The Tulip Girl

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘That’s great!’ he said. ‘I reckon you’re a natural.’

  They heard the door open and glanced up to see Nick watching them, hands thrust deep into his pockets as usual.

  ‘Want to join the dancing class?’ Michael shouted above the music.

  For a moment there was a look of longing on the younger boy’s face, rather like a child outside a sweet-shop window with his nose pressed to the pane but with no money in his pocket to buy anything. ‘Mam ses it’s time Maddie was in bed.’

  The music slowed to a growl as the gramophone wound down and Michael let go of Maddie and hurried across to turn the handle vigorously.

  ‘Go on.’ Looking at Nick, Michael nodded his head towards Maddie. ‘You two have a dance. You can come with us tomorrow night, Nick, if you like.’

  Maddie opened her mouth to say, Oh no, I just want it to be the two of us, Michael, when she saw the pleasure leap into Nick’s eyes. Suddenly, she felt an affinity with the boy. She knew what it was to be the odd one out. The one outside always looking in. Mistakenly, she had thought he couldn’t possibly be lonely, not living here. He was part of a family; he had a proper home. But now she saw that with a joyless mother, living in a house that was not theirs and with the handsome, ever-cheerful Michael who was like a brother, but not a brother, Nick was perhaps even more lost and lonely than she had been. At least she had always known exactly what she was. He was like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that belonged to the picture, but somehow just didn’t quite fit.

  So Maddie smiled and beckoned him towards the middle of the room. ‘Come on, then. If we dance, Michael can watch and tell us what we’re doing wrong.’

  Half an hour later, the three of them were helpless with laughter, dancing round in a circle, their arms entwined across each other’s shoulders like Russian dancers. They didn’t hear the door open again until Harriet’s strident voice made them all jump and spring guiltily apart.

  ‘Nicholas! What on earth do you think you are doing? Get to bed at once. And as for you, girl, you can pack your bags and leave. Right now.’

  Maddie blanched at the threat, but stood her ground. ‘You can’t sack me. Only Mr Frank can do that.’

  The woman stepped closer to her. ‘I hired you. I can fire you.’

  Maddie bit her lip. The first bit was true, so maybe she could.

  ‘Now, now, Mrs T,’ Michael began, moving towards her and attempting to put his arm around the housekeeper’s shoulders. But she shrugged him off.

  ‘Don’t you “Mrs T” me. You and your flannel. You might think you can charm all the village girls and this one here too. But it dun’t work on me.’

  ‘But I take the blame, Mrs T. It was all my fault. I’m taking Maddie to the dance tomorrow night and she can’t . . .’

  ‘Oh no, you’re not. You’re most certainly not.’

  Michael sighed and glanced towards Maddie. ‘You’d better go to bed, young’un. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’

  ‘In the morning,’ Harriet declared as she turned and marched out of the room, ‘she’ll be gone.’

  Fifteen

  Maddie hardly slept. She was torn between memories of being in Michael’s arms and the final threat from Mrs Trowbridge hanging over her.

  Could Michael really like her? she asked the darkness. She knew she had changed since she had first come to Few Farm. Good food and fresh air had made her grow and fill out in all the right places. Lying in her narrow bed, she ran her hands down her body, feeling the soft mound of her breasts, the tautness of her stomach and the growing pubic hair. She wished it were Michael’s hands caressing her and at the mere thought a thrill of excitement gripped her, tingled in her groin.

  She gave a groan as she turned on her side and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. By the morning, she might well be gone from the farm. Maybe she would never see Michael again.

  ‘She’s going nowhere, Harriet. And if you’ll take my advice, you’ll let the three of them go to the village dance tonight. What harm can it do, for Heaven’s sake? They’re young. They all work hard. These two lads – aye, your Nick as well – do men’s work. At the end of the week, they deserve a bit of fun. And the lass does too. Heaven knows, she must have had precious little of it in her life so far.’

  The quarrel was going on right in front of her as Maddie stood waiting for her fate to be decided. There was no escape. She couldn’t turn and leave the room. She was forced to stand there, listening to it all. And yet they seemed to have forgotten her presence.

