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Lovers and Liars
Josephine Cox
Another page-turning story of tragedy and triumph from the No.1 bestselling author of The Loner and The Journey.In the sleepy Lancashire village of Salmesbury, childhood sweethearts Emily and John are secretly planning a life together when they are cruelly forced apart.Already abandoned by her father, and unhappy at home, Emily is heartbroken when John leaves the village. Her life takes a devastating turn for the worse when she gives birth to a child. She dare not reveal the identity of the child's father or there will be a terrible price to pay.Many miles away, John is trying to forget Emily and forge a new life. Having carried her in his heart for years, a chance encounter leads him to believe she has forgotten him.Emily has never been able to banish thoughts of John. But when it looks as though history is about to repeat itself, Emily must put the past – and John – behind her and safeguard her daughter. But can she forget him?



JOSEPHINE COX



Lovers and Liars



COPYRIGHT (#ulink_9c2fb7a3-533a-5ec1-b699-e670fe0ec691)
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by
HarperCollinsPublishers 2004
Copyright © Josephine Cox 2004

Josephine Cox asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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EBook Edition © MARCH 2012 ISBN 9780007373116
Version: 2017-08-16

CONTENTS
COVER (#u85ecad7d-d373-58eb-a6cd-1f30cfd122d8)
TITLE PAGE (#u57d2d31a-64f3-56f4-b6b5-fcdf1f15cb06)
COPYRIGHT (#u1136a73a-5dc0-5f4e-9acf-e46f8f9fd4be)
PART ONE (#u8bace7bc-e2ca-5c20-a42b-26391f90a434)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub78b0c26-26ed-56e1-9f46-9bd623a3be75)
CHAPTER TWO (#ufe15c1ec-5618-520b-8b48-7c24d9e8a53f)
CHAPTER THREE (#u1fff872c-5bd8-52b4-9289-132164bf1325)
PART TWO (#ud2185283-d8fd-56f3-a3e3-40292de5f4aa)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u569ba8bd-78eb-5c7e-a5ff-920d5d281e8e)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
PART THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
PART FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
PART FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
PART SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#litres_trial_promo)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#litres_trial_promo)
OTHER WORKS (#litres_trial_promo)
CHATTERBOX (#litres_trial_promo)
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER (#litres_trial_promo)

Part 1 (#ulink_461209e8-1385-5e99-9e63-a5c57d91616a) June, 1902 The Girl

Chapter 1 (#ulink_86074bf1-a7fb-58ba-b300-10859eb7d0da)
IT WAS THE most glorious summer’s day, but even as the sun warmed her face and the sound of birdsong thrilled her ears, Emily Ramsden’s young heart trembled with fear as she hurried stealthily from the house.
He was in there. He must not suspect what she was up to, or her life would not be worth living.
Running across the yard, she was oblivious to the sharp mounds of dried mud and rough hoggin that sliced open the soles of her bare feet. She was desperate to get as far from the farmhouse as possible, away from prying eyes and into the upper reaches of the old hayloft. From there, she would know if anyone approached. He hasn’t caught me yet, she thought defiantly. He won’t catch me today, neither!
Something was about to happen, but as yet she didn’t know what. All she had been told was, ‘Be at the usual place, at the usual time, and there might be cause to celebrate.’
Excitement raced through her. She could hardly wait. In fact, she was far too early, so she had time enough to waste.
Overnight there had been a torrent of rain, still evident in the many puddles and flooded potholes along the walkways of Potts End Farm. Though the sun was already beginning to dry them up, there were still places where the squelchy earth pushed up and squeezed between her toes, creating long, thin sausages like her mammy made. It was uncomfortable and messy, but it didn’t matter. She would run down to the brook later, and wash her feet in the fresh, cool water.
With that in mind, she happily gathered the hem of her long skirt and splashed her way through.
Yet in the midst of her excitement the fear was never far away. He was never far away.
Nearing the barn, she felt a deep sense of relief. Soon, she would be safe.
Safe! She groaned inwardly. Not so long ago she’d felt safe all the time. But ever since he had arrived, their lives had changed for the worse – until it seemed she and her mammy and dear old Grandad would never be safe again.
‘I won’t let him ruin everything!’ the girl muttered to herself. ‘Especially not today.’ Her heart almost burst with pride at the thought of her lover. ‘Today is our day … mine and John’s.’
Yet even as she drew pleasure from the sights and sounds around her, she had no way of knowing that this day would prove to be the worst day of her life.
Emily Ramsden was such a pretty little thing. Small and slim, with thick plaits of sun-kissed brown hair and warm, smiling eyes the colour of nutmeg, she had a loving nature and a gentle heart.
At only sixteen years of age, a girl trembling on the brink of womanhood, she worked as hard on the family farm as did any of the hired labour, and through her generosity and honest demeanour, she had earned the respect and affection of men and women alike.
Yet there was one man in particular who yearned for more than a friendly word or an innocent smile. This was a man without compassion or decency. Just lately, his avaricious eyes were following her every move, his cravings growing stronger every passing day.
Now, just as she reached the clearing in front of the barn, she heard the kitchen door being flung open. When his angry voice called out, her heart sank like a lead weight. How had he known? She had been as quiet as a mouse, and still he must have heard her leaving the house.
Quickly, before he could see her, she dodged behind the huge pile of newly-chopped logs, her heart beating so fast she was certain he must hear it. Whatever happened, he mustn’t find her! These days, ever since he had rescued Potts End Farm financially, her Uncle Clem ruled their lives with an almost insane passion, and though it was against her nature, Emily had learned to hate him with that same passion.
‘Emily!‘ his familiar voice boomed out. ‘You’d best not be skiving again, or you’ll feel the crack o’ my belt across yer bare arse!‘ In that same instant, Emily recognised the ominous whistle of his thin leather belt as it sliced through the air. She knew that sound as well as her own heartbeat, for all too often, she had felt the sting of his belt across the back of her legs.
Stealing into the barn, she softly closed the door and instantly felt more at ease in the twilight of that great dark place.
‘YER BUGGER, WHERE ARE YER?’ His voice shook with rage. ‘WHAT THE DEVIL ARE YOU UP TO, YER LITTLE BITCH?’
Emily pressed herself against the cobwebby wall and, for what seemed an age, she hardly dared breathe. To comfort herself, she clutched the locket John had given her on her sixteenth birthday, and which she wore hidden beneath her pinafore. Within lay a lock of his hair. It was so romantic! She loved to feel that a part of him was so close to a part of her.
When, a moment later, the barn door inched open, she thought she would die of fright. He was coming into the barn and there was no other way out!
She almost laughed aloud when her mammy’s voice called out, ‘Clem! Clem, get back to the house. There’s somebody here to see you.’
Outside, in the yard, Clem Jackson swung round to face the older woman, who was hurrying towards him. ‘What the devil d’yer want?’
Aggie Ramsden was a weathered version of Emily, but with blue eyes and a tiredness about her that told its own tale.
The likeness to her daughter was uncanny, for she had the same confident way of standing, the small, straight nose, full mouth, and that peculiar air of defiance in the face of hardship. Taller than Emily, she had a slight stoop at the shoulders, and though she was only in her thirty-fourth year, her long, dark brown hair was already streaked with grey. Tied tightly back, it made her look severe, when in fact she was a kindly soul at heart.
‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ she repeated. ‘There’s somebody to see you.’
‘What?’ His mind was still on the girl. ‘Yon Emily’s gone missing again, the little besom!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, why don’t you leave the lass alone?’ Weariness marbled her voice.
‘And why don’t you bugger off.’ There was the sound of that belt again, threatening, vicious – like himself. With the toe of his heavy work boot, he lashed out at the barn door, which slammed shut. ‘What d’yer mean by fetching me from my work, woman!’
‘Hmh! You should be glad I took the trouble,’ Aggie retaliated. ‘I’ve left my own work to come and find you. Besides, you wouldn’t have been pleased if I’d sent him away without telling you.’
For what seemed an age, he regarded her through daggers of resentment. He recalled how his sister had once been a real beauty, but that was a long time ago. ‘I thought I told you to bugger off.’
‘An’ I told you … there’s somebody as wants to see you.’ Her voice was flat and uncaring. Her spirit seemed broken, when before it was bright and alive.
‘Aye well, happen I don’t want to see them, ’ave yer thought o’ that?‘
‘I don’t get paid to think. I’m just passing on a message, and I’ve got better things to do than run errands on your account.’
‘You’d best watch yer tongue, woman! Anyway, what are all these “things” yer ’ave to do? You’re two o’ the bloody same, you and your skiving daughter … allus trying to dodge whatever work comes along.’
‘We both do our share and well you know it.’
‘Not so’s you’d bloody notice!’
He had a way of sneering that fired her anger like nothing else, but after six months of his tyrannical rule, she had learned to keep her anger under control, or suffer the consequences.
Yet now, when he belittled Emily’s role in the running of this small farm, she had to put him right. ‘My lass works hard and long on this place. She puts in as much time as anybody else and gets no thanks for it neither! As for me, I tend to the house and them as live in it, including yourself. On top of that, I do what I can when I’m needed outside. In fact, me and my lass are both capable of turning our hands to anything. And we do. Which is more than I can say for some.’
His features hardened. ‘An’ what the devil is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means whatever you want it to mean.’ Pride and anger swelled her voice. ‘Since we lost her daddy, me and my lass have worked as a team. And I don’t mind saying … we’re a damned good team at that!’
Laughing, he mimicked her words. ‘Yer didn’t “lose” her daddy. He just ran off, like the coward he was!’
Returning his probing stare she observed the red leathery face and small, milky-grey eyes. Clem Jackson was a bully of the worst kind, as big and evil as the bulls he had thought to breed here on the farm. Though he was her own brother, Aggie had never really liked him. In fact, he had never been like a brother to her, and never would be.
What was more, she wouldn’t want it. All she wanted was for him to be gone from this place and leave them in peace.
‘Michael Ramsden is no coward!’ she said hotly.
‘Well, o’ course you’d say that, but you’d be wrong, ’cause he’s a coward all right, he’s yeller through and through.’
Drawing herself to her full height, Aggie momentarily lost her fear of him. ‘Mark my words, Clem Jackson, Michael will be back, and when he is, you’ll be gone from here like a cat with a scalded tail. What! You’ll be sent down the road so fast you won’t have time to look back!’
Leaning forward she dared to taunt him. ‘I can tell you one thing an’ all,’ she said. ‘I for one won’t be sorry, and neither will the lass.’
‘You’d best watch yer tongue,’ he cautioned her, trembling with rage. ‘You know what happened the last time yer ’ad the gall to stand up to me!’
She remembered all right, and her courage wavered. ‘I just want you to know that my man is no coward.’
‘Rubbish! What kinda husband and father runs off an’ leaves his family to the wolves?’
‘I already told you – he had a breakdown of sorts. We’d had a real hard winter.’ She remembered it only too well. ‘It came on suddenly and with such a fierceness there was little could be done in time. The sheep froze on the hillside before we could get them to shelter. And if that weren’t enough to contend with, the summer before had been a drought. We suffered our worst-ever crop when we could least afford it.’
Clem burst out, ‘His old man had handed the farm to him on a plate – but that weren’t good enough, were it? Oh no. He were a farmer, for Gawd’s sake! He were allus carping on about what a hard life it were – so why didn’t he either learn to take it in his stride, or give it up altogether? I’ll tell yer why: it’s ’cause he were too much of a coward to leave, an’ too damned useless to stay.’
‘You know that’s not true.’ His sister’s anger faded beneath a measure of sadness. ‘Like his dad afore him, he gave his life to the land. It’s just that everything came at once … one bad thing after another. Like a nightmare, it was.’
She swallowed the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘His poor mother was tekken by the consumption, and you know what happened after that.’ At the time it had seemed as though the nightmare would never end. ‘It were the last straw,’ she recalled. ‘It were that which pushed him over the edge.’
Clem stared at her downturned face and sorry eyes, and said without pity, ‘Lost yer babby, too, didn’t yer, eh?’
Seeing as how he was angling for a fight, his sister remained silent, but still he goaded her. ‘Two week early and not enough strength to kick itself out, eh? Well, if it were that much of a weakling – just like its father – happen it were best it didn’t survive. I mean, what use is a puny little thing like that? It would be no good at all on a farm, would it, eh? And when all’s said an’ done, the old woman were nowt but a nuisance. Huh! If yer ask me, yer were well shut o’ the pair of ’em!’
When at his spiteful jibe she lifted her hand to strike him, he grabbed her fist, raised it high in the air and held it there, in an iron-tight grasp that had her wincing with pain.
‘You’re treading on dangerous ground, lady!’ His jowls trembled with rage. ‘I can see I’ll have to teach yer a lesson or two afore you know yer place in the scheme o’ things!’
Suddenly, as was his unpredictable way, he was smiling again, his feigned sigh ending in a soft, cruel laugh. ‘Oh, I know all about that lad as yer lost … “born two week early an’ hardly drew a single breath”. I know it all, word for bloody word! Christ! I’ve been told about it so many times by that daft old bugger inside, it’s beginning to turn my guts over. I swear, if he tells me once more, I might wrap my hand round his scraggy old throat and squeeze the life out of him.’
‘You’ll not lay a hand on him!’ Now she would not be silenced. ‘Thomas Isaac is a sick old man. Touch him and you’ll have me to deal with!’
Chuckling like a maniac, he entreated her, ‘Just listen to yersel’.’ He cackled. ‘By! You’ll ’ave me shivering in me shoes next.’ He touched her on the shoulder, not surprised when she shrank from him. ‘Oh, you’d rather be touched by that cowardly husband o’ yourn, is that it?’
Without replying, she turned away, but he came after her, laughing and taunting, driving her crazy. ‘Oh, I forgot! You don’t like me calling him a coward, do yer, eh? But that’s what he is, all right. A shameful bloody coward! He cleared off an’ left yer to face it all on yer own. An’ yet you still have feelings for him. Mind, if I were you, I’d be praying he never again sets foot in Salmesbury again, never mind on this land. Or if he did, I’d be waiting for him with a loaded shotgun an’ no mistake.’
She shook her head. ‘Well, thank God you’re not me. The truth is, I pray every night for Michael to come home, and when he does, I’ll be waiting for him with open arms.’
‘Then yer a bigger fool than I took yer for!’
She merely shrugged her shoulders. ‘Like I said, it was one thing after another. When his mammy was took ill, he was already battling with debt. Then what with the babby an’ all … It was just too much. We’d waited all those years for a brother or sister for our Emily.’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘Michael fell to pieces – as any man might have done in the same circumstances.’
‘Not me!’ he said boastfully. ‘I’m not the kinda man to turn tail and run.’
‘That’s because life has never tried you hard enough.’
This time he grabbed her by the hair, making her cry out. ‘What are you saying … bitch!’
She looked at him with a measure of pity that turned his insides over. ‘Hurt me if you like, Clem, but I won’t have it that my Michael is a coward.’
‘Hmh! Then like I say, yer a bigger bloody fool than I took yer for.’ Thrusting her aside, he sneered: ‘All the same, it’s as well I were on hand to help you out with a bob or two, or you’d have lost this place – and serve yer bloody well right!’
Having gone to him cap in hand was her greatest regret. ‘If I could turn back the clock, I would never have come to you,’ she informed him quietly.
