‘And you were very late in. I don’t think Mr Frank was best pleased either.’
Maddie quailed inwardly. This was worse than ever. Even Michael could not stand up to his father. If he was angry with her then . . .
‘Did he kiss you?’
Angry now, Maddie shot back, ‘That’s none of your business.’
Nick smirked. ‘So he did. I thought so. Well, you’re not the first. And you won’t be the last.’
Maddie opened her mouth to retort, but then she thought about the girl at the dance, remembering the intimate way she had spoken to Michael, the way she had looked at him.
Maddie swallowed. ‘Are you trying to get me into trouble?’ she said. ‘Go away and let me get on with me work.’
Nick gave a wry, humourless laugh. ‘I don’t have to make trouble for you. You’re doing a good job of that yourself. And as for “getting you into trouble”, if you know what I mean . . .?’ Again the smirk was back. ‘Well, Michael’ll do that for you, all right.’
‘You’re just jealous,’ she snapped.
Nick laughed. ‘I aren’t jealous of a little trollop like you.’ The name-calling sounded strange coming from the young boy’s mouth and Maddie knew instinctively that the words were not his own, but his mother’s. ‘A little bastard that nobody wants.’
Maddie stood up and faced him. ‘So why did she come to the Orphanage and pick a little bastard to come and work here, eh?’
‘You know why,’ Nick said nastily. ‘Because you ain’t no family to make trouble.’
‘The old beezum!’
‘Don’t you call my mother names.’
‘I’ll call her what I like and I don’t care if you do tell her, because one of these days, I’ll tell her mesen.’
Maddie picked up the buckets and marched past him on her way to the Dairy, the stirrings of pity she had begun to feel for this boy gone in an instant.
She was still dreading coming face to face with Frank, but when they all sat down together at the dinner table, he was smiling and, to her astonishment, he actually winked at her and said, ‘Enjoy yourself last night, little lady?’
Under the table she felt Michael’s foot gently touch hers, but she dared not risk a glance at him as she said, ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Frank.’
Close beside her she heard Harriet’s irritating sniff.
Towards the end of October as they were sitting down to supper one evening, Frank said, ‘I’ll be going to market this week, Michael. I’ve heard that old man Weatherall is giving up his farm and selling his stock.’
‘You’re not thinking of buying his cows, Dad, surely? He’s a mucky farmer.’
‘He used to be a very good farmer, son. But the last few years he’s got too old and ill to manage his farm properly. He’s no son to carry it on.’ There was a note of pride in his voice and yet his tone was tinged with pity for the man who had not been so fortunate as Frank believed himself to be. ‘I’ve heard tell he’s giving up all together. His beast are up for sale this week.’
Michael shrugged. ‘Never mind what he used to be, Dad. It’s what his herd’s like now that matters.’
‘Well, it’s worth a look anyway and they’ll be going cheap.’
‘Maybe so. But are they a good buy, Dad, or a bad buy?’
‘We’ll take a look, son. Just a look.’
At the beginning of November, three scrawny looking beast arrived at Few Farm.
‘I tried to tell him,’ Michael spread his hands as Maddie and Nick stood surveying Frank’s purchase. ‘But would he listen?’
‘Think you know more about cattle than your dad?’ Nick said.
Michael shot him a look. ‘Well, if he’s going to buy beast like these three, then yes, I reckon I do.’
‘They’ll be all right.’ Frank was coming towards them. ‘Once we’ve fattened them up a bit. Take them to the meadow, Maddie.’
‘Don’t you think we ought to keep them separate from our stock? Just for a few days at least?’
‘No, Michael, I don’t.’ It was the first time Maddie could remember hearing Frank speak sharply to his son. Then he asked a similar question to the one Nick had asked a few moments earlier. ‘Don’t you trust my judgement?’
‘Dad, it’s not that, it’s just . . .’ Michael’s voice petered away. ‘Oh all right, then. Have it your way.’
‘I will. They were a damned good price.’
‘They would be,’ Michael muttered, but he kept his voice so low now that only Maddie, standing close to him, heard.