  ‘Fun? Fun, you say? Life’s not meant to be fun. When have I ever had any fun?’

  ‘Harriet,’ Frank’s tone was softer, ‘you must have been in love once. When you married . . .’

  Harriet’s face was purple and to Maddie’s horror, she actually shook her fist in Frank’s face. ‘Don’t you even speak his name in my hearing. Not after what he did to me.’

  ‘My dear, you’re letting the bitterness eat you up. And it’s destroying Nick’s life too. You can’t keep him locked up here with you for ever.’

  ‘He’s got his blood in his veins. Bad blood. I’ve got to save him from himself.’

  ‘He’s a boy. Just a boy. Let him go with them tonight, eh?’

  Harriet turned away. ‘You do what you like with your own son, Mr Frank, and with the girl. I wash my hands of her. If she brings trouble to your door, don’t look to me for help. As for Nicholas, he’s my son and he’ll do as I say.’

  She marched from the room and they heard her banging pans onto the stove in the kitchen. Frank turned to Maddie. ‘Run along, lass, and help with the milking. I’ll be out in a minute.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Frank.’ She turned and scuttled through the kitchen and the wash-house and out of the back door. She was not to be sent away. She could stay here – with Michael. But her relationship with Mrs Trowbridge was getting worse by the minute.

  She was subdued the rest of the day, concentrating on not doing anything silly, working hard and anxious not to make any mistakes.

  It was strange now, she thought, trying to understand her own feelings. She had never cared before about trying to please anyone. At the Home, she had invariably been in bother and had, quite justly her honest nature reminded her, deserved the title of troublemaker. Whatever dire punishment had been threatened and usually inflicted upon her had never deterred her. Madeleine March had gone her own way to the despair of Mrs Potter and the admiration of her peers.

  But now she felt vulnerable. Now she didn’t want to be sent away from Few Farm in disgrace. She wanted to stay here, close to Michael, and it was her feelings for him, she realized, that made her defenceless. Loving someone made you weak, she thought. Perhaps that was what it was like to be part of a family. You behaved yourself because you didn’t want to hurt or upset those you loved. You didn’t want to give them cause to be angry with you because you would then be hurt in turn by their anger.

  Maddie sighed. It was all very complicated. Having feelings made life complicated. It had been much easier at the Home where no one had cared for her and she hadn’t cared for anyone, she thought. Except little Jenny, of course.

  Less complicated it might have been, she thought, as she caught sight of Michael drawing the milk cart into the yard, but she wouldn’t go back to the Home in a million years. And as he saw her, waved, jumped down from the cart and came towards her with long, loping strides, her heart gave a lurch.

  Not even for a million pounds, would she go back.

  ‘If I had my way, girl, you’d be back to that orphanage before your feet could touch the ground.’

  For one unguarded moment, Maddie was rash enough to answer back. ‘Well, it ain’t up to you, is it? Mr Frank’s the boss around here. Not you.’

  ‘Why you . . .’

  They were standing in the bathroom, open to the landing, where Maddie had been washing her hair in the washbasin there in readiness for her night out with Michael. Now she stood, rubbing it dry with a towel. Soon, the soft shining blonde ha
ir framed her face and her blue eyes met Harriet’s resentful expression squarely.

  The woman was staring at her and now it was not with rage, but something else. Some sort of emotion that Maddie could not put a name to.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Maddie asked.

  The woman jumped, startled out of her own reverie. ‘Eh? What? Oh – er . . .’ Then she seemed to recover herself and she stepped closer and thrust her face close to Maddie’s. ‘Bad blood. You’ve bad blood in you, girl, that’s what. I can see it in you by just looking at you.’

  She turned away and Maddie heard the door of the housekeeper’s bedroom slam.

  Maddie blinked and shook her head. ‘Funny woman,’ she muttered. ‘Seems obsessed with “bad blood” in everybody.’ She had even said it of her own son.

  Suddenly, for all his moody ways, Maddie felt acutely sorry for young Nick Trowbridge.

  They heard the music and laughter from the village hall even before they reached it. Maddie clung to Michael’s arm, suddenly unaccountably nervous.

