‘You did well to get all you did,’ Harriet was smiling at him, her hero of the hour. She placed a plate of bacon, eggs, fried bread and sausage before him. ‘That’s the last of the eggs. The hens have stopped laying, but you’ve earned it.’
‘How are things in the town? Are they running short of supplies?’
Michael, his mouth full, shook his head. ‘Not really. There’s talk of supplies being dropped by plane to outlying farms that are cut off if they put something out in the snow that will show up. We could try that if it goes on much longer.’
‘Oh surely we’ll have a thaw soon.’
Michael’s face sobered. ‘There’s going to be even more trouble when we do. When this lot melts, the river’s never going to cope with the volume of water.’
There was silence around the table until Frank said, ‘There’s going to be floods, you mean?’
As Michael nodded, Frank let out a low groan of final defeat.
When the thaw started, Michael’s foreboding came true.
‘What are we going to do? First, foot and mouth and now this. We’re ruined.’ Frank had taken to his chair by the range once more. He sat with his elbows on the chair arms and dropped his head into his hands.
Michael stood on the peg rug in front of him. ‘Come on, Dad, don’t give up. At least the water hasn’t come into the house, nor even the outbuildings. We’ve not got it as bad as some poor folks, ’specially in the town. They’ve been sandbagging the banks of the river, but they’re fighting a losing battle because some of the streets are lower than the river level. Their homes are in danger of being flooded, Dad. And south of the town, they say it’s much worse.’
The area Michael referred to was low, flat fenland that regularly flooded when the swollen Welland overflowed its banks.
‘I know. I know there’s a lot worse off than us, but . . . Oh it’s just – everything. I don’t even think it’ll be worth trying to plant crops, the land will be so water-logged.’
‘We can get a new herd. Start again.’
Frank shook his head helplessly. ‘What’s the use?’
Michael glanced at Maddie and then back to his father. He tried again. ‘Come on, Dad, surely you’ve received clearance from the authorities, haven’t you?’
Frank’s only reply was a disconsolate shrug.
‘But there must be something in all that paperwork you’ve been getting to say we can restock by now?’
‘I don’t know, lad. I haven’t had the heart to read it. Just – just the instructions for what we had to do to deal with the outbreak . . .’ His husky voice petered out.
Frank Brackenbury was a broken man. His years of struggle to make a meagre living had ended in defeat. All because of a disease and now the worst winter he could remember. Something he couldn’t have foreseen, couldn’t deal with and didn’t know how to fight.
‘We’ll have lost the milk round anyway after all this time. Once folks find they can get their milk elsewhere, they’re not going to come back to us, are they? Not just out of loyalty.’
Michael forced a laugh. ‘I’m sure all my old dears would be delighted to have their handsome milkman back again.’
But Frank could not even raise a smile.
‘Well, if you don’t want to restock with beast,’ Michael was trying his best to be enthusiastic, ‘how about we use all the land for crops of some sort? Plough up the meadows. What about extending our acreage of potatoes or caulis?’
The man shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I think we’d have to get Sir Peter’s approval to do that. To change the use of his land. And I don’t even know if there are any sort of regulations about growing foodstuff on land that has been infected with the foot and mouth.’
‘We can find that out one way or the other.’ Michael was refusing to be defeated.
Maddie closed her eyes for a moment against the distress on Frank’s face, against the worry creasing Michael’s handsome features. The picture that came suddenly into her mind’s eye made her reel with the excitement of it. The sheer, blinding beauty and the simplicity of it made her heart miss a beat and then thud loudly in her chest. She swayed and reached out for the edge of the table to steady herself.
‘Maddie. What is it? What’s the matter?’ Michael’s voice was full of concern as he caught hold of her arm to steady her.
Her eyes flew open. ‘Nothing. At least . . .’ She moved to Frank’s side and touched his shoulder. ‘Mr Frank, I’ve got an idea.’
The man looked up slowly, but before he could speak Harriet’s shrill voice sounded as she came into the room from the kitchen. It was obvious she had been listening to every word that had been said. ‘You? Got an idea? And how do you think a chit of a girl like you is going to come up with an idea if a man like Mr Frank can’t . . .?’