‘Well, yer did. An’ it were me as paid off all the debts, an’ never you forget that.’ Spitting on the ground he reminded her, ‘With the old fella too useless to put one foot afore the other, an’ folks knocking at your door for their money or your blood, you were in a sorry mess. All yer need to remember is that your husband left me to pick up the pieces, and that’s what I did. An’ for that, yer should be grateful, you and that daughter o’yourn!’
At his words, Emily shivered behind the barn door.
Surveying the land about him, Clem grinned with satisfaction. ‘I’ve saved all o’ this, and now it’s as good as mine! Matter o’ fact, if I wanted, I could throw the three of youse out on the streets right now.’ He took a step forward, his eyes glaring, his face contorted in triumph. ‘I might even do that!’ he threatened. ‘Yes, happen I’d be better off getting rid of the bloody lot o’ you. There’s allus cheap labour about to help me run this place.’ He gave her a push. ‘Go on. Get outta my sight!’
As she turned to leave, she thought it time to remind him of something he appeared to have forgotten. ‘This farm isn’t yours, and it never will be.’
‘It might be … if I decide to call in what’s owed me.’
‘I already told you: somehow or another we’ll pay you back. It’s just a matter of time.’
‘Aye well, time and tide waits for no man, an’ I’ll not wait for ever to collect my money.’ Taking a long, laborious breath he finished, ‘Until I get back what I’ve paid out, with profit, this farm is as good as mine – an’ as far as I’m concerned, that meks me the master round ’ere.’
‘Enjoy it then, while you can,’ she retorted, ‘because I mean to pay you back at the first opportunity, and I will, or my name’s not Aggie Ramsden.’
‘Give it up, woman. Yer a dreamer.’ Though he didn’t much care for the look in her eyes nor the determination in her voice. However, he had the upper hand at the moment and there was nothing she could do. He knew it and she knew it, however defiant she might pretend to be.
‘You’ve not a brass farthing to yer name, none of yer! It’s my money as keeps this place up and running. If I took a mind to move on, you’d sink without trace.’ For good measure, he gave her a vicious dig in the ribs that made her gasp with surprise and pain. ‘Like it or not, yer all dancing to my tune. It might serve yer well to keep that in mind.’
She didn’t argue. But she looked at him … looked through him … wishing with all her heart that it might have been different.
He could almost read her thoughts. ‘You want me gone from ’ere so bad yer can taste it, can’t yer?’ he muttered curiously.
When she gave no answer, he took great pleasure in informing her: ‘Well, yer can want on, ’cause I’ll not be going nowhere!’ He smiled, a nasty little smile she had come to know only too well. ‘I mean, a man would be mad to leave such a nice, cosy set-up, wouldn’t he, eh?’
She looked at him for what seemed an age, during which his smile faded and a look of hardness fired his eyes. ‘Got summat else to say, ’ave yer … sister dear?’
To his consternation, she continued to observe him, wondering how this man who seemed like a stranger to her could ever have been her kith and kin. ‘I’d best go.’ She turned from him.
‘Oh, aye, that’s right!’ his taunting voice followed her. ‘You’d best hurry away to tend to them “things” you reckon are so pressing!’
His laughter grated on her, but she wasn’t about to rise to any more of his taunts. Too often she had experienced his rage at first-hand, and she knew only too well what monstrous things he was capable of.
Then there was the other, shocking thing. He hadn’t mentioned it yet, but he would. When it suited his purpose.
If only she could get rid of him once and for all, she wouldn’t even hesitate. But there was no way that she could see. At least, not without her being hanged for it.
His voice shattered her thoughts. ‘Who is it then?’
‘What!’ Startled, she looked up.
‘Wake up, woman! Yer said there were somebody to see me. Who is it?’
‘You’ll know when you get there, won’t you?’
With that she flounced off, leaving him cursing and grumbling as he stomped back to the farmhouse. ‘Bloody women!’ He spat on the ground in disgust. ‘The lot of ’em want shooting.’
Through the crack in the barn wall, Emily saw them leave; first her mammy, then him, that great bulk of a man, striding along as though he owned the place. ‘Good riddance to you!’ she muttered, though her face shone with love as she followed the homely figure of her dear mammy. Her heart ached. Given the chance, she would do anything to protect her.
When at last they were gone, the girl breathed a sigh of relief. So as to not trip over it, she gathered up the hem of her long skirt, and went at a run towards the ladder at the far end of the barn.
Unable to trust him, she frequently glanced back.
When Clem first arrived, after her daddy deserted them, she had tried hard to like him, for her mother’s sake. But she couldn’t. He was not the sort of man you could take to, and how he came to be her mother’s brother she would never know, for Aggie was a kind, gentle soul – though she did have a fierce temper when put out.
Clambering up the ladder, Emily pulled herself into the hayloft and made for the far corner. Here, she reached up on tiptoe, her arm stretching into the roof, where the two great wooden rafters joined together. The small brown notebook clutched tightly to her chest, soon she was seated cross-legged in the hay, her eyes closed and her heart beating fast with excitement.
In her mind’s eye she could see every word written there, all her secret thoughts: the sorrow she had suffered when her Granny Clare had sickened from consumption and died, nearly breaking her grandad’s heart; the wrenching sobs she and her family had wept at the tragic loss of her darling baby brother. Some tears trickled down her rosy cheeks as she remembered little Michael, so pale and still, wrapped in her own baby shawl that couldn’t warm him … Then her tears dried as bitter resentment took their place – hatred for the man who soon after had invaded their lives. She had written about her love for her mammy, and her grandad, and prayed for her daddy, wherever he was.
In fact, all her life as it was, had been entered in the pages of that little book.
More recently she had confided of her growing love for John; of her hopes for the future, and even a little prayer that Clem would go away and everything would be all right again, just like it used to be.
After a while, she laid the notebook on her lap and gingerly eased it open. She needed to reread the last entry – to make sure she had not been dreaming.
Suddenly, a small, shuffling sound startled her. What was that!
With fear licking at her insides, she laid the book face down and shrank into the background. Was there somebody else here? she thought worriedly. Did someone come in just now?
A ray of early-morning sunshine crept in from the one window high up in the barn, and shone down on the page. A gentle wind blew against the old barn-walls, which creaked and groaned as if alive. And she heard the faint splash of a coal-barge wending its way along the nearby canal.
She glanced about, satisfying herself that there was no one there. ‘You’re beginning to imagine things,’ she told herself, but then was it any wonder, if her nerves were on edge?
Pushing aside her two plaits, Emily roved her gaze over the previous day’s entry and began to read it aloud.

Chapter 2 (#ulink_8e71e613-64eb-5f0c-9328-bb60e50d4b32)
INSIDE THE FARMHOUSE, Thomas Isaac Ramsden waited for his daughter-in-law. He heard her come in through the back door, then a few minutes later he was relieved to see her enter the living room. ‘Here you are then, Dad.’ Aggie set the tray down on his lap. ‘There’s a nice cuppa tea in your favourite mug, and one of my raisin biscuits. You sit and enjoy that, while I go an’ hang out the washing.’
While she spoke she smiled down on him, the love shining in her blue eyes. ‘Later on, we’ll go for a gentle walk if you like?’ she offered. ‘It’s a beautiful day outside. The fresh air will do us both good.’
He nodded. ‘I can’t go far, lass,’ he reminded her. ‘Me old legs aren’t what they used to be.’ He carefully lifted his Coronation mug, which showed the new King, Edward VII, in his full-bearded glory, and took a grateful sup of the hot brew.
‘It’s all right, Dad,’ Aggie said. ‘We’ll just go as far as the orchard and back.’
He nodded appreciatively. ‘Happen once we’re there we can sit awhile on the bench.’ He took another long slurp of his tea.
‘That’ll be nice,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s do that then, shall we?’
‘Happen I can smoke me pipe?’
She smiled. ‘You allus do. To tell you the truth, Dad, I’ll be glad of a sit-down.’ She gave a low sigh. ‘Whatever we turn our hand to, me and Emily allus seem to be in a rush these days. There’s too much work, and not enough time to get it all done.’ Not so long ago, life had been so much easier, she thought. Her husband had still been here, and their new baby was growing in her womb. Potts End had been a joyful place then.
Lost in his own thoughts, Thomas merely nodded. ‘Where is Emily?’
‘Gone off by herself somewheres. You know what the lass is like – up at first light to do her chores, then away across the fields.’
‘She’ll be back though, won’t she?’ His eyes dimmed over. ‘She will be back?’
‘O’ course she will. Whatever meks you say a thing like that?’
‘Michael never came back, did he?’ He paused, then: ‘I miss him.’
‘We all miss him, Dad.’ Aggie’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘But he’ll be back.’
Cupping his ear, he asked worriedly, ‘What’s that you say, lass?’
She gave him her cheeriest smile. ‘I said … Michael will be back. You’ll see … some bright day, in the not too distant future, he’ll walk through that door and we’ll all be together again.’
On her words he looked up and smiled. It was a sad smile. Though he didn’t want to dash her hopes, he believed there was little chance of his son ever coming home. His heart ached for Clare, and he lifted the mug to his lips again.
Aggie read his thoughts and a pang of loneliness stabbed her heart. ‘Will you be all right if I go outside now?’ she asked.
‘O’ course I will.’ He looked surprised. ‘I’m not in me second childhood yet, you know!’
She laughed at that. ‘Don’t I know it!’ Humouring him, she wagged a finger. ‘By! I’ve yet to see the day when anybody can get one over on you!’
The old man pointed to his half-eaten biscuit. ‘I don’t suppose there’s another one o’ them going, is there? Or mebbe even a couple?’
Prompted by an impulse of affection, she kissed the top of his head. ‘Oh, I dare say there might be a couple more hiding in the larder.’
He gave her a little push. ‘Go on then!’ He grinned, a wide, uplifting grin that showed his surprisingly even teeth, of which he was very proud. ‘A poor old man could starve afore he got any attention round ’ere.’
‘Give over!’ She feigned shock. ‘You get more attention than anybody and well you know it, you old devil.’
‘Mebbe. But it’s another biscuit I’m wanting … that’s if you’ve a mind to fetch me one?’
Straightening up, she sighed, ‘If it’s a biscuit you’re wanting, then it’s a biscuit you’ll get.’ With that she marched off, only to pause at the door and look back on him.
Her heart was full to overflowing as she took stock of that dear old man, his head bent as he lost himself in private thoughts of days gone by. She and her father-in-law had a special kind of relationship, and she was grateful to have him in her life.
Thomas Isaac had no idea she was taking stock of him. He was thinking of his home and his life, and his heart was warmed. Once a big strong farmhand, he had worked his way up, and put money by, until one proud day, he could buy his own little farm. Potts End wasn’t big by anyone else’s standards, but it had been his, lock, stock and barrel, until he had signed it over to Michael and Aggie, and he had good reason to be proud of his achievement. Nowadays, he was too old and tired to pick up a spade, but there were other consolations in life, such as the smell of dew on the morning air, the special excitements of haymaking and harvest, and the sun coming up over the hills. And most of all, the sight of Emily running towards the cottage after one of her long ramblings. Although he missed his wife, Clare, a bonny lass until the consumption took her, he thanked God he had these two wonderful women in his life, Aggie and Emily, for they meant the whole world to him.
He thought back on his youth and smiled inwardly. He’d been a bit of a lad in his day, but had few regrets – except o’ course, it would be good to roll up his sleeves and bend his back to his work, but it wasn’t to be.
From the doorway, Aggie’s thoughts were much the same. She had known Thomas Isaac as a big strong man, and had seen his body become frail and slow. But though his strength was broken, his spirit was not. He still had an eye for the women and a sprightly story to tell. He had a good head of iron-grey hair, and the pale eyes carried a sparkle that could light up a room when he turned on the charm.
Lately though, since all their trials and tribulations, the sparkle had grown dim.
Like her daughter, Aggie cherished the ground the old fella walked on.
‘Are you still there?’ Looking up, he caught her observing him. ‘I’m still waiting on that biscuit.’
‘Coming right up, Dad,’ she promised, and hurried away.
Behind her the old man leaned back in his chair and shook his head. ‘You’ve a lot to answer for, son,’ he murmured. ‘When you took off, you left a pack o’ trouble for these lovely lasses, and no mistake!’
Through the scullery window Aggie saw her brother, Clem, and her heart sank. He was emerging from the outhouse, his huge black dog, Badger, skulking at his side; there was a look of murder on his face, and a shotgun slung over his shoulder. God Almighty, what was he up to now?
She went into the larder and, taking half a dozen biscuits from the tin, she placed them on a saucer and carried them in to the old man. ‘If you want any more, just give me a shout,’ she told him.
Instead of acknowledging the biscuits, Thomas jolted her by declaring in a worried voice, ‘There’s bound to be trouble, mark my words.’
She stooped to answer, her voice low but clear. ‘Why should there be trouble?’
He pointed to the window, where a young man could be seen pacing back and forth. ‘That’s young John Hanley, ain’t it?’
Following his gaze, she too saw John pacing back and forth, growing increasingly agitated. ‘He’s waiting to speak with Clem,’ she informed the old fella. ‘I’ve just been to fetch him.’
‘What does the lad want wi’ that surly bugger?’
She also had been a little curious when John turned up at the doorstep earlier. ‘He wouldn’t say,’ she shrugged. ‘Happen he’s after more work. He’s already finished that job our Michael started him on.’ She gave a cheeky wink. ‘He’s done a grand job an’ all. After eight months o’ breaking his back, he’s made both them wagons as good as new … they’re completely rebuilt from the bottom up, so they are. The hay-trailer is stronger than ever, the ladders are safe to climb since he replaced all the rotting rungs, and he’s repaired so much o’ the fencing.’ She paused, before going on quietly, ‘All the jobs Michael would have done, if only he’d been himself.’
‘Well, young John seems to know what he’s doing.’ The old fella’s feelings were too raw to get caught up in that kind of discussion. ‘The lad may not be the fastest worker in the world but, by God, he’s thorough – I’ll not deny that.’
‘Yes, but all those smaller jobs are finished now,’ Aggie said. ‘And I dare say he’ll be keen to get started on the old barn, just like Michael planned. It’ll be a secure job for him as well.’ She peered out of the window towards the dilapidated barn. ‘By! There has to be at least a year’s work there. Aye, that’s what he’ll be after, right enough … a steady run o’ work right through to next spring.’
‘Look, lass, yer mustn’t forget who’s holding the purse-strings,’ the old fella cautioned. ‘That miserable brother o’ yourn won’t part with a penny more than he has to. I mean, he only paid the lad for all his work ’cause he’d only just got here and wanted to mek a suitable impression.’
Aggie knew that but, ‘It won’t matter either way, if he doesn’t have John back to repair the barn,’ she remarked warily. ‘I imagine the lad can get work wherever he wants.’ She knew he had a good reputation. ‘They say as how he can turn a hand to anything.’
Thomas Isaac looked up. ‘Between you an’ me, lass, I reckon young John is after summat other than work.’
‘What’s on your mind then?’
He frowned. ‘If yer ask me, there’s summat going on,’ he ventured knowingly.
‘Oh? And what might that be then?’
He looked her in the eye. ‘Yer know very well,’ he tutted.
And it was true – she did. These past weeks she had been meaning to speak with Emily about the growing friendship between her and John, only work had got in the way. ‘You’re not to worry,’ she told the old fella. ‘Our Emily’s a sensible lass.’
‘She’s missing her da.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Fear, and a measure of anger rippled through her. ‘We’re all missing him. It doesn’t mean to say we’ll throw caution to the winds.’
‘Emily’s just a lass. She’ll be looking for someone to talk to … someone near her own age.’
