Lucy had no doubts. “You mean women who entertain?”
Sucking in his lips he took a deep breath. Afraid she might have taken him wrong, he answered sincerely, “It’s not for me to judge other folks. All I’m saying is this: for little Jamie’s sake, and yours, it won’t be a bad tying when you move out of there.”
Lucy gave a wry little laugh. “It’s easier said than done.” She shrugged her shoulders. “For a start, where would I go?”
He smiled. “So, you would leave if you only had somewhere to go. Is that what you’re telling me, Lucy?”
“Oh, yes.” Lucy was aware of her environment and knew as well as did Barney, that it was not a suitable place to raise a child. “If I had somewhere to go, I’d leave—though I have to say, I would miss Bridget and the girls. They’ve been such good friends to me.”
“I know that,” he agreed. “Haven’t they visited you time and again since you’ve been here? And haven’t I heard you laughing with them, when only hours before, you were fit for nothing? Believe me, Lucy, after you being so poorly, it did our heart good to hear you. Now then, lass, I want you to take this.” Opening his hand, he revealed a heavy iron key lying in his palm. “Take it!” he urged. “There’s no rush. Just give it some thought and let me know what you decide.”
Lucy was confused. “It’s a key.”
He chuckled. “Well, of course it’s a key!”
“But where does it belong?”
“It belongs to the little cottage at the other end of the brook. The one where Leonard Maitland’s gardener lived afore he threw him out for robbing him.”
Realization began to dawn. “What? You mean, the pretty one with the thatched roof and the little garden which runs right down to the brook edge?”
“Aye, that’s the one.”
She took the key, which weighed heavy in her hand. “So, this is the key to that cottage?”
Barney nodded affirmatively. “That one opens the front door. I’ve another for the back. If you decide it’s what you want, I’ll let you have the other key an’ all.”
The merest smile trembled on Lucy’s mouth. “But I don’t fully understand. Why are you giving me this key?”
Smiling into her inquisitive eyes, he explained, “The boss, Mr. Maitland, and me had a little chat yesterday.”
“About me?”
“Sort of, yes. He was aware of your accident—you know how gossip flies around a village—and being the kindly gent he is, he took the time to ask after you. I told him the way things were, and he said if I thought it would help to offer you the vacant cottage, he wouldn’t mind one bit; though he would expect you to give him half a day’s work per week in lieu of rent … a bit of cleaning, that sort of thing. Besides, the cottage needed living in, that’s what he said, or it would fall to rack and ruin. Y’see, his new gardener has his own cottage and has no need of this one. In fact, the boss has a mind to sell it off with a parcel of land, but he never got round to it.”
He took a breath. “The cottage is of small interest to Mr. Maitland, so it’s yours if you want it.”
Lucy gasped. “I can’t believe this is happening!” Thrilled to her roots, she was astounded for the second time that evening. The cottage is mine? Really? Are you sure?”
Laughing out loud, Barney squeezed her hand. “Well, aren’t you the cloth ears,” he teased. “Isn’t that what I’ve just been saying?”
Lucy was speechless. And now the tears she had managed to hold back all day ran down her cheeks and all at once she was laughing and crying, and telling Barney, “I haven’t got a stick of furniture, but yes, oh, yes!” She was beside herself. “We’ll move in as soon as possible. Never mind a bed. We’ll sleep on the floor if we have to.”
“There’ll be no need of that. The cottage comes with its own furniture and such. Yon Arthur has cleaned and aired the place all ready for you and young Jamie. All you’ll ant is new bedding and certain silly bits and pieces a woman needs to keep her happy. And you needn’t worry about the bairn when you work the half-day for Mr. Maitland, because Joanne’s already said she’ll be more than happy to keep an eye on him. And it goes without saying that when you’re working here for the rest of the week, the bairn is welcome as the day is long.”
And so it was settled. Lucy would move in within the next few days, and while she was getting organized, Barney would make sure the garden was cleared and all was spick and span for her and the child.
