The Tulip Girl

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Oh.’ Maddie’s face fell. ‘But have you asked your dad? I mean, will he let you drive the car again?’

  ‘Probably not. We haven’t a lot of petrol to spare, but we’ll fetch her, Maddie. You and me. In the cart.’

  Excitement surged, yet she dare not be too hopeful even yet. ‘And – and what about taking her back?’ Michael usually went out with his mates on a Saturday night.

  Michael shrugged. ‘Either Dad or I’ll take her.’

  And now Maddie’s pleasure knew no bounds. Michael was going to stay at home all afternoon and maybe the evening too. He couldn’t be planning to go out or else he wouldn’t be offering to take Jenny back to the Home later.

  Would he?

  Thirteen

  The four young people stood in the yard at Few Farm.

  ‘So,’ Michael began. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Nick scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot, hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets. ‘What is there to do?’

  ‘Well, we can go into the village to the pub later . . .’

  ‘They’re too young,’ Nick countered and, glancing at Jenny, added, ‘and they look it.’

  ‘We could go into town.’

  ‘I’ve no money. Have you?’

  ‘A bit,’ Michael said, but then looked around at the other three as if to say, but not for all of us.

  ‘Looks like a walk then,’ Maddie said cheerfully. ‘Let’s show Jen all the animals and . . .’

  ‘Huh, I spend all day with them. I aren’t spending me time off with them,’ Nick muttered.

  ‘What do you want to do then?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘We’ll go for a walk in the woods. How about that?’ Michael suggested.

  Maddie brightened. ‘Oh yes.’

  There was a sly, devious look on Nick’s face as he said, ‘We’ll show you the Hanging Tree.’

  Jenny gasped in alarm. ‘Oh no, Maddie, I don’t want to go there. I don’t like it. It’s – it’s creepy.’

  Maddie tucked her arm through her friend’s. ‘It’s all right. There’s nothing can hurt you.’ She was intrigued. Now she had glimpsed Amelia Mayfield, the girl over whom a young man had killed himself, she wanted to visit the tree again. To think that he had died for love touched Maddie’s heart. Maybe Amelia had been the one to plant all the golden tulips and forget-me-nots in his memory. ‘We’ll see if those pretty flowers are still there.’

  ‘Maybe Jenny’s right to be frightened,’ Nick’s voice dropped a tone, like a storyteller telling ghostly tales around the fire at night. ‘It’s an evil place. It’s a crime to take your own life, y’know. Maybe he still haunts the clearing . . .’

  ‘Stop trying to frighten them, Nick,’ Michael said. ‘And you should feel sorry for the poor chap who was desperate enough to do that. And poor Miss Amelia. She’s never been right since. Her father keeps her a virtual prisoner in that great house of his. How would you like that, eh?’

  Nick glared at him resentfully. ‘I know how she feels,’ he muttered.

  ‘Don’t talk daft. It’s up to you to cut loose from your mother’s apron strings. Come on, Maddie. You and me’ll go. These two can do what they like.’

  They walked through the village and out towards the woods on the edge of Mayfield Park, Michael and Maddie forging eagerly ahead, Nick following slouching along, hands thrust deep into his pockets and scuffing stones on the road with the toe of his boot. Some distance behind them all, Jenny hung back reluctantly.

  Beneath the shadowy trees, Michael and Maddie walked close together.

  ‘I love it here,’ he said softly. ‘It’s so quiet and peaceful.’

  Maddie lifted her face up, closed her eyes for a second and breathed in deeply, savouring the musty smells of dead and rotting leaves mingling with the scent of the new growth of blooms. ‘So do I.’

  She felt Michael take her hand and they walked on, Maddie’s heart beating faster, until they came to the clearing.

  ‘Oh, they’re still here. No one’s picked them,’ Maddie said, delighted to see the heart-shaped bed of yellow tulips. But the pretty blooms were dying now, drooping forlornly, lonely and neglected.

  ‘I suppose only Miss Amelia would pick them.’

  ‘Did she plant them?’ Maddie asked.

  Michael shrugged. ‘No one knows for certain, but that’s what everybody thinks.’

  Nick came to stand beside them.

  ‘Where’s Jen? You haven’t left her alone? She’ll be frightened,’ Maddie asked.

