They glanced at each other, remembering Harriet’s suggestion.
They heard the splashing of water and Maddie narrowed her eyes to look down the lane. ‘There’s somebody coming.’
‘Really? Can you see who it is?’
‘It’s Jenny!’ Maddie cried in delight and was about to jump down into the lane when Michael caught hold of her.
‘No. You mustn’t. We mustn’t go out of the yard. She can come to the gate, but she can’t come in.’
‘I’m sorry. I forgot,’ Maddie said at once.
Michael remained standing with one arm around Maddie’s waist, making no move to remove his hold on her.
‘Maddie!’ Jenny called and waved as she clumped along the lane in oversize Wellington boots. ‘Are you all right? All of you?’
Panting a little, she stood a few feet from them and read the large notice saying ‘FOOT AND MOUTH PRECAUTION – KEEP OUT’. Jen pulled a face but then gave a little nod, understanding at once that she must stay in the lane.
‘Where’s Nick? Is he all right?’ Jenny’s glance went beyond them to search the yard.
‘He’s about somewhere.’ He raised his voice and bellowed, ‘Nick? You there, Nick? Young lady to see you.’
But the yard was empty and silent and Michael made no effort to move away to find him.
‘Never mind. I’ll see him another time, maybe?’ Jenny said. ‘Do you want anything bringing from the village if you can’t go out?’
‘We’re fine, Jenny,’ Michael said, ‘but it’s lovely to see you.’
‘I got permission to come,’ Jenny said, proud of her own initiative. ‘I asked at the police station and the man there said as long as I got some boots and was sure to wash them well in the disinfectant.’ She gestured back towards the hollow through which she had just splashed. ‘Mrs Grange lent me these boots.’
‘Mrs Grange? Her at the corner shop in the village?’ Michael said.
‘That’s right.’ Jenny was beaming now. ‘That’s what I’ve come to tell you, Maddie. I’ve got a job there and – best of all – I live in.’
‘Oh Jen. I’m so glad. Oh I want to hug you, but I mustn’t.’
The younger girl’s face clouded. ‘Is it that bad? I mean, I can’t catch it, can I?’
‘Well, there is a human form of it, but it’s usually harmless,’ Michael said. ‘It’s more to prevent you carrying it on your clothes to other places, see?’
The girl nodded.
‘Tell me more about Mrs Grange and how you got the job. Did Mrs Potter arrange it?’
Jenny looked happier than Maddie could ever remember having seen her. ‘No, I got it for myself. She’d taken me to a few places. You remember about the flower packing?’
Maddie nodded.
‘Well, there were one or two other places, but always I was too small, not old enough or not strong enough.’ Jenny frowned. ‘D’you know, Maddie, it was almost as if she was taking me for jobs where she really knew I hadn’t a chance of getting them.’
‘She probably did, Jen. I wouldn’t put anything past Mrs Potter.’
‘But why? I mean, she always wants to be rid of us all as soon as we’re old enough.’
‘Not everybody. She keeps her chosen few on as staff. She kept Peggy on, didn’t she? And Winifred. And it looks to me as if she’d her eye on you for the vacancy as kitchen maid.’
‘But I wasn’t one of her chosen ones.’
Maddie grinned. ‘Not when you were with me, you weren’t. But maybe since I left . . .’ She left the words unspoken but they both knew that it had always been Maddie who had been the ringleader, the troublemaker. Jenny, on her own, was biddable and docile. Just the sort that Mrs Potter liked for her skivvies.
‘Well,’ Jenny puffed out her chest. ‘I thought about what you said and decided there was no way I was going to stay there, so after school instead of going straight home, I started asking round a bit in the village to see if there were any jobs going and, guess what?’ She clapped her hands together. ‘When I went into the corner shop and asked Mrs Grange if she knew of anyone who might be looking for someone she said, “Well, now, in’t that funny,” ’ Jenny mimicked Mrs Grange’s broad Lincolnshire dialect perfectly. ‘ “I were just thinking I’d like to get mesen a lass to help in the shop, like.” ’
Maddie and Michael clutched at each other, laughing at Jenny’s clowning. ‘Anyway,’ the girl went on in her normal voice. ‘I went several times to chat to her and last week I told Mrs Potter and moved my things out of the Home and into a lovely little room all of my own in Mrs Grange’s place above the shop. There’s pretty curtains at the window and even a bit of carpet on the floor. A comfy bed and a chest of drawers for my things. Not that I’ve got many, but I’ve got Miss Amelia sitting on the top of the chest.’