‘I know that, Dad, and I’m sure that’s all the two of ’em will be doing – talking to each other. They’re just friends, after all.’
He took a deep breath. ‘Happen!’ That was all he had to say on the matter. But he could think, and what he thought was this: there was trouble brewing. He could feel it in his tired old bones.
Outside, Clem rounded the farmhouse and, coming face to face with the young man, demanded to know his business.
Though needfully respectful, John Hanley was not afraid of this bully. It showed in his confident stance, and in the way he spoke, quietly determined. ‘I came to have a talk with you, sir,’ he replied, ‘if you could spare me a few minutes?’
‘Oh! So you’ve come to ’ave a talk with me, ’ave yer?’ The older man regarded the other with derision, and a certain amount of envy. He saw the lean, strong frame of this capable young man, and he was reminded of his own shortcomings. The eyes, too, seemed to hold a man whether he wanted to look into them or not; deepest blue and fired with confidence, they were mesmerising.
‘It won’t take long, sir.’ While Clem took stock of him, John did the same of the older man.
He had no liking for Clem Jackson. Nor did he respect him, but he owed this bully a certain address, for it was Clem Jackson who appeared to have taken charge of things round here, including Emily. And it was Emily he had come about this morning.
Stamping his two feet, the older man impatiently shifted himself. ‘Get on with it then, damn yer!’ he instructed roughly. ‘Spit it out! I’m a busy man. I’ve no time to wait on such as you!’
Taking a deep breath, John said, ‘I’ve come to ask if you will allow me and Emily to walk out together?’
‘Yer what!’ Growing redder in the face, Clem screamed at him, ‘Yer devious little bastard! You’d best get from my front door, afore I blow you to bloody Kingdom Come!’ Beside him, Badger’s hackles were raised, and he growled low in his throat.
Raising the shotgun, Clem aimed it at John’s throat, his one eye trained down the barrel and his finger trembling on the trigger. ‘I’ll count to ten, and if yer not well away by then, yer’ll not be leaving on yer own two feet, I can promise yer that!’
With his heart beating fifteen to the dozen, John stood his ground. ‘We’re just friends, sir,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s nothing untoward between us. Only, I am very fond of her, and I know she’s fond of me, because she’s said so. But it’s all right and proper, sir. I respect Emily too much to harm her in any way.’
At any minute, this madman might pull the trigger, or that hound might fly at his throat, but John felt compelled to say his piece. He and Emily had these strong feelings: in truth, they were growing to love each other in a way that only a man and woman could love. Now, it was time to put it all on a proper footing.
‘All we want is for the two of us to spend more time together … out in the open, without any shame.’
Oh dear Lord. John knew he was saying all the right things, only they seemed to be coming out all wrong. ‘Look, sir, I didn’t come here to cause trouble, and you mustn’t blame Emily. She doesn’t even know I’m here. I just wanted us to be together and not to be hiding like we do. And for that, we need your permission.’ He paused, at a loss. ‘I hope you’ll consider what I’m saying?’
He had been expecting the shotgun to ring out any minute. Instead it was suddenly swung high in the air and when it came down on his temple, he hardly felt the pain, although he stumbled backwards and fell down – and felt the wet, sticky blood trickling across his face.
As he crumpled to the ground, he received a second blow. Time and again the heavy butt of the shotgun rained down, dulling his senses and his thinking, until he knew that if he didn’t get up now, he would never get up again. But each time he made the effort, he was knocked back by another blow, or a kick of the older man’s heavy boot. Somewhere in his distant mind he could hear Jackson yelling obscenities, but the voice came from so far away, and his every bone jolted with the force of the beating.
Inside the farmhouse, Aggie had seen what was happening, and she ran to the door. As she flung it open, she saw with horror how John had scrambled back on his feet and was launching himself at Clem, his eyes blinded by the blood that was pouring down his head and face. ‘NO!’ Careering forward she tried to come between the two men but was driven back. ‘Stay out of it!’ she was told. ‘Unless you want some an’ all?’
But Aggie would not be stopped. Throwing herself between them, she screamed: ‘Leave him be! For God’s sake, Clem … you’re killing the lad!’
‘Out – of – my – way!’ With one mighty shove, Clem sent her sprawling to the ground. In a minute she was on her knees, her two arms round the young man, and her face upturned.
‘Kill him, and you’ll have to kill me too,’ she said, her eyes filled with hatred.
His answer was to reach out and drag her away, but she crawled back, fiercely protecting John with her own body. ‘I mean it, Clem. I won’t let you do it.’
‘I’ll do what I see fit. Get outta the bloody way!’
‘NO!’ She tried appealing to any sense of decency he might still have. ‘He’s just a boy!’ she cried. ‘Shame on you, hitting him with your gun … that’s a coward’s way!’
When at that moment John tried feebly to get up, she pressed the full weight of her body against his. ‘No!’ she hissed. ‘Stay down, John. Please! Stay down!’ She knew if he got up, it might be the last thing he ever did.
Eager to finish what he had started, Clem took a step forward. ‘LET HIM UP!’ Suddenly the muzzle of the shotgun was jammed into her side. ‘Let him up, or I swear to God I’ll finish the pair of you!’
‘No!’ Aggie knew, from the mad look in his eyes, that he meant every word. And still she wouldn’t budge. At the back of her mind she hoped and prayed that somewhere in that warped mind, he had a shred of compassion.
Instead he gave her a vicious kick that sent her flying. She coiled up, whimpering from the pain.
Enraged, John struggled to his feet and, staggering towards the older man, managed to send him backwards, but he was weak and hurt, and it was only a matter of seconds before he himself was at the receiving end again. Bloodied and dazed by the punishment he had taken, he found himself sprawled on the ground, with the shotgun pushed tight against his throat. ‘Yer pack a sizeable punch, an’ yer a hard man to put down, I’ll give yer that!’ Clem grudgingly admitted. ‘But it’ll do yer no good.’
Puffing and panting from John’s determined attack, he gave a harsh, mocking laugh. ‘Happen I shoulda took yer on, man to man. But I ain’t got time for all that. Not when it’s so much easier just to pull the trigger.’
The deadly click of the trigger-hammer being drawn back echoed against Aggie’s scream. ‘NO, CLEM … FOR PITY’S SAKE, NO!’
They didn’t see the old man as he sneaked out of the house. It was only when he was directly behind Clem that Aggie spotted him and her heart fell. Dear God! If Clem turned, her father-in-law wouldn’t stand a chance.
Thankfully, Clem was far too intent on training his eye on John, so that when he did hear a movement behind him and felt the cold sharp end of the shotgun thrust into his neck, it was too late. ‘You ain’t the only one who knows how to use one o’ these!’ Thomas Isaac chuckled. ‘I expect you thought I were too old and past it to shift outta my rocking-chair?’
Shocked and frightened, Clem began to plead. ‘Now then, Grandad, don’t do anything silly. Put the gun down.’
But the old fella had no intention of doing that, as he told Clem in no uncertain terms. ‘I can’t see yer hammer that young man into the ground, without doing summat about it.’ He slowly raised the shotgun, until it was level with Clem’s forehead. ‘Happen I should just blow yer ugly ’ead off, right now.’
Fearing for his life, Clem stretched his arms up. ‘All right, all right! What d’yer want from me?’
‘I want you to leave the lad alone!’
Searching for a way out of a bad situation, Clem appealed to him. ‘Open yer eyes, man! Can’t yer see the young scoundrel’s got a yearning for the girl? That’s what he’s ’ere for … to ask if the pair of ’em can couple up. Is that what yer want for yer granddaughter … to be tekken advantage of by this young thug?’
Thomas pursed his lips in thought. ‘I don’t reckon John has any such thing in mind, but even if ’e did want to see our Emily, then I’d say that was for her mammy to deal with, wouldn’t yer agree?’
‘If yer say so.’ It galled him to kow-tow to the old man.
‘I do say so.’ Thomas saw how Aggie was helping John to his feet. ‘Ain’t that right, Aggie, lass?’ he asked pointedly. ‘Anything to do with our Emily is first and foremost your business?’
She nodded. ‘Leave it now, Dad. It’s all right.’ She feared he might well have taken on more than he could handle. ‘I’m sure Clem knows the score, now you’ve spelled it out.’
She considered asking him to go back inside but it would have been of no use. From somewhere – she didn’t know where – her father-in-law had gathered enough strength and courage to come out and fight for his loved ones – and what right had she to interfere? No right at all, she decided, with a little burst of pride.
All the same, just now she had seen Clem eyeing the old fella with a cunning look on his face. And it worried her. One way or another, she needed to get them all back inside and out of harm’s way. ‘Come on now, Dad,’ she urged. ‘Give me a hand to get John inside, will you?’
Unfortunately her little ploy came too late, for just then, while her father-in-law was observing young John’s sorry plight, Clem made a sudden move that took everyone by surprise. With the cry of a madman, he lunged forward to wrench the shotgun out of the old fella’s hands. ‘Yer never learn, do yer?’ he snarled. ‘I should empty this barrel into yer dozy skull.’
Proud and defiant, the old man looked him in the eye. ‘You don’t frighten me,’ he declared. ‘I’ve had more experience of bullies in my life than you’ll ever know, and they’re allus brought down, somehow or another.’
Clem laughed aloud at his show of defiance. ‘Hmh! So, yer reckon you can bring me down, do yer?’ With a poke of his finger in Thomas’s bony ribs he jeered, ‘An’ how do yer plan to do that, might I ask?’
The old farmer shook his head. ‘I don’t know yet,’ he answered, ‘but I’ll find a way in time. Right now, you’ve got the upper hand – but it won’t allus be like that.’
‘Really?’ Leaning forward with his face almost touching that of the old fella’s, the younger man demanded, ‘Got some money tucked away, ’ave yer? Manage without me, can yer?’
‘I wish to Gawd I had got money behind me!’ the old man replied harshly. ‘You’d soon be on yer way, an’ no mistake!’
Clem merely laughed. ‘All show and gab, that’s what you are. Go on! Get outta my road!’ With a hefty push he sent Thomas Isaac toppling backwards, into the wall. ‘As for you … !’ Grabbing Aggie by the arm, he wrenched it up behind her back, making her almost faint with the pain.
Blood pouring from his wounds, the injured youth took a step forward as if to go for Clem yet again. ‘Take your hands off her!’ His mouth was so swollen he could hardly spit out the words.
‘Or what?’ Clem jabbed at him with the shotgun. ‘Look at yer!’ he jibed. ‘By! Yer can hardly bloody stand.’
‘I can stand up to you any day.’ Squaring up, John clenched his fists. ‘Come on. I’m ready when you are!’
‘I would stop while the going’s good,’ Clem warned him angrily. ‘I haven’t got time for games.’ Turning his attention to Aggie, he ordered her to, ‘Get that old fool inside, and stay outta my sight, the pair of youse.’ Jerking a thumb to John, he suggested fiercely, ‘I’ll deal with this young thug!’
Aggie was in a dilemma. She couldn’t let go of the old fella, who by now was growing heavy and limp in her arms, and she feared for John, who was in a bad way. ‘You heard what Dad said,’ she answered with a warning. ‘If it’s to do with our Emily, then it’s for me to deal with it.’ Beckoning John she told him, ‘Come inside, lad. I need to see what damage is done.’
John shook his head. ‘There’s no need,’ he answered. ‘I’m all right. Look, you’d best do as he says … take Mr Ramsden inside.’ The last thing he had wanted was to cause trouble for Emily’s family.
Aggie hesitated, but then Clem said meaningfully: ‘You’ve got a choice, woman. Yer can watch me use the shotgun on this young bugger, or you can go inside, while I try and talk some sense into ’im.’ He kept a wary eye on John. ‘It’s up to you,’ he told her. ‘Either way don’t bother me.’
Aggie looked at John, who gave her a smile and a nod. ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Go inside.’ He gestured at Thomas. ‘He’s all done in.’
Clem appeared to have calmed down somewhat, so Aggie had little choice, because now the old man was beginning to shiver, and so was she. The ordeal of facing up to Clem had taken its toll.
‘Come on, Dad,’ she said kindly, letting him lean on her. ‘You’ve had enough excitement for one day.’
Hoping things would settle down now, she guided him inside.
Once they were gone, Clem turned on John, though he deliberately kept his distance. ‘You want the girl, don’t yer?’ His voice was little more than a whisper, with a certain inference that riled the younger man. ‘Want ’er real bad, don’t yer?’
John knew well enough what he was implying and answered him with a rush of disgust. ‘Not in the way you mean.’
‘Oh, an’ what way is that?’
‘Whatever you might think, I would never take advantage of Emily,’ John said proudly. ‘I mean to wed her – if she’ll have me.’
Clem took a step forward, the anger reddening his face. ‘I’ll tell yer what you’ll do, you young pup! You’ll stay away from my niece. In fact, you’ll get as far away from ’er as you can, an’ never show yer face round these parts again.’
John shook his head. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Like I said, I mean to wed her one day.’
‘So you’ll defy me, is that it?’
‘You can do your worst, Mr Jackson, but I’ll never leave her!’
For a time they regarded each other, the air heavy with hatred. When next Clem spoke, it was to dash all John’s hopes into the ground.
‘What if I decided not to punish you, after all?’ he asked cunningly. ‘What if I decided it were the girl that’s bad – and not you at all? By! A young harlot like that would need some discipline, wouldn’t yer say?’
As he watched the horror unfold on John’s face, he chewed the fleshy part of his bottom lip, like an animal devouring its prey. And all the while observing John, with a sense of delight that he could hardly conceal. ‘Yer wouldn’t like that, I’ll be bound, but there’d be nowt yer could do about it.’
‘I could rip your heart out … that’s what I could do!’ Stumbling forward, John realised he was in no fit state to do anything at that minute, but he wouldn’t let this bully beat him. He couldn’t let Emily be hurt. ‘You touch one hair on her head, and I swear to God, I’ll kill you.’
The dog bared its teeth at him and growled.
Clem merely took a step back. ‘You’re not going to kill anybody!’ he snapped. ‘But if yer think anything of the girl, you’ll get as far away from this place as you can, and as quick as yer can! Because if yer don’t, it’ll be Emily that suffers, I can promise yer that.’
With a flick of his wrist he had John by the throat and the gun pushed into his belly. ‘I could do for yer right now,’ he whispered, ‘but there’s no need. I can see now how I might have got it all wrong, and that it really were the girl that led you on.’ He gave a little sideways turn and spat on the ground. ‘Yon Emily’s no more than a little slut – I can see that now. She needs teaching a lesson, that’s what!’
He gave a sly wink. ‘If you were to sling yer hook and clear off from round these parts, I dare say she would realise her mistake and be the good girl she allus was.’ His face darkened. ‘But if yer insist on staying, I reckon she’ll just go on being bad. An’ then – well, I’d have no option but to give her a good hiding.’
Struggling to free himself, John was frantic.
‘The thing is,’ Clem took pleasure from seeing the boy cornered, ‘I can do whatever I want. Like the old man said, it’s me that’s got the upper hand round this place, and it’s me that will ’ave to keep order, if yer know what I mean?’
‘You hurt her, and it’ll be the last thing you do.’
‘Oh, I will hurt her! I’ll have to, won’t I – unless you do as I ask. Look now, if you really are fond of the girl, you’ll sling yer hook an’ never come back. Do that, an’ the girl will be safe. But if yer defy me, then like I say, it won’t be you as suffers. It’ll be her. An’ even if by some unlikely chance you get to me afterwards – well, by then it’ll be too late, won’t it?’ Grinning wickedly, he let his next words sink in. ‘Because I’ll ’ave got to our Emily first.’
