He drew himself up to his full height – an inch taller than Maddie. ‘My dad shoes all Sir Peter’s horses, so there.’ Steven’s father was the village blacksmith and the boy’s clothes always reeked of the forge and the smell of singeing hoof. It was not an unpleasant smell, but Maddie used it to go one better on the nickname he had given her.
‘Bet you’ve never seen the Hanging Tree,’ he said.
From behind her came a little squeak of terror from Jenny. But Maddie said, ‘The what?’
The boy moved closer dropping his voice to a scary whisper. ‘There’s a tree in the woods here where a feller hanged himself a few years back. Want to see it?’
Maddie felt Jenny’s fingers on her skirt clutching tighter.
‘’Course we do,’ Maddie said boldly, ignoring the whimper behind her. ‘Oh no, Maddie, no.’
‘Come on then.’ The boy turned and began to walk, hands thrust into the pockets of his short trousers and with a swagger in his step, towards the woods.
With a quick glance around her to make sure that Mrs Potter was not watching, Maddie prised Jenny’s clinging fingers from her skirt and whispered. ‘You stay here, if you don’t want to come.’
‘No, no. Don’t leave me.’ The small child seemed uncertain as to which would be the worse fate. Being left alone amongst all these strangers or following Stinky Smith into the dark unknown of the woods.
Taking her hand, Maddie said, ‘Come on, then.’
Entering the cool dimness, their feet squelched on the mulch of several autumns’ leaves. The breeze rustled through the trees overhead and birds rose from the topmost boughs at the arrival of the three intruders.
‘Come on,’ shouted their guide, his voice echoing eerily. ‘It’s this way.’
They came to a small clearing and at the edge Maddie stopped and gasped aloud. ‘Oh how pretty it is. Just look, Jen, at all these flowers.’
The whole clearing was a carpet of wild bluebells, yet in the centre was a heart-shaped bed of yellow tulips edged with a border of forget-me-nots.
Steven pointed to the golden flowers. ‘Them’s been planted.’
‘Who did it?’
The boy shrugged. ‘Dunno. Someone belonging to the feller who hanged himself, I s’pect.’ He moved towards a tree at the side of the clearing and put his hand flat against the trunk, tilting his head back to look up into the branches. ‘This is where he did it.’
Maddie moved closer, but Jenny hovered on the edge of the clearing hopping from foot to foot. ‘Maddie, I want the lav.’
Maddie stood beneath the tree as Steven pointed upwards. ‘See them marks on that branch. That’s where he tied the rope.’
‘Maddie . . .’ came Jenny’s wail. ‘I gotta go. Now!’
‘Bob down behind those bushes then,’ Maddie murmured, her gaze still on the tree.
‘I daresunt. There might be – be . . .’
Steven turned, grinning wickedly. ‘Think a bird’ll peck ya bum?’
Maddie gave the boy a shove on his shoulder. ‘Don’t tease her. She’s only little and we haven’t ever been in a wood before.’
His eyes widened. ‘Never been in a wood. Blimey. They don’t let you out of that place much, do they?’ But now there was a note of sympathy in his tone instead of mockery. For the village lad who had been allowed to roam the fields and lanes at will, never to have been able to walk in a wood before reaching the age of eleven seemed like being locked away in prison.
‘Wait there,’ Maddie instructed as she turned and went back to Jenny to lead her behind the nearby bushes. Moments later the two girls emerged, the younger one pulling up her knickers as, this time, she walked alongside Maddie right up to the tree.
‘Who was he, then?’ Maddie asked, once more squinting up into the branches. ‘And why did he do it?’
Now he had more of an audience the boy ran his tongue around his lips and grinned. With a sly glance at Jenny he said, ‘John Cuppleditch, they called him. He was a groom for Sir Peter and there was a – a scandal, yes, that’s what me mam called it – a scandal . . .’ He savoured the word. ‘. . . About him and Sir Peter’s daughter, Miss Amelia.’
‘What about them?’ Maddie demanded.
