‘Just as well, when cycling is likely to cause you to develop muscular limbs. Women will soon look like men!’
‘Some of them do already,’ Marion said daringly. ‘Especially if they’re brought up on a farm!’ She held up a length of printed cotton material. ‘Better get on with my first order – I believe all the women round here will soon want a pair!’
‘You’ve got a peculiar sense of humour, Marion.’
‘Now I wonder who I inherited that from?’ Marion said, trying not to laugh.
*
Sam was yawning over his supper. ‘Who’s the cake in honour of?’
‘It’s Daisy’s birthday; I told you earlier but you never listen.’
‘I’ve had a busy day.’
‘So have I. Heather is a little scamp nowadays; she tied a ribbon on Bob’s tail and he looked very fed up about it.’
‘I’m not surprised . . . So I guess that splendid machine in the hall has something to do with Daisy’s birthday as well, eh?’
‘Her grandma sent it to her – what a wonderful surprise! Marion is going to make her some bloomers and a short skirt to cover ’em.’
‘Ask her to make you a pair too. I’d love to see you riding a bicycle in them!’
‘Well I need my own bicycle first,’ she said plaintively.
‘You’ll have to wait for your special birthday next January – are you looking forward to being twenty-one?’ Perhaps then, he thought, she’d be free from what had happened in the past . . .
SIXTEEN
The winter that followed that hot summer and autumn was bitterly cold. It wasn’t a time for bicycle rides for the young women in the family, and children couldn’t play outdoors. It was hard, Kathleen thought, to keep Heather amused, and baby Kitty looked like one of the Egyptian mummies pictured in Sam’s books, wrapped up in layers of flannel, plus bonnet and mitts. The men were busier than ever. The ground was hard and frosted white, and the horses were kept in the stables. Milk came home frozen in the pail, and the hens were not laying any eggs.
Following an austere Christmas, it was still freezing in the new year, when another notice appeared in the newspaper. Sam cut the piece out and then burned the paper before Kathleen could read it and ask what was missing.
Miss Kathleen Clancy, formerly of Dublin, believed to be in Surrey or Kent, having attained her majority, is again urgently requested to get in touch with the solicitors named above to learn something to her advantage. There are no conditions attached to this request. Confidentiality is assured.
Sam agonised over what he knew he must do. He was at the brickyard on Thursday, the second day of January, when he felt compelled to speak to someone impartial about the dilemma. He called over his foreman, who had moved into the Barn House with his wife a few weeks before Christmas, and said quietly, ‘I have to pay a visit to a friend; I won’t be back here again today. And remember I am having Saturday morning off – my wife insists as it is my birthday tomorrow – and Monday, too, when she will be celebrating her twenty-first.’ I’m gabbling, he thought, I didn’t need to tell him all that.
The man nodded his head. ‘Yes, of course, Sam. I’ll finish loading the wood in the cart and it will be ready to deliver to customers tomorrow. They are all anxious to get their supplies before the weather changes. Are you going back home to tidy yourself, or would you rather do that here?’
‘Thanks,’ Sam said, ‘that would save time . . . Oh, and here are your wage packets, due today.’ He took two envelopes from his jacket pocket and handed them over.
Now that Sam had a bicycle – a sturdy model without embellishments, bought second-hand from the foreman, who didn’t need it any more – he could get to and from the farm without borrowing Doc’s buggy and pony. Ollie hadn’t taken to running alongside the bike, and had decided to move back into the Barn House. He had an important job to do guarding the brickyard, but he was still a friendly fellow. His absence was perhaps a relief to Bob, who sadly was losing the use of his back legs and didn’t tolerate the young dog as before.
Although he knew he had the newspaper cuttings safe in his wallet, he checked they were there before he set off on his journey. Around four o’clock, he was knocking on the door of the manse, which was opened by Min, rubbing floury hands on her apron. She beamed. ‘Just in time for a hot cake! Didn’t expect to see you today, Sam. Are the family well?’
‘Yes thanks. Min, is Josh at home? I need to speak to him – it’s important.’