Michael laughed. ‘Miss Amelia?’
Jenny nodded. ‘The doll that Nick won at the fair. Maddie gave it to me and I called it Miss Amelia because we’d seen her that day in the car. You remember?’
‘Oh, yes. So we did.’
‘What did Mrs Potter say?’ Maddie asked.
Jenny pulled a comical face. ‘She wasn’t very pleased. Said why did I want to leave when she had a nice little job all sorted out for me in the kitchen?’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘Oh, well, I daren’t tell her the truth. I mean, I couldn’t tell her that I didn’t want to stay there all my life, could I?’
‘I would have done.’
‘Well, yes,’ Jenny glanced down, ‘but I didn’t like to.’
‘I expect you’re too nice to hurt the old girl’s feelings. Is that it, Jenny?’ Michael said and Maddie glared down at him.
‘I suppose you mean, I’m not “too nice” then?’
Michael looked up at her but before he could answer, Jenny blurted out, ‘No, it’s not that. I’m just too scared, that’s all.’
‘But you weren’t too scared to get out and find yourself a job. Well done, little Jenny, I say,’ Michael smiled at her.
Maddie pushed Michael’s arm away and jumped down from the gate. ‘We’d better go in. It’s nearly tea-time. ’Bye, Jen. You’d better not come again, though. I’ll see you when we’re let out.’
Then she turned and marched across the yard without a backward glance.
She heard Jenny’s plaintive voice. ‘But Maddie, it’ll soon be Christmas. I’ll see you at Christmas, won’t I?’
She did not turn nor answer her even though she could feel their eyes on her. Jenny’s puzzled and hurt, and Michael . . . Well she dare not think about the way Michael might be looking at her.
Nineteen
Christmas was a miserable affair. Although they were no longer confined to the farm, they were still asked to take meticulous precautions and none of them seemed inclined to leave it. Not even Michael wanted to go into the village to the pub or to a dance.
‘They’ll only start asking questions,’ he told Maddie. ‘And I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve got to look forward now and plan what we’re going to do.’
‘Yes, but what are we going to do? Your dad won’t even talk about it.’
‘Well, he’ll have to soon because we can’t survive on a couple of acres of wheat and a few hens’ eggs.’
On Boxing Day morning, Maddie asked, ‘Mr Frank, could I ask Jenny to tea today, please?’
‘Of course you can, love.’
‘Oh aye,’ Harriet put in at once. ‘Another mouth to feed when we’ve scarcely enough for ourselves.’
‘I’ll go and see her this afternoon,’ Maddie said, as usual ignoring the housekeeper. She was anxious to make amends for the way she had treated Jenny the last time she saw her. Since the day she had stood outside the gate, Jenny – just as Maddie had told her – had not visited the farm again.
She loved Jenny dearly, she always had done, so why was it, she asked herself, that the moment Michael was even just nice t
o the younger girl, did she feel this awful jealousy, so acutely that made her act unkindly towards Jenny? It wasn’t Jenny’s fault. She didn’t play up to Michael or flirt with him. In fact, she always seemed a little in awe of him. So how could she, Maddie, be so horrible? Jenny was like a sister. Hadn’t they always said so? So how . . .? Maddie sighed. Not ever having lived in a proper family, she did not know how real sisters carried on. Perhaps, sometimes, even real sisters were jealous of each other. Especially if one was pretty and vulnerable; the sort that men liked to protect. And she didn’t blame Michael, not at all. He was just being kind to the young girl, she knew, probably for her sake too. He knew that Jenny was the closest Maddie had to real family and he wanted to make her welcome, so why . . .?
Maddie sighed and shook her head, angry with herself. ‘Just don’t do it any more,’ she told herself sharply as she put on her coat and left the house to walk to the village.