‘Me mam ses it was all round the village at the time. He was already married, see, and him and his wife had a little babby, an’ all. Everyone reckoned him and Amelia Mayfield was going to run away together, but Sir Peter locked her up in the house and wouldn’t let her see him no more. But . . .’ The boy, young though he was and maybe not even understanding fully the meaning behind the words, was relishing repeating the village gossip. ‘He came back at night to try to see her and Sir Peter chased him off the estate with his twelve bore.’
‘You’re making it all up.’
‘No, I’m not. He did hang himself from that tree because Sir Peter threw his whole family, even his mam and dad and his little brothers and sisters as well, out of their cottage.’
‘How could he do that?’
‘’Cos he owned the cottage where they lived. His dad was head groom, see. So he got the sack an’ all. They was all living rough for a while in the woods, me mam said.’
‘What happened to them?’
Steven shrugged. ‘Dunno, but him . . .’ The boy was warming to his gruesome tale. ‘He comes back here one night, throws a rope over that branch, ties a loop round his neck and then climbed up and jumped off.’
The two girls shuddered and instinctively moved closer to each other.
‘It was two days before they found him.’ Steven leaned closer, whispering, ‘His face was all bloated and black and he was just swinging here, the branch creaking in the wind . . .’ He made a rasping noise in his throat, trying to imitate the sound.
Jenny squeaked and buried her face against Maddie, who put her arm about the girl. ‘Come on, we’re going. Mrs Potter’ll miss us.’ As she began to lead Jenny from the clearing, she glanced at the boy and grinned. ‘I tell you what, Stinky. You tell a good story.’
The boy swaggered as he followed them, saying, ‘T’aint no story. It’s all true.’
‘Yeah,’ Maddie said sarcastically, but she was smiling as she said it. All the same, as they left the clearing and plunged back into the gloom beneath the trees, she glanced back to take a last look at the heart-shaped bed of tulips, shining golden in a ray of sunlight that streamed in through the trees.
Maybe, she thought, his sweetheart, Amelia Mayfield, had planted the flowers near where her love had died.
Maddie was still thinking of her little friend, Jenny, as she went down the stairs and presented herself to Harriet in the kitchen.
‘There you are at last, girl,’ was the housekeeper’s greeting. Maddie felt her glance assessing her.
‘Why are you dressed in your gymslip and blouse? You aren’t going to school any more, y’know.’
Maddie felt an angry flush creep up her face. Her eyes glittered and her mouth tightened. ‘I haven’t any more clothes. Only me Sunday best and I’m not wearing that to work in.’
The ‘out of school’ skirt and jumper that she had worn at the Home had been far too small for her and almost worn out.
‘You can’t possibly take these with you,’ Mrs Potter had declared, holding up the jumper, shrunken and matted from constant washing in water that was far too hot. ‘What’ll they think?’ she had muttered, shoving the offending garments into the rag-bag. So all Maddie had been able to bring with her was her school uniform and the navy dress.
Neither of them had heard Frank Brackenbury approach until, from the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, he said, ‘Then we’ll have to get you some suitable work clothes, lass, won’t we?’
Maddie spun round and gave him a beaming smile. Politely, she said, ‘That would be very kind of you, Mr Brackenbury.’
‘Mrs Trowbridge can take you into the town tomorrow. It’s market day.’ He lifted his head slightly and looked beyond Maddie. ‘You wouldn’t mind going for once, Harriet, woul
d you? You needn’t stay long.’ Without waiting for an answer he looked down again at Maddie. He chuckled and his dark eyes twinkled. ‘And Mr Brackenbury is such a mouthful. Call me “Mr Frank” like everyone else does.’
Behind her, the woman said nothing, but Maddie heard her sniff of disapproval. The girl stood waiting, unsure what she was supposed to do. Without even glancing at Maddie again, Harriet, her mouth tight, moved between the pantry and the cooker where a huge black frying pan of bacon, fried bread and eggs sizzled.
As if sensing her uncertainty, Frank said, ‘Do you want her to help you, Harriet?’
‘No, she’ll only get under me feet. She’d best start learning what she’s come for. The milking.’
‘Right you are, then.’ Again he looked down at Maddie and frowned thoughtfully. ‘We’ll have to find you summat to wear for today, lass. Them clothes aren’t suitable for the cowshed. Come on, let’s have a look-see what we can find.’