‘Which field do you want them in, Mr Frank?’ Maddie asked quietly. Even with her limited knowledge, she, too, was worried by the sight of the cows. They looked neglected, as if they had not been fed properly for weeks.
Frank jerked his thumb in the direction of the field adjacent to the tulip field. ‘South End Meadow, lass.’
‘Right. Come on, Ben,’ Maddie called and the dog bounded towards her, his pink tongue lolling, his eyes bright and eager. But the cows ignored his excited barking and just continued to stand in the centre of the yard, their heads lowered, not moving an inch.
‘Come on, cush, cush,’ Maddie said and slapped the nearest one on its rump. She recoiled in horror as she felt the animal’s bones through its skin.
Frank was right about one thing, she thought, they certainly needed fattening up.
Slowly, almost painfully, the three cows lumbered out of the gate and, with Ben barking at their heels, turned to the left towards the meadow. Maddie looked up as a dark shadow passed over their heads, a flock of starlings wheeled and dived above her head. As she opened the gate and Ben cleverly guided the newcomers into the field to join the other beast, the birds swooped down into the field, some landing on the hind quarters of the cattle, others on the hedges and on the ground. Ben ran about, barking excitedly, so that some of the birds, startled, rose into the air once more. But those perching on the cows’ backs, were more daring and cocked their heads to one side to look down upon the dog with cheeky conceit.
Maddie laughed. ‘Come on, Ben. Leave them alone. They can’t do any harm.’ She closed the gate and whistled to the dog, who obeyed her reluctantly. All the way down the lane towards the farm, Ben kept stopping, his tongue hanging out, and glancing back towards the impudent starlings.
It was a week later when, in the mist of early morning, Maddie went to South End Meadow to fetch the cows for milking and she found one of Mr Weatherall’s cows lying dead in the middle of the field.
Seventeen
‘I told you not to buy old man Weatherall’s bloody rubbish.’ Michael was blazing as they stood over the dead beast.
‘Watch your tongue, boy. I won’t have that sort of language.’
‘Oh, you won’t, won’t you? Well, it’s enough to make a saint swear and I’m no saint. Who knows what it’s died of. It could have brought anything on to our farm that’ll infect our whole herd.’
‘Do you think I haven’t the sense to examine beast thoroughly before I buy? Give me some credit. They were undernourished, I grant you, but that was all.’ Even Frank’s voice rose to a roar now. ‘There was nothing wrong with them.’
Michael thrust his head forward and shouted, ‘Well, there is now.’
For a moment they glared at each other and Maddie noticed that Michael clenched and unclenched his hands, but he kept them firmly by his side. Suddenly, the anger seemed to drain out of Frank and his shoulders sagged. He took off his cap, ran his hand through his hair and then replaced his cap.
‘What’s done’s done,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s have a look at it before . . .’ His voice petered away as they both squatted down, one on either side of the beast, whilst Maddie stood near the animal’s head and watched.
‘Mr Frank,’ she began tentatively. ‘Its tongue’s hanging out of its mouth and it looks all sore, sort of blistered.’
‘What?’
She pointed and Frank moved to look at the animal’s mouth. Michael was looking at the feet.
‘There’s sores and blisters here too, Dad.’ His voice was flat now, sorrowful.
Maddie felt sudden fear as she watched father and son stare at each other, horror on their faces.
‘Oh no, lad, not that. Oh please, not that,’ Frank whispered hoarsely.
Soberly, Michael said, ‘I’m sorry, Dad, but I think it is. It’s foot and mouth.’
Frank stood up but his gaze was still on the cow lying at his feet. He drew the back of his hand across his forehead. ‘Let’s look at the rest of them.’
Rising too, Michael pointed across the field and said, ‘Look at that one over there. It’s got a trail of saliva hanging from its mouth. That’s another sign, isn’t it?’
Grimly, Frank agreed.
The three of them moved around the field inspecting the cattle.
‘Mr Frank,’ Maddie called. ‘This one’s lame. And – and it’s not one of Mr Weatherall’s. It’s one of yours.’
