If there was one thing she hated it was uncertainty in a man. Katherine Ellis always intended to be in charge of any relationship, but she liked the fiction of pretending it to be otherwise. ‘I hate it when people try to pressure me into something.’
Richard at once demurred. ‘No pressure, Katherine darling, but I would like to know where we stand.’ He was such a very polite, well meaning young man, medium brown hair, brown eyes, medium height. Everything about him, Kath thought, was medium. And profoundly sensible.
‘Daddy once wanted me to go to university,’ she said, making a tiny moue with her brilliant lips. ‘His old one in Edinburgh for preference where I could learn the noble art of medicine. I might have done it too if he hadn’t been so terribly pushy about it. Quite put me off.’ She got up and went to refill her wine glass. She’d already had two and knew Richard wouldn’t approve of her having a third so she filled the glass to the brim and offered him the small amount left in the bottle. He shook his head. So sensible.
‘Just as well I didn’t. Look what life as a boring doctor has done for him. He’s a physical wreck, forced to take early retirement.’
‘I was sorry to hear that,’ Richard muttered.
‘Yes, darling. I’m sure you were.’ She sat on the chair opposite, and the silk of her stockings squeaked as she drew up her skirt and crossed her legs. Richard’s eyes were riveted upon them. So he was human after all, she thought, smiling to herself. ‘I told him, no thank you, Daddy dear.’
‘If you married me,’ Richard urged, almost on one knee as he leaned closer, ‘you would never have to worry about working. I don’t think it proper for a woman.’
Kath rewarded him with a delighted smile. ‘How very tempting you make it sound. But don’t you think I should discover something of myself first, and something of the world? Try for a career or job?’
He looked shocked. ‘What sort of job?’
Kath gazed into space, quite lost for an answer. Unlike Meg, she had never given work any serious consideration. She changed tack. ‘Wouldn’t marrying too quickly make Daddy even more disappointed in me?’
‘I don’t see why. You could have lots of babies.’
The smile faded. ‘So I could.’ She stood up. ‘Perhaps we’ll think about it at Christmas, darling. If there’s still no war, of course. Would that do?’
Richard reluctantly conceded that it would do very well.
By then, Kath thought, she’d have found some way out of the cage, some place she could spread her wings and fly.
Chapter Seven
As if deciding on self-protection, Kath invited Meg and Jack to spend Christmas Day at Larkrigg.
‘I feel the need for moral support.’
Meg, thrilled and flattered by Kath’s invitation, broke into gales of laughter at the very idea of her sophisticated friend needing support from anyone. ‘Of course I’ll come. After lunch, when the menfolk are snoring their meal off.’
There was every sign of a white Christmas. The clusters of larch groves on the lower slopes stood out darkly against the winter pale grass. A time of year that Meg loved and a merrier party than usual to celebrate the festive season at Ashlea. She had taken her father at his word and invited Lanky and Jack. Her regular visits to Broombank had been curtailed somewhat by the colder weather so it was important that Jack felt he could call on her at home, which so far he hadn’t done. At least their relationship seemed more settled. Following their tussle in the wood there had been many sweet apologies and lingering kisses, and Jack hadn’t asked her to go too far again.
Today being Christmas, Meg nursed a secret hope for more tangible evidence of his love. A ring perhaps?
‘It’s just like old times, when Mum was alive,’ she said, on a rush of goodwill and emotion.
‘Dinner was a bit late. Your mother was an expert cook. She’d never have been late,’ complained Joe. ‘You’ll have to shape better if you want to catch theeself an husband.’
‘Thanks for those few kind words.’ Hot and flustered from her long stint in the kitchen, Meg nevertheless managed to laugh at her father’s put down.
‘Your Connie not come home for Christmas then, I see?’ Joe addressed Lanky, seemingly determined to spoil the mellow atmosphere by bringing a frown to the old man’s brow.
‘She has to think of her husband’s family now. Said she might pop over at New Year,’ said Lanky, smothering a sudden tickle in his throat.
‘Aye. Happen.’
Lanky rubbed his horn hard palms together, clearly agitated by the questioning.
