The Journey

by Josephine Cox

  “He told me not to worry,” Joanne answered, “but it’s odd all the same.” She raised her gaze to Lucy. “Mr. Maitland says he has business to discuss with me and Barney.” Picking up her bucket she dumped the cloth in it and walked to the kitchen door. “It all seems very serious to me,” she told Lucy. “He’s coming back tonight, after we’ve had our supper.”

  “Crikey!” Lucy had become as close to this family as if she was born to it, and what affected them, was bound to affect her. “What d’you reckon it could be, to fetch him out here at this time of day? And you say he’s coming back again tonight …”

  There was something not right here, Lucy thought. Something was brewing and like Joanne she, too, was afraid.

  Her friend began pacing the kitchen floor. “I’m not sure what to do, Lucy,” she said. “Should I go and tell Barney now, or should I simply get on with my work and tell him when he comes home?”

  “Do you want my opinion?” Lucy asked.

  “Of course!”

  “Do what you just said—wait till Barney gets home. Let’s have a cup of tea and a sandwich like we allus do at this time of day, then we’ll get on with our work and leave Barney to do the same. Tell him tonight, but not until after he’s had his dinner, because if you tell him before, he’ll be so worried he won’t eat.”

  “You’re right, lass,” Joanne agreed. “That’s what we’ll do.”

  While Lucy went to fetch Jamie from his nap, Joanne put the kettle on. Dear God, was there some sort of trouble in store? Just now, when everything was going so well, she prayed their lives were not about to be disrupted.

  In the sitting room, where Lucy was lifting the child from the pram, she had that same sense of dread. “Mr. Maitland’s been here,” she told little Jamie. “It seems he’s got business to discuss with Barney and Joanne. I can’t imagine what it could be, but it’s important enough for him to come back and talk with them tonight.” She tutted. “I just hope it isn’t bad news.”

  She kissed his head and sat him on the little enamel potty for a minute or two chiding herself for thinking the worst. For all she knew, it might even be good news. And keeping that in mind, she took the little boy to join Joanne, who was just laying the table for the three of them.

  As she dragged the high chair across to the table, Lucy commented, “Happen Mr. Maitland is right and you shouldn’t worry. I mean, it might be good news he’s bringing tonight. There’s no reason why it should be anything bad, is there?”

  “No, there isn’t!” Joanne’s face lit in a smile. “You could be right, lass—it might be good news.” The woman was glad of Lucy’s encouraging words. “It could be something to do with buying another tractor, mebbe, or he might even be sending in the workmen to put a new roof on this place. Lord knows, it’s been leaking long enough.” She gave a comical little laugh. “Barney’s repaired it so many times it’s beginning to look like a patchwork quilt.”

  Going off to the scullery, she reappeared with a tray containing a pot of tea and four chunky ham and chutney sandwiches, together with a dish of soup for the child and an apple.

  Joanne took a hearty bite out of her egg and onion sandwich. She chatted and laughed with the little boy and his mother, but all the while at the back of her mind was Leonard’s visit.

  Lucy liked to think the best.

  Joanne thought the worst.

  She also thought of that unexpected moment when their employer had put his hands round her waist and lifted her effortlessly to the ground … “Leonard Maitland is a kind man,” she told Lucy now, unable to leave the subject for long. “I can’t imagine he’s about to bring us bad news.”

  “Huh!” Lucy spooned a helping of soup into her son’s mouth. “It’s that woman he’s chosen to be his wife who’s the bad news. The poor man came all the way back from his long journey, and there wasn’t anyone with him. Don’t you think she should have met him off his ship? No, if you ask me, he’ll have a life of hell if he ever puts a ring on that one’s finger.”

  “I hope not,” Joanne answered quietly. “He’s such a lovely man, he deserves a good marriage.”

  “Like you and your Barney,” Lucy said. “But not every marriage can be as good as yours, you know.”

  “I’ve been fortunate,” Joanne said wistfully. “Oh Lucy, I love him so much! I don’t know what I’d do without him. God did a wonderful thing, when He brought me and my Barney together.”