Maddie felt Frank watching her closely. She knew he could see the fire in her eyes, her lips parted as if bursting to tell her thoughts. His quiet voice stilled the housekeeper’s tongue. ‘Let’s at least hear what the lass has to say, Harriet.’
Maddie took a deep breath. ‘Why don’t you grow tulips, Mr Frank? The land must be right, because Mr Randall’s fields are right next to your meadow.’ Again in her mind’s eye was the rainbow field that she had so often stood to admire.
‘Flowers!’ Mrs Trowbridge spat dismissively. ‘What would a man like Mr Frank, a farmer born and bred, want with flowers, girl?’
‘No, wait a minute. She might have got something, Dad.’ There was excitement in Michael’s voice too now. ‘There would be nothing to stop us using the ground for bulbs, surely?’
Maddie’s smile widened. ‘You don’t eat tulips, Mr Frank. Surely, they wouldn’t come under any restrictions, would they?’
Frank stared at her for so long, trance-like, until Maddie, feeling suddenly awkward, prompted, ‘Mr Frank?’
He blinked and seemed startled from his reverie. ‘No, no, I don’t suppose so. I don’t really see how there could be? And, yes, the soil would be suitable, I’m sure.’
‘Mr Frank,’ came Harriet’s aggrieved voice. ‘Surely you’re not going along with this foolish idea? You’re a farmer not a – a flower-grower.’
Michael turned his charm on the woman. ‘Oh Mrs T, it’s a marvellous idea. We’d be horticulturalists.’
‘Oh very grand, I’m sure.’ Harriet was not to be mollified, not even by Michael. ‘And what do any of you know about growing flowers, might I ask?’
‘Nothing – yet.’ Michael’s grin widened. ‘But give us a couple of weeks and Maddie and I will know all about it.’
Even Frank was smiling gently now and some of the hopelessness had gone from his eyes. ‘Oh the confidence of youth, Harriet. Isn’t it wonderful?’
Harriet sniffed. ‘Very misplaced, if you ask me. But since I don’t seem to have any say in the matter, I’ll say no more about it.’ With that, she turned away back to the kitchen where they could hear her banging saucepans onto the cooker.
Father and son exchanged a smile and Michael said softly, ‘Well, I don’t believe that we’ll hear “no more about it” for a minute, but . . .’ Now he turned to Nick who had stood silently throughout. ‘What do you reckon?’
The young boy pushed his fingers through his flop of hair and blinked behind his glasses. He glanced, just once, towards the kitchen door and then looked back at Michael. Softly, he said, ‘I think it’s the only thing we can do. Even if we do wait the time they tell us before we restock, who’s to say the same thing won’t happen again. And to change it all to crops would take an awful lot of work.’
‘It’ll still take a lot of work to plough it up for bulbs.’
‘Yes, but it won’t matter if there’s a few wild oats and other weeds amongst tulips, will it?’ Nick argued. ‘Whereas, if you’ve got a lot of rubbish growing amongst wheat and such, it can ruin your crops if you want to sell it for grain.’
‘You’re right, Nick. Yes.’ Frank leant back in his chair and rested his head, seeming to really relax
for the first time in weeks. ‘Growing flowers won’t be plain sailing. I’ve no doubt there’ll be some sort of blight they can get, or greenfly, or something. But . . .’ He turned his smile on Maddie. ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea and, if it works, we’ll all have you to thank, lass.’
Maddie swallowed. ‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘It will work. We’ll make it work,’ Michael said, putting his arm about her shoulders. ‘Won’t we?’
Maddie looked up into his deep brown eyes. ‘Oh yes,’ she whispered and, meaning far more than growing a few fields of flowers, she repeated, ‘We’ll make it work.’
Twenty-Two
The discussion continued whilst Harriet set the table for supper.
‘Of course, I’ll have to go and see Sir Peter and ask his permission,’ Frank took his place and picked up the carving knife and fork. ‘It is his land, after all.’
‘What’s in the tenancy agreement?’ Michael asked.
Frank shrugged. ‘Can’t say I’ve ever read it.’