‘You bastard!’
‘Oh, I’ll not deny it.’ Clem paused, before going on in a low, trembling whisper. ‘You’re right – I am a bastard. Of the worst kind.’ His eyes hardened until they shone like marbles. ‘It might pay yer to remember that.’
With that he turned away and strode into the distance, Badger trotting at his side, leaving John to reflect on his words. And the more John thought on them, the more afraid he was – for Emily.
Because now he knew without a shadow of doubt that Clem Jackson was capable of anything, even murder.
Down at the brook, Emily had no idea of the horrible scenes happening up at the farm. All she knew was that John had arranged to meet her here at their usual place, and now here she was, patiently waiting for him, her heart leaping at every sound and her face flushed with anticipation.
Time and again she had wandered along the water’s edge, her eyes trained on the top field. She knew from their meetings in the past, it was the track he would take. Never once had he been late, not even when he had to put in extra work. He always got through it in time to be there when he promised.
Today, though, he was already late, she thought anxiously. And what did he have to tell her that was so urgent?
When they spoke last night, and he told her he would have some good news for her today, there had been a sparkle in his eye, making her think that he was going to see her mammy, and maybe ask if it was all right for him and Emily to start courting. She smiled at that. ‘A surprise’ – that’s all he would say, so now she would have to wait and see what it was.
Waiting wasn’t so hard though, she told herself. Not if she knew for certain he would be there.
Sitting cross-legged on the bank, with the sound of the brook playing over the boulders, she felt so content. This was a beautiful place, where the two of them had sat many a time over the past six months or so, talking and laughing, putting the world to rights. Making plans, dreaming dreams, and every passing minute, learning to love each other. John had been at Potts End Farm for just on eight months now, living with his Aunt Lizzie in a cottage over the rise in Salmesbury. Nearly twenty years old, the lad had been just a good friend to Thomas’s granddaughter for a few weeks, chatting to her while he worked on the wagons, and occasionally helping her with the animals when his own chores were done. From being good mates, the two of them had discovered love, and by now, each knew they were made for the other.
While she waited for John, Emily watched the late spring lambs at play and smiled. God’s world was a wonderful place, she thought.
Just then, a fat little lamb came to her side, curious as to what she was doing there. She ran her hands along its woolly shoulders. ‘My! You get bigger every time I see you.’ She laughed when it skipped off to find its mother. ‘Look at you … tapping your mammy for milk, and you’re almost as big as she is, poor thing.’ She watched with pleasure as the lamb nuzzled under the ewe’s belly, its tail wagging and its mouth locked onto its mammy’s long red teat, while the noise of its sucking echoed in that quiet morning air.
Emily loved it here. The bottom field was the furthest from the house and the prettiest of all. With the ragged hedges of dog roses and other wild flowers spilling their colour across the skyline, and the soft ripple of water as it meandered along, she thought this must be as close to Paradise as anybody could get.
Here in this idyllic place, alone or with John, she could sit and think, and wonder, and hope that one day her Uncle Clem would leave and their world would be happy again.
For now though, as the lambs skipped about her, she held out her arms and embracing the smallest of the flock, she gazed into its big dark eyes. The love in her heart spilled over. ‘His name is John,’ she whispered into its woolly ear. ‘We like each other a lot, and one day, maybe we’ll get married.’ Her face flushed a bashful pink. ‘Oh, I don’t mean he’s told me that’s what he wants, but I can feel it,’ she said to the wriggling creature. ‘At least, I hope he wants to marry me, because I don’t think I’ll ever want to marry anybody else.’
A sudden awareness filled her young heart. ‘I really do love him,’ she confided. ‘I must do, because when we’re together I’m so happy, I don’t even let Clem upset me. Then, when we’re apart, I feel so lonely.’ She looked to the top field. ‘He’ll be here any minute. Isn’t that wonderful!’
Giving the lamb a final hug, she took a leisurely stroll along the water’s edge. Her thoughts lingered with John, and the possibility of spending the rest of her life with him. It was a daring, wonderful thought, and it brought a smile to her face. I wonder what he’s got to tell me? she asked herself for the twentieth time.
Once again, she trained her gaze on the top field. Still no sign of him, but it didn’t matter. There was time enough before she had to be back. Besides, if she had to, she would wait for him for ever.
Filled with the energy of youth, she began to run, gently at first, her bare feet feeling every bump and curve of the land. Soon though, urged on by a rush of exhilaration, she was running like the wind, her hair loose and lifted by the breeze, and her strong legs covering the ground with surprising speed. Caught up in her own private joy, she didn’t notice the locket fly from around her neck and lose itself in a patch of sweet-scented clover.
Laughing out loud, on she ran, along the brook’s edge, then through the cool water and back again.
Thrilled to see the lambs leaping after her, she led them up and down, but they stopped at the stream’s edge and, in spite of her cajoling, would not enter the water. So she played the game and took great delight in their company. She ran and splashed and ran again, up the field and down with the lambs in pursuit. Until at last she fell in a heap, exhausted and happy, certain that today was special.
Because John had some important news to tell her.
Lying there, spreadeagled on the grass, her face uplifted to the sun and her heart pounding, Emily had never felt so alive. ‘I love him!’ she shouted to the elements. ‘I LOVE HIM!’ Her smile deepened and her laughter was a joyful sound that echoed across the fields.
She felt free out here; free to say what was in her heart. Free to be herself and not be afraid.
It was a wonderful feeling.

Chapter 3 (#ulink_747f9c61-e9e6-5e8d-97a3-87692cfeacdf)
MAKING HIS WAY slowly and painfully to the brook, John looked towards that special place where he and Emily had arranged to meet. His sorry eyes scoured the area, but he couldn’t see her, and a small wave of relief surged through him. Though he had longed to see her, he had not wanted Emily to look on him the way he was now; nor was he ready to tell her what was on his mind. He needed time to think. He had decisions to make, and above all else, whatever the cost, he had to do what was right for Emily. Nothing else was important. Nothing else mattered.
Right now, though, he had to clean himself up, so with that in mind he headed for that part of the brook where the water tumbled down from the hillside. Here there was a deep pool where he could immerse himself in the cool, soothing waters, and put his mind to what lay ahead.
Afterwards, he would speak with his Aunt Lizzie. She was the wisest person he knew. All his life, whenever he had been troubled, she had been there to guide him. Like Emily, she was kind and giving, with a way that put a man’s heart at peace.
Determined now, he pushed on, his mind alive with thoughts of Emily.
There were things she had to know, and other, more worrying things that she must never find out, such as Jackson’s determined threat to ‘punish’ her unless John left the area for good. But how could he go? How could he leave her behind? Dear God! It didn’t bear thinking about.
On the other hand, how could he stay, when that maniac had promised to harm her? And even though he was ready to guard and protect her with his life, how could he stop Jackson from carrying out his threat?
Balancing against a tree, he slowly shed his outer garments. His best shirt was torn and bloody; every part of his body hurt abominably. He knew he was lucky to be alive, and that by nightfall he would probably be in agony, once a lot of the shock had worn off. As he reached the water and slid into its cold, shocking depths, he considered the options open to him. He could defy Jackson and stay, which would mean risking Emily’s well-being. Or he could go, and live a life of loneliness without her. And what of Emily? He had seen the love in her eyes, and it warmed his heart. But she would get over him, and in time maybe he, too, would learn to live without her. Oh, but it was a sorry prospect, and one he would rather not face.
There were other options, he reminded himself. He could do away with Jackson – an ‘accident’ maybe, one dark night, across the far fields where the man often walked. If he planned it carefully, no one would ever know it was him.
He mentally shook himself. God Almighty! He was talking murder! If he was found out, he’d be hanged and Emily would be on her own just the same. Even worse, she would have to live with the shame and horror of what he had done. And what about Lizzie? She and Emily were the two people he loved most in the whole world. How could he do such a terrible thing to them?
Suddenly the full horror of what he was considering hit him like a hammer blow. No! Murder was not an option.
He wondered whether Aggie might allow him and Emily to get wed? But he already knew the answer to that. ‘Emily is far too young,’ she would say. ‘You haven’t known each other long enough to know your own minds.’ And Emily’s grandfather would agree with that wholeheartedly. The whole idea of marriage would be thrown out of the window. In fact, the mere mention of it might result in him being forbidden to see Emily again, until she was older.
What if he were to warn Aggie of the threat Jackson had made to her daughter? They could take it in turns to watch him. But no, that wouldn’t work either. Aggie already had more than enough on her hands. Besides, even with the two of them on guard, they couldn’t watch Jackson twenty-four hours a day. He was a devious, evil creature, and if he set out to do something, he was bound to do it. That was the nature of the man.
The authorities then? Another bad idea, because even if he went to the police and told them of Jackson’s threat to Emily, Clem was such a clever liar, he was bound to come out on top.
While he washed away some of the physical hurt, John’s mind was frantically searching for guidance. Maybe he could go back to Jackson and try to reason with him? But the man had no reasoning powers in him. Should he fight him, then? In a fair fight, he might be able to bring him to his knees … send him on his way. He reminded himself that Jackson was like no ordinary man. He would simply crawl away like some injured wild animal, to lick his wounds and bide his time. Then he’d be back, more dangerous and determined than ever.
After a while, chilled through and beginning to shiver, John climbed out and stood in the sun; it was good to feel the warmth on his bruised ribcage and back. But there was no warmth in his soul, for he was torn in so many ways. Time and again he had to remind himself: it was Emily he had to think of. Not himself. Not that maniac. Only Emily. But what to do?
With his whole body shivering uncontrollably, he fumbled on his clothes and began to walk home. He could think of nothing except his Emily. Even if she was aware of the danger, she would still want him to stay – he was as sure of that as he was sure of his love for her. She had such spirit.
He smiled. That was just one of the facets of her nature that made him love her so. Then, sighing, his heart once more heavy, he made his way home.
Taking full advantage of the morning sunshine, Lizzie Hanley was busy pegging out the washing. A small round person in her latter years, she was a quick, familiar figure. With bright green eyes, homely face and a halo of silver hair, she took great pleasure from the ordinary things that brightened her day: the trill of a blackbird overhead, the bees’ contented buzz as they gathered nectar, and the feel of a mischievous breeze as it tugged at stray hairs in her bun and tickled her face with them.
Just then, a long-eared hare on the skyline stood up on its hindquarters to stare at her. She stared back … only for a moment, and then it was gone. She smiled. This was her place. This was her life. And she was grateful for it.
Having used two pegs to hang out her long red-flannel nightgown, she promptly wedged another two in her mouth while she bent to the wicker-basket and lifted a damp sheet from the pile of freshly laundered items there.
Immersed in her task, she didn’t realise John was approaching. Always a happy soul, she sang to herself – a strange, muffled melody as it filtered through the two wooden pegs clenched in her teeth.
It was only when she heard a sound behind her that she swung round to see him standing there, his face swollen and bruised, and the wet shirt on his back clinging to him like a second skin. ‘Good Lord!’ Dropping the sheet to the ground, she spat out the pegs and took hold of him. ‘What in God’s name happened to you?’ Without waiting for an answer she propelled him inside, with John protesting all the way, ‘I’m all right, Auntie. Don’t fuss.’
But fuss she did, because it was her way. Moreover, she could see he’d been badly hurt, and knowing him, she suspected he was in more pain than he would ever admit.
Inside the pretty thatched cottage, John sat by the fire-range, his thoughts still with Emily. He had searched for an answer and now he knew what must be done.
‘Who’ve you been fighting?’ Returning with a bowl of hot water and a cloth, Lizzie set them down on the table, together with arnica and some strips of clean soft cotton from an old sheet.
Seeming not to have heard her, and disturbed by his own thoughts, John stood up and moved to the window, from where he looked out on the garden; it was such a pretty garden, with a winding gravel-path flanked by blossom of all kinds, and all of it lovingly tended by his Aunt Lizzie’s hand.
She came to stand by his side. ‘When a man’s been fighting,’ she said softly, ‘it’s usually over some woman or other.’ She tugged at his shirtsleeve. ‘You’d best get outta these wet things.’
‘You’re right.’ He turned. ‘You might as well know … I’ve had a bit of a set-to with Clem Jackson.’
The old woman nodded grimly. ‘Aye, I thought as much.’ She gestured to the injuries on his neck and temple. ‘He didn’t do those with his fists neither, did he?’
‘I’d best get out of these wet clothes, like you said.’
Lizzie barred his way. ‘Was it because of the lass?’
John nodded.
She sighed knowingly. ‘I’ve seen it coming. You and the lass, making up to each other like a pair o’ young doves. Oh yes, I’ve seen trouble brewing for some weeks now.’ She looked up at him. ‘Aw, look now! You’re both too young to be getting serious.’
‘I love her.’ His voice dropped to the merest whisper. ‘I always will.’
Again she gestured to his wounds. ‘Looks to me like you’ve been warned off.’
He gave a little smile. ‘You could say that.’
‘Does young Emily know you’ve been beaten because of her?’
‘Not yet.’ He limped back to the chair, but he didn’t sit. Instead he leaned against the arm. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be told soon enough.’
‘This is not good, son.’ Though she was his aunt and not his mother, Lizzie had called him ‘son’ from the first day he was given into her care at the age of five. He had made her life a happy one, but now she was deeply worried. She wagged a podgy finger. ‘Happen the two of you had better stay away from each other for the time being?’
John appreciated her concern, but this was something he had to deal with in his own way. ‘Leave it to me, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘You know I’ll do the right thing by her.’
The old dear was penitent. ‘Oh lad, I didn’t mean to interfere, and o’ course I know you’ll do the right thing … but it’s got me worried, what with Clem Jackson calling the tune at that house, and now you coming home in this state. There’s things here that I don’t much care for … bad things! Just you be careful. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘You’re not to worry.’ Laying his two hands on her shoulders, he promised, ‘Like I say, I’ll deal with it.’
And for the moment, as he climbed the narrow stairway to his room, she had to be content with that.
Concerned that she might have missed him, and wondering if she’d made a mistake about the time or the place, Emily made her way home.
Aggie saw her coming. ‘Where’ve you been, lass?’ That was always her first question whenever Emily returned from her wanderings. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’
Emily glanced at the mantelpiece clock, surprised to see she’d been away for almost two hours. ‘I’ve been down by the brook,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I didn’t realise I was gone so long.’
Aggie wondered whether she should tell her about John being here, and how Clem had beaten him with the butt of his gun. Deciding there was really no way out of it, she went straight in. ‘Lass, I want to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.’ She smiled. ‘But then you allus do.’
Going to the larder, she took down two china beakers and a jug of home-made sarsaparilla covered with a muslin and bead cloth to keep away the flies. She half-filled the beakers with a measure of the dark brown liquid, and handing one of them to Emily, she urged, ‘Sit down for a minute, lass.’ She pointed to the rocking-chair by the window, where she herself had been sitting only a few minutes since. At the same time she drew up another chair close by. ‘We need to talk, you an’ me.’
Emily did as she was told, and when she was seated, she asked curiously, ‘What’s wrong?’ She only had to look at her mammy’s face to realise there was trouble of some kind, and it didn’t take long for her to realise it must have something to do with Clem Jackson. If ever there was any trouble round here, you could depend on him being at the centre of it.