  Not for the first time, Lucy wondered if she would ever know that same kind of love. “I wonder what Frank Trent is doing now?” she said.

  “Do you care?” Joanne was surprised to hear the girl mention that man’s name.

  Lucy shook her head. “No. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I could ever have thought I loved him in the first place.”

  “Well, at least he gave you little Jamie.” Joanne had come to love the child as if he was her own.

  Lucy gazed fondly at her son. “I know it’s a sad thing to say, but I hope he grows up, never knowing his father.”

  Joanne saw the bitterness in Lucy’s face and deliberately changed the subject. “Uh-oh—look at the time,” she said. “Let’s finish the chores, and after that, you and young James should get yourselves home before it starts getting dark. Besides, you must be bone-tired. What with cleaning all the upstairs windows and changing every bed in the house, you’ve done two days’ work in one. I honestly don’t know how I ever managed before you came to join us. Thank you, love.”

  “Are you sure?” It was true—Lucy was exhausted and there was nothing she wanted more right now than to go home for a well-earned rest. However, seeing how worried Joanne was, she offered, “I don’t mind staying to help prepare the evening meal. I’m sure Barney or one of the boys would run me home.”

  Joanne shook her head. “Don’t think I’m not grateful,” she told Lucy, “but I’m best off working. By the time I’ve got the supper ready, Barney should be home. Soonever he’s eaten, I’ll tell him how Mr. Maitland’s coming by to visit.”

  As she helped clear away the crockery, she added, almost to herself, “I can’t wait to know what business he has that he couldn’t discuss with me—especially as he said he wants me there when he talks with Barney.”

  A short time later, Lucy left, holding the little boy by his hand. It wasn’t far to walk back to the cottage. She often left the pram at Overhill Farm. “I hope everything goes all right,” she told Joanne. “If you need me, you know where I am.”

  At eight-thirty, Mr. Maitland arrived. Welcoming him into the house, Barney took him straight through to the sitting room. “Joanne tells me that this matter you need to talk through might affect us all.”

  “That’s right, Barney.” Leonard glanced round the room. “Your children not here then?”

  Barney explained, “My sons have gone to meet friends in Liverpool and Susie is taking extra tuition on the hat-making. There is no need for them to be here. If you’re bringing bad news, it’s best that me and Joanne know first. That way we can talk to the young ’uns ourselves.”

  “I understand.” Leonard had no way of knowing how all this might affect Barney’s children. Even if Barney accepted his offer, the children might not.

  “You’d best sit down.” Barney gestured to the armchair, while he and Joanne sat side-by-side on the sofa. “I might tell you, I’ve been on pins since Joanne told me.”

  Leonard sat down. He looked at the pair of them seated there, fine, kind-hearted people, hardworking as the day was long, and his heart sank within him. “I have to tell you both …” he began. Then: “This has not been the easiest day of my life.”

  Barney looked him in the eye. “So, it is bad news then?”

  “I suppose it all depends on how you see it.” Leonard chose his words carefully as he went on, “I’ve come here tonight, firstly to explain the outcome of my trip to Boston, and secondly, to ask something of you both.”

  He took a deep invigorating breath. “What I have to tell you has been
playing on my mind these past weeks. It will be a relief to have it out in the open. I’m not like you, Barney,” he said kindly. “I’ve always struggled to make friends.” He smiled shyly. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say that you two are the nearest to friends that I’ve got. I have no family—no wife or children to talk things over with, so when I have problems, they often weigh heavy on my mind.”

  When Barney seemed about to speak, he gestured for him to stop, “I don’t want you to say anything just yet, Barney. As you already know, I was summoned to Boston in order to learn the terms and conditions of my grandfather’s Will, and to tie up any loose ends out there.”

  He looked away momentarily as though in shame, and went on in a low voice: “It was a great shock for me to learn that my grandfather had taken up gambling and was up to his neck in debt when he died, with all his land and properties on the point of being sold from under him.”

