The Silley Woman

Bess remained in the garden as Steve walked away. Steve was gone and she had given up hope of Greg coming for her as he had promised last September. Perhaps, like so many young men, he had been called up for Military Service and was stationed abroad somewhere. She wiped her eyes, stifled a sob and she froze. Was that a low whistle? It came again. She hurried towards the shrubbery and was in Greg's arms. “Greg, I've waited and waited for you to come.” “I told you I would Freckles,” he said. “I've so much to tell you.” Bess began. “Later,” interrupted Greg, he seemed impatient. Bess clung to him. “We can be married now you've come back,” whispered the delighted Bess. Greg moved her away from him. “What's the hurry, I'd have to find a home for us and that takes money. Remember?” “I told you I'd found some,” she reminded him. He had not forgotten. Bess held her breath now, fearful of his reply. “Greg, we've got a baby son, I've called him Charlie.” An indrawn breath and silence in the darkness made Bess fearful. “You don't expect me to marry you and give a name to somebody else's child?” There was anger in the young man's voice. “But, Greg, he's yours.” There was a note of pleading in Bess's voice. “You know I only love you.” “Who was the feller holding you in his arms, not an hour ago? Tell me that. I suppose it was that Steve you've always said was your friend, well some friend, he can take care of you.” “Please Greg listen, Steve loves someone else, not me.” “So you expect me to believe this bairn is not his?” Greg's mood suddenly changed, he put his arms around Bess and her heart sang as he kissed her as she remembered. Softly he said, “If you can lend me some money, we'll be able to marry. I'm sorry my darling Freckles. I love you so much, I'm jealous just thinking of you with someone else.” They kissed again and in a short time Bess had agreed to shove the metal cover away from the wall which hid the smugglers' hole which let into the cellar and meet Greg there in an hour. Bess quickly slipped through and into the cellar and went upstairs to fetch her baby and pack a few clothes, intending to leave a note for her Mother, saying she was in love with a Mullins, for this she would never be forgiven by her Mother, but in her haste the note was never written. Half an hour later, she could wait no longer; the clock in the hall had struck midnight. Bess picked up her sleeping baby and with him clasped tightly to her chest she descended the cellar steps. The lamp on the wall above the steps was still burning, but the rest of the cellar was in darkness. At the bottom of the steps, Bess stood transfixed. The beam of a torch was coming up the short flight of stone steps which led to a small dark hole of a cellar below. The person holding the torch came up the few steps and he too was shocked to find he was not alone. “Greg?” Bess whispered. As simultaneously he said, “Bess?” She clutched the tiny baby even tighter to her, as he, wasting no time said. “I cannot find your secret hidey hole, so now perhaps you'll show me?” Holding out the small bundle, she said. “Wouldn't you like to see your son first?” Through gritted teeth, Greg snarled. “I've told you, he's not mine.” “He is.” Bess almost whispered. “I'll make no promises until you show me this secret of yours, I can't find it.” “So, you came early to take the money before I got here.” At last Bess was getting wise. Greg turned and once more shone his torch along the dark wall behind the hogs head barrel. Fearing he would find the loose brick, Bess became angry. “I'll not tell you where the treasure is unless you take me and the baby with you,” Bess almost shouted. “Don't be silly, I can't tonight.” “Why not?” Now, almost screaming at Greg in disappointment. He put his hand roughly over her mouth. “Be quiet,” he warned. “I won't.” Her voice as loud as before. Once again his hand covered her mouth. She struggled free, the baby whimpered, then fell silent as it muzzled against her breast. Taking the torch from Greg's hand, she did not shine it on the wall, but gently moved the baby's shawl from his neck and revealed the red heart-shaped mark. “There, now say he's not yours, he has the Mullins mark.” Dumfounded for a moment, Greg could only stare at the child. `How had she known?' he wondered. Then regaining his usual confident manner, said, “That's no proof he's mine.” Bess sprang towards him and snatched the muffler from around the neck of his shirt. She shone the torch on his neck. “Now deny you're a Mullins,” Bess screamed at him. His hands went around her throat but she struggled free and turned from him, still clutching her bundle. Then, his mood changing he said. “I'll take you and the baby with me if you give me the money.”