End of the Line

Chapter 24. The Maid

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Maid.  

The winter of 1925 was long and cold. In the absence of Mary and Belle, the burden of the household chores fell on Meg. Meg's mother was noticeably aging, and Ma Benson, who already suffered from bouts of depression, had been diagnosed as a diabetic. Neither, under these circumstances, could shoulder an increased load. Betty, now fourteen years of age, was a liability. Her involvement in almost any chore around the farm almost guaranteed a broken bone. Her emergency trips to the hospital in Sherbrooke were quite frequent, and she seemed to live her entire life in plaster. Bill, at age eleven, still showed no sign of maturing, but helped by caring for his younger brother. 

By spring, it became obvious that they needed help. Funds were low. The previous harvest had been poor. Pop's wage was a pittance, leaving him at a loss. Dan's sparkling new truck, parked beside the cider house, indicated that Dan's business, whatever it might be, was doing well. He could probably help, but Pop was too proud to ask. Ma Benson had no such qualms. 

Pop had left for work when Ma Benson painfully trekked down to Dan's cottage. She knocked timorously on the door. There was no response. She knocked again, this time more vigorously. There was a sound, a distinct muttering, and a subsequent crash as a chair was overturned. A bleary-eyed Dan, dressed in food stained long johns, came to the door. 

"Morning Dan." 

"Mom," said Dan, momentarily stunned. "What are you doing 'ere?" 

"Isn't a mother allowed to visit her son once in a while?" 

"You've never done it before." 

"Well there's always a first time. Aren't you going to invite me in then?" 

Dan shrugged. "You'll have to excuse the mess." 

"Dan this is disgusting. It's about time you got yourself a young woman to look after you." 

"I'm working on it Ma. Could I get you a mug of coffee?" 

The sight of a stubbed cigar in a cup dissuaded her.  

"No thanks." 

"Hang on there, Ma. I'll just change in to something a little more decent." 

Their conversation continued through the curtain that separated one of the bedrooms from the main living area. 

"Summat important must have happened to bring you here." 

"It is something important." Ma Benson went on to explain the dilemma. "I think we need to hire a domestic help. We should do it because it's our fault, what with Mary and Belle moving away." 

"That shouldn't be a problem. I know lots of girls in the village that are looking for domestic work. You'd have to give them room and board." 

"That's no problem. We have two spare bedrooms now. But what about pay?" 

"I'll see to that." 

"You would? That's wonderful Dan, but not a word to your father. You know what he's like. We'll just tell him that the girl is working for room and board."

Jean Colson, a local farmer's daughter, was hired. She appeared thrilled by the working conditions, and was obviously overawed when given Belle's room, never having had a room of her own. She enjoyed sharing mealtimes with the family and her ebullient personality eventually even won over Pop. Meg was sure she had met her somewhere before, but couldn't decide where. It definitely wasn't school, or church. Maybe in town. Whatever, she proved to be very efficient, and soon had the household chores under control.  

One sultry, moonlit night, Meg, having great difficulty sleeping, moved to the screened off porch to gain some respite. There, she detected a sudden movement around the back door of the farmhouse. A figure emerged, clothed from head to foot in what looked to be a white shroud, mounted a bicycle leaning against the house, and headed off down the drive. Meg awaited a return, but to no avail. 

Meg had her suspicions. She kept watch for several nights. The ghostly figure appeared quite regularly on Mondays, the night when Dan didn't work at the tavern. Meg decided to investigate. Under cover of darkness, she stole down to the orchard and concealed herself close to Dan's cabin. It was after one, when she heard the scrunch of tire on gravel. The white clad figure dismounted and entered the cabin without knocking. Meg tiptoed up to the window and peered through the screen in to the dimly lit room. 

There were no niceties. Dan, completely naked, stood with his back to her. Jean, wearing her nightdress stood before him. He moved towards her and lifted the dress above her head. She was naked underneath. She helped by raising her arms. This accentuated the curve at her waist and the fullness of her breasts. Dan threw the night attire aside lifted Jean and pinned her against the cabin wall, his head nuzzling her tits. Jean locked her arms around Dan's neck. He thrust upward. There was a shriek. Jeans head, eyes closed, fell back. Meg was transfixed. She couldn't take her eyes off Jean's face as thrust followed thrust. Another shriek, a series of shudders, and the couple, still intertwined, fell on to an adjacent bed. Meg fled the scene. 

Meg had always had a healthy attitude towards sex, at least of the farmyard variety, but after this incident she felt very uneasy in the presence of either Jean or Dan, She began to have troubling dreams. It was she, not Jean, clad only in a nightdress, riding the bicycle along the orchard path to Dan's cabin. She entered. There he was, standing to greet her, buck naked with a monstrous erection. Then she would wake. 

Meg could not erase that erotic image from her mind. Another Monday came. She could not sleep. Despite a feeling of self-disgust, she slipped a cloak over her nightdress, mounted her bicycle, and headed down to the cabin. It was in darkness. There was no sign of Jean's bicycle. Maybe she had left already. Maybe Dan was there alone. She knew she should turn back, but her prurience won out. She approached the door. There was a smell of gasoline. Dan must have been working on his truck. She entered the cabin. It gave every indication of a hasty departure.  

Relieved in one sense, but disappointed in another, Meg pedalled back to the cottage. What would she have done if Dan had been there? The thought so occupied her mind that she failed to see the glow in the night sky. 

The next morning they all accompanied the police to the still smouldering wreck of the cider house. It had burned to the ground and Dan's liquor supply with it. 

"Where was Dan when this happened?" asked Pop. 

"I don't think he was here," said George. "His truck has gone and I have a feeling Jean has gone with him." 

"How do you know?" 

"All her clothes are missing and nobody has seen her since supper last night." 

About a month later, a letter arrived, postmarked "Alexandria". It was a brief note from Dan confirming their suspicions.

Dear All, 

Sorry to leave without saying goodbye. I had no choice. It was my fault. I was undercutting the Ambrossinis and Marco warned me to watch my step. I thought it was a good time to move on. 

With the money I've made I was able to buy a smallholding here in Ontario, close to the U.S. Border. It's fine. 

By the way, Jean and I got married. 

Dan