  Nick glanced over his shoulder. ‘She’s coming.’ His smile was sly. ‘She dun’t like it here, does she? I wonder why?’

  ‘She’s sensitive,’ Maddie stuck up for her friend. ‘She feels things. She’s easily frightened.’

  ‘I’ll go and look for her then,’ Nick said and turned back to disappear amongst the trees the way they had come.

  ‘Thanks,’ Maddie called after him, grateful for his offer so that she could stay with Michael.

  He released her hand and put his arm about her shoulders, pulling her closer, holding her against him. ‘I’m glad you’ve come to live with us, Maddie,’ he murmured against her hair and she felt the familiar churning just below her ribs.

  ‘Oh Michael . . .’ She turned towards him and lifted her face to look up at him. In the dimness of the wood, she could hardly see his features but she could feel his breath warm on her face. He was bending towards her, his mouth coming towards her own.

  Suddenly, there was a shriek of terror and Jenny thrust her way through the bushes, her hair awry, her dress torn, tears running down her face.

  ‘He’s here. The man who ’anged hissen.’ She flung herself forward against Maddie, wrapping her arms around the older girl and clinging to her.

  ‘It’s all right. It’s all right,’ Maddie soothed her at once and then more firmly said, ‘Now, don’t be silly. There’s no such things as ghosts . . .’

  At that moment the breeze rustled through the leaves overhead and an eerie wailing sound seemed to come from the tree.

  Jenny screamed again and buried her face against Maddie.

  Angrily, Michael said, ‘That’s no ghost. That’s human and I know who it is.’

  He ran across the clearing, skirting the bed of tulips and disappeared behind the tree.

  ‘Michael . . .’ Maddie called, suddenly afraid herself. What had seemed such a peaceful, even if poignant, place had now become fearful and threatening.

  They heard a scuffling in the undergrowth, saw a bush shake and then from behind the Hanging Tree itself, Michael appeared dragging a wriggling Nick by the scruff of his neck.

  ‘This is your ghost, Jen. Just Nick playing cruel tricks. Now, say you’re sorry for frightening her.’ He gave the younger boy a little shake. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jenny. I was only having a bit of fun.’

  Jenny lifted her face from Maddie’s shoulder to look at him. ‘It’s all right.’ She scrubbed away her tears. ‘I shouldn’t be such a scaredy cat.’

  ‘Come on,’ Maddie said. ‘We’ll go back now.’

  To her surprise as they all turned to leave the clearing and make their way back through the woods, she saw Jenny fall into step beside Nick, glancing up at him with a shy smile.

  ‘Just look at that,’ she said to Michael. ‘Would you believe it after what he’s just done?’

  Michael laughed. ‘There’s no accounting for taste.’

  Fourteen

  ‘I’ve told you never to go near that place,’ Harriet Trowbridge raged at her son.

  ‘Don’t tell of him, Maddie,’ Jenny had pleaded as they entered the farmyard. ‘He didn’t mean it. He was only playing. It was my fault for being so silly.’

  But there was no way they could hide Jenny’s torn dress nor the steak of tears on her face and Harriet missed nothing. ‘Whatever is Mrs Potter going to say if you go back to the Home in that state?’ She sniffed. ‘I don’t think you’d better
come here again if you can’t behave yourself, child.’

  Jenny’s chin quivered with disappointment.

  ‘We were just playing, Mrs Trowbridge,’ Maddie was anxious as ever not to tell lies, but not wanting to tell tales on Nick either. She doubted the housekeeper would believe anything said against her precious son anyway. ‘And Jenny caught her dress on a prickly bush.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be going into the woods anyway. Don’t you know better than to go into places like that and with two young lads? No better than you should be.’ Her glance went between the two girls. ‘But then I suppose it’s to be expected. Bad blood in the pair of you.’

  ‘Aw, come on Mrs T,’ Michael smiled engagingly and put his arm about the woman’s shoulders. ‘Don’t be so hard on them. They’ll come to no harm with us. You trust us, don’t you?’

  Harriet glanced sideways at him. ‘Now, none of your smooth talk with me, young Michael. You might charm all the young lassies, but not me. As for trusting you, well, my Nicholas, certainly. But as for you . . .’