  ‘I don’t know if I dare go in.’

  Michael strained to see her through the darkness. ‘Not scared, young’un, are you? Not you, surely?’

  ‘Well, I am a bit. You won’t leave me and go off with other girls, will you? I expect there’ll be some here who knew me at school.’ She pulled a wry face. ‘The village girls never liked us. Some of their parents didn’t like them mixing with the likes of us from the Home.’

  Michael’s face was a study. ‘You’re kidding me.’

  Maddie pursed her mouth. ‘I only wish I was.’

  ‘Well then,’ he tucked her hand firmly into his arm, ‘tonight, we’ll show ’em. You just stick with me.’

  To Maddie’s surprise, he was as good as his word, he did not leave her for a moment the whole evening. In the lull between the dancing he paraded her around the room as if showing her off to everyone and Maddie was secretly thrilled when more than one local girl cast furious glances in her direction. Only one dared to approach and, winding her arms about Michael’s neck, said, ‘I hope you’re saving the last waltz for me, Michael Brackenbury, and seeing me safely home as usual.’ The emphasis on the final two words was not lost on Maddie.

  Gently Michael unfastened the girl’s hold around his neck. ‘Not tonight, Susan. I’ve to look after Maddie.’

  Susan turned huge, innocent eyes upon Maddie. But in their depths the look was not so guileless. ‘She’ll be fine, won’t you? All the boys are panting to dance with her. Let her have a bit of fun.’

  ‘I don’t want to dance with anyone else, thanks,’ Maddie said quickly, returning the girl’s stare, which was rapidly turning frosty. Now there was not even the pretence of friendliness. ‘I’m with Michael.’

  With the merest hint of emphasis on the word ‘I’, Maddie staked her claim.

  The girl glanced back at Michael, who made no effort to contradict Maddie, so Susan shrugged. ‘Have it your own way then.’ And she flounced away, heels tapping angrily on the floor, her full skirt bouncing as she walked.

  ‘Oops, I think I’ve upset her,’ Maddie said, not in the least contrite.

  Michael laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it. Susan was getting far too possessive for my liking, anyway. Do her good.’

  For a fleeting moment, Maddie wondered if he was using her to rid himself of Susan, but as he drew her into his arms for the lilting last waltz, she forgot all about the other girl and even about poor Nick left sulking at home, too afraid to rebel against his mother.

  It was a beautiful evening, but already the sharpness of autumn was in the air. Leaving the village, they walked into the pitch blackness of the lane leading to the farm.

  ‘I love the dark nights, don’t you?’ Michael said, pulling her closer.

  Maddie thought about her life in the Home. Bedtime was an hour earlier in winter in a freezing dormitory where the whole night was punctuated by the sound of one or other of the girls coughing and sneezing with colds or flu. On winter mornings, the girls woke to find ice on the inside of the windows and had to run, shivering, to the washroom to wash in cold water.

  No, she thought, she didn’t like winter and doubted she ever would.

  When she didn’t answer, Michael said, ‘It’ll be Christmas before we know it. What do you want Father Christmas to bring you, eh?’

  In the darkness, Maddie grinned. ‘Just you.’

  ‘Eh?’ Close beside her, she felt him give a start. ‘What do you mean – just me?’

  ‘I’d like you for Christmas.’

  ‘What?’ Now he was laughing, joining in her fun. ‘All done up in pretty paper and tied up with tinsel?’

  ‘If you like. Then you’d be all mine and I could play with you all day.’

  His arm tightened around her waist. ‘Oh Maddie,’ he whispered close to her ear. ‘You’re a little darling. Do you know that?’

  She didn’t answer, didn’t know how to. Michael stopped and in the middle of the lane, beneath the bright stars and the fitful moon, he put his arms around her and held her close. She lifted her face and felt his mouth warm upon hers.

  ‘Don’t be frightened,’ he murmured. ‘I won’t hurt you. I won’t ever hurt you. You’re my girl now and I’ll always look after you. I promise. I love you, Maddie.’

  As he said the magical words, words that had never before in the whole of her young life been said to her, Maddie let the love that was in her heart for him overflow.