Seating herself opposite, Aggie looked her daughter in the eye. ‘It’s about you and John,’ she said quietly. ‘It seems you’ve been keeping me in the dark, and because of it, Clem’s got his back up. And now, this very morning while you’ve been away, there’s been a right set-to. I’m sorry, lass, but I’m none too pleased.’ She gave the girl her sternest stare. ‘Happen none of this would have come about if you’d been open with me from the start!’ Though she adored Emily, she didn’t take kindly to her keeping secrets from her.
Emily was taken by surprise. ‘What do you mean, trouble?’ she asked worriedly. ‘What kind of trouble?’
‘The worst kind. Even Grandad got himself involved.’ When Emily opened her mouth to ask after the old man, Aggie put up a staying hand. ‘It’s all right,’ she assured her. ‘The silly old fool didn’t get hurt, thank God, but it could have been very different.’
‘I’m sorry, Mam.’ Emily knew she should have confided in her, but she hadn’t known herself how serious were her feelings for John. Not until last night, when he took her in his arms and made her feel like the most important person in the whole wide world. ‘I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.’
Brushing aside her apology, Aggie needed to know: ‘How far has it gone with you and John?’
Emily was embarrassed by her mother’s question.
‘Well, child? Answer me. You and John – how far has it gone atween you?’
‘We haven’t done anything wrong, if that’s what you mean!’
‘So, what are your feelings? I need to know.’
Emily blushed bright pink. ‘I think I love him, Mammy.’ She allowed herself a shy little smile. ‘I want to be with him all the time, and when we’re apart, I feel so lonely.’ Pausing to remember how it was whenever she was with John, Emily admitted, ‘I’ve never felt like this before.’
If Aggie had been concerned before, she was even more so now, for she had seen the look in Emily’s eyes, and it gave her a jolt. She had long thought of her daughter as just a lass, but now she knew that the ‘lass’ was fast becoming a woman, with all the complications that went with it. So, she loved young John, did she? Or she thought she did. In her opinion, Emily was still far too young to be getting serious like that, and she said so in no uncertain terms.
While Emily listened with horror, Aggie told her about John and Clem, and how the two of them had fought like tigers. ‘John stood up to him, I’ll give him that. By! He took such a beating … but he kept coming back for more. Look, lass, I want you and John to stop seeing each other,’ she finished. ‘Afore there’s murder done.’
Her words fell on deaf ears, however, because Emily was already out of the door and running like the wind, over the fields towards the rise, to the cottage – and John.
On his way back to the barn, Clem Jackson glanced up to see Emily fleeing across the fields. ‘She’s probably heard how I trounced that young feller-me-lad,’ he grinned. ‘It’s wild she is!’ He chuckled. ‘A wild beauty that needs a bit o’ taming.’ He had long fancied himself as the one to do the ‘taming’. These past months, the girl had seemed to blossom. He spent hours just watching her. It gave him such secret pleasure.
Climbing the ladder to the hayloft, he dumped his bag of tools and began to examine the faulty winding mechanism that winched heavy sacks of potatoes and other items up to the door at the top of the barn. He threw a bit of the chain up to lie out of the way on the crossbeams, and as he did so, a small notebook fell into the hay at his feet.
‘Hello, what have we here?’ Clem said aloud, and picked it up.
The initial pages were merely the innocent jottings of a young girl, telling of her joy in this place, then the dismay after her daddy went away, and the arrival of her mother’s brother, Clem Jackson. She spoke of the way their lives had changed with the death of her granny, and her stillborn brother, and how she prayed every day that Clem would go away and they might find some peace from him.
There were many entries about John, and how they enjoyed each other’s company. I like him a lot, she had written. I think he likes me too. Girlish things. Simple and lovely. But there was little here to fire Jackson’s imagination.
Until he came across the latest entry.
‘By! This is a real eye-opener an’ no mistake!’ he declared, the slaver dripping from his mouth as he read aloud to himself:
‘Last night, John and I held each other. It was so good. He told me he loved me, and I said I felt the same way. Something wonderful happened then. He kissed me, not like a friend, but like a lover. I knew that he wanted more, and so did I. But I was afraid, yet oh so excited. I had such powerful feelings, I couldn’t stop trembling.
He touched my breast … it was a strange and beautiful feeling and I didn’t want him to stop. But he did, and when I asked him why, he said he didn’t know, except we shouldn’t go so far. At least not yet. He didn’t want to spoil me, or hurt me. He thought it was best if we courted for a while, and then we would both see how we felt.
I know he was right. In fact, I felt ashamed at my own part in it, because I must have led him on. It’s just that I do love him so. I know that now. Even if it takes years, it’s John I want.
If Uncle Clem knew we had been so forward, he would go mad. I know he would put all the blame on John, but I was as bad. Nothing happened though. John stopped it before we got carried away, and in a way I’m glad he did.
Clem says John is only after what he can get and that he has no respect for me. But now I know he’s wrong, and besides, I don’t care what my uncle says. He will never stop me from loving John. He makes me feel different – alive – like I’ve never felt before.
When he held me close last night, when he touched me, it made me shiver inside. We’ll do like he says, though. We’ll court for a while, then one day we’ll marry, and I’ll be his wife. John, and his children: that’s all I want, and I’ll be happy for ever.’
Lizzie was the first to see Emily running towards the cottage. ‘The lass is here!’ she called up to John, who was in his bedroom pacing the floor, deep in thought. ‘Best get yersel’ downstairs.’
When a moment later he emerged to see Emily coming down the lane, his first impulse was to go to her, but Lizzie reached out to restrain him.
‘Listen to me, son,’ she persuaded softly. ‘When my brother Petey was lost in the mine disaster, getting on for fifteen year ago now, and your mammy pined herself away soon after, you and me had nobody else but each other. I promised my sister-in-law I’d do my best to raise you as she and Petey would have done. I’ve loved you and cared for you, and you’ve been like my own son, and I thank God for every minute.’
‘I know that,’ he answered, and hugged her. ‘You’ve been like a mother to me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But this time you can’t help me. I’m a man now, Auntie, and this is something I have to deal with myself.’
Though Emily was opening the garden gate by now, and he was aching to go to her, the urgency in his aunt’s voice made him pause.
‘In all these years I’ve never asked you to do anything against your nature,’ she said. ‘But I’m asking you now, and you have to listen, son … for your own good, and for the good o’ that dear lass.’
Tears filled her eyes. ‘Let things happen gradual between the two of youse. Don’t be too hasty and do something you’ll regret. You’re both so young – you’ve got all the time in the world.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Gently gripping her plump shoulders, he said, ‘Trust me. You know I’ll do what’s right by her.’
As he went out to meet Emily, Lizzie watched them fold into each other’s arms, and her heart sank. ‘By! It’s a bad bugger who’s took over Potts End,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know what’ll become of the two of youse, but he’ll not let you have any peace, I’m sure o’ that!’
Her sorry gaze followed the couple as they walked away, towards the fells, where the canal rose and dipped through the lock-gates, and the skylarks sang their cheery song overhead.
It’s a lonely old world for such as me, Lizzie sighed. She recalled her own young love many years ago, and the rush of nostalgia brought a smarting of tears to her pretty green eyes.
Down by the canal, Emily chided John for having gone to see Clem. ‘If you’d told me what you meant to do, I’d never have let you go,’ she said. She was horrified by John’s injuries.
Drawing her down to sit next to him on the bank, John slid his arm about her shoulders. ‘I just wanted for you and me to have our courtship put out in the open,’ he explained. ‘I didn’t want us hiding round corners and being afraid at every footstep.’
She looked up, an appreciative smile on her face. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘but you can’t reason with a man like that.’
He studied her now; those intense nutmeg-brown eyes and that innocent smile. Today, her hair was free from its plaits and tumbled silkily onto her shoulders. His heart turned somersaults. ‘Emily?’
She looked up. ‘Yes?’
‘There’s something I have to tell you.’
Sitting round she looked him full in the face. ‘You’d best tell me then.’
Shifting uncomfortably he began, ‘Do you want us to get married one day?’
Her eyes opened with astonishment. ‘You know I do!’
‘That’s what I want too, sweetheart.’ Cupping her pretty face in the palms of his hands he studied her every feature. ‘Look, I’ve been thinking – about you and me, and our future. When we do get married, I want us to have the best wedding, one we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.’
‘That’s not important.’ Putting her finger to his poor split lips, she told him, ‘All I want is to be your wife. All the fancy trimmings won’t make any difference.’
‘I know that. But there are other things that do matter. I need to make you a home, and give you nice things, and later when we have children, we won’t want them to go without. You know what I’m saying, don’t you, sweetheart?’
‘I’m not sure.’ She shook her head, the beginnings of doubt creeping into her heart.
‘The truth is,’ he went on, ‘I have no savings, and precious few prospects.’
‘No! You have your work – every wagon round these parts has been either repaired by you, or built from scratch. You’re well respected hereabouts. Folk always call on you whenever they need a roof fixed, or other jobs done. There’s all sorts you turn your hand to.’
‘I won’t deny that, but it still makes me just a handyman. That won’t build us a house, or provide enough to give our children the best of everything.’
Emily would have none of it. ‘We’ll manage,’ she protested. ‘When the time comes, we’ll have a bit put by. We’ll be fine, you’ll see.’
Realising he was in danger of losing the argument, and putting her in more danger than she could ever imagine, he said firmly, ‘I’ve made a decision.’
She didn’t answer, for somewhere deep inside she feared what he was about to say. ‘You’re going away, aren’t you?’ Her heart sank like a dead weight inside her.
He nodded. ‘There’s a big world out there, and a chance for me to make something of myself. I won’t be away too long – a year or two, that’s all. We’re young enough to spare that time, and when I come back, I’ll have made enough money to get us everything you deserve.’ He paused; the pain in her eyes as she looked at him was strangling his heart. In a choked voice, he promised her he would come back, and when he did, it would be to make her his wife.
‘But I don’t need a big wedding,’ she said tearfully. ‘I only need you.’
‘Do you want rid of your uncle?’
Wiping her eyes she shook her head. ‘Him! He’ll never go,’ she said bitterly.
Her answer gave an edge to his argument. ‘I’ll make him go!’ he promised. ‘When I’ve got enough money to clear your mammy’s debts, I’ll be back, and we’ll be rid of him once and for all.’
She smiled through her tears. ‘Would you do that for us?’
‘You know I would.’
She thought how wonderful it would be if her uncle was gone, and for a brief moment her heart was lifted by his promise. But then she imagined what her life would be like without John, and it seemed unbearable. ‘Don’t go,’ she pleaded.
Common-sense crumbled when, suddenly, he was filled with a compulsion to take her away. ‘Come with me, Emily!’
Thrilled, she drew away from him, her eyes alight with excitement. ‘Yes!’ She laughed out loud. ‘Oh yes, John. Take me with you and I’ll get work. I’ll help you make your fortune!’ Like John, she had momentarily forgotten harsh reality.
In the heat of the moment, John wondered why he had not thought of it before. The solution was staring him in the face! Of course! If he couldn’t keep Jackson away from Emily, the next thing was to remove her out of harm’s way.
Besides, the idea of himself and Emily travelling life’s highway to make their fortune was wonderful. Later, they would come back and free her mammy and grandad from Jackson’s clutches. Potts End Farm would be returned to them, and life would be as it was before Clem came to taint it.
When, in that instant, common-sense prevailed and realisation dawned, a painful silence fell between them. It was broken by Emily’s quiet voice. ‘I can’t go with you.’ She raised her tearful gaze. ‘I have to stay and help Mammy. She could never manage on her own. Then there’s Grandad.’ She made a gesture of helplessness. ‘They need me.’
He nodded. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Emily. I wasn’t thinking.’ He held her hand and said reflectively, ‘Maybe Lizzie was right.’
‘What do you mean?’
He recalled his conversation with his aunt. ‘She said we were too young, and I’ve just proved her right.’ He was mortified. ‘The idea of you coming with me just took away my thinking.’
‘Don’t go, John,’ she murmured. ‘Please! Don’t go.’
‘I have to.’ Her pain was his.
Taking her by the arms, he drew her up, and for a time they stood together, he with his arms about her, and Emily nestled against him. Each could hear the other’s heart beating, as if they shared just one between them. They didn’t speak. All that needed saying had already been said.
With a suddenness that startled him, she wrenched away. ‘If you go, I’ll hate you!’ she cried, and when he reached out to console her, she turned and ran.
With his emotions torn in so many ways, all he could do was let her go. That dearly loved, familiar figure, running like the very wind, her hair flying in the breeze, and her feet bare as the day she was born. This was how he would remember her. This was the image he would carry with him, until he came back to claim her, one day when he had the means to free that troubled family.
Lowering his gaze for a moment, he wished with all his being that it could have been different. ‘I have to go,’ he said helplessly. ‘He gave me no choice.’
Sobbing uncontrollably, Emily fled to the barn and up the ladder to that secret place where she often came to write her deepest thoughts into her little book. Seeking comfort, she reached for her locket – and found it gone. Dear Lord! Horrified, Emily recalled her two wild journeys across the fields – the first in happy expectation of a rendezvous, the second a panicked dash to her lover’s aid. The locket must have come adrift from its chain then, and be lost on the farm or in Potts End Lane. She’d never find it again.
Sinking to her knees, her face in her hands, she gave vent to her grief.
She didn’t hear the soft crunch of footsteps as the man stepped towards her across the strewn hay. Nor was she aware that he stood for a full minute staring down on her, licking his lips and remembering what he had read in that book of hers. And now she was here, and his need of her was like a red-hot iron in his gut.
When in a minute he was on her, she fell backwards, helpless and terrified as he tore at her clothes. The instinct for survival gave her the will to fight, but she was no match for his bull-like strength.
‘For God’s sake, Uncle Clem – leave me be!’
But he didn’t leave her.
Instead, he slid his hand over her mouth to stop her screams. ‘We can’t ’ave yer mammy come a-running now, can we, eh?’ he panted.
In the shocking minutes that followed, he took her innocence, and coveted every part of her. And try as she could, she was helpless to stop him.
When it was over, and she was slumped to the floor, degraded and broken, he pointed down at her as he buttoned up his flies. ‘One word o’ this to anybody – anybody, mind – and I’ll set fire to the house … with all three of you buggers inside.’ He laughed, a dark, evil sound that sent ripples of terror through her every nerve-ending. ‘One dark night when yer think yer all safe, that’s when I’ll come a-prowling. Yer know I’d do it an’ all, don’t yer, eh?’ When she didn’t answer, he gave her a kick. ‘DON’T YER?’
Nodding, she kept her gaze to the wall.
‘There’s a good lass.’ He grinned with pleasure and cast one more lingering look at her naked thighs, smeared with a mixture of her blood and his seed.
Quickly now, he scurried to the ladder and began his descent. ‘Yer a woman now,’ he gloated. ‘What’s more, it took a man to mek yer blossom! Not some young whippersnapper who doesn’t know what day it is!’ He grinned and called up, ‘Pretend it were him, if yer like. That don’t bother me none. In fact, it might suit me all the way.’
A moment later he was gone, and she was alone; her young life ruined, and her hopes for the future torn apart.
Some short distance away, John paused to look back on his journey down Potts End Lane and out of Emily’s life. ‘I’ll keep my promise,’ he vowed, his gaze trained on the farmhouse where Emily lived. ‘However long it takes, I’ll be back, my love. And nothing will ever part us again.’

Part 2 (#ulink_fb73e771-ddca-52e8-8dd7-d53f966d1741) December, 1904 Consequences

Chapter 4 (#ulink_9db71409-9855-5804-9920-443e08d95bbc)
EMILY WAS AT the kitchen window, showing her daughter the newly-fallen layer of snow. ‘It’s Christmas Day tomorrow,’ she told the bairn. ‘Last year it rained all day, but look there!’ Excitedly she held the infant higher so she could see. ‘Your very first white Christmas!’ Last year had been wet and bitter, with never a sign of snow.