‘Anyone for more plum pudding?’ offered Meg quickly, sending a glance of furious displeasure in her father’s direction.
‘What? What have I done?’ Everyone laughed and the tension lifted again.
It was a lovely day, crisp and bright as Christmas should be, a rose pink sky against cool blue mountain tops. High above a peregrine falcon circled, perhaps seeking its own Christmas feast. The two families took a long walk together, to shake down the rich food, as Lanky said. And perhaps replete after his good meal, Joe was as good as gold and made no more ill-tempered remarks. Even Dan congratulated Meg on the excellent meal. ‘You know Father only wants what’s best for you,’ he added.
‘He has a funny way of showing it!’
Meg suspected that Sally Ann had deliberately engineered for them to be walking side by side and she could see that her brother looked suddenly nervous as he cleared his throat. ‘Sal and me are thinking of getting wed in the spring.’
Meg turned to him in a burst of genuine pleasure that passed for affection between them. ‘Oh, I’m so glad. I like Sally Ann a lot.’
Dan flushed like a pleased schoolboy. ‘Aye, well, we thought we might as well. If war does come things might get more difficult.’
‘It’ll come,’ said Charlie. ‘Congrats, old boy.’
Meg usually turned her mind obstinately away from all thought of war. She knew the threat was there but far away, in Germany and Austria and Spain. How could it affect them here on the Westmorland fells? Even so it was hard to be completely oblivious as a general feeling of unease was beginning to spread.
Even the Ellises could talk of little else as Meg and Jack sat politely sipping tea and eating tiny slivers of Christmas cake later that afternoon. There were several friends and neighbours present. The Jepsons, Mr and Mrs Parker from Swillhead, Hetty and Will Davies in their best clothes looking faintly uncomfortable. And of course the vicar. Mrs Ellis was highly regarded at the church.
‘They’ve given the schoolchildren gasmasks, can you believe that?’ Rosemary Ellis was saying. ‘Where in heaven’s name would the gas come from up here?’
‘It’s only a precaution,’ explained her husband, in his rather slow, kindly manner.
‘Lanky says they were talking on the wireless the other day of evacuating children from the cities,’ Meg put in.
Mr Ellis nodded sagely. ‘Cities will be the worst places if war does start. We will be fortunate here. The war will not affect us at all.’
Kath, who had been feeding scraps of icing to the adoring Richard and taking little interest in the conversation, now turned abruptly to her father. ‘That’s the kind of talk that makes me wild. Of course the war will affect us. We could be bombed, even here. And there’s talk of conscription soon. Some of us might be called up. Maybe even me.’
Rosemary Ellis laughed politely as if her daughter had made a lovely joke. ‘Don’t talk foolish, darling. Let’s not spoil Christmas with all this morbid talk. More tea anyone?’
Meg was happy for the subject to change, for the thought of losing Jack in a war was too painful to contemplate. She slipped her hand into his when no one was looking and he squeezed it softly, as if to reassure her.
‘Come on, everyone,’ Kath cried, leaping up. ‘Charades.’ There was a general groan all round but she was adamant. ‘You can’t have Christmas without charades. I’ll start. Come on, Jack. I’ve got a grand idea but I shall need you to play a p
art. Richard, you too.’
Grabbing both men’s hands she pulled them into the kitchen and everyone was laughing again, the black mood gone.
Meg sat feeling suddenly left out. She’d been quite happy in her mustard and tan suit until she’d seen Kath, lovely as ever in a new turquoise dress with gold buttons. She didn’t mean to be jealous, not really. It was an insecurity in her, a lack of confidence, that was all. One she usually accepted with equanimity. Not recognising her own fresh beauty, sometimes Meg longed for a touch of Kath’s more exotic variety. Perhaps then Jack would declare his love more openly.
What she wanted most of all right now was for them to exchange their personal gifts in perfect privacy. She didn’t want anyone to see her face when she opened Jack’s. Meg was almost certain she would be engaged before the day was out. But privacy was denied them, although Jack did manage to sneak her a kiss when no one was looking as Kath handed out presents from the tree.
