips to the pub too; even Jack was talking to her less like a tourist these days and more like a local.

‘You know, perhaps you’re right -’ she began, but their conversation was cut short by the entry of the actors, an incongruous group consisting of a top-hatted man, a black-coated dancer with rags all in shades of black and grey, an elderly man in a tabard with a blue cross on it and a pantomime dame. The mummers play wasn’t the most thrilling piece of entertainment Cass had ever seen, despite the enthusiastic crowd that had turned out to watch it. At the back of the crowd Cass spotted the unmistakeable figure of Charles looming over the shorter people in front of him. Anna had spotted him too – Cass had a feeling that she had been waiting to see if he was there. She half expected Anna to turn away, but she stayed by Cass’s side, timeless and serene in her red velvet coat, she was even smiling at something – at Hal, perhaps.

It would be a shame if something destroyed her tranquillity. She was right, Christmas brought many pressures and it was good to see that for Anna at least those pressures had been relieved now. She had eaten a decent lunch today and even had pudding. Yes, today she seemed much more at ease with herself; she must be feeling much better. Cass began to relax.

The mummers began their play. Some doggerel verse was followed by a ritual dance where the sword dancers, led by the black-coated woman, cut off the head of the man in the smock who fell down, slowly and uncomfortably onto the cobbles of the fish-quay. It turned out the man in the smock was St. Stephen, and after some nonsense with the man in the top hat and the pantomime dame, St. Stephen was restored to life, to huge cheers from the crowd.

The crowd shouted things at various points, that were obviously as much a part of the play as the dancing, and eventually St. Stephen, with a triumphant chord from the squeeze box, killed the black-coated dancer, who fell down on the cobbles with a reluctance only equalled by that St. Stephen had shown five minutes earlier. Cass turned to Anna to make a comment on the play, but Anna was no longer there beside her. Where had she got to? She had gone without saying anything to Cass, and so she looked around the crowd to see if Anna had moved around to talk to anyone else. She couldn’t see her anywhere. More than likely her father had caught her eye and she had slipped quietly away back home to avoid him. It would be a shame if that brief spell of tranquillity had already been broken.

She looked around, and just for a moment someone caught her eye on the slipway to the beach - a young man, dressed in long waders like the ones Hal had worn the other day - but when she looked back again there was no-one there. It was quite difficult making her way through the throng of people in search of Anna as the dancers began their finale dance with linked swords, drum beating, squeeze box playing and the actors singing something about the doctor needing his pay. She was about to turn up into Maiden’s Yard, away from the harbour, when she cast one look back over her shoulder to see if she could see that booted figure again.

Then something else caught her attention.

Something red, down on the beach.

Something red, billowing on the edge of the sea.

A long red velvet coat.

Shit.

Anna was walking into the waves.

‘Stop!’ Cass yelled. ‘Anna, stop!’ and suddenly things began to happen so quickly that Cass barely knew what she was doing. She ran down the slope onto the beach towards the waves and towards Anna. Anna hadn’t heard her – or didn’t want to hear her. She was looking straight ahead, ahead and down as the waves washed around her feet. Now the waves were over her knees and she was bending down into the water, soaking herself in the process. What was she doing?

She appeared to be picking something up out of the sea. Cass was struggling to watch where she was putting her own feet on the stony ramp down to the beach, so she couldn’t work out exactly what Anna was doing – for a moment Cass wondered if it was something that had washed ashore from her house that Anna had seen and was reclaiming for her. Then Anna straightened up, her clothes dripping with sea water and Cass could see what she held in her hand.

It was a stone.

Anna was filling her coat pockets with stones.

‘Anna, no! No!’ Cass screamed as loud as she could but Anna didn’t seem to hear, intent on her task and surrounded by the noise of the waves, which splashed around her. The waves were not running very high today, the sea was unusually calm for December, but the sea was never still. Cass was on the beach now, running towards Anna, but moving on sand that slipped and gave way beneath her feet meant that her progress was slow. Her legs were already growing heavy with effort and the tide was well on its way out by now, the sands between her and the sea were wide and ruffled with ridges left by the receding waves.

She should have called for help, she realised half way across the sand; she was never going to be able to stop Anna on her own, but now it was too late, she was committed. She had to keep going. Her leg muscles were straining already; her breath came in painful gasps. She shouted for help in the hopes that someone up on the quayside would hear, but the noise of the music and singing must be drowning out her shouts. She had to get to Anna, she had to stop her!

Anna had picked up a large rock in each hand now, and seemingly oblivious to the waves surging around her she continued to move slowly forwards. Cass crashed through the shallows, catching her ankle painfully on a submerged rock. The water was cold beyond her imagination and even in the shallows she could feel the pull of the undertow, drawing her legs from under her towards the deeper sea. Anna was in thigh-high now, the air under her skirts and coat making them billow up like a huge red velvet balloon on the surface of the water. Cass forced her way forwards, another wave threatening to knock her off her feet; she fought to stay upright as the bitter cold of the water knocked the breath out of her.

She reached Anna in the surf and grabbed her arm to hold her back.