Made curious by the delicate manner in which the robin tripped across the snow’s surface to leave its tiny prints there, Emily did not notice the laden milk-cart approaching.
But now, as the infant began squealing and struggling to get out of her arms, Emily looked up. ‘What’s wrong, eh?’ Following the direction of little Cathleen’s gaze, she saw him over the hedge: Danny Williams, the local milkman, his familiar head and shoulders bobbing up and down with the movement of the cart-horse as it plodded its way through the snow. ‘It’s Danny!’ Emily laughed out loud. ‘You saw him coming down the lane – that’s why you’re so excited!’
At that very minute the mantelpiece clock struck eight. ‘Right on time,’ she said. ‘I should have known.’
Having recently returned from three years away fighting in the Transvaal, Danny had left the Army to take over the milk-round from his retired widower father. The Williamses were a popular family hereabouts, and when Danny had collected milk from neighbouring farms, he always dropped in for a cuppa at Potts End. He and the horse both enjoyed the break. Dedicated and reliable, he was never known to be late.
‘Hmh!’ Emily smiled into her daughter’s eyes. ‘I do believe you’d rather see Danny than have a white Christmas.’ Nuzzling the infant’s mop of dark hair, she wasn’t surprised to see the joy in those bright blue eyes as they caught sight of Danny in his lofty seat. ‘Always pleased to see him, aren’t you, sweetheart?’ she asked, and the child’s spontaneous bubble of laughter was enough of an answer.
Over this past year, since Danny Williams had returned from South Africa, he and Emily’s child Cathleen had struck up a warm friendship. At first, Emily had been wary, but Danny’s natural humour and honest nature soon allayed her fears and won her over.
‘You’d best get down, while I put the kettle on.’ Lowering the child to the floor, she turned towards the range. ‘He’ll be wanting his cup of tea.’
‘Aye, an’ he’ll be wanting a muffin too, I’ll be bound.’ That was Aggie, having entered the kitchen from the adjoining room. ‘You see to the child,’ she suggested, ‘while I mek us all a brew.’
Tugging at her skirts, little Cathleen let her mammy know she wanted to go outside. ‘I can’t let you go out just yet,’ Emily chided. ‘We don’t want you squashed under the wheels of the cart now, do we, eh?’ The very thought sent shivers of horror through her.
Holding the child close, Emily took a moment to observe her. Cathleen was a year and nine months old now, and every minute spent with her was pure joy. It seemed astonishing to her that this darling little girl, with her laughing blue eyes and shock of dark hair, had been conceived out of fear and hatred.
At first, after a hard and painful birth, it had been impossible for Emily to accept her. For weeks afterwards, Emily had turned her back on the newborn, leaving Aggie to nurse, bath and cuddle the child. And that dear woman never complained. ‘You’ll tek to the bairn when you’re good and ready,’ she declared. ‘You see if you don’t!’
She was right because, little by little, Emily had come to realise that the child, like herself, carried no blame for what had happened. The miracle to Emily was that neither in physical appearance or nature, did Cathleen show any trait of the man who had forced himself on her mother.
Since that dreadful day, and for some reason known only to himself, Clem Jackson had kept his distance. That much at least Emily was grateful for. But if she had hated him before, she now loathed him with a vengeance.
There had been many times during the days and months following the rape when she had yearned for someone to confide in: her mother, her grandfather maybe. Even John, if he’d been here. Deep down though, she knew she could never tell anyone. Clem had threatened all manner of retribution if she so much as mentioned his name in the same breath as the child. And so, fearful of the consequences for her family, Emily had suffered the worst ordeal of her young life, without recourse to the comfort of being able to tell someone the truth of what had really happened.
At the pubs where he drank with his cronies, in his evil way, Clem had spread the word that John Hanley was the one who had got his niece pregnant, and soon it was common knowledge. Emily for her part neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead she kept her own counsel. The time would come when the truth could be told, she promised herself. When John came home, they would put the record straight together. That was what she believed, with all her heart. And yet, after two years and more without word or sight of him, she had no choice but to believe that John had deserted her.
Lizzie Hanley had taken umbrage at the rumours and no longer had any dealings with Potts End. Too proud to beg for news of John, Emily threw herself into her work, and made the child and her family her life.
The hatred and fear of Clem Jackson were always alive in her. But she was ever thankful that there was no sign of his character in little Cathleen; only a strong, brave heart filled with love and the joy of living, and a natural kindness that endeared the tiny girl to all who met her.
Inevitably, Emily grew to love and adore her – as did her grandad and Aggie, who quite naturally believed the child to be John Hanley’s. Never in her wildest nightmares did Aggie suspect that Cathleen’s father was her own brother, Clem. Since the tragic stillbirth of her son, and the disappearance of her husband, Aggie now took life as it came, and refused to overreact to something as natural as pregnancy, within or without a marriage ceremony. Children were gifts from God, to be cherished – that was her view, and she cared nothing for the opinion of others.
‘Danny!’ Cathleen’s small voice swept away Emily’s troublesome thoughts.
‘All right, sweetheart.’ Clutching the child to her, Emily looked out to return Danny’s friendly wave.
The two of them followed his progress up the lane. Because of the recent snowfall, the wheels made no sound on the ground, though the dozen or so milk-churns on the cart rattled and clanged as the horse picked his docile way towards the gate.
When at last both horse and cart came to rest, that great old cob straightaway began pawing the ground with his hoof. The smell of hay from the back made his stomach rumble. ‘Behave yourself now!’ Danny leaped down, his boots skidding in the soft snow. ‘Hang on, me ol’ darlin’,’ he told the horse. ‘You’ll get your breakfast, never fear.’
Unhooking a haybag from beneath the cart, he strapped it round the horse’s ears, whereupon that great gentle animal dipped his nose into the bag and began contentedly munching. He had earned his breakfast and meant to enjoy it.
By the time Danny tapped on the back door, Aggie was ready with a fresh brew of strong tea, and a plate full of home-made muffins. ‘The tea’s mashed!’ she said, beckoning him to the kitchen table. ‘Get that hot tea down you, son,’ she urged Danny as they all took their places. ‘By! You look frozen to the bone.’
‘Nay, I’m used to it,’ Danny assured her. ‘Mind you, it feels like there’s a bad night in the making. I noticed the hedges are beginning to stiffen with cold. Come dark there’ll be ice on the lanes, you can count on it.’
Aggie chided him, ‘And there’s you with only a thin jacket and muffler to keep out the cold. It’s time you got yourself a warm overcoat, my boy!’
‘Ever since Africa, I can’t stand to be smothered,’ came Danny’s reply. ‘As long as I keep working, I’ll be fine, so I will.’
Holding out his arms, he spoke to the child. ‘Is there a cuddle and a kiss to go with my tea and muffins?’ His gaze fell on Emily. In his heart it was her he wanted; her and the child both, for he had come to love them dearly these past months.
Releasing the child, Emily watched her go to him. She saw the affection in his kind grey eyes, and the way his ready smile enveloped Cathleen as they cuddled close. ‘Now this was worth waiting for,’ he joked. ‘Tea, muffins, and a pretty girl’s arms round my neck – what more could a man ask for?’ Again, his gaze fell on Emily, and knowing what was on his mind, she looked away.
Lately there had been warm stirrings in her heart for him and, for so many reasons, this frightened her.
For the next twenty minutes or so, they chatted about this and that: Danny told them how glad he was to be back in Salmesbury, and how he had never been certain he would enjoy the milk-round, but that now he was loving every minute. ‘We’ve got plenty of customers and they’re all a pleasure to serve. Besides, I reckon I’m privileged to be working in these beautiful surroundings. You get to appreciate your home patch, when you’ve been overseas for so long.’
Aggie had often wondered and she asked him now: ‘How does your father feel about you taking over the reins, so to speak?’
Danny laughed. ‘Oh, it’s still Father who holds the reins, I can assure you of that! There are days when I can’t do a single thing right. He’s always one step behind me – “do this, do that” … I never seem to please the old bugger.’ He chuckled. ‘All the same, he’s one of the best. They broke the mould when they made Bobby Williams.’
The love he had for his father was evident in the manner in which he referred to him, and the joy in his face whenever he mentioned his name.
Aggie spoke candidly about work on the farm. ‘It seems to get harder with every passing year,’ she groaned. ‘We can’t afford any hired help at the moment, and what with Dad’s rheumatism, and Emily having to tend the bairn, we can’t seem to keep on top of everything.’ She gave her daughter a warm smile. ‘Mind you, my Emily works every minute she can, bless her heart, and she never complains. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘It’s easier at this time of year, though – no crops or harvest to gather in?’ Danny knew all about the countryside and farming.
Aggie had to agree, but, ‘Winter is easier, yes. But as you well know, there are always things to do in preparation for the coming spring … animals to be tended and repairs done – as well as other jobs that need seeing to afore the season changes.’
Emily had her own opinions about that, and she aired them with a frown. ‘If certain people didn’t clear off whenever the fancy took them, there would be three pairs of hands to the pump, instead of two!’ They all knew who she was referring to.
‘If you ask me, the place is much happier when he’s not around anyway!’ Aggie put in. She had come to hate her brother with a passion that shamed her. Potts End Farm hadn’t been the same since his arrival. A shadow hung over them all.
Not for the first time, Danny offered his help. ‘I’m sure I can spare an hour or two each day to give you a hand,’ he volunteered. ‘I could take the weight off both your shoulders, if only you’d let me.’
Fearing the trouble that might cause, Emily intervened. ‘It’s not that we aren’t grateful, Danny,’ she started, ‘because we are. It’s just that,’ glancing towards the door, she lowered her voice, ‘it might not be appreciated in other quarters, if you see what I mean.’
‘I understand exactly what you’re saying,’ he answered softly, ‘but where’s the man himself, anyway?’ He’d expected to see Clem somewhere hereabouts. ‘Usually he’s in the field, checking them bulls of his, but there was nary a sign of him this morning.’
Terrified of the two great bulls that Clem had brought to the farm, Aggie confessed, ‘I’d feel a whole lot better if he was to take them back where he got them from. I believe he earns money from ’em but he never discusses the fees he charges for them to cover the cows. It makes my blood run cold to think little Cathleen could wander into that field at any time.’
Emily assured her that would not happen. ‘We always keep well away from there,’ she promised. ‘The very sight of those huge beasts puts the fear of God in me.’
Danny was afraid for them all. ‘Mind you keep well away,’ he cautioned. ‘I’ve seen lesser bulls go on the rampage and leave a trail of destruction in their wake, and them bulls out there are two of the biggest I’ve ever clapped eyes on.’ He shook his head. ‘Out and out killers, that’s what they are. Keep as far away as you can.’ The very thought of any of these three lovely women being hurt was like a knife to his heart.
For a time, they continued to talk about more pleasant things, such as the coming Christmas celebrations. ‘I’m sure Mother wouldn’t mind if you and your father joined us for Christmas dinner?’ Emily couldn’t stand for the two Williamses to be alone on Christmas Day. Danny was an only child, and poor Mr Williams would be facing his first Christmas without his wife.
‘Well, of course I don’t mind!’ Aggie was quick to assure them. ‘In fact, I was about to ask him the very same thing.’ Turning to Danny she said, ‘Do you think you could persuade your father to trust my cooking?’
‘Well, it’s got to be better than mine!’ he joked.
Emily was thrilled. ‘He’ll be company for Grandad too.’ She didn’t voice her more private thoughts, that having Danny here on Christmas Day would be a pleasant thing for them all. ‘Cathleen would be glad to have you here as well,’ she finished lamely.
‘I hope you’ll be pleased too,’ he remarked softly, and when she blushed to the roots of her light brown hair, both Danny and Aggie couldn’t help but notice.
Suddenly, though, Emily’s mind was filled with thoughts of John, and when the emotion became too much, she picked Cathleen up and excused herself. ‘I’ll be outside if you want me,’ she told Aggie.
In a moment she and the child were dressed against the winter cold. In another moment they were gone, and for Danny the room seemed terribly empty.
‘She’s a bit on edge lately,’ Aggie explained. ‘Every day she waits to hear from John, and every day she’s disappointed. It’s been over two years now, and there’s not been a single letter. It meks me hoppin’ mad to see what she’s going through, poor lass.’
Danny couldn’t understand it. ‘All I can say is, he must be mad. To have somebody like Emily waiting for you is every man’s dream.’
‘The child too.’ Aggie knew it had become common knowledge that John was Cathleen’s father. ‘Though, as far as I’m aware, he doesn’t yet know of his daughter’s existence.’
Danny would have given anything for the child to be his. ‘Wouldn’t his Aunt Lizzie have let him know – about the child, I mean?’
Aggie let her thoughts dwell on that for a while. ‘Happen she has. Happen she hasn’t,’ she said at length. ‘As far as I can tell, Lizzie’s not one for the writing. She’s the first to admit she’s a poor scholar, bless her heart.’
‘It all seems a rare mess an’ no mistake,’ Danny said reflectively. ‘She still wants him though, doesn’t she?’ Danny had waited in the wings long enough and lately wanted so much to declare his love for Emily. ‘I mean, she wouldn’t consider anyone else, would she?’
Aggie shrugged. ‘That’s not for me to say. If I were you, I’d be patient a while longer. But don’t give up,’ she advised knowingly. ‘I’ve seen how she smiles more when you’re around.’
‘Do you think so?’ Now it was Danny’s turn to smile. ‘Well, I never!’
When the teapot was empty and the muffins all gone, Danny thanked her. ‘I’ll be off to my work again now,’ he declared, and put his muffler back on.
Emily saw him from the bottom fence; she and little Cathleen had been watching the birds feed on the lard thrown out by Aggie earlier. There had been a clear space under the shelter of the barn-roof where the snow had not yet penetrated. It seemed all the birds in the air had swooped down on that one tiny spot, and were excitedly jostling for the juicy niblets.
‘Danny’s going,’ she said as the child pointed to the birds, her face a wreath of joy at their antics. ‘We’d best go and see him off, eh?’
With Cathleen in her arms, she made her way to the cart. ‘Away now, are you?’ she asked.
‘Wish I didn’t have to,’ he said. ‘I’d be more than content to stay here with you and the bairn, but I’ve got a living to earn.’
‘We’ll see you tomorrow though, won’t we?’ As soon as the words left her lips, Emily felt compelled to shift her meaning. ‘I mean … you will be able to persuade your father to come along, won’t you?’
‘Oh, I see!’ he teased her openly. ‘So you’ll not want me if I have to come along all on my own?’
‘Oh no!’ Now she really was embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean that, only it would be good for him and Gramps to get together and talk about old times, don’t you think?’
As the child opened her arms to go to Danny, Emily let her loose. In spite of her deeper love for John, it always did her heart good to see the honest love between Danny and her child.
With one strong arm, Danny held Cathleen on the rim of the cart. ‘When you’re bigger and your mammy allows me, I’ll take you off on my rounds – what d’you think to that, eh?’ He laughed out loud when the child gave him a wide, happy grin. ‘Oh, so you’d like that, would you?’
‘I’m sure she would,’ Emily remarked, ‘but that’s a long way off yet, so don’t get her hopes up.’ There were times when she felt she had to curb the growing bond between these two, and other times when she thanked the Good Lord for it.