Sweetly sensual, his fingers slipped swiftly into the neck of her blouse to caress the swell of her breasts. Meg started, giving an embarrassed giggle, but a warm glow illuminated her face.
‘I’ve knitted you some socks,’ she said, and Jack took the carefully wrapped parcel in all seriousness, then they both laughed and hugged each other.
He held out his present to her, and her heart plummeted. Too big for a ring, and quite the wrong shape. Meg smiled up at him, swallowing her disappointment, not wanting him to see that it mattered.
She carefully unfolded the gold paper. ‘A scarf. What a lovely blue. Just my colour. How did you guess?’
‘Not good at shopping. I had some help.’
Some of the pleasure went out of the gift but Meg shook the feeling away. It was the thought that counted, wasn’t it? He was saving the ring to give her later, when they were alone. This was the best Christmas ever. By next, who could tell? They might well be man and wife.
‘Look, it’s snowing,’ Kath cried, and they all ran outside to find the garden already covered with a thick layer of snow, sparkling white in the soft moonlight. Laughing like silly children with not a care in the world, they started a mad game of snowballs, stuffing it down each other’s necks. Jack kissed Meg, making her head spin, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Richard doing the same with Kath, although her friend didn’t seem to be responding quite so enthusiastically.
Kat pushed Richard away. ‘Go and fetch us some mince pies and sherry, darling, for a special toast to Christmas beneath the stars. Go on, there’s a good boy.’ And Richard obediently scurried off to do her bidding.
‘The way you bully that young man is quite wicked,’ Meg said, but Kath only shrugged.
‘The choice is his. Anyway, I wanted him to go away so that we three can have a precious moment alone together to toast a very special friendship.’ She linked arms, hugging them close, one on each side of her. ‘I want us always to be friends.’
‘Of course we will,’ said Meg, leaning her head against Jack’s shoulder. ‘For ever and ever.’ She shivered, drawing her coat closer.
‘Are you cold?’ asked Kath, concerned.
‘No, I’m fine.’ Forever was a long time, and she was far from sure of Jack’s intentions.
‘Things can go wrong sometimes, even between friends,’ Jack warned, almost reading her mind. ‘If there is a war we might be separated. I for one will have to join up.’
‘We’ll all join up!’ cried Kath, reckless as ever.
‘Don’t joke about it. It’s too terrible,’ Meg said, grey eyes alight with all the love and happiness she felt on this special day. ‘You are my best friends. Who else do I have but you two?’
There was a moment’s silence as both acknowledged the truth of this bleak statement. It was the penalty of living in such a remote spot.
Then Kath wriggled free to stand before them, one hand held out. ‘Let’s make a vow. A promise that whatever happens, we’ll always be friends.’
Meg, knowing she’d drunk far too much wine, started to giggle. ‘You make it sound like the Three Musketeers.’
‘It is in a way,’ Kath agreed. ‘Come on, promise. Friends for ever.’
Meg clasped Kath’s hand and covered both with Jack’s. ‘All right. A solemn vow. Friends for ever.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
They both looked up at Jack and he grinned. ‘Promise.’
It was after eleven when they walked down the lane, arms wrapped about each other in the starry darkness, and Meg was glowing with love. The lack of a ring didn’t trouble her any more. She knew they loved each other, that was the important thing.
But then in the contented silence, as so often happened, her thoughts moved on to her secret dreams. Of being at Broombank with Jack, as man and wife. She traced the picture of the great inglenook in her head and she and Jack seated within it, talking about their flock, as generations of Lakelanders had done.
‘Lanky isn’t well, is he?’
‘Doesn’t seem to be.’
‘He should see a doctor.’
‘He won’t even bring a vet to the animals. He’s too set in his ways. If it can’t be cured with treacle or embrocation, he doesn’t want to know.’
‘Is he going to let you take over the farm?’
Jack looked surprised. ‘Why should he?’
‘Because he’s ill and it needs attention.’