‘You’re not very good with paperwork, are you, Dad?’
Frank smiled, more life in his eyes than they had seen for weeks. ‘The farm just passed from me Dad to me. Same terms, same rent, same everything. Of course, the rent goes up every so often, but that’s to be expected. Other than that, Sir Peter’s never interfered.’
‘What I mean is, Dad, does it actually say that you have to inform the landlord of change of use of the land?’
‘Dunno, but I think it’s courteous anyway. Don’t you?’
Michael sighed. ‘I suppose so, yes. But I just don’t want anything – or anyone – to stand in the way.’ He paused and then grinned as he glanced across at Maddie. ‘I know. We’ll send Maddie. She can charm Sir Peter into agreeing.’
Maddie’s fork was suspended halfway between her plate and her mouth as she gaped, horrified, at Michael. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Of course, he’s not, love,’ Frank said quickly. ‘Besides, it’s my place to go. I’m the legal tenant.’
‘I am perfectly serious. It’s Maddie’s idea. Why shouldn’t she take the credit?’
Frank smiled at her. ‘Well, you could come with me, lass. Your enthusiasm is certainly infectious and if Sir Peter hears for himself all your ideas, then perhaps it would be useful for you to be there.’
Maddie laid down her fork. Suddenly, she could eat no more for the nervous fluttering in her stomach as Frank added, ‘We’ll go as soon as the weather improves.’ She was being asked to face the man who for so long had ruled every aspect of her life. What she ate, how she was dressed, what school she attended. And yet she had never even spoken to him. Not one word. He probably didn’t even know she existed. At least, not by name. To Sir Peter Mayfield she was just another orphan in the Home his family had benevolently set up for orphaned or unwanted children.
But by the time they were able to visit Mayfield Hall, when Maddie had washed her hair and put on the new red dress that the family had bought her for Christmas, she no longer felt nervous. She felt ready to do battle.
‘There you are,’ Michael greeted her, his brown eyes appraising her approvingly. ‘You look like a flower yourself. Sir Peter won’t be able to resist you. My little tulip girl.’
Maddie giggled and felt her cheeks glow.
‘I wish I was coming with you.’ He stepped a little closer and gently touched her chin with the tip of his finger.
‘Why – why don’t you?’
He shrugged. ‘Oh, I think it’s best if just Dad and you go. We don’t want it to look like a mass attack.’
‘You ready, lass?’ Frank’s voice came from the kitchen and Maddie said a swift goodbye to Michael and hurried outside.
Frank, too, was dressed in his best suit and it was he who was looking very nervous now. As she climbed into the car beside him, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me lass. I don’t mind admitting, I get all tongue tied.’
‘Do you mean you want me to do some of the talking?’
‘Well, only if I get sort of lost or – or dry up, like. You know what I mean?’
Maddie nodded and sat back in her seat to run over in her mind all the arguments to support what they wanted to do.
They did not speak again until they drew up outside the front door of Mayfield Hall.
‘Should we go round the back, do you think? To the servants’ entrance?’ Frank murmured.
‘Have you never been here before to see Sir Peter about anything?’
Frank pushed back his cap and scratched his head. ‘No. I’ve never had the cause. Sir Peter’s been to the farm now and again. On horseback. Even though he’s got two cars, he still likes to ride around his estate on horseback, you know. But no, I’ve never been here. At least, not like this. To seek an interview with him.’
‘Well,’ Maddie said firmly, with a great deal more confidence than she was feeling inside at this moment. ‘You’re a respected tenant. A gentleman farmer. I think you have a right to enter by the front door, don’t you?’
Frank leant his arms on the steering wheel and looked up at the imposing mansion towering above them. ‘I suppose so.’
‘You sound doubtful.’
‘Well, a few weeks back, I’d have agreed with you. But I’m a farmer no longer. Not now.’
‘Mr Frank,’ Maddie touched his arm, ‘you’ve had some rotten bad luck. But it’s not your fault. No one can say it’s your fault. Not even Sir Peter.’
