The Tulip Girl

by Margaret Dickinson

  She saw sadness in his dark eyes, a sadness that reflected her own and once more she was filled with guilt at the sorrow she had brought upon this good man.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he was saying swiftly now. ‘And I was thinking that I ought to sell the car and buy a truck. It would be much more useful to take the boxes of flowers to the railway station,’ Frank said. ‘Besides, when do we have time to go out in a car now?’

  ‘That is a good idea. And Mr Randall says we ought to think about turning the old cowshed into a cold store,’ Maddie said. ‘We can’t keep asking him to store our bulbs for forcing in his cold store, can we?’

  Theo had been as good as his promise. The crewyard had been covered over, though the smaller buildings – the cow-house, pigsties and Rajah’s stable – had stayed as they always had been but were now enclosed within the huge, asbestos-covered barn. The area that had once been the walled yard was now a level concrete floor – a vast space for sorting and packing cut flowers and for grading bulbs. The original small buildings were ideal for storage.

  ‘More expense,’ Harriet muttered as she set mugs of cocoa on the supper table. ‘You and your grand ideas.’

  Frank ignored her grumbling and carried on the conversation as he carved the meat and handed out the plates. ‘You find out all about it, love,’ he said to Maddie, ‘and we’ll see.’

  When the time came for the picking, Maddie found that when she bent to pick the blooms, the growing mound of her stomach got in the way. She tried squatting, rather that stooping, and found it was easier.

  ‘You all right, Maddie?’ Nick asked with concern.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she answered, trying to raise a bright smile.

  He sighed. ‘I wish I could take all the workload off you,’ he said worriedly. ‘But there just aren’t enough hours in the day . . .’

  ‘Nick, you’re being wonderful the way you’ve helped since – since . . . Well, just lately. I am grateful.’

  ‘I wish you’d see a doctor,’ he blurted out, reddening a little at having to touch on a delicate matter. ‘You haven’t seen one at all, have you?’

  Maddie shook her head. ‘I daren’t, Nick. A doctor would ask awkward questions. Besides, there’s no doubt now that I am expecting, so I don’t need it confirmed. And I’m healthy enough. I don’t need any medical attention. So, why bother?’

  ‘Well, I just thought . . .’ His voice trailed away uncertainly.

  She smiled at him. ‘It’s nice of you to be concerned. No, really, I mean it. And I would go – despite the embarrassing questions – if I thought there was anything wrong with me that might harm the baby.’ Softly she added, ‘I meant what I said. I am sorry for the trouble it’s caused. More sorry that you will ever know that Michael has had to go away, but I will never, ever, be sorry about the baby.’

  Nick was staring at her. Then, his face scarlet, he mumbled awkwardly, ‘We’ll look after you, Maddie. You and the baby.’

  He turned away abruptly then and went to the far end of the field to start picking a fresh batch of dark red tulips.

  Maddie watched him go, shaking her head. He was a strange boy, she thought, but he really did have a much nicer side to him. And these days she was seeing much more of it.

  Thirty-Two

  ‘Do you know what happened this afternoon?’ Maddie told them as she served steaming potatoes at supper time. ‘Some woman stopped her car in the lane and came to the gate to ask if we sold cut flowers. You know, by the bunch, straight out of the field.’

  ‘Did you sell her some?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Well, no, because we’ve got an outlet, haven’t we?’

  ‘But only for our best blooms. They don’t take the rubbish ones that have opened too far, now do they?’

  ‘No, but it wouldn’t be fair to sell her that sort either, would it?’

  ‘Depends,’ Nick said, cutting the slice of boiled ham and dipping it into the mustard on the side of his plate before popping it into his mouth. ‘There’s a big difference between the top-grade flowers we send to London and the absolute rubbish that is only fit to be thrown away. I mean, we can’t physically get to every flower just at the perfect moment to pick it, can we? If you’d picked her the sort of flowers that we wouldn’t send to the markets, but that still look pretty good and if you hadn’t charged too much, I reckon she’d’ve been happy enough.’