  At the gasp of disbelief from Barney and Joanne, he got swiftly to the point. “It means two things,” he said, “and each of them will affect you and your family, in at least one way that I can see.”

  He went on in great detail, telling them how it had all come about, how he had worked every waking moment to save what he could. There had been sacrifices made, and his own future, as well as theirs, was now hanging in the balance. “I’m sorry to tell you that I have no option but to sell both The Manse and Overhill Farm.” There was no other way to say it but straight out.

  Rendered speechless by the news, Barney stood up and with haggard eyes, he looked first at Leonard, and then at Joanne. His face white as chalk, he reached out for his wife’s hand. Deeply concerned, she could only leave it to the men and hope they might salvage something worthwhile from this nightmare.

  Leonard would have given almost anything to remove the look of devastation on Barney’s face. “If there had been any other way, you know I would have taken it,” he said helplessly, and wondered if there had been any kinder way he could have broken the news.

  He plunged on. “I have many business contacts in the farming world, and I’m sure I can get you a place locally, if it’s what you want. Oh, I know it will never be the same because you’ve been here all these years, but you only have to say the word and I’ll find something—you know I will.”

  Barney nodded. “Thank you for that,” he said quietly, “but you’re right—it’s small compensation. I’ve been here so long, it’s as if I’ve lived here all my life. My children have never known anything else.”

  Leonard had one more thing to say before he left. “There is one other option …”

  Pre-empting his words, Barney interrupted, “If you’re offering me first refusal of the farm, there is no way on God’s earth I could ever buy it. I’m not a man of money, I never have been. I’ve lived content year to year, raising my family and tending the land—”

  Leonard stopped him. “It’s not that, Barney. I know you haven’t the means to buy this farm, otherwise it would be yours. What I’m asking of you now needs even more commitment from you, and your family.”

  “What do you mean?” Barney was puzzled. “What is it you’re asking?”

  Leonard glanced at Joanne; sad-faced and twining her fingers together in her lap, she was obviously deeply disturbed by events.

  “I’ve managed to save my grandfather’s homestead,” he began. “It took some doing and I’ve never been in so much debt in my entire life, but I couldn’t let it go without doing my damnedest to keep it.”

  “I’m pleased for you, Mr. Maitland.” Barney was magnanimous in his own disappointment. “I know how much you loved that place. You’ve talked about it that many times, I almost feel I know it myself.”

  “That’s excellent!” Barney’s remarks took Leonard naturally into his proposition. “How would you like to see it, Barney—you and your family?” He looked again at Joanne, who was intent on his every word.

  While Barney was momentarily taken aback, it was she who replied. “What exactly do you mean?”

  In tender, persuasive tones he told her what he had in mind. “It’s my dearest wish for all of you to come with me. I would like Barney and your sons to help me run the farm, and for yourself to take charge of the house. As for young Susie, there are any number of milliners in Boston—it’s a very smart place—who will teach her the trade, if that’s what she really wants.”

  With the two of them shocked into silence, he leaned forward, hands on his knees and his eyes pleading with them each in turn. “Barney … Joanne, please think about it. It would mean so much to me, if you would agree.”

  When Barney spoke now, it was with a surge of emotion that trembled in his voice. “But why?” he asked. “Why would you want me and my family, when you could employ the best that money could buy?”

  In Barney’s face, Leonard could see the tiniest glimmer of hope. “Oh Barney, don’t you know that you’re the best there is! That’s why I want you—because I know the caliber of you, and I know that the homestead would be in good hands.”

  He grew tremendously excited. “Not only would I be taking the very best, but I’d be taking with me people I consider to be my friends … good people whom I’ve known for many a year.” He actually laughed out loud. “Oh, you can’t imagine what it’s like over there. In Massachusetts, there’s so much sky, you think it goes on forever! And the land … You could ride for half a day before you reach its borders. Boston itself is the capital—three hundred years old and full of history. Not everything in America is like Charlie Chaplin, you know!” He chuckled merrily.