A few days later, Lucy was saying her goodbyes in Viaduct Street. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.” Emotion thickened her voice as she threw her arms round Bridget and hugged her so hard, the poor woman had to wrench her off.
“Be Jaysus, will ye get offa me! Are ye trying to strangle me or what?” Holding Lucy at arm’s length, she looked into those sincere brown eyes and thought how much she would miss this young woman; with her impromptu singing and bright, happy presence, the house would be all the poorer for her not being there.
“I’m truly sorry to see ye go,” she told Lucy now, “but I’m happy for you, so I am. You’ll have your own front-door key and Jamie will have his own little room, and when me and the girls come a-calling, you’ll have fresh baked muffins ready for us, and a big pot o’ tea waiting.” She gave a wink. “Unless o’ course you’ve a drop o’ the good stuff hidden away in the cupboard for an old friend?”
With the sadness lifted, Lucy laughed out loud. “Oi will,” she answered, mimicking Bridget’s strong Irish accent. “Sure Oi’ll have a little bottle tucked away and ye can drink to your heart’s content, so ye can.”
Bridget roared with laughter. “Ye sound more like me than I do meself. Go on, ye little divil, be off wit ye!” She gave her another hug, and craftily dropped a couple of coins into the palm of her hand. “A little something to get ye started. Take care of yourself, m’darling,” she said softly, and before she might start blubbering herself, she sent Lucy on her way.
A few minutes later, along with her few belongings and the child on her knee, Lucy settled herself in Barney’s wagon.
“Any regrets, lass?”
The young woman shook her head. “Not a one.” The only regrets she had were old ones, and now they didn’t seem to matter quite as much.
When he arrived at Bridget’s house, Barney had greeted Bridget and the girls with his usual friendliness, and now he was leaving with Lucy beside him, he said his goodbyes with the same warmth, for that was his manner.
“All set, are we?” He had witnessed the emotional scene between Lucy and her friends, but like Lucy, he knew her leaving was all for the best.
“All set,” Lucy replied, a brief rush of sadness clouding her face.
“Then you’d best hold on tight because once I let this wild animal have its rein, there’s no telling where we might end up!”
His little attempt at making her laugh worked wonders, because she laughed so hard she couldn’t reply. Pleased with himself, he gave her a warming wink, gently slapped the horse’s great wide rump to drive the bumbling animal forward, and told her in that quiet, no-nonsense manner, “You did the right thing.”
And that was all he would ever again say on the matter.
As the shire ambled away down Viaduct Street, Lucy turned to look at the four women standing on the doorstep, and as they waved back, she blew a kiss. “I’ll miss you,” she murmured.
Barney glanced at her. “There’s your past and ahead is your future,” he said simply. Barney Davidson was known as a man of few words, but when he took a mind to speak, his few words said more than a vicar delivering a sermon.
As they meandered along, Lucy considered his wise words, and she knew he was right. After everything that had befallen her, this was the start of a new life, where she could put all the bad things behind her and start over again.
At long last, she had something to look forward to.
Once they were beyond the city roads and were heading toward Comberton, she watched Barne
y take the old briar-pipe and his baccy pouch from his waistcoat pocket; letting loose of the reins he gave the horse its head, and after carefully packing the pipe with the baccy he struck a match on the sole of his shoe and lit up. He then drew leisurely on the pipe, the twirls of smoke rising to slowly evaporate above his head.
Suddenly in the midst of his thinking, he turned to smile at Lucy in that comforting way of his. At the time, Barney’s wonderful smile merely warmed her heart, though inevitably bonding her to him.
It was many years later when, looking back on that magical, intimate moment, with the child asleep and the two of them gently following the narrow country lanes, Barney contentedly smoking his pipe and the sound of the birds singing all around, Lucy realized she must have fallen hopelessly in love with him then—and she never even knew it.