  ‘You know,’ Frank said, entering the conversation for the first time. ‘Nick might have a very good point there. I know some of the growers have buckets of flowers stood at their farm gates and sell to passers-by and I’ll tell you something else that Bill Randall was telling me this morning. There’s a local growers’ association been formed . . . Oh and by the way he reckons we should join, but what I was going to say was that the members of this association have set out a route all round the fields this year for sightseers to follow. He says there’s more and more folks coming to the area every year to see the tulip fields.’

  ‘I can believe that,’ Maddie said. ‘I saw a bus down our lane this afternoon. I thought it must be a day trip gone down the wrong road, but I wonder, now you’ve said that.’

  ‘There you are, then,’ Nick smiled. ‘It’d be a bus trip all right, but it’d’ve come to see the tulips.’

  They looked at each other around the table and then, for some reason she couldn’t quite explain the three of them all looked in Harriet’s direction.

  ‘What? What are you looking at me for?’

  ‘I was just thinking, Harriet, that you could have some flowers here, outside the back door and sell to callers, couldn’t you?’

  ‘Oho, not me, Mr Frank. I’ve enough to do with all the cooking and the housework. Besides, I don’t want strangers traipsing up to the back door.’

  ‘Well, it’s true you do have enough work, Harriet, because none of us have time to give you a helping hand. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have suggested it.’

  ‘I tell you what we could do,’ Maddie said, feeling excited and enthusiastic for the first time since the dreadful day that Michael had gone away. ‘In fact, there’s two things we could do. One, we could have a trestle table and flowers in buckets at the gateway into the field and also,’ she grinned triumphantly around the table, ‘we could sell them to Mrs Grange in the corner shop for her to sell on.’

  There was a silence before Nick, frowning slightly, asked, ‘Why should she want to sell them? Not many of the locals would buy flowers. Most of them grow them, if not in their fields, then at least in their own gardens.’

  ‘Not for the locals,’ Maddie said, ‘for the sightseers. If they’re coming here in their cars and even by the bus load, you can’t tell me that a good few of them won’t drop in at the corner shop to buy drinks or a snack. In fact, we ought to suggest it to Jen that she gets Mrs Grange to sell sandwiches and cups of tea. She might even open up a little tea shop.’

  ‘Do you know,’ Harriet said softly, surprising them all, ‘that’s something I would love to have done. Run a little tea shop.’

  There was a silence before Frank said, ‘Well, why don’t you? You could do it here, if you like. We could . . .’

  ‘No, oh no!’ Harriet held up her hands, palms outwards as if fending him off. ‘I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t mix with folk, now could I? Not now. Not after . . .’ She broke off and stood up, beginning to pile the dirty plates together. ‘I wasn’t serious. I only meant that if things had been different, it’s the sort of thing I could have done. But not now, as things turned out . . .’ Maddie saw her look down the length of the table straight into Frank’s eyes. ‘I couldn’t. Besides,’ she added with definite finality, ‘like I’ve just said, I haven’t the time.’

  ‘It’s a shame,’ Maddie said softly, her gaze on the woman’s face. ‘You’re such a wonderful cook, it couldn’t help but succeed.’

  Harriet’s eyes swivelled to look at Maddie, who met her gaze steadily. For a fleeting moment there was a genuine rapport between them. Harriet reco
gnized that Maddie’s words were sincere and briefly, oh so briefly, she was touched. But then she picked up the plates and turned away towards the kitchen and the moment was lost.

  ‘Where are you going, all dressed up?’

  Nick stood before her, smiling and playfully barring her way across the yard.

  ‘I’m going to find Michael and talk to him myself.’

  Anxiety crossed his features. ‘Oh Maddie, don’t do that. You’ll only get hurt. Let me go again. Let me find him and talk to him. Tell him what Mr Frank has suggested.’

  ‘I want to see him. I need to hear it from him myself. If it’s really true that he no longer . . .’ she swallowed painfully before struggling on, ‘cares for me, then I must accept it and move on with my life. I’m ready to do that now, but first, I must find out if it’s true.’

  ‘Don’t you believe me?’ he asked, suddenly offended that she should doubt his word.