Lifting the child once more into his arms, and content to let her entwine the strands of his hair round her tiny fingers, he asked Emily in a sincere voice, ‘Do you want to know what I think?’
Momentarily lost in thoughts of John, and how she would explain Cathleen to him, Emily was jolted back to the present. ‘Sorry, Danny,’ she apologised. ‘I was miles away.’
‘I can see that,’ he remarked softly. ‘I was just asking if you wanted to know what I really thought?’ He had no doubt but that she had been ‘miles away’ with John Hanley, but he made no mention of it. Instead he went on, in the same steady voice, ‘Just now you asked what I thought about the two old fellas getting together to talk about past times. And I’m trying to tell you that there are other things on my mind at the minute.’
‘What kind of things?’ She knew that he had special feelings for her. At first it had been a worry, but lately she had come to see him for the true friend he was, and had come to rely on that friendship; every minute he was here, she honestly enjoyed his company.
Right now though, she suspected he was about to try and deepen their friendship into something else – something she wasn’t ready for and probably never would be. Suddenly, she was on the defensive. ‘Please, Danny … not now, eh?’
‘All right, my beauty.’ He loved her too much to go against her wishes. ‘But I think you already know that it would make me the happiest man on God’s earth if you’d agree to be my wife. You could have whichever home you wanted … I’m not short of a bob or two.’ His gaze shifted to the child. ‘I could give this darling lass a name and a father … if only you’d let me?’
When instead of answering she cast her gaze down, he felt mortified. Taking her by the hand he apologised. ‘Aw look, I’m sorry … opening my big mouth yet again. I know I should keep my feelings to myself, but it’s so hard sometimes.’
Emily looked up. ‘I understand,’ she conceded. ‘But you know how it is. I’m John’s woman. I can’t change that, nor would I want to.’ Hard words but they needed saying.
He gave a sad little nod. Then his smile warmed her heart. ‘Forgive me, eh? Don’t have me shot if now and again I take the liberty of reminding you that I’m always here, if you ever need me.’
‘I know, Danny, and I’m very lucky to have a friend like you. You’re a lovely man, but instead of wasting your time on me, you should be looking for someone who is free to give you all the love you deserve.’
Danny’s gaze softened. ‘Don’t you understand?’ he murmured, taking a step forward. ‘As long as I live, I can never look in any other direction. The truth is, my beauty, if I can’t have you, then I want no one.’
Emily was cut to the core. ‘No, Danny! Please don’t talk like that. You were made for family life – for children and such. I don’t want to be the one who deprives you of that.’
For a long moment he looked at her, at that pretty face and those quiet brown eyes now scarred with sadness, and he couldn’t bear it. ‘Whatever decision I make, it’ll be my decision and no one else’s. You remember that, and remember this too. Other than you, there is no woman on God’s earth I want, nor ever will.’
Choking with emotion, Emily reached up and with the greatest tenderness stroked his face. ‘I’d give anything to love you as you deserve,’ she said, ‘but I’ve already given my heart away. I’m so sorry, Danny. Really I am.’
‘Ah, it’s me that should be sorry!’ Grabbing her hand he pressed it to his heart. ‘Do you forgive me?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she said.
With a quick smile and cheeky wink, he confessed, ‘I can’t say I don’t wish you would change your mind, but I promise I’ll try and keep my feelings to myself from now on.’ Making the sign of the cross over his heart, he looked a sorry sinner. ‘Cross my heart, and may all the milk turn sour if I’m lying!’
At the sight of his eyes rolling heavenward and that naughty, twinkling smile, Emily burst out laughing. ‘You’re a devil, Danny Williams, so you are!’
‘Well now, will ye look at that!’ Hugging the child into his chest, he swung her round. ‘We made your mammy laugh. Isn’t that something, eh?’ Plonking a quick kiss on Cathleen’s forehead, he handed her back to Emily. ‘I’d best get on, or I’ll have my father breathing down my neck when I get home!’
With one easy movement, he swung himself onto the cart. The great churns were stacked behind him. From the foot of the cart Emily watched him stow the nosebag and pick up the reins. It was a privilege to have him about, she thought, and these days, with no word from John, she desperately needed someone to talk to. Danny was a kind-hearted, honest sort of a bloke, and she respected him enormously. Up to now though, that was as far as her feelings went.
Danny, though, had fallen for her straight away, ever since he’d returned to the village. Twice he had asked her to wed him, and twice she’d refused. All along she had been honest with him. She didn’t love him, she explained, and never could, not in the way she loved John.
But little Cathleen loved him, and sometimes, in the dark of night when sleep eluded her, Emily would look at her darling child and the doubts would creep in yet again. Should she put the child first and give her a proper daddy who would love and care for her? Should she give up on John, who now seemed to have given up on her? Was she being unfair to her mammy by denying Danny the chance to be a son-in-law to her, and a father to Cathleen? Right from the start, Aggie had taken to Danny. And it was painfully obvious that little Cathleen adored that good man. What’s more, her daughter would probably love to have a younger brother or sister.
Sometimes, Emily believed she was being selfish in putting her own feelings before those of her loved ones. And yet, how could she give herself in marriage to someone she didn’t love in that way? So many questions. So many doubts, haunting her through the long, sleepless nights.
But then, when morning came the questions faded beneath her steadfast love for John.
She couldn’t deny she had grown fond of Danny, and it pained her to keep rejecting him, but what choice had she? In her deepest heart she had always believed John would come back. She believed it now, and would go on believing it, until all hope was gone.
Right now, there were three men in her life: her old grandfather, who had bad days and good days, but was always a kind and loving man; then there was Clem Jackson, whose presence was like a dark blanket over the sun. If only he’d go! No one wanted him here at Potts End.
And then there was Danny! A gem of a man, wasted in his affection for her, but nothing she could say would make him see that.
‘Some of this milk came from old Daisy at Glebe House Farm,’ he was telling the wide-eyed Cathleen. ‘Up at four every morning she is, waiting first in line, bellowing her head off, to have her bursting udders emptied into this here churn.’ Wiping the tip of his finger round the rim of the churn he sucked on it and rolled his eyes. ‘A gift from the heavens, that’s what it is!’ he sighed.
Winking at Emily, he leaned towards the child, his voice a magical whisper. ‘It’s what all the stars in the sky are made of. That’s what makes ’em twinkle so bright.’
His eyes grew wider with amazement. ‘Do you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if all the little children in the world were made with Daisy’s milk. That’s why their pretty little eyes twinkle and shine. Daisy mixed the magic into her milk and when the Good Lord made the children, He gave them each a little sip.’
Lowering his voice he shifted his gaze to Emily. ‘He must have given some to your mammy too, because whenever I’m near her, all sorts o’ wonderful magic begins to happen.’
For the briefest of minutes, there was an awkward pause between them. Emily didn’t know quite what to do or say, and Danny longed to take her in his arms and kiss her until she came to love him the way he loved her.
But then he realised he had almost spoiled the moment, so returning his attention to the child, he pointed to the little pools of spilt milk on the floor of the cart. ‘Will ye look at that! You know what that means, don’t you, eh? Well, I’ll tell ye. It means the cat will have it, and give it to the kittens, and that’s why the kittens are able to see in the dark. I bet you didn’t know that, eh? I bet you didn’t know it was Daisy’s magic milk that made all the cats see in the dark?’
Emily laughed. ‘Give over, Danny Williams! What should we do with you, eh?’
As his gaze fell on her upturned face, he was about to say, ‘Marry me, that’s what you should do with me.’ Instead, he laughed with her. ‘It’s true!’ he protested. ‘Daisy herself told me – and she’s never lied to me before.’
Now, as he poured a small measure of milk into the palm of his hand and gave it to a stray cat who had grown wise to his daily treat, the tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of Emily’s mouth. There was no denying he brought a measure of sunshine and joy into their lives, she thought. With that mop of wavy dark hair and those laughing grey eyes he had such charm and sincerity, and a way that instantly endeared him to both animals and children alike.
In fact, throughout the village of Salmesbury she knew of no one who had a bad word to say about him. There were plenty of lasses who fancied him, though.
Suddenly, Danny hopped down from his seat. ‘I’ve yet to pass the time o’ day with your old gramps,’ he reminded Emily. ‘That’s if your mammy doesn’t mind?’
‘I’m sure that’ll be fine.’ Emily was glad he wasn’t rushing away, though time was wasting and she would soon have to get on with her own work. There were so many chores still to be done, it left little time for socialising. ‘He’s always glad to see you,’ she said. ‘You leave him chuckling every time, and we’re all grateful for that.’
He gave her a sideways glance. ‘The village clown, that’s me.’
Emily was horrified, and put him straight at once. ‘You’re nothing of the sort! You’re a warm, intelligent man who’s full of the joys of life, and somehow you always manage to make a person feel good.’ Smiling up at him, she told him from the heart, ‘It’s a real gift you have, Danny. And you seem to be the only one who doesn’t realise it.’
When he smiled back, it was a free and easy smile that spoke volumes. ‘So, there’s hope for me yet, is there?’ His words carried a mixed message and Emily was quick to pick up on it. So, instead of answering, she hastened her steps and got to the farmhouse door before him.
His voice followed her. ‘So there’s no hope – is that what you’re saying? Aw, you’re a wicked woman, Emily Ramsden, a wicked, wicked woman!’ He feigned desperation. ‘Aw, come on now. Give us a kiss and we’ll say no more.’
Suppressing her laughter, Emily rushed inside, and almost fell in the sitting-room door.
‘Good God, lass!’ On her knees, Aggie had been cleaning out the fire-grate, and as she looked up, the small shovelful of cinders tumbled to the hearth. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ By now, Emily had dropped the child on the sofa and was heartily chuckling. ‘What’s tickling you, eh?’
Composing herself, Emily explained. ‘Danny’s behind me. He wants to see Gramps before he leaves.’
Aggie smiled knowingly. ‘Oh, I understand. And I suppose he’s been weaving his magic on you and the bairn, has he?’
‘You could say that,’ Emily answered. ‘Sometimes I wonder if he’s not mad as a hatter.’
‘Oh aye, lass, he is mad,’ her mother agreed. ‘Mad on you and the bairn, that’s what.’
Afraid she and her mammy were about to get into a deeper conversation, Emily changed the subject. ‘Is it all right then, if I take him up to see Gramps?’
‘That is, if it’s no trouble.’ Danny came to the doorway.
‘It’s no trouble at all, and well you know it,’ Aggie chided. ‘What! Tom Isaac would never forgive me if I let you leave without seeing him.’ Pointing a blackened hand towards the stairs she told Emily, ‘Go on then, lass. Take him up, and take the child with yer. Your grandad’s been asking after her.’
While Aggie continued with cleaning out the grate, Emily climbed the narrow winding stairs to the upper part of the farmhouse. Behind her came Danny, who insisted on carrying little Cathleen, who all the way entwined his hair round her tiny finger, until he feared she’d soon have it out by the roots. But he didn’t mind. In fact it gave him a comforting, fatherly feeling.
The old fellow must have heard them tramping up the stairs because when they entered his room, he was already struggling to sit up. ‘Easy now, Gramps!’ Rushing forward, Emily helped him get comfortable. ‘How’s that?’ Plumping up the bolster, she made sure his back was properly supported. ‘Comfortable, are you?’ Aggie had lit a fire in the little grate earlier, and the small bedroom was warm.
‘Stop fussing, woman!’ Visibly thinner, his face deeper-lined by the passage of time, Thomas still had fire in his eyes and a sharp tongue when needed. But now as he spoke to the child, his eyes softened and his arms opened to take her. ‘An’ what ’ave you been up to, young ’un?’ he asked with a crinkled smile. ‘Been out there feeding the birds, ’ave yer?’
Danny put the child into his arms, where she sat for a while, looking up at the old man and chuckling at whatever he said, even though she didn’t really understand half of it.
A few moments later when he seemed to tire, Emily gently collected Cathleen into her arms. ‘You and Danny have a chat,’ she suggested, ‘while I go and make you a brew.’ She knew how much he loved to be alone with Danny, when the two of them would talk about things only men appreciated.
‘Aye, go on then, lass,’ he replied. ‘An’ see if Aggie’s got any o’ that bread-puddin left an’ all.’ He licked his lips. ‘By! Your mammy meks the best bread puddin in the whole world!’ He pointed to Danny. ‘While you’re at it, lass, you’d best fetch your young man a helping an’ all.’
Being referred to as Emily’s ‘young man’ put a smile on Danny’s face, but Emily made a mental note to correct her grandad’s thinking once Danny was gone.
‘I wouldn’t say no to another cuppa, but I’m full o’ those tasty muffins,’ Danny said politely, rubbing his tummy appreciatively.
With Emily out the door, Danny told the old fella, ‘That was wicked of you.’ He wagged a finger. ‘You know very well I’m not her young man.’
Thomas gave a sly little chuckle. ‘Mebbe not. But you’d like to be, wouldn’t you, eh?’
‘You know I would,’ Danny told him.
‘And have you asked her?’
‘I have. Time and again, on my knees, on my feet, and even once with my face covered in Cathleen’s chocolate.’
‘So what did she say?’
‘What she always says.’
‘I see.’ The old man nodded knowingly. ‘She’s still hankering after John Hanley, is that it?’
‘She loves him, that’s why.’ Danny envied John that kind of love, especially when he’d been away so long and in his opinion didn’t deserve such loyalty.
The same thoughts invaded the old fellow’s mind. ‘Where the devil is that young scoundrel, that’s what I’d like to know!’
Danny could see how the old man was in danger of getting too excited. ‘That’s not for us to know, and not for me to comment on,’ he said guardedly.
The old man didn’t agree. ‘Ah, well now, that’s where you’re wrong!’ he declared. ‘That young bugger will get the length o’ my tongue if he ever does come back, I can tell you! What kind of a man is it that gets a young girl with child, then goes off to Gawd knows where and never a word in over two years.’ His voice shook with anger. ‘Like my own cowardly son, he’s run for his life, that’s what he’s done. By! They’d neither of ’em best come back to these parts in a hurry, because they’ll ’ave me to deal with, I can tell yer!’
‘Take it easy, Tom.’ Afraid he was working himself up to fever pitch, Danny changed the subject. ‘I’ll tell you what though,’ he said, ‘I reckon you’d give anybody a run for their money, eh? What!’ Clamping a hand over the old man’s now clenched fist, he feigned admiration. ‘You’ve a fist like a hammer. They tell me you were a bit of a fighter in your time, is that right?’
‘Oh, aye!’ Tom’s proud old eyes were alight with memories. ‘They said I were one o’ the best street-fighters around. It got so they couldn’t get any man to stand against me. It were a shame, but once the police got on our trail, we had to move into ’fficial premises. After that it all got too organised like. Above board and proper, if yer know what I mean? All Queensberry rules and regulations.’ He shook his head woefully. ‘It were never the same after that.’
Danny knew the story well. ‘I’ve heard it from my da time and again,’ he revealed. ‘He loves to talk about it; raw fighting in the back alleys and such. “Skin and blood up the walls and bits o’ flesh under the feet,” that’s how he puts it. Then how it changed when the authorities took over. Mind you, according to him, there was corruption by the bucket-load, even in higher places!’
The old man nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh aye, that’s true enough. By! There were some bad buggers behind the scenes. The old way were the best though – big money changing hands at the drop of a hat; men facing up to each other on impulse, bare-backed and wound up so tight they’d fight till they dropped. I’ve known men go down and never come up again, and others would walk away and leave ’em there. No rules nor regulations then. No ropes nor bells. Just bare knuckles and raw courage.’