Frank’s expression was still doubtful. ‘I keep going over and over it in my mind. How did it happen? Was it my fault because I bought those beast of Weatherall’s? Or was it birds that brought the disease because two of our own started at the same time, didn’t they? I lay awake at night going over it all. ’
‘And do you have any answers?’
Frank shook his head and his voice was hoarse with sadness as he whispered, ‘No. No, lass, I don’t.’
Her hand still on his arm, she said gently, ‘Then why not put it all behind you and look to the future? It’s happened and we can’t alter it. But we can do something different.’
Frank turned his head to look at her and, with eyes that were so like her beloved Michael’s, he smiled down at her. ‘You know, lass, I’ve heard the saying “an old head on young shoulders” but I’ve never before met anyone it fitted. Not until you came into our lives. For a lass of fourteen, you’ve a very sensible head – and a pretty one – on those slim shoulders of yours.’
Now was not the time to remind him that she had just passed the date of her official birthday. She was fifteen now. Instead, Maddie squeezed his arm, taking his words as the compliment she was sure he meant them to be. ‘Come on. Let’s go and face the lion in his den.’
Twenty-Three
They were both standing facing Sir Peter across the wide desk in his book-lined study, like two naughty school children summoned to the headmaster’s office.
Maddie had never before been this close to Sir Peter. Of course, she would have recognized the tall figure dressed in check tweeds, the loud, bluff voice, so used to issuing orders and so used to being obeyed. But never before had she been close enough to see that his round face had a florid complexion with tiny red veins like a railway network on his skin; that his over-large nose was almost purple and that his moustache was now almost white. His hair, too, was white and so thin and sparse that the pink of his scalp shone through it. But his blue eyes were surprisingly bright and very sharp and knowing.
‘Well, Brackenbury,’ he barked. ‘What is it?’
Frank twisted his cap round and round between nervous fingers as he began, haltingly, to explain. ‘Well, sir, you know how I’m placed now. My livelihood’s all but gone.’
Maddie could see the strain on Frank’s face as if he carried the whole burden of guilt for the disease that had stricken his cattle.
‘I have to admit, sir, that I was about ready to give up.’
Sir Peter said nothing. He leant back in the chair, his penetr
ating gaze never leaving his tenant’s face.
‘But then,’ Frank went on, ‘this lass here had what we think is a very good idea. But, out of courtesy, I thought it only right to come and – well – discuss it with you first.’
Still Sir Peter did not speak, but his gaze came to rest now on Maddie as Frank looked to her and said, ‘You carry on, lass. You tell Sir Peter about your idea.’
The landowner’s scrutiny was disconcerting. He had been such a powerful force in her life, albeit from a distance. His name had always been the ultimate threat held over all the girls at the orphanage that carried his family’s name and still enjoyed his patronage. He was staring at her now and there was a strange look on his face that had nothing to do with the reason for their visit to his home. It was as if he half recognized her and was searching his memory to place where he had seen her before.
Maddie almost laughed aloud. Oh he’d seen her before all right, but only dressed in the clothes of his own orphanage waifs. Now, with her hair washed and cut to a soft, crowning glory, her young body firm and yet showing the curves of womanhood, she could understand the man not recognizing her.
Maddie took a deep breath. ‘Mr Frank isn’t sure whether the restrictions extend to crops, you know, edible crops, as well as cattle when the land’s been infected, so I said, why don’t we plant tulips? Even if the disease is still on the land, it surely won’t harm tulips.’
Sir Peter sat forward suddenly and leant his arms on the desk, staring at her. ‘Flowers? You want to plant flowers on my land?’
Maddie’s heart sank at his words and she was sure that, beside her, Frank’s did too. There was the same scathing note in his voice that had been in Harriet’s when Maddie had first made the suggestion.
‘What else can we do?’
Sir Peter spread his hands, palms upwards, as if the matter were simple. ‘Wait until you can restock.’
Frank and Maddie exchanged a glance and then both faced the landlord again. The girl, young though she was, guessed that Frank found the admission he was being forced to make, degrading. ‘I haven’t enough put by, sir, to buy ten or fifteen beast all at once. And despite waiting the regulation period, if the disease is still on the land, the same thing could happen again.’
The Tulip Girl Page 14