‘Yes, he is, come through; he’s in his study as usual. Oh, its Kathleen’s birthday soon, isn’t it? I have a card and a little present. I was hoping to visit her tomorrow, depending on the weather; by the look of the sky, those could be snow clouds . . .’
‘I know she’d like that,’ he said as she ushered him into the study and closed the door behind him.
Joshua was at his desk. He pushed his spectacles up on to his forehead. ‘Ah, Sam, good to see you.’
‘I need your advice, Josh,’ Sam stated.
‘Sit down, I’m ready to listen.’
‘It’s . . . difficult to know where to start,’ he began. ‘I’ve kept this secret for three years now, since the day we found Kathleen lost in the snow and took her in. After Kitty was born, I meant to tell her what I am about to reveal to you, but I didn’t know how she would take the news. I couldn’t find the right words, I suppose. We have a happy marriage, two lovely daughters, and Kathleen is settled and content; I was fearful, I suppose, of spoiling all that.’
He didn’t have the original cuttings about her disappearance from Croydon to show Josh, having burnt them before Kathleen could see them, but he knew the wording by heart. Then he produced the latest cutting, together with the one given him by Mrs Amos eighteen months earlier – the messages from the solicitors in London.
Joshua listened to the rambling story without commenting, but when Sam had told him everything, he said quietly, ‘You must be relieved to get this off your chest. I am not going to judge you in this matter because I am positive you did what you felt you must in order to safeguard Kathleen, both before and after she became your wife. However . . .’ he paused, weighing up his words, ‘I think the time has come to tell her what you have confided to me. She may be angry, she may well be upset, thinking of what she went through before you met, but she will realise sooner or later that you concealed these facts to save her from further pain. The latest message seems to me to be unconnected with what happened in Croydon; rather a bequest of some sort by one who cared for her – a close relative, perhaps?’
‘Kathleen only told me that her father died when she was seven, and her mother when she was fifteen. I have gathered some facts from the newspaper articles but have not heard the full story. I can only guess why she ran away from the house in Croydon; she still bears the scars of what must have happened there . . .’
‘And the man who fathered her baby?’ Joshua prompted him gently.
‘I don’t want to think about that, and nor does she. She was taken by force, I’m sure.’
A knock on the study door; Min came in with mugs of tea. ‘You need a hot drink before you venture home; it’s dark already. I hope you have a light to show you the way.’ She looked at Sam with concern. ‘Be careful, Sam, and don’t make any hasty decisions.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I guessed you were in some trouble. I hope Josh was able to help and advise you.’
‘Yes, he was. Thank you both,’ he said.
Sam gulped the hot tea down and said goodbye. As he left, Min tucked Kathleen’s gifts into his pocket. ‘There’s a card for you for tomorrow, too,’ she told him.
*
He arrived back at the farm around his usual time, and Kathleen opened the door with the little girls clinging to her skirts. ‘Dada’s home!’ she cried. ‘The carrier came this afternoon, Sam, as he said we might have snow by Monday, but I haven’t unwrapped your present to me, even though I was very tempted!’
‘What about me?’ Kathleen joked. She touched his cheek. ‘It must be freezing outside! Let’s go in the kitchen where it’s warm . . .’
Jessie gave him a searching look, guessing something was up, but she said only, ‘Dinner’s on the table.’
By midnight the house was quiet and the family were all in bed. Kathleen snuggled up to Sam, but for once he lay there not responding. Disappointed, she whispered, ‘What’s wrong, Sam? Have I upset you in some way?’
‘No, no! I have a confession to make, Kathleen, and I don’t know how to begin . . .’
When he had finished telling her about concealing the articles in the newspapers over the past three years, she didn’t immediately respond.
‘You have kept your past a secret from me, Kathleen,’ he blurted out.
‘I thought it would spoil everything – and look, I was right, it has!’
‘Can’t you tell me about it now that I have confessed my mistake?’
‘You would be shocked! I felt . . . defiled by what happened.’