‘Anna, no!’ she gasped, the coldness of the water and the tightness of breath from running robbing her of everything but the shortest of words. Anna didn’t even look at her, she simply tried to shake Cass’s hand off her arm, losing the stone that she had held in the process, which fell and bounced against Cass’s leg but the cold numbed her pain. Cass pulled her backwards, towards the shore, as hard as she could.

‘Come back! Let’s talk!’

‘No,’ Anna said – though Cass saw her lips move she couldn’t hear the word that came from them.

‘Please. I can’t let you -’ Cass began to say, fighting the swell of the waves with every ounce of strength. As Anna’s skirts grew heavier with the water, the air was escaping and the skirts swirled around them both, tangling their legs, making it difficult for Anna to move forwards or for Cass to move back. It was like her nightmare, trapped in the water with the skirts around her legs, except colder – so much colder. She had never known coldness like it, her muscles were tightening with the freezing water and already her legs were beginning to give way. If she wasn’t careful the heavy material wrapped around them would drag them both out to sea.

‘Help!’ she shouted with every ounce of strength she had left. ‘Help!’ She couldn’t do this on her own.

Her only chance was if the dancing had stopped and somebody happened to look down onto the beach. The waves were surging up around her chest now as Anna seemed to have stopped moving forwards and Cass tried to drag her back again.

‘Please stop,’ Cass shouted, but Anna didn’t seem to hear or see her. ‘Or we’re both going to die!’ she screamed at her, and all of a sudden, a particularly large wave swept them both off their feet, they floundered in the water as Anna went under and Cass fought to keep her head out of the sea. For a moment, Cass thought that was it; the heavy skirts around her legs held her down, she would be unable to move, unable to swim, unable to stand again, they were both going to be swept to their deaths, but then, miraculously the skirts were washed away from her legs, and because the wave had swept them in towards the shore she was able to put her feet down. She managed to catch hold of Anna’s now motionless body underneath the arms before the waves washed them apart from each other; she was still waist-deep in the water but she could feel the sand firm beneath her feet.

She had to stop Anna from going under again; she had to get them both out of the sea. How much longer did she have before hypothermia set in and she lost the ability to move or think? It seemed like forever, but she can’t have been in the water for more than five minutes. Anna had been there longer, but how much longer? Long enough to render her unconscious from the cold?

‘Oh Lord, help me!’ Cass cried out loud. ‘Oh Lord, help her. Help me to save her.’

She took a couple of painful steps closer to the shore, dragging Anna with her, and then braced herself as another wave lifted them. She wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. She was exhausted beyond anything she had ever known, every muscle aching, cold cutting to the bone. Nobody had heard, nobody was coming and already she was struggling to keep Anna’s head out of the water, she was so tired. One more step towards the shore. Just one more. And then she would have to decide – either she had to let go of Anna’s dead weight and abandon her to the waves and save herself, or they would both die. One more step, just one more, she could, she had to. In her head, she heard a voice, the voice from her dream. Hal’s voice and yet not Hal’s voice. “Don’t let go. Don’t let go.”

Another wave hit her unexpectedly and knocked them both over. This time she didn’t have the strength to fight back; it was a relief to feel the waves take the weight of Anna from her arms. This was it, she could do nothing more to save Anna, as the waves washed over her and her own head went under the water. She let go.

And a strong arm grabbed her and hauled her up into the air again.

‘Cass, don’t let go, I need you, don’t give up on me!’

Hal. It was Hal’s voice shouting at her and he needed her. She was still in the water, but Hal had his arm around her, lifting her. With his other hand he was holding Anna up.

‘I can’t get both of you and Anna’s passed out. You have to help me. Here, take her other side, you have to help me!’

Hal was in the water. Hal had come into the water to save them, when every single instinct must have been telling him to run away, every single memory of his brother’s death was telling him to keep out of the sea. Hal couldn’t even go near the waves, but he had walked right into them to save them. Hal was there and he was telling her what to do. If he told her she could do it, then she could. He had taken most of Anna’s weight but because of the heavy, wet skirts he couldn’t lift her, they had to drag her between them. She realised that together they could do this; they were going to get Anna out, if it wasn’t already too late for her.

Suddenly there were other people there, lots of people running down the beach towards them. A holiday-cottage tenant who was a doctor and another who was a fireman. A couple of the villagers who helped to man the little inshore lifeboat. A crowd of other faces, concerned, shouting things that she couldn’t quite hear. Charles was there, Cass realised as she sank to her knees on the sand, shaking with cold and exhaustion, Charles was there at the front of the crowd, and his face was white.

‘Anna! Oh God, my daughter!’ she heard him cry out.

‘You need to get those two out of the cold right now!’ the doctor shouted, and pointed towards herself and Hal, who stood beside her on the sand, watching as the doctor got the two lifeboat men to carry Anna up to the pub, Charles following. Hal offered Cass a hand, and she took it, but even so she found she couldn’t stand up any more, her legs were too tired with the effort of running and fighting the water.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

Jack was at her other side, pulling her to her feet, taking off his coat to wrap around her, not seeming to feel the cold on his t-shirted arms.

‘Here, put this on. Hal, help her. Don’t just stand there, you great daft lummox, help her!’

Hal’s arm went around her waist, and he helped her off the beach.