Barney Davidson. A wise and kindly man who knew the earth as if it was his own; a man who had the heart of a lion and could protect the weak, that was Barney.
Just for now though, misinterpreting her deeper feelings, Lucy saw Barney only as a very dear friend. No more than that.
Yet, even though many a moon would shine before she came to realize the true depth of her feelings for him, Lucy already knew in her heart and soul, that she would never meet his like again.
Nine
The weeks passed and already it was the end of July. Lucy and Jamie had settled in well to Mr. Maitland’s vacant cottage. It was almost as though they had lived there forever. Lucy was happier than she had ever been; every day was like a holiday. Her life was filled with new experiences and here in the countryside where she was a part of the greater picture, what had previously seemed to her like mountainous problems, now seemed almost trivial.
She counted herself fortunate to have such friends as the Davidsons; they were a joy to be with. Working or relaxing, every minute in their company drew her more and more into their family.
Sometimes on a Sunday evening, Bridget or one of the girls from Viaduct Street would visit, and they would sit and talk, and laugh to their hearts’ content. Lucy made sure to keep a measure of the “good stuff” hidden away for when Bridget came. “Oh, you’re a darling—what are ye?” Tipping up her glass and warming the cockles of her heart, Bridget would dance and sing and go home all the merrier.
As arranged, through the week Lucy worked with the Davidsons, and on Saturday morning she went up to Leonard Maitland’s house, where she did the ironing and other jobs like cleaning his silver. After midday her work was done and the weekend was her own, to enjoy the cottage and play with her child.
Each day saw Jamie grow more and more sturdy; he now was very active and the fresh air was doing him a power of good. He loved his new family and had begun to talk in his own way to them all. Everyone loved the little toddler and enjoyed having him around the farm.
On this particular Saturday, Lucy was replacing the silver in the display cabinet, just about to finish her morning’s work, when she heard voices in the next room. “Sometimes I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a farmer’s wife.”
“Hmh! I wish you’d told me that before I put an engagement ring on your finger.”
There followed a girlish peal of false laughter and the light-hearted suggestion, “Oh, Lenny! Why don’t you sell everything—this house, the land and cottages. We could move down to London—or go abroad! It would be so wonderful to travel. We could stay away for a whole year … see the world, do something exciting.”
There was a brief silence, then the woman demanded, “Are you deliberately ignoring me?” Another silence, then in sterner voice: “Leonard! Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard, and yes, I am deliberately ignoring you, Pat. We’ve had this same conversation so many times I’m beginning to tire of it.”
Only the thinness of a wall away, Lucy recognized the voices of Patricia Carstairs and Leonard Maitland. She tried hard not to listen and even softly sang to herself, but the voices grew louder and angrier, and she couldn’t help but overhear every single word.
“Yes, and so I am tired of it!” Anger trembled in her voice. “Whenever I take the trouble to drive over and see you, you’ve either got your head buried in paperwork, or you’re out with your man discussing tractors or some such thing, or overseeing a delivery. Yesterday, and not for the first time, I came here to find you ensconced in your office with two other men, and even when you knew I was here, you just popped your head round the door and excused yourself. My God, Leonard! You didn’t come out for a full hour, and I was made to hang around like a dog at its master’s heels. These days, you hardly ever have time for me, and that is not how it should be. I should come first in your life and I don’t. And I’m really fed up!”
“Then listen to what I’m saying.” Leonard sounded weary. He was weary—of her demands, of her chastising, and of her misguided belief that he, like her, had nothing better to do than socialize. “I’m a farmer, Patricia … a busy man. You knew that when we met and you know it now. I can’t change that. I won’t change it.”
“But you don’t actually farm, do you?” Her tone was cynical.
Leonard gave a dry, angry laugh. “You just don’t understand, do you?” he said. “I may not often sit in the tractor, or plow in the seeds, or cut the corn when it’s grown. But I’m a landowner and as such have certain responsibilities. I plan which seeds go into the ground, or which tractor suits the job best. I scour the country for the best price I might get for my harvest … There are a multitude of things that come with working the land. I monitor every single thing. I buy and sell, and treat my part of the job with respect.”