Danny chuckled. ‘Men were men and to hell with all the rigmarole!’
Thomas Isaac smiled, his heart heavy with nostalgia. ‘They were the good days,’ he mused. ‘Days when you knew who your friends were and if called on, you’d put your own life on the line for a mate.’
Danny saw the tears gathering. ‘There are still men like that,’ he told him. ‘Although mebbe they’re not so thick on the ground.’
‘Mebbe!’ The anger returned. ‘But there’s more evil bastards than there are good ’uns!’ Lowering his voice, he said vehemently, ‘There’s one bugger right ’ere under this roof. If I were twenty years younger, I’d do for him tomorrow, so I would!’
Danny nodded his understanding. ‘I know who you mean,’ he said quietly. ‘But there’s nothing to be gained by tormenting yourself.’
‘Aye, I know that.’ The old man glanced at the door again. ‘By! He’s a bad bugger, is that one though!’
Danny let it be known, ‘I wish there was something I could do, but there isn’t, more’s the pity.’
As always, the old man had the answer. ‘Marry the lass, then it’ll gi’ you the right to be rid of him.’
Danny shook his head. ‘I can’t marry her against her will, Tom, and well you know it.’ One way or another he believed he’d got the full picture of what was happening here at the farm. ‘And even if Emily did agree to marry me, it isn’t as simple as all that, is it?’
The old man knew that was only too true. ‘Happen not,’ he conceded. ‘The truth is, that bastard’s got us tied up every which way.’
‘Don’t lose heart, though,’ Danny counselled. ‘Folks like him will always come undone in the end. Be patient. It’ll all come right, you’ll see.’
Every time he and the old man were alone together, the matter of Clem Jackson came up. It was a torture to the old man, and apart from offering money, Danny couldn’t see how he might interfere where his offer of help had already been rejected.
The old man seemed to read Danny’s mind. ‘If you and our Emily were wed, it would put a spoke in his wheel. You could find out things. You’d have a certain right, d’yer see?’
With a careful choice of words, Danny had to stop it right there. ‘We’re not wed, Grandad, and, unfortunately, not likely to be. So it might be best if we don’t get down that road. Let’s leave it at that, eh?’
In fact, they had little choice, because now Emily was back, with a tray containing a dish of cold bread pudding and two mugs of tea. ‘I hope you are ready for this, Gramps,’ she said, her quick smile lighting up the room. ‘Mam’s given you a helping and a half, although she says it’s a funny sort of a breakfast.’ She set the tray down before making good her escape. ‘Mam’s baking and Cathleen’s asleep. I’ve got a pile of washing bubbling in the copper, so I’d best be off.’ With that she was across the room and out the door.
‘I’ll pop in and see you before I leave!’ Danny called out, and from somewhere down the stairs came a muffled reply.
‘Ask her while she’s up to her armpits in soapsuds,’ the old man suggested with a wink.
‘You won’t give up, will you?’ Danny laughed. And neither will I, he thought.
Because, as sure as day followed night, he would keep asking Emily to be his wife, until in the end she had to agree.
Ten minutes later, feeling all the better for this break, Danny called in on Emily as he had promised.
The girl was not up to her armpits in soapsuds, as the old man had predicted. Instead she had already lifted the clothes out of the copper boiler with the wooden tongs and was in the middle of rinsing them in the big sink. The small stone outhouse was thick with steam erupting from the copper, and Emily’s face was bright pink from the heat.
‘Here, let me do that!’ Dodging the many clothes-lines stretched criss-cross from one end of the outhouse to the other, Danny made his way through to her.
As Emily fought to wring out a huge bedsheet, he took hold of it and without effort fed it through the mangle and then folded it and draped it over the line. He looked at the growing mountain of damp clothes on the wooden drainer. ‘Do you want me to stay and help?’ he asked hopefully.
She thanked him, but, ‘You get off now and finish your rounds,’ she suggested graciously. ‘I’ve almost done here.’
He hid his disappointment. ‘These bedsheets weigh a ton when they’re wet,’ he remarked.
Knowing he would linger all day if she encouraged him, Emily was adamant. ‘I’m used to it,’ she said. ‘If I had help, I’d lose the routine and it would only take longer in the end, if you know what I mean?’
Grudgingly, but with a ready grin, he bade her goodbye. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then?’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said. And that was the truth.
Coming to the door of the outhouse, she waved him away. You’re persistent, I’ll give you that, she thought kindly. Somewhere, there’s a woman who would give her right arm to be your wife. I’m sorry, Danny, but it’s not me. Without even being aware that she’d been thinking it, the words fell out. ‘More’s the pity.’
A little surprised and bewildered, she made her way back into the outhouse, where she threw herself into the task in hand. It had been an odd thing to say, she mused. As though to shut it out, she filled her mind with thoughts of John. And, as always, the love for him was overwhelming.
An hour later, Emily had finished. With all the washing hanging limp and bedraggled over the lines, she made her way to the shed where she collected an armful of kindling.
That done she returned to the outhouse, where she made a bed of newspaper in the fire-grate; on top of that she laid the wood in a kind of pyramid. Next, taking a match from the mantelpiece, she set light to the paper.
When that was all flaring and crackling, she took the smallest pieces of coal from the bucket and built another pyramid over the first. On her knees, she stretched a sheet of paper over the fireplace to encourage the flames, then watched and waited until the whole lot was burning and glowing; the heat tickling her face and making her warm.
‘That’ll soon dry it out,’ she murmured, clambering to her knees.
Replacing the screen in front of the fire, she made her way out, carefully dodging and ducking the damp clothes as she went.
Inside the scullery, Aggie had a brew of tea waiting for her. ‘All done, are you, lass?’ Taking off her long goffered apron and wearily lowering herself into the fireside-chair, Aggie laid back and closed her eyes. ‘Me back’s fit to break in two,’ she groaned. ‘I swear, there’s enough work in this farmhouse to keep an army on their toes! I’ll have to get the dinner going in an hour or so. It’ll be a simple meal, seeing as it’s Christmas Day tomorrow. I’ve got some cold beef and pickled onion with mashed potato, and tapioca wi’ bottled gooseberries for afters. What d’you reckon to that, lass?’
Settling in the chair opposite, her tea clutched in her fist, Emily said, ‘It sounds lovely, Mam. Cathleen still asleep, is she?’
‘The bairn hasn’t moved a muscle since you went out,’ Aggie answered, opening one eye. ‘Looks like Danny’s worn her out.’
Emily laughed. ‘He’s worn me out an’ all.’
Detecting the underlying seriousness of Emily’s remark, Aggie asked pointedly, ‘Been on at you to wed him again, has he?’
‘He means well,’ Emily said. ‘And I dare say he would move heaven and earth to make me and Cathleen happy …’
‘But?’
Emily knew all the old arguments. ‘But what?’
Aggie answered exactly the way Emily had expected. ‘But your heart’s out there with John Hanley. I expect that’s what you told Danny?’
‘Yes, but he already knows it.’
‘I see.’ As ever, Aggie read the situation well. She also knew that in the end, someone was bound to get hurt.
For a few minutes, the two women sat lost in thought, quietly listening to the fire roaring. The tassels on the chenille runner that covered the mantelshelf danced in the heat, and light reflected off the glass dome of the clock and the framed picture of Queen Victoria that Clare Ramsden had bought on a visit to Blackpool in 1885.
After a while, Aggie asked, ‘How long are you prepared to wait, lass?’
Emily had been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard the full question. ‘Wait for what?’
‘For John to come home?’
‘I wish I knew, Mam.’ Emily had asked herself that same question time and again, and still she wasn’t sure. ‘As long as it takes, I suppose.’
‘And how long is that?’ Aggie was concerned about her daughter’s wellbeing. She had seen her growing lonelier and quieter, and it cut her to the quick. ‘Are you thinking weeks, months …’ her eyebrows went up at the prospect. ‘Or do you mean to wait for years – is that it?’ Part of her acknowledged her own pain at Michael’s abandonment. She and Emily were made of the same strong clay: they could manage without their men, but that didn’t mean it was easy. And Emily was still young – she should be wed to someone who loved her and who could give her another bairn as company for Cathleen.
‘I don’t know,’ Emily admitted. ‘All I do know is that I love him with all my heart. When John left, he said he’d be back. I promised him I’d wait. And I will keep that promise.’
Aggie pressed the point. ‘And will you wait until little Cathleen is two or three? Or will you wait until she starts playing with other children from the village – children who know what it’s like to have a daddy at home. And when she starts asking where her daddy is, have you got an answer ready, my girl? Tell me that.’
Now as Emily glanced up her eyes were moist with tears. ‘I know what you’re trying to say, Mam, and I understand,’ she said brokenly. ‘I’ve been thinking of little Cathleen too, and the older she gets the more I worry. But I can’t marry Danny. As much as I like and respect him, and as much as I know he would look after us, I can’t bring myself to marry him, not when I still love John. I keep hoping that John is safe and well: I can’t stop thinking about him, Mam. He’s on my mind the whole time, night and day.’
Wiping a tear, she finished, ‘Besides, Danny deserves better than that.’
Aggie said nothing. Instead she sipped at her tea and wondered what would become of them all.
Emily was grateful for the lull in the conversation. Only time would tell whether John would return, and if he didn’t do so soon, she would have to decide what to do. But it wouldn’t be easy, she knew that.
The child’s waking cries shook them out of their reverie. But when the infant’s cries lapsed into a string of happy gobbledy-gook, Emily lingered a moment. ‘I’ve a good mind to go and see Lizzie,’ she revealed. ‘You never know. She might have word of John.’
Aggie warned her, ‘Well, I hope the old bugger makes you more welcome than she did last time!’ she declared. ‘What! She wound you up so much you wouldn’t speak for a whole hour.’
Emily remembered. ‘She was a bit … difficult, that’s all.’
‘Hmh!’ Aggie sat up. ‘Cantankerous, more like! Heaven knows what’s the matter wi’ her. Ever since her John went away she’s been as sour as a rhubarb pie without a morsel o’ sugar.’
‘She’s getting old, poor thing.’ Emily had a soft spot for Lizzie. ‘She suffers a lot from pain in her joints.’
Aggie had little sympathy. ‘She’s too proud – won’t let anybody help her. You heard Danny say how he found her climbing a ladder to mend that hole in the thatch the other week. When he offered to do it for her, she told him to sod off – said that she wasn’t yet ready for the knacker’s yard!’ She wagged a finger. ‘If you ask me, you’ll do well to steer clear of the old battle-axe.’
Emily was not deterred. ‘Why are you so hard on her, Mam? That’s not like you at all! Didn’t she used to be your friend?’
Aggie blushed with shame. ‘Aye well, happen I might be a bit hard on her, but she’s been hard on you, and I don’t tek kindly to that.’
There were times when Emily had the same stubborn streak in her as Aggie. ‘I still intend going,’ she decided. ‘I’m gonna pluck up my courage. I need to know if she’s heard from John.’
‘Even if she has, what meks you think she’ll tell you?’
Emily was already at the door. ‘Why shouldn’t she tell me?’
Just then the child began crying again. ‘That’s why!’ Gesturing towards the stairway, Aggie reminded her, ‘Lizzie refuses to believe the child is John’s. She thinks you’ve been up to no good with some other man, and that you’re trying to blame her nephew.’ She chuckled. ‘Mother hen protecting her chick, that’s what she is. My God! The way you feel about John, who else’s child could it be? The whole world knows it’s his, yet that old besom won’t have it no way!’
Rolling her eyes to heaven she finished angrily, ‘It’ll be a damned good thing when he does come back. Then she’ll know well enough!’
Emily remained silent, but was grateful when her mother did not notice the guilt and shame in her face. ‘I’d best be off now, Mam.’ Rushing off upstairs, she felt the tears smarting her eyes. She hated herself for deceiving her mammy. But the truth about little Cathleen’s beginnings was far more hurtful and damaging. She dreaded John’s reaction; for the hundredth time, she recalled that awful summer day, of such hope and happiness, ending in a darkness that had engulfed her for many a long month. Would he understand?
A short time later, well wrapped up and carrying the child in a shawl-sling, Emily began the walk across the fields to Lizzie’s pretty cottage.
On the way she stopped several times to put the child down; she held her hand and encouraged her to walk. But though Cathleen’s sturdy little legs stumbled a clear path through the snowy grass, they soon tired, and it wasn’t long before Emily had to carry her again. ‘You’re taking advantage of my good nature,’ she teased her breathlessly. ‘I reckon it should be you carrying me!’
Just as Aggie had feared, Lizzie was not exactly pleased to see her. ‘What is it you want from me?’ Holding the door open just so far, she peered at Emily through suspicious eyes. ‘I’ve not heard from him, if that’s what yer after.’
Emily reasoned with her. ‘I don’t want us to be enemies, Lizzie. Please may I come inside?’
‘What for?’
‘To talk, that’s all.’
The woman scowled. ‘We’ve nowt to talk about.’
Sensing a weakening, Emily persisted. ‘Please, Lizzie. I’ve carried little Cathleen nearly all the way here, and my arms are aching. Besides, we’re both thirsty.’
Glancing from one to the other, Lizzie saw how the child was smiling at her, and it touched her troubled old heart. ‘All right, but only for a minute. Yer can have a rest and a drink, then I’ll thank you to leave.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Either come in or stay out. It’s too damned cold to be standing here all day with the door wide open!’
With a muttered apology, Emily darted inside. She waited until the other woman shut the door. ‘Go on!’ Gesturing for Emily to go ahead, Lizzie told her, ‘You’ve been here with John often enough to know the way by now.’
Feeling uncomfortable under Lizzie’s scowl, Emily led the way to the back-parlour.
Lizzie followed her in. ‘Sit yersel’ down,’ she ordered. ‘Now then, what does the infant want to drink?’ She gave a grudging look at the beautiful little girl, and deliberately closed her heart against any feelings of warmth.
‘A drop of milk would suit fine,’ Emily answered as she sat down in the big squashy chair by the fire. ‘Thanks, Lizzie.’
‘And I expect you’ll be wanting a cuppa tea, will yer?’
Emily nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes, I’d love one. If that’s all right?’
The old woman grunted. ‘I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t!’ With that she disappeared into the scullery, only to return a few minutes later with a mug of milk for the child, and a drop of lukewarm tea for Emily. ‘It’s only been made a few minutes,’ she explained, ‘but it’s warm enough to thaw your bones.’
Emily took a sip from the teacup. It was all she could do not to grimace, for the tea was like dishwater. ‘It’s fine, thanks, Lizzie,’ she lied handsomely.
‘Fine or not, it’ll have to do!’ retorted the woman. ‘I don’t intend mekking a fresh pot just yet.’ Pointing an accusing finger at Emily’s feet, she tutted, ‘Look at the state of your feet! By! They must be frozen.’ Emily’s two ankles were bright pink. ‘Good God, lass! Have yer no decent shoes to yer name?’
Instinctively pulling her thick skirt over her feet to hide them, Emily told her, ‘I don’t seem to feel the cold, and besides, I didn’t walk through the snow just now. I came along by the hedges. I’ve got a pair of boots at home but I can’t stand to wear them. I thought you knew that?’
‘Hmh!’ Scowling her disapproval, Lizzie told her, ‘I might know it, but that don’t mean to say I think it’s right.’ Waving her hand in a gesture of impatience, she reminded Emily, ‘You said you were thirsty. So drink up and be off with yer. I’ve other things to do than sit here wasting time with the likes of you.’
Emily had to say it. ‘Why have you turned against me, Lizzie?’

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