  By now he was on his feet. “Say you’ll come. Please, talk to your family. Tell them how it will be. You’ll have a house twice the size of this one, and a garden to lose yourself in. There’s an orchard—yes, it’s overgrown now, but we’ll soon prune it and get it round. Please! Say you’ll accept this challenge. I won’t let you down, and if after a while you’re not happy there, I’ll pay for you to come back, and I’ll find you a house and work into the bargain. What d’you say? Barney … Joanne? Will you come?”

  Suddenly Barney was laughing and a moment later he was shaking Leonard by the hand. “If the family are all in agreement, then our answer is yes, oh YES!” In the space of a moment his despair was replaced by a sense of joy.

  In the excitement that followed, Joanne kissed Barney and then she kissed Leonard, and he was overjoyed.

  “Talk to your sons and Susie,” he said. “Tell them how wonderful a life it will be.”

  Barney promised he would. “Such an opportunity!” he declared. “A new start—a new life. I can’t thank you enough,” he told Leonard. “It’s the most amazing thing!”

  A short time later, Leonard hurried away to collect Patricia. Behind him he could hear the Davidsons’ old phonograph belting out some Dixieland jazz, and through the window as he drove off, he saw Barney take Joanne into his arms and wing her across the room. He smiled for them, the smile fading as he thought ahead to his meeting with his fiancée. Would it ever be like that with him and Patricia? In subdued mood, he answered his own question: no. He couldn’t see it somehow.

  Screeching the car to a halt, he did a three-point turn and took the lane that would lead him home.

  When he arrived at The Manse, he was surprised to find Patricia already there, emerging from a taxi. Once inside the house, she turned to him and said, “Look here, Lenny. I’ve decided I can’t come with you to America, so if you want me for your wife, you will just have to make other plans.”

  “And is your mind absolutely made up?” he asked quietly.

  “It is.”

  “Then you don’t give me any choice, Patricia.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means our engagement is over. I know now that we can never make a future together.”

  “You can’t say that! You’re not thinking straight.”

  When he continued to stand his ground, even when she nuzzled him and tried her usual wiles, she took a step back
and eyed him with suspicion. “There’s another woman, isn’t there?” Her eyeballs stood out like two glittering marbles. “You’ve been cheating on me. American, is she? Met her over there, did you?” With every accusation her voice rose until now it was at screaming pitch.

  “There is no other woman,” he answered steadily. “Like I said, I can no longer see us in a future together. We want different things, Pat. That’s the truth of it.”

  In a swift and spiteful move that caught him unawares, she brought her hand across his face, leaving her fingernail marks down the side of his cheek. “YOU BASTARD!” Still spitting obscenities, she stormed down the steps and marched off at neckbreak speed toward the village.

  Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Leonard felt as though a great burden was lifted from his shoulders. “I’m truly sorry it turned out this way,” he muttered after her; and he really was.

  Softly, he repeated her angry words. “There’s another woman, isn’t there?” He smiled. “Yes, Patricia, there is another woman. But she isn’t American. In fact, she’s only an arm’s reach from here.”

  He knew now, without any doubt, that he was head over heels in love with Joanne. However, just as the relationship between himself and Patricia could never evolve, nor could the one between himself and Joanne—but for very different reasons.

  PART THREE

  Onset of Winter, 1930

  A Choice for Barney

  Fourteen

  After their parents’ euphoria, the Davidsons’ children reacted to Leonard’s offer in different ways.

  “I’d rather stay here,” Susie said, in confrontational mood.

  “Look, love, I’ve already told you. We can’t stay here,” Barney explained for the third time. “Mr. Maitland has been forced to sell this farm to help pay off his grandfather’s debts.”

  “Listen to your father, sweetheart.” Joanne despaired. “Whether we like it or not, this farm is being sold. It isn’t Mr. Maitland’s fault, and it isn’t our fault. It’s the circumstances we all find ourselves in. We would all love to stay here, but we can’t, and so we have to accept things the way they are.”