Frank shook his head and stood in the middle of the field looking for all the world as if he were lost.
Michael and Maddie walked back to him.
‘We’ve got it right enough,’ Frank said as they drew near to him.
‘What do we do, Dad?’
‘We’ll have to inform the local vet or the police – or both. Come on, let’s go back to the house.’
As they walked down the lane, Maddie slipped her hand into Michael’s and gave it a comforting squeeze, not caring, for once, if his father saw them. Michael gripped her hand in return and, even though no words were spoken, she could feel his despair.
When they reached the farmyard, Michael put his head round the cowshed door and called, ‘Nick, come into the house a minute.’
The boy appeared. ‘Why? Where’s the cows? Everything’s ready.’
Michael, already walking towards the back door of the house, merely beckoned him. Shrugging, Nick followed.
Inside, Frank sat down at the table, resting his arms on it. ‘Get us a cup of tea, lass, would you?’ and Maddie, glad to have something to do, picked up the teapot.
Michael, too, sat down at the table, opposite his father. Once more the two exchanged sober glances.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Nick began as his mother came into the room from upstairs. She blinked as she saw everyone sitting there at the time when the milking should be in full swing. Her startled glance came to rest on Frank and she stood very still, waiting to hear the answer to Nick’s question.
‘One of Weatherall’s cows is dead,’ Frank began and glanced again at his son as he added heavily, ‘and it’s got blisters in its mouth and on its feet.’
Harriet gave a cry and her hand fluttered to her mouth. ‘Oh no, Frank.’ In her agitation she quite forgot the ‘Mr’ but no one other than Maddie seemed to notice.
Quietly, Maddie placed a cup of tea in front of Frank and then pushed one towards Michael.
Frank spooned sugar into the liquid and stirred it, intent on his action. ‘That’s it, then. We’re finished.’
‘No, we’re not.’ Harriet’s voice was shrill. She sat down at the end of the table and leaned towards Frank. ‘Why don’t you bury it and say nowt? You keep an eye on all the rest and if any of them get it, you can isolate them in the barn and treat them.’
Slowly Frank lifted his head as everyone turned to look at her.
‘It’s a notifiable disease, Mrs T,’ Michael said. ‘We can’t do that.’
‘Who’s to know?’ Harriet snapped at him, her gaze leaving Frank for a moment. ‘We can isolate ourselves too. No one need leave the farm for a while. We’ve plenty of food . . .’
‘We can’t do that,’ Michael repeated. ‘And supposing we did, what about the milk round? People will soon know something was wrong when I don’t turn up with their milk every morning and I can hardly supply the locals with milk from a herd that’s got foot and mouth.’
‘But it’s treatable. I’ve heard of it being done. Way back in ’23 there was a case where a big estate got it and they got permission to be isolated. They only lost two or three. If you tell the authorities, Mr Frank, they’ll slaughter all your cattle, every last one, and the pigs too, and where’s your living to come from then, eh? And they’ll probably kill everyone’s for several miles around. They’ll close the market. You know they will. Think what hardship that’ll cause.’
‘There’s not that many farmers with cattle around here, Mrs T, you know there aren’t. It’s not a cattle area, so . . .’
‘So all the more reason to keep quiet about it. We can keep it contained.’
‘That wasn’t what I had been going to say,’ Michael said.
‘Do you want to see your father ruined?’
‘Of course not, but . . .’
‘So who’s to know,’ Harriet said again, and this time there was a veiled threat in her words, ‘unless someone tells ’em?’
Frank stood up and leaned on his knuckles on the table. Looking at Harriet he said, ‘I am not going to do anything against the law. We’ll notify whoever we have to.’ Then he looked towards his son. ‘Michael’s right. I’ve only myself to blame. I should have known better than to buy those beast of Weatherall’s.’
‘We can’t be sure how they got it,’ Michael said. His anger had died now and already he was prepared to be more understanding. ‘I mean, they say it can be carried on the wind or brought by birds . . .’