‘Stuff the farm.’ Jack pulled her into his arms to kiss her and Meg melted against him, happily relinquishing all thought but that of desire. When it was over she curled against him, cheeks flushed, eyes star bright. Jack’s hands tightened upon her buttocks, rubbing her against him.
‘Sometimes I think you fancy my dad more than you do me.’
Meg smiled mischievously up at him. ‘Maybe I do.’
Jack bit her ear, making her squeal. ‘It’s not often I get you to myself these days. You always seem to have dogs around, or sheep.’
His lips were finding the curve below her ear, his tongue tickling enticingly. ‘I reckon it’s starting to snow again. Or maybe rain.’ He started to unbutton her coat. ‘Better take shelter, wouldn’t you say? How fortunate, here we are by our barn.’ Jack was walking her backwards and with his arms still clamped tight about her she had no option but to go where he led her.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked in a breathless voice, not really caring. Violet-blue eyes, dark and teasing, ran over her face with a need that set a sharp and piercing ache somewhere deep in her belly. She knew what he wanted, what he had always wanted.
And Meg also knew that she wanted to go with him. Anywhere he asked.
It was warmer in the barn, amongst the hay. Rust welcomed her with thumping tail and wet tongue. But Meg had no time for dogs just now.
‘Lie down, boy. Stay.’
Jack was leading her deep into the darkness, only a shaft of moonlight lighting the dust motes in the musty air.
Meg reached for him, taking his beloved face between her hands, smoothing the dark hair. How she loved the way it curled into a point at his nape.
There was an impatience in him, like a fever. She could feel him tremble as he laid her down, lengthening himself beside her so that he could smooth one hand over the curve of her breast and the flatness of her stomach. Very quickly it seemed to Meg, he had removed her blouse and camisole and her young, rosy-tipped breasts were exposed to his eager gaze. But she didn’t mind, she welcomed it. She could feel the impatience rising in herself just as fiercely. When he caught her nipples between his sharp white teeth this time she did not protest, only arched her back and pushed herself into him, making him moan with agony.
This time she meant to show him how much she loved him. This time she would prove that she wasn’t frigid. It would be her Christmas gift to him.
She wondered if it would hurt, the first time. As schoolgirls they had made wild guesses and there had been much talk of blood and piercing pain. Would it be like that? Meg hoped not. She wanted to fe
el only pleasure and the proof of his love. Would he tell her that he loved her afterwards, when they were one? Perhaps it was these confused thoughts that made the words she had so longed to say come out in a muddle.
Jack’s fingers were fumbling with her skirt buttons and she was finding it hard to catch her breath. ‘It’s going to be all right. Father doesn’t mind. About us. He thinks it’s a good idea,’ she said, meaning to encourage him, but at once felt him freeze.
‘What did you say?’
Quietly, almost fearfully, she repeated the fateful words.
He pulled away from her to sit back on his heels and survey her. Meg drew her hands over her suddenly chilled breasts, feeling cheapened by the anger in his face. ‘What is it? What have I done? I only said...’
‘I know what you said. Did your father tell you to come here, with me, should you ever get the chance?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She reached for him again but he evaded her grasp. ‘He tells me nothing, except to fetch home-made dishes for Lanky now and then, but…’ It was the wrong thing to say, she could sense it the minute the words were out.
‘To soften him up? And did he tell you to offer yourself to Lanky’s son for afters. Did he?’
Meg couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How had it all gone so badly wrong? What had she done?
‘It’s not like that,’ she protested. ‘I don’t care about my father any more than you do. Anyway, it wasn’t me who told him about us. He guessed, and didn’t seem to mind. I thought it would make it easier for you to call and see me.’ But she could tell Jack wasn’t listening.
‘Joe Turner has been wanting Broombank for years. And having failed by the usual methods, he’s trying bribery and corruption now, is that it? Offering delicious home-made titbits, even his own daughter in exchange. Or is it wedding bells he’s after, to get Broombank in the family, eh?’
Tears sprang to her eyes, filling her nose and mouth and seeming to run all over her face. This couldn’t be happening. What Jack was saying was awful, terrible, and surely not true. But there was a doubt in her mind.
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