  She hesitated a second before she made herself say, ‘’Course I do, but – but I thought if I could see him, talk to him again, he . . .’ Her voice trailed away. The truth was, she didn’t quite believe Nick. But she wouldn’t have believed anyone who had told her the same news. She needed to hear it from Michael himself.

  ‘Look, he’ll have moved on from where he was. And we haven’t heard any more from him, have we? We don’t even know where he is now. Tell you what,’ Nick went on swiftly as he saw Maddie’s dejected look, ‘as soon as we hear, I’ll go and talk to him again and tell him what his dad’s suggested. I don’t reckon he’ll like that. Not one bit. No more than I do. I don’t think you should marry Mr Frank, tying yourself to an old man like him.’ He reached out and touched her hand. ‘I mean, even if Michael doesn’t want to marry you, later on you might meet a young feller who wouldn’t mind you having a babby already. Someone who – who really cares about you. Someone who just wants to look after you and make you happy.’

  Maddie glanced at him doubtfully but said nothing, her mind returning to Michael. She sighed. ‘If you think he’ll not be there any more, then I suppose there isn’t any use in me going. At least, not today.’

  Now Nick took hold of her hand and said, with more authority in his tone than she had ever heard in his voice, ‘Leave it to me, Maddie.’

  It was two weeks before another letter arrived.

  ‘He’s written to me,’ Nick told them waving an envelope, but not offering for any of them to read the letter. ‘I was right. He’s finished his basic training.’ Nick pulled a face. ‘Ses it’s been hell. I’m going up to see him tomorrow. But it’s miles away. Somewhere up in Yorkshire. I’ll have to be away overnight.’

  ‘That’s all right, lad,’ Frank said. ‘I’ll give you the money for the train fare. It’s good of you to go. I’d go mesen, but him and me’d only fall out and it wouldn’t look good. And Maddie certainly can’t go.’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Maddie muttered.

  As ever, Harriet defended Michael. ‘You stay away from the lad. You’ve caused enough trouble for him already. Fancy him having to leave his home and family all because of the likes of you.’

  ‘He’d have been gone by now, anyway,’ Frank said patiently. ‘He’d have been called up for National Service.’

  ‘Mebbe so. But he won’t be able to come home on leave, will he? Not while she’s still here.’

  ‘If Maddie would only agree to marry me like I suggested, he could come home. The gossip will be turned on me then.’

  ‘Aye, and have you thought what might happen to you? You’re so wrapped up in helping everybody else, your son and even this little trollop here, that you haven’t stopped to think what they might do to you. You’d never stand prison.’

  ‘If that’s going to happen, then I shall go away,’ Maddie said determinedly.

  The housekeeper rounded on her. ‘You’d have done better to have packed your bags and gone long since, if you’d really thought anything about this family. And when your bastard’s born, stick it in an orphanage. It’s what they did to you, isn’t it?’

  Maddie stared at her for a moment. ‘What do you mean “what they did”? Who do you mean by “they”?’

  For a brief moment, Harriet was flustered. ‘Well, somebody dumped you outside that orphanage, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ Maddie said slowly, still staring at the woman. ‘Yes, they did.’

  For a fleeting moment it had sounded to Maddie as if Harriet Trowbridge knew just who had left her on the doorstep of the Mayfield Home.

  Thirty-Three

  When Nick left the following morning, his mother loaded him with food parcels for Michael. ‘They’ll not be feeding him like he’s used to.’

  And Maddie loaded him with messages. ‘Tell him I need to see him. Tell him – tell him . . .’ She hesitated. It was difficult to give this young man, who was still only little more than a boy, intimate messages to pass on. ‘Tell him I love him. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want to marry me. I understand that. I’m not bothered, just so long as – so long as . . .’ She faltered unable to ask directly if Michael still loved her.

  Nick touched her hand. Gently, he said, ‘Don’t worry, Maddie. I’ll talk to him and when I come back I’ll tell you everything he said. Word for word.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  She watched him go, questioning why it was not she who was going. She despised what she considered weakness in herself. Once, she would have gone, whatever anyone said, yet now it was as if she dare not go, dare not face the truth she feared to hear.