It seemed a long time since she had been into Mrs Grange’s corner shop. The bell clanged as she opened the door and she stepped into the fascinating world of the shop that sold everything from sweets in glass jars that lined one shelf, fruit drops and aniseed balls, through jars of Bovril, packets of Quaker Oats with the picture of a man in Quaker dress on the packet, tinned tongue and salmon and Heinz beans to packets of Lux soap flakes. In the centre of the counter in pride of place stood an ornate cash register showing that the last customer’s purchases had cost one pound four shillings and eleven pence ha’penny. Sacks of potatoes stood on the floor and along one counter was a line of second-hand books. Mrs Grange ran a lending library at one penny a loan.
There was a movement in the room at the back of the shop and Jenny appeared from behind the brown curtain across the doorway.
‘Maddie, oh Maddie.’ She rushed round the counter and flung herself against Maddie, who hugged her tightly.
‘Now then, you’re the little lass from Few Farm, aren’t you?’
Maddie looked up to see a woman had now appeared from the back room, dressed in a navy-blue skirt, a floral striped blouse with a brooch at the neck and a cardigan. She was small and dumpy but she smiled in welcome, her eyes bright behind round spectacles. Strangely, it seemed to Maddie, she wore a navy-blue felt hat, even indoors.
‘This is my friend Maddie, Mrs Grange.’
The woman shook her head sadly. ‘Aw lass, I’m real sorry to hear the trouble poor Mr Brackenbury’s had. And him such a good man, too.’ She shook her head. ‘It dun’t seem fair.’
‘Well, we’ve been “let out” now so he can start to get back to normal.’
The woman shook her head. ‘Not so easy, lass, is it? We’re lucky it didn’t spread, though. No one else has got it as I’ve heard.’ She chuckled. ‘And I’d be the first to know.’
Maddie smiled as Mrs Grange chattered on. ‘Everyone’s very thankful that Mr Brackenbury was so honest. You know, telling the authorities straight away, like. Some farmers . . .’, she tapped the side of her nose, ‘might have been tempted to keep it quiet and treat them theirsens.’ She nodded knowingly. ‘It’s been done ’afore.’
Maddie swallowed.
‘But Frank Brackenbury’s a good man. He’s proved that and it’s not the first time, let me tell you.’ Mrs Grange wagged her finger at Maddie. ‘Oh, there’s a lot I could tell you about Frank Brackenbury, if I’d a mind.’
‘You mean, he’s had foot and mouth before?’
‘No, no, lass, not that. I didn’t mean that. I meant some of the things he’s done in his time has shown what a good man he is. Oh yes, I could tell you a thing or two.’
Maddie almost bit off the end of her tongue to stop her demanding at once, What things? But she managed to curb her curiosity. No doubt, she told herself, Jenny would soon hear everything, living with the local mine of information and she would always tell her best friend.
The shop bell clanged again as a customer stepped in and as Mrs Grange moved to serve her, Jenny whispered, ‘How are you all? How’s Nick and Michael?’
‘They’re all right, but everyone’s very fed up. Poor Mr Frank doesn’t seem to have the heart to get going again. And nobody else, not even Michael, can do anything without his approval.’
‘Oh dear. So you’ve not had a very good Christmas?’
Maddie pulled a face. ‘Not really. What about you? What did you do yesterday?’
‘Mrs Grange went to her sister’s the other side of the village and took me with her. Wasn’t that kind?’
‘Is the shop open all day today?’
‘No. Only for the morning. Just to let people get their milk. Now Michael can’t deliver they’re coming here for it.’
‘So, are you doing anything this afternoon, then?’
Jenny shook her head.
‘Would you like to come to the farm for tea?’
Jenny’s eyes lit up. ‘Ooh yes, please, Maddie. Will Nick be there too?’
Maddie laughed. ‘What’s all these questions about Nick? You sweet on him?’
The girl was blushing. ‘’Course not. He’s just – well – shy, isn’t he? Like me. I mean . . .’ The colour in her face deepened. ‘I mean, Michael’s lovely. So good-looking and – and confident. But he’d never look at someone like me. Besides . . .’ Now she smiled coyly at Maddie. ‘You like him, don’t you?’
‘Ssh.’ Maddie glanced around. ‘Not so loud.’