“But you have Barney Davidson. You sing his praises so often, I’m sure if you let him, he would take a lot more responsibility from your shoulders.”
There was another moment of silence; a moment when Lucy felt uncomfortable, for she could almost taste the atmosphere.
It seemed an age before, in a cutting voice, Leonard Maitland spoke again. “You will never understand, will you, Patricia? You don’t even try to understand the implications of what I’m telling you. I bought this land because I needed to. If I didn’t have land around me, I would simply suffocate. But land is not just for looking at, and when you take it on, you give yourself wholeheartedly to its well-being. You treat it like a living, breathing entity, because that’s what it is. The land gives more than it takes, and it deserves to be cared for. But, like I say, you will never comprehend that, and I don’t blame you for it.”
“I’m sorry, Lenny darling.” True or false, the voice and its owner seemed contrite. “All I’m saying is, why not let Barney take over occasionally? After all, you’ve always said he knows the land as well as you do. I can’t count the number of times you’ve remarked on how a capable man like Barney Davidson was meant to have his own farm, but that life had not treated him kindly enough.”
“Yes, Pat, and I meant it. But this is my land. My responsibility. Barney is my partner in a sense. He is my eyes and ears, and while I organize everything else, he farms, and that’s all right, because he has the same love for the land that I do.”
“Oh Lenny.” The voice grew whining. “I know how passionate you are about this place …”
“No, you don’t.” Now he was calmer, wanting to explain. “You live in town. You can have no idea of what it feels like to see the harvest being brought in, or to stride the fields on a winter’s morning, when the snow lies deep in the ditches and the trees bend and dip with the weight.” His voice dropped. “If you want us to marry, as I do, then you must accept that my work is important to me.”
“All right, my darling, but why can’t we go away—for a month maybe?”
“We will,” he consoled her. “Look, we’re due to be married next spring, and if it suits you, we can have a much longer honeymoon than planned. How’s that?”
“And can I plan where we go?” She was a spoiled child.
“If you like, yes.”
“And money’s no object?”
; He gave a sigh. Did his fiancée not realize that most of the world was plunged into a financial crisis? “It is our honeymoon after all,” he said resignedly.
“Oh, Lenny, it will be so wonderful!” Excitement colored her voice. “Then in the winter, can we go far away—to the South of France or even further afield. My London friends spent last winter in Sydney and they said it was the best time they ever had. Oh, it would be so nice to get right away. I do get so bored visiting the same old places.”
“You’re a mystery to me.” A different emotion crept into his words. “You’re infuriating and selfish, and sometimes I wonder what I see in you. But fool that I am, I can’t help but love you.”
“I’ll remember that when you refuse me what I ask.”
“You will have to remember something else too.”
“For instance?”
“For instance, that being a landowner, I must bow to my duties here. There will always be times when I can’t just take off at your every whim and fancy.”
There came that soft trill of laughter again. “We shall have to see, won’t we? Now I think you should give me a kiss, by way of apology.”
“Don’t you think the apology should come from you?”
“Aw, Leonard! Does it really matter who apologizes? Kiss me, and we’ll forget we ever quarrelled.”
Silence reigned for a moment, when Lucy imagined they were in the throes of the “apology.” Then came the sound of a door opening and closing, and when she glanced out of the window, Lucy saw them going arm-in-arm down the driveway to the long black car, recently chosen by Patricia Carstairs, paid for by Mr. Maitland, and delivered only three days ago.
“Oh darling! Won’t people be envious when they see us together in this!” was Patricia’s parting remark as she climbed into the car.
Lucy watched them drive off; the woman slim, beautiful, and arrogant to the quick, while the gentleman was attentive and homely, a gentle giant of a man.
The Journey Page 12