  To Maddie’s amazement the woman actually smiled as she tapped Michael playfully on the end of his nose. ‘I wouldn’t trust you no further than I could throw you.’

  ‘Aw, Mrs T, I’m wounded. How can you say such a thing about me?’

  ‘Go on with you. You’d better get this child tidied up and take her home.’

  Mrs Potter was even more direct. ‘That’s the last time I let you out on a visit, miss. Just look at you.’ She thrust her face close to Jenny’s whilst both Maddie and Michael looked on helplessly. ‘I hope you haven’t been doing anything you shouldn’t have.’ Then she glanced up at Maddie. ‘I might have known you’d have been behind all this. Well, Maddie March, you’ve seen the last of your little friend while she’s in my care, let me tell you.’

  ‘Mrs Potter . . .’ Michael began, but the Matron held up her hand. ‘Don’t you start, neither. I’ve had enough of this pair to last me a lifetime. I thought I’d got shot of you . . .’ she jabbed her finger towards Maddie. ‘But you’re still bringing trouble to me door. And as for you, young feller, you want to watch her. She’s a bad’un.’

  As the heavy door closed behind them and they climbed back into the cart, Michael let out a sigh of relief. ‘What a dragon! How on earth did you stick living there?’

  Settling herself beside him, Maddie said in a small voice, ‘We’ve no choice, have we?’

  On the drive home they were both silent. Maddie was saddened to think she would not see Jenny again for several months, probably not until she was fourteen and Mrs Potter had found someone to take her. She doubted Mrs Potter would even deliver letters to Jenny if Maddie wrote to her.

  Once or twice she glanced sideways at Michael who seemed lost in his own thoughts, his mouth pursed in a hard line.

  As he manoeuvred the cart in through the yard gate, he put his arm briefly around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, young’un, this is your home now. We’ll look after you. But I am sorry about poor little Jenny.’

  Tears prickled Maddie’s eyes and she felt a lump in her throat at his kindness. Trying to smile she said, ‘We’ll just have to wait until September. That’s all.’

  ‘Oh well,’ Michael said cheerfully. ‘That’s not long.’

  Maddie said nothing but she was thinking it’s an awful long time if you’re living in the Mayfield Orphanage under Mrs Potter’s rule.

  ‘Why did you give Jenny that doll? She told me you’d given it to her. I got it for you. You’d no right.’ Nick’s expression was a mixture of hurt and anger.

  Swiftly Maddie said, ‘I’m sorry, Nick. But that night when we took her back to the Home, she looked so lost and lonely and I felt so lucky being able to live here with all of you. I just – well, I . . .’

  She fell silent but Nick was making no effort to understand her generous gesture. Instead, he said again morosely, ‘It was for you. I wanted you to have it. I thought you liked it.’

  ‘I did. I do, but Jen’s like my little sister and I – I thought you’d understand and not mind. I am sorry, Nick.’

  He was unforgiving. As he turned away, he flung the words back at her over his shoulder. ‘I bet you wouldn’t have parted with the doll if Michael had given it to you.’

  Maddie opened her mouth to say, Of course I would, but the words were not spoken for even as they came automatically to her lips, she knew them to be untrue. And even to save Nick’s feelings, Maddie could not lie.

  He was right. Had Michael won the lovely doll for her she would not have given it away to anyone. Not even to little Jenny Wren.

  Towards the end of August, Michael asked her, ‘Would you like to come to the village hop with me on Saturday night?’

  Over the past few weeks Maddie had felt that she and Michael were getting closer and closer. He would touch her hand, wink at her as he passed her in the yard and touch her foot with his own toe beneath the table at mealtimes.

  And now he was asking her out. Properly.

  Thinking of the pretty summer dress hanging in her wardrobe that Harriet had grudgingly bought for her on Frank’s instructions, Maddie beamed and, a little breathlessly, said, ‘I’d love to. Thanks.’ Then her face sobered. ‘But I can’t dance.’

  ‘No problem.’ Nothing ever seemed a problem to Michael. ‘Place gets so crowded, you can’t dance the proper steps anyway. I tell you what, though,’ he added as a sudden thought struck him. ‘We’ll get the gramophone going in the front room. I’ve got some Glen Miller records and I’ll show you a few dance steps before we go. Besides,’ he added with a mock leer and moved closer to her, ‘it’ll be a good excuse to hold you close.’