Jenny’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Does he like you?’
Maddie shrugged. ‘Well . . .’
‘Yes, he does.’ The young girl nudged her. ‘I could see last time I came. He’d got his arm round you. And the way he looked at you. I wish Nick would look at me like that.’
Maddie grinned and returned the playful nudge. She felt better now. At least Jenny had not set her sights on Michael. As far as she was concerned, Jenny could have the moody Nick and welcome to him.
‘I’ll see what I can do for you.’
When Jenny arrived at the farm later that afternoon, she shyly handed out a quarter of Butter Drops to everyone.
‘You shouldn’t have done that, love,’ Frank said. ‘It’s very kind of you.’
‘It’s kind of you to have me here.’
‘You’d have done better to have brought us a quarter of tea or a bag of sugar,’ Harriet said tartly.
‘Oh I’m sorry. I could have done, Mrs Trowbridge. I’ll bring some next time.’
‘No need, love,’ Frank put in swiftly. ‘Mrs Trowbridge is only teasing, aren’t you, Harriet?’
Maddie knew that the housekeeper never teased or joked but the look that Frank now gave her forced the woman to stretch a smile on her mouth and say, ‘Of course, Mr Frank.’
But as she turned away, Maddie heard the familiar sniff.
Michael had already popped one of the round brown sweets into his mouth. ‘Mmm, thank you, Jen.’ He winked at her but Maddie saw that Jenny’s eyes were on Nick. He flicked the hair out of his eyes and muttered, ‘Thanks.’ Then he smiled at her and seeing it, Maddie marvelled once again at the change in the boy’s appearance.
‘What shall we do ’til tea time? It’s too cold to go out.’
‘I’ll beat you all at Ludo,’ Michael offered.
Nick’s smile widened to a grin. ‘No, you won’t. I beat you last time.’
He hurried to the sideboard to get out the coloured board and the tiddlywinks that acted as each person’s marker.
‘Where’s the dice?’
‘Should be in the box.’
‘Oh yes, here it is.’
For the next hour, the four sat round the table playing Ludo, Nick becoming more and more animated as he began to win whilst Maddie and Michael, sitting close to each other, held hands beneath the table between their turns.
And then, when Jenny began to catch up to Nick who could not throw the final number he needed to win, the game became noisier and noisier until Harriet appeared in the doorway. ‘That’s enough. I can hear you out in the kitchen. You must be giving Mr Frank a he
adache.’
‘They’re all right, Harriet,’ came Frank’s voice from his deep armchair near the fire. ‘Let them have a bit of fun. There’s not been much in this house this Christmas.’
‘Well, I want the table now, if we’re to have any tea today.’
‘Three more goes each, then,’ Michael said, ‘and the one who’s got the most counters home has won.’
Ten minutes later Jenny was shouting gleefully, ‘That’s my last counter home. I’ve won, I’ve won.’
Harriet came to stand at the end of the table, waiting with the white cloth in her hands to spread it. ‘I could do with some help in the kitchen now, girl,’ she said to Maddie.
‘Can I help?’ Jenny offered.
‘No, no. You’re a guest,’ Michael said before the housekeeper could answer. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the piano in the front room. We usually light the fire in there at Christmas and play games, but this year, well . . .’
He said no more. There was no need to say that this year the family had had to cut expenses wherever they could.
As Maddie moved between kitchen and living room laying the table, she heard the murmur of voices from the best room. Then she heard the tinkle of the piano as Michael demonstrated the sound of the instrument to their guest.
He’s never once shown me the piano, Maddie thought. Was there, after all, some truth in what Nick said about Michael?
Swiftly, she tried to quell the rising resentment. Remember, she chided herself, Jen’s your sister – or as good as. No more jealousy. Besides, it isn’t Michael she likes, it’s Nick.
But who, the little voice inside her would not be silenced, liked Jenny? Nick – or Michael?
Twenty
The first snowfall came on the sixth of January, but Jenny still plodded from the village out to the farm to tell them, ‘Mrs Grange says her next allocation of Jaffa oranges will be coming soon. It’ll be one pound per ration book.’ Shyly, she slid a blue bag of sugar onto the table and glanced sideways at the housekeeper.
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