‘Kathleen,’ he pleaded, ‘please let me hold you close, don’t turn away from me.’
‘Leave me alone! You are asking too much of me, you must know that!’
Without another word, Sam lit a single candle on the washstand and hastily dressed, then snuffed the candle out and left the bedroom. He hesitated for a moment before cautiously opening the children’s bedroom door. There was a night light in there, out of reach of small hands, and he could see that they were both asleep. Tears coursed down his face, running into his beard, trickling down his neck.
I have always loved Heather as if she was my own flesh and blood, he thought sadly. They are both my daughters. What can I do to make everything all right again?
*
Later, Jessie bent over Kathleen’s bed saying softly, ‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’
‘I should have told Sam, but I couldn’t,’ Kathleen sobbed. ‘Now he’s gone off and I can’t tell him I’m sorry.’
‘He did something to make you feel like this, obviously. But knowing my Sam, he acted as he did because he wanted to protect you.’
Kathleen took a deep breath. ‘This is what I could never tell, Jessie. It wasn’t true that I couldn’t remember what happened in Croydon, but I tried to blot it out of my mind.’
‘You were sent there by your stepfather?’ Jessie prompt-ed her.
‘Yes, I was glad at first to escape his unwelcome attentions after my mother passed away. He said I needed to be taught a lesson. He said his sister, Mrs D’Estrange, needed help in the home and I would be her servant and not be allowed to question my duties. It was a terrible journey; the sea was so rough and I only had the clothes I was wearing when he threw me out, so I must have reeked when he met me . . .’
‘Who was “he”, Kathleen?’
‘My employer’s paramour, that’s what she called him. He didn’t approve of her behaviour towards me, and I suppose I thought of him as a friend. But . . .’
‘But what?’ Jessie prompted her. ‘It’s all right, Kathleen, you can tell me – you are doing well, keep going, my dear.’ She put her arms around Kathleen and held her close.
‘One night, I was crying in my room because Mrs D’Estrange had used the whip on me for the first time. She used to ride in Rotten Row when she lived in London; there were pictures on the walls of her when she was younger, all dressed up and sitting side-saddle. I think she attacked me because she was jealous and he made it worse by showing he liked me. That was when it happened, when he came to . . . comfort me after that thrashing. I didn’t realise what he intended to do; I was only seventeen and unworldly. I couldn’t escape, and he held me down. He could be violent too, like Mrs d’Estrange. I avoided him thereafter, but I was afraid to tell anyone.
‘When she saw I was pregnant, she attacked me again and accused me of enticing her lover away from her. The thrashings went on, and then one night he tried to get between us. She suddenly gasped and fell to the ground as if she was having a fit. He was standing over her, holding her down, and I grabbed a few things from my room and ran off down the street. He chased after me, shouting, but I managed to get away . . . and you know the rest.’
‘I know the rest, my dear. Don’t worry, Sam won’t have gone far, I’m sure.’
‘It’s his birthday . . . today – oh Jessie, what have I done?’
‘It’s what you must do that matters now. First we must get the little girls up, washed, dressed and fed. Then Danny will be back with the milk. He may be able to help.’
*
Danny had already milked the goats before he noticed the bicycle outside the stable. He was alone this morning because Marion had a headache and wanted an extra hour or two in bed. He put the churns down and went to investigate. The animals looked at him curiously; it was too early for feeding. Danny climbed the ladder to the loft and spotted a figure lying in the hay. ‘Sam . . .?’ he said tentatively.
‘Go away,’ Sam muttered. ‘I’ll be gone when you come back. Don’t tell Kathleen where I am.’
‘Stay where you are. I’ll bring you some food before you go wherever you’re intending to go.’
Danny slung the yoke over his shoulders and began the walk back to the farmhouse, wondering what on earth had happened. As he entered the hall and put down his burden, the kitchen door burst open and Kathleen came rushing out. ‘Oh Danny, Sam has left me – please help!’ Her face was white as chalk, her hair uncombed. She was still in her night attire.
