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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.