  He put his arm about her waist and began to hum softly.

  Nick’s shadow appeared in the cow-house doorway. ‘Your dad’s waiting for you by the tractor to help him cut Five Acre Field.’

  Michael pulled a comical face and whispered, ‘Trust him to spoil our fun.’ Louder he said, ‘Right then. I’ll see you later, young’un, for your first dancing lesson.’

  As he left the crewyard, whistling, Nick sidled closer. ‘You don’t want to take any notice of him, y’know. He’s got a string of girls in the village.’

  Maddie faced him. She didn’t want to fall out with Nick. It was bad enough having his mother forever sniping at her and finding every little fault with her whenever she could. She didn’t need another enemy, but nor was she going to let him get away with trying to spoil everything.

  ‘Michael’s asked me to the village dance on Saturday night.’

  ‘Huh!’ Nick’s voice was scathing. ‘Well, he might take you, but once you’re there you’ll find yourself trampled in the rush. The girls are potty over him.’

  ‘You jealous?’ The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

  Nick’s mouth curled. ‘Of him? Nah, not likely. He’s heading for a fall, that one. Me Mam says he’ll bring trouble to us all. She doesn’t believe in all that nonsense, you know, that fortune telling at the fair a while back, but she did say she thought the gypsy had got it right about Michael.’

  Maddie stared at him. ‘Maybe,’ she said thoughtfully, remembering what the dark-eyed Romany woman had said about them all and about Nick and his mother in particular. ‘Maybe she got a lot more things right than we know.’

  ‘Oh aye. You reckon you’re going to end up a millionaire then, do you? Everything you touch will turn to gold. Is that it?’

  Maddie turned away. ‘I’ve work to do in the Dairy. I’d better get on with it. The only thing I’m going to turn into gold is the cream into butter.’

  Suddenly, Nick smiled and Maddie noticed how swiftly he swung from one mood to another. He was so much nicer when he smiled and his pale grey eyes, huge behind his glasses, wrinkled with laughter. ‘Well, if you look at it that way, I suppose she could have been right.’

  Now Maddie laughed. ‘It’s the only way to look at it. I can’t imagine me, a waif and stray with no real fami
ly and no proper name, ever coming into a fortune of real gold, now can you?’

  The promised dancing lesson did not happen that night.

  The tractor, old and temperamental, took twice as long to cut the corn in Five Acre Field.

  ‘I reckon that tractor’s about had its day. I’ll have to think about getting another before harvest next year,’ Frank said when he and Michael returned home after ten in the evening, looking exhausted.

  When Harriet decreed, ‘Supper and bed for the pair of you,’ neither of them had the strength left to argue.

  As he passed Maddie’s chair on his way upstairs, Michael put his hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, young’un. Maybe tomorrow night, eh?’

  But the next night was the same; too late and too tired.

  ‘I told you so,’ Nick said. ‘Makes all sorts of promises he’s no intention of keeping.’

  Maddie shot Nick a vitriolic glance, but said nothing.

  On Friday night, Michael came into the kitchen where Maddie was standing at the sink washing up the supper dishes.

  ‘Come into the front room when you’ve finished. We’d better have that dancing lesson.’

  Maddie hurried through the rest of her work and was soon scurrying through to the front room.

  ‘Are we allowed in here?’ she asked peering round the door. ‘Mrs Trowbridge is looking daggers already.’

  Michael had pushed back the huge leather settee and the armchairs from the centre of the room.

  ‘Never mind Mrs T.’ He wound up the gramophone and placed a record on the turntable. ‘What are you standing there for? Come on in.’ He paused whilst he bent over the gramophone, lifted up the head and gently placed the needle on the edge of the record. As the strains of ‘In the Mood’ filled the room, Michael straightened up and held out his arms to her. Maddie moved towards him and felt his arm go around her waist and his left hand take hold of her right. Her legs felt weak with love for him.

  Though holding her, he stood a little apart from her, teaching her the steps. Their heads were close together as they both looked down at their feet.

  ‘Don’t worry too much,’ he told her. ‘Just get the feel of the music. The rhythm. Like this, see?’ He swayed in time to the beat of the music and, watching his feet, Maddie copied him.