‘Oh!’ Maddie could not stop the cry escaping her lips even though she clapped her hand to her mouth. Wide-eyed she stared from one to the other. Now everyone turned to look at her.
‘What is it, love?’ Frank asked.
Slowly she let her hand fall away from her mouth. ‘Oh Mr Frank. The – the day Mr Weatherall’s cows arrived and I took them to the field . . .’
‘Yes, lass, what about it?’
‘There – there was a huge flock of starlings landed in the field. Some even sat on the cows’ backs. Ben was barking, trying to frighten them away, but – but . . .’ She bit her lip. ‘But I brought him away. I – I said they couldn’t do any harm. Oh Mr Frank, I didn’t know. Ben knew, but I didn’t.’
There was a moment’s silence and then Frank, even amidst the drama of the moment, actually laughed. He moved and put his arm around her shoulders.
‘It’s not your fault, love. How many times a day do you think birds land in the field or take a ride on a cow’s back when we’re not there to shoo them off?’
‘I – don’t know.’
‘Exactly. We can’t be there every minute of the day watching over them. If it has been carried by the birds, there’s not a thing we could have done about it.’
‘Really?’ Maddie felt comforted but she still felt very guilty because she had not followed Ben’s example and frightened the flock of starlings away.
Frank gave her a quick squeeze, then he sighed. ‘Well, I’d better go and get it over with.’
‘If you’re going down to the phone box in the village, Dad, don’t forget to disinfect your boots before you go. There’s some in the barn, I’ll get it for you.’
As the three menfolk left the house, Harriet stepped towards Maddie and gripped her arm. ‘You! I might have known you’d have had a hand in all this. You’ve brought nothing but trouble to this house from the moment you stepped into it.’
Eighteen
All Frank’s cattle and his two pigs had been slaughtered and their carcasses burnt. That day had been heartbreaking for everyone on Few Farm. Even the slaughterman who came to carry out the operation did so in silence, the sympathy on his face plain to see. Then the dead cattle were piled in the middle of South End Meadow. Michael stacked bales of straw, wood and old tyres around them and in amongst them and doused the whole lot in diesel. The fire burned for two days and at the end of it Michael and Nick had to dig a hole as deep as they could to bury the ashes and then fill it in again.
Since then, the family had been confined to the farm and hollows had been dug in the lane on the approaches to the fa
rm and filled with disinfectant.
‘It’s like having the plague,’ Michael muttered, leaning against the five-barred gate leading into the farmyard, which had been closed and padlocked. For several days after they had made the awful discovery, Nick had sat on top of the gate, Frank’s shotgun across his knees as a warning to inquisitive sightseers. From time to time they had heard a bang as he took a pot-shot at birds flying over the farm.
‘I don’t know what good he thinks he’s doing,’ Michael had muttered.
Maddie had sighed. ‘I think he’s just taking his anger and frustration out on them.’
‘Well, I think he’s venting his anger in the wrong direction. He should shoot old man Weatherall!’
Maddie had said no more. She knew Michael didn’t really mean what he said but the fact that the thought even came into his mind, never mind the words actually passing his lips, told her the depth of his bitterness.
Now Maddie climbed up and sat on the topmost bar of the gate. ‘I bet you miss your milk round, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I do. Funny, I always used to moan about having to get up so early seven days a week but now I can’t go, I’d love to be out there on the cart meeting all the old dears bringing out their milk cans.’
‘You will again,’ Maddie said, touching his shoulder. ‘Soon.’
‘We could restock but Dad doesn’t seem to have the heart now.’
‘Well then, when the authorities give permission, you’ll have to be the one to do it,’ Maddie said determinedly.
Michael smiled up at her. It was the first time she had seen him smile since their dreadful discovery, but even now it was only fleeting as he added worriedly, ‘I really don’t know what to do. The infection thrives in the cold, you know, and I don’t reckon even the regulations allow long enough to let the land get really clear of it.’
‘But no one else round here has got it, have they?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. The chap from the Ministry or the Council or wherever he was from, congratulated us on our prompt action and said we’d probably saved the whole area from an epidemic.’
The Tulip Girl Page 11