He led the way into the wash-house and searched amongst the clothes hanging from the line of pegs.
‘Ah,’ he said with sudden satisfaction. ‘Here we are. I thought I remembered seeing these still here . . .’ From the peg the man pulled a pair of khaki dungarees and held them out towards Maddie. ‘The Land Army girls we had in the War used to wear these. They’ll be a bit big for you, but you can tuck them into your boots. There’s a pair of rubber boots here that should fit you. An old pair of Nick’s. Oh, and there’s a pair of socks here too. They’ll keep you warm and help to fill the boots a bit.’ He smiled at her as he held out the trousers and set the boots on the floor in front of her.
Maddie took the pair of trousers with the bib and crossover braces and pulled them on, tucking her gymslip inside them.
‘Now, roll the legs up to your ankles and then put the socks on over them . . .’ the man suggested, holding out his hand to steady her as she thrust her feet into the boots.
‘There now,’ he said, surveying her. ‘Not bad. Not bad at all. A bit big on you, but you’ll do. You’ll need a jacket, though.’ Again he searched. ‘This’ll do. It’ll swamp you, but it’ll be warm.’ He held it out for her and she slipped her arms into it. ‘Right. Now we’d best be on our way or my poor beast’ll be bursting their udders.’
As they stepped into the yard, Frank gave a piercing whistle and the black and white dog came racing round a corner to hurl itself against him. Then the excited animal bounded towards Maddie, jumping up at her.
‘He won’t hurt you,’ Frank said swiftly. ‘He’s only young and a bit boisterous, that’s all.’
Maddie laughed as the dog leapt even higher and she felt his tongue against her cheek. ‘He’s lovely. What’s his name?’
‘Ben.’
At the sound of his master’s voice, Ben paused to look round enquiringly, but hearing no further command, he carried on leaping and bounding around the young stranger.
Maddie summoned up her sternest voice, pointed to the ground and said firmly, ‘Down, Ben.’
The dog gave a bark but then dropped to the ground, looking up at her with soulful brown eyes.
‘Well, I never did,’ Frank Brackenbury laughed. ‘You’ve certainly got a way with him, young’un. Are you any good with cows?’
Maddie smiled up at him. ‘I don’t know, mester. I’ve never tried.’
‘Well, lass, now’s your chance.’
They walked down the lane, side by side, Frank with easy strides, Maddie clumping along in her oversized boots, trying desperately to keep pace with him. Ben ran ahead, pausing every so often to investigate an intriguing smell in the hedgerow.
It was a bright April morning, sharp, but promising warmth later in the day.
‘Where are we going?’ Maddie asked.
‘To fetch the cows in for milking.’
Ahead of them she saw a meadow where six or seven cows stood herded together near the gate. Two stood close to the gate, their great heads over the top of it looking up the lane.
‘They’re bigger than I thought,’ Maddie murmured, ‘close to.’ But still she went forward, undaunted, to try to pat the nose of the nearest beast, but it stepped backwards.
She felt the man watching her and turned to meet his gaze. He smiled and gave a little nod. ‘I’m glad to see you’re not frightened of them, lass.’ He chuckled, a low sound seeming to come from deep inside him. ‘But they’re a bit wary of you, ’til they get used to you. One of the Land Army girls was frightened to death of them. I never did get to teach her how to milk all the time she was here.’
He opened the gate and the cows meandered into the lane, turning towards the farm.
Maddie laughed, her voice clear and ringing in the early morning air. ‘They know the way.’
‘’Course they do. They travel the same bit of road night and morning. They should do by now.’
Maddie glanced back into the field and saw, at the far end near a hedge, two cows still grazing contentedly.
‘What about those two?’
Frank’s smile broadened. ‘Lazy pair. We’ll have to fetch them.’
Maddie looked back towards the lane where the small herd were wandering towards the farmyard with Ben, now wholly committed to his task, barking at their heels.
‘Do they go into the cowshed all by themselves then?’
‘More or less,’ he answered, as they began to walk across the grass towards the two dawdlers. ‘But Michael and Nick are there finishing off the first lot.’
‘The first lot?’ The girl was surprised. ‘You mean you’ve more than just these?’