Jessie, not far behind after leaving the children with Daisy and closing the kitchen door, saw Kathleen clasped in Danny’s arms. She was shocked by the sight. Danny’s embrace was not a brotherly one. He was stroking her hair, and then, unexpectedly, he kissed away a tear that was rolling down her cheek.
She found her voice and realised she was shaking. ‘Danny, that’s not helping. Sam has gone off, goodness knows where.’
He released Kathleen and gave her a gentle push towards Jessie. ‘I know where he is; he slept the night in the hayloft. I need you to make sandwiches and a bottle of tea, for both of us; I promised to go back, and I will try to talk him round. Tell Doc not to come down there for a while.’
‘Marion?’
‘She’s feeling unwell. Having the morning off.’
‘Tell him . . .’ Kathleen said, ‘tell him I love him.’
‘I will,’ Danny told her, knowing it was true.
*
Mrs Amos took a cup of tea into her daughter’s room; Marion waved away the biscuit.
‘You’ve got something to tell me at last, I reckon,’ her mother said.
‘I haven’t even told Danny yet.’
‘You’ll have to stop all that careering round country lanes on horses,’ Mrs Amos said firmly.
‘I didn’t think I would feel so poorly, Mother. I didn’t realise it would be like this, you never said . . .’
‘Why do you think I only had one child? But I was so lucky to have you,’ she admitted.
‘I don’t want an only child; I missed having a brother or sister,’ Marion said. She took a deep breath. ‘Quick – the chamber pot! I’m going to be sick!’
‘You’ll change your mind, you’ll see,’ said Mrs Amos, passing the receptacle. ‘When are you going to pass on the good news to young Danny?’
‘He’s not so young now – he’ll be twenty-two in a couple of days!’
‘That girl, she’ll be twenty-one, I understand . . .’
‘Don’t speak of my friend like that!’ Marion said sharply. ‘I want to get up now, Mother, I don’t feel like talking at the moment.’
‘I know when I’m not wanted,’ her mother said huffily.
*
Danny had his arms round his brother, comforting him. ‘Come on, Sam, Kathleen is very upset; she’s frightened you’re leaving her for good.’
‘It wou
ld be difficult,’ Sam managed. ‘I have responsibilities, a business to run.’
‘The biggest responsibilities are your wife and children. Please tell me what all this is about. You love Kathleen, don’t you?’
‘Isn’t that obvious? I can’t tell you anything without her say-so. But sometimes I wonder if I can cope.’
‘Go back right now and you’ll be welcomed with open arms. I won’t come with you because I have jobs to do here, and Doc will be arriving any minute now. I believe Kathleen has confided in Mother . . .’
Kathleen rushed to the door when she heard him arrive outside. ‘Sam, oh Sam, I’m so sorry – I was the one who should have said . . . I feel better now it’s out in the open.’
Jessie called out, ‘Go upstairs and talk there. Everything will be all right, I promise.’
‘Would it be too awful to go back to bed?’ Sam asked tentatively. ‘I’ll have a good wash first, I promise.’
‘Well I’m still not dressed myself, and I was awake all night too.’ Kathleen took off her wrapper and tidied the bed. ‘Won’t they wonder where we are?’
‘Oh, Mother will know, she always does . . .’
*
When Danny arrived home, still feeling guilty about embracing Kathleen as he had earlier, Marion rushed to hug him and whisper in his ear. ‘Danny, it’s happened – we’re going to have a baby at last! Are you pleased?’
He let out a whoop and cried, ‘I’m the happiest chap in the world!’
‘I won’t be riding a bicycle for some time, so I can put my savings towards things we’ll need for the baby,’ she said. ‘Oh Danny, you do love me like I love you, don’t you? Sometimes I wonder—’
‘Shush,’ he said, ‘stop talking rubbish and let me kiss you.’
‘Until I’m breathless?’ she asked.
‘Come here and I’ll show you . . .’
They were standing outside the front door, and Mrs Amos could see them from the side window. She let the curtain fall back into place with a satisfied smile.
The Winter Baby Page 13