  Her hands covered her belly protectively. ‘Love is making you weak,’ she murmured to herself, wondering if the old fearless, Madeleine March who hadn’t cared a fig for anyone – except Jenny – was gone for ever.

  As Nick rounded the corner in the lane and disappeared from view, she turned away but for the rest of the day her mind was not on her work. It was on a train heading north to see Michael.

  The following day Nick returned late at night looking pale with tiredness.

  ‘What did he say? Is he all right?’

  ‘Let him get inside the door, girl.’ Harriet took the overnight bag from her son’s hand and led him to the table. ‘Sit down, lad, and get something inside you. You look worn out.’

  ‘It’s them trains, Mam, great noisy things, pothering smoke. And then I had to walk two miles from the station to the camp and wait in a cold guard room for an hour ’til they’d let me see him.’

  Maddie stood at the end of the table, watching him eat, biting back the tumult of questions.

  Nick glanced up at her once or twice but then quickly down again at his plate as he wolfed his meal.

  ‘Eat slowly, Nicholas,’ his mother scolded. ‘You’ll get indigestion. You look as if you haven’t eaten for two days.’

  ‘I haven’t,’ he mumbled, his mouth full.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Only what you gave me, Mam.’

  ‘But didn’t you get breakfast this morning where you stayed?’

  ‘No, they don’t serve it in the railway station waiting room.’

  Harriet gasped. ‘You mean, that’s where you slept? In the waiting room on the station?’

  Nick nodded.

  The housekeeper cast a resentful glance at Maddie as if to say, There, look what my son has had to suffer because of you. But Maddie was not concerned about Nick’s few hours of discomfort, even if they had been on her behalf.

  ‘What did he say?’

  Frank came to her and put his arm about her shoulders. ‘Come and sit by the fire, love, and when he’s finished eating, Nick can bring his tea and sit with us and tell us what happened. Come along,’ he urged finally as Maddie stiffened herself against his arm.

  A few minutes later, they were all seated around the fire but Nick still avoided looking at Maddie. He cleared his throat and glanced uncomfortably at Frank.

  ‘Michael said to tell you, Mr Frank, that he won’t be coming back to the farm, not even when h
e’s finished his National Service. He – he said to tell you that he’s taken to the Army life. He intends to sign on as a regular.’

  ‘What?’ Frank was staggered, his mouth agape.

  ‘He can’t. He must come home,’ Maddie cried.

  ‘How can he possibly know if he likes the life yet? That’s ridiculous. Are you sure that’s what he meant, lad?’

  The young man nodded. ‘I pleaded with him, Mr Frank. I said just what you’ve said, but he was set on it.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Maddie whispered.

  ‘Did you tell him what I had proposed?’ Frank asked. ‘About Maddie, I mean?’

  Nick nodded.

  ‘And?’

  ‘He agrees it’s the best idea for everyone.’

  Maddie gasped and her insides trembled. ‘No, no. I don’t believe you,’ she cried as her eyes stung with tears she would not allow to fall. ‘He wouldn’t agree to that. He couldn’t . . .’ Her voice fell away and there was silence in the room, the only sounds the flames crackling and hissing in the grate. But even before the warmth of the fire, Maddie shivered. She felt as if her heart were turning into ice.

  ‘I’ll have to go and have a chat with the vicar,’ Frank said. ‘I need to know what we have to do.’

  Maddie glanced at him but said nothing. She didn’t want this marriage. She really didn’t. And yet since Michael’s final rejection of her, it seemed the only way. At least in the eyes of the world her child would be legitimate. It would not carry the stigma of ‘bastard’ all its life. It was for this reason alone that Maddie had finally been persuaded to agree to the marriage.

  ‘Although you’re sixteen now,’ Frank was saying, ‘I think we still need parental consent, but because you haven’t any parents . . .’ His voice petered away as he frowned, thinking. ‘I suppose Sir Peter is your guardian, in loco parentis, I think they call it.’

  ‘What does that mean, when it’s at home?’ Harriet asked sarcastically.

  ‘In place of her parents and I’m just assuming it’s him because she lived at his orphanage.’