  ‘And I love you, Michael. I’ve loved you from that very first day when I was sweeping the hearth.’

  He laughed softly, his breath warming her cold cheeks. ‘You had a smut on your nose, did you know?’

  They laughed softly together, even though there was no one out here in the darkness to hear them.

  He kissed her again and then they walked on slowly, their arms entwined around each other. ‘What about your dad? Will he mind?’

  ‘’Course not. He’s very fond of you, you know. I can tell. Specially when he sticks up for you against Mrs T.’

  ‘Is she – I mean – are they . . .?’

  ‘Sharing the same bed?’ he said bluntly.

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘Lord, no. Who’d want to make love to that sourpuss?’

  There was silence between them. Maddie longed to ask what had happened to his own mother, but their newfound closeness was so new, so fragile, that she dared not risk breaking the beauty of the moment.

  He must have read her mind, for he said, ‘Me mam died when I was born and for a while me dad coped with the help of his sister, who came here for a few months, and then later with help from the village. That’s one of the good things about village life, you know. They do rally round when someone’s in trouble. Mind you, the down side is that everybody knows everybody else’s business. But there you are, I suppose you can’t have one without the other.’

  She was silent as he went on. ‘Anyway, when I was about two, dad heard that Mrs T’s husband had died in tragic circumstances and she’d been left with a tiny baby. So he did his own bit of rallying and asked her if she’d like to come and be his housekeeper and look after me.’

  ‘How did her husband die?’

  ‘Dunno. I’ve never been told and if you even so much as mention the subject she goes off the deep end.’

  ‘Does Nick know?’

  ‘Shouldn’t think so. Even he’s not allowed to ask questions.’

  ‘Not about his own father?’ She was astounded. ‘That seems unfair.’

  ‘Mm.’ Michael was thoughtful. ‘I have wondered if there’s some dark secret about it all. I mean, I wonder if he went off with some other woman or something. Maybe he’s not even dead at all. There’s no grave in the churchyard. I know, because I’ve looked.’

  Maddie laughed. ‘You nosy parker, you.’

  ‘Well, you’d think if he’d just died, or even been killed, that she would talk to Nick about him. I mean me dad doesn’t talk a lot about me mam, because it upsets him. Bu
t if ever I ask about her, he will tell me.’

  They had arrived at the farmyard now and the house was in darkness.

  ‘Let’s go into the hay shed,’ Michael whispered. ‘We’ll be lovely and warm in there.’

  As Michael opened the rickety door, the squeaking noise it made sounded loud in the stillness.

  ‘There – there aren’t any rats in here, are there?’ Maddie asked nervously. ‘I don’t like rats.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were scared of anything, young’un,’ he teased and then, sensing that she really was afraid, he added swiftly, ‘Don’t worry. We do get them in here sometimes. Wherever there’s animal feed, you’ll always get Mr Rat and his family. But we keep a supply of poison and put some down regularly. Besides . . .’ he paused as he laid his jacket on the hay for her and then put his arms around her. ‘I’m here to look after you.’

  They snuggled down together, side by side. He kissed her and held her close and whilst her knowledge of kissing and petting was non-existent, Maddie found herself responding with a naturalness that surprised her. Even shocked her a little. Perhaps, after all, a little corner of her mind whispered, you have got bad blood in you, just like Mrs Potter and Mrs Trowbridge said.

  But then Michael was kissing her with such ardour that every other thought was swept from her mind.

  Sixteen

  ‘I know where you were last night.’ Nick’s tone was sly.

  Maddie glanced at him, puzzled. Of course he knew where they had been. At the dance. What was he on about?

  ‘So?’

  ‘There was bits of hay all over our bedroom floor this morning. Just you wait till me mam goes up there. You’ll be for it. She’s not daft neither.’

  Now Maddie hid her face against the cow’s side, her fingers trembling as she gently squeezed the milk from the beast’s udder. Oh no, she thought. How could Michael have been so thoughtless? She had been so careful to remove every trace of hay from her clothing when she had got to her room. She’d pushed it all into an old paper bag and had thrust it into the stove in the kitchen this morning.