‘Oh yes. We’ve fifteen milkers and then some beast for beef.’
‘Goodness.’
‘We supply all the village with milk and even Mayfield Park.’
‘Sir Peter?’
The man glanced at her. ‘Aye, his household and all the folks who live on his estate.’ He waved his arm to encompass all the land around them. ‘This is all his. We only rent it to farm, y’see.’
‘Oh.’ Maddie was silent. Then she blurted out suddenly, ‘He owned the orphanage, too.’ She looked at the man walking beside her and, with a maturity far exceeding her years, added quietly, ‘It seems Sir Peter Mayfield rules a lot of people’s lives.’
‘Aye,’ Frank nodded. ‘Aye, you could say that lass. He’s a local magistrate an’ all. He certainly rules the lives of anyone who dares to be brought up in front of him.’ He gave a wry laugh and the young girl wondered fleetingly if he had ever had cause to stand in the dock in front of Sir Peter. She glanced at him again, doubting her own thoughts. Mr Frank seemed a kindly, God-fearing man. She couldn’t imagine him ever doing anything against the law.
They reached the cows who raised their heads, chewing sorrowfully.
‘I don’t think they want to be milked,’ Maddie laughed.
‘They’re not so bothered as some of the others.’ He pointed to their udders. ‘Their milk yield’s declining now. See?’
Maddie looked and saw that their udders were not so swollen as some of those already on their way to the farmyard.
‘We only milk them once a day now. Just in a morning.’ He slapped the nearest one on the rump and slowly it began to move reluctantly towards the gate, still chewing as it went.
Maddie was about to follow when she suddenly caught sight of a flash of colour from beyond the hedge. Standing on tiptoes, she peered over into the next field and what she saw made her gasp with amazement and delight.
‘Oh! Oh look. Just look,’ she exclaimed, quite forgetting that the man with her must have seen the sight many times and be quite used to it.
Beyond the hedge stretched a field of tulips. They were planted in blocks of six rows and each block was a different colour, from pastel pink through red and yellow to dark purple, rippling and swaying in the early morning breeze.
‘Isn’t that the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen?’ the young girl murmured, enraptured and enthralled. ‘It’s like a rainbow. Except,’ she added, ‘that it’s straight.�
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He came and stood beside her. ‘Well, you’d best enjoy it, lass, ’cos they don’t last long. They’ll be cutting the heads off soon.’
Maddie turned wide eyes to look up at him. ‘Why?’
‘They grow them for the bulbs, you see, and part of making the bulbs mature is to remove just the heads so that a lot of the goodness from the plant goes back into the bulb and makes it grow bigger.’
‘It’s a shame, though,’ Maddie said, understanding the need but bemoaning the destruction of the pretty flowers.
Reluctantly, she turned to follow him back down the field, dragging her gaze away from the multicoloured carpet of flowers that stretched into the distance as far as she could see.
Then she skipped after the farmer, filled with a sudden happiness such as she had never felt before.
Five
‘Now, you’ll have to sit close up, ’cos you’re only little.’ Michael was laughing down at her but his teasing was not cruel. ‘We’ll start you on Betsy. She’s a soft old thing and she’ll stand good as gold whilst you milk her, won’t you, old girl?’
The cow, tethered to the wall, flicked her tail but munched contentedly on the hay in the heck level with her nose.
‘Sit on this little stool, put your head against her belly and reach underneath. Then, very gently, squeeze her teats. Like this, see.’ The young man squatted down and Maddie watched as he squeezed and pulled and the milk squirted into the bucket beneath.
He stood up again. ‘Right, now you have a go.’
A shadow appeared in the doorway and Maddie looked up to see Nick carrying two empty buckets and moving towards the next stall. ‘She’ll never manage it,’ he said. ‘She’ll have to kneel underneath Betsy to reach her udders.’
‘Tek no notice of him,’ Michael grinned good-naturedly. ‘He’s only jealous ’cos he’d like to be the one teaching you, ’stead of me.’
Nick gave a wry snort and then nodded towards Maddie. ‘You want to watch him. He’s a bugger with the girls.’
Now Michael frowned. ‘Less of that sort of language in front of her.’
The Tulip Girl Page 3