by Ann Cliff
‘We could keep to … er, teatime recipes, for the first one,’ Rachel suggested diffidently. ‘Cakes, scones, biscuits …’
The others agreed and the committee fell into a deep discussion about oatcakes and griddle cakes, baked on a flat sheet suspended over the fire. They agreed to include yeast cookery because everyone wanted Yorkshire teacakes.
‘We will all make a list of recipes that might be suitable. They can come from a variety of sources, but I would like Rachel to try out each recipe herself. Only the ones that she approves will be used,’ Alex announced.
Planning in this way was enjoyable, but the ache of loss was still there. A memory of Roger’s face, or his voice would come between Rachel and her concentration on the job in hand. He wrote loving letters to her – how could she stop him? It only made the thought of parting worse. Instead of writing a reply, Rachel sent him newspaper cuttings of her Herald articles. She should try to forget Roger; the book was the important thing.
‘Perhaps you need to decide first of all how big the book will be, so we know how many recipes will fit in,’ Rachel suggested to Alex.
Choosing from the hundreds of north-country recipes and then trying them out would take a great deal of time and she didn’t want to waste time by trying too many.
Susan put her hand lightly on Alex’s arm. ‘This is what I said – do you remember? First things first!’
Alex beamed at her and Rachel thought how well they seemed to work together. She hoped they would have a happier ending than she could ever hope for.
Her father had decided that they should stay on at the Hall until Firby was evacuated by Leeds Corporation, but all too soon they would be gone, destination as yet unknown; Kit hoped to find a job where Ruth and Rachel would also be needed.
‘Don’t look so sad, Rachel,’ Susan said, calling her back to the matter in hand. ‘This project will be successful!’
Rachel thought of her grandfather’s spirit and pulled herself together. ‘I’m sure it will. How long have I got to bake all these cakes and biscuits?’
With these people, her Yorkshire accent didn’t matter. She was here as an equal and she would enjoy it.
Nathan Brown could feel spring stirring in the countryside as he watched his lambs dancing and kicking up their feet on a warm breezy day in March.
‘I haven’t got that many springs left,’ he said to young Joe, his helper. ‘I reckon I’ll have to make the most of this one, so I’ll take a ride up dale.’
He had not ridden Brownie since the accident. It was still rather painful to get up onto a horse, but his ribs were healing and with the aid of the mounting block, Nathan was aboard once more. He immediately felt much younger. In the late morning, he set out in sunshine with bread and cheese in his pocket, on the road to Woodley Crags. In a saddlebag, packed in moss, was a bunch of violets.
Nathan took the horse at a walk and when he reached the halfway mark, he pulled up and ate his bread and cheese. This was the real moorland, wide skies overarching the heather that clad the bare bones of the hills. The curlews were back on the moor with their mournful cry. They would still be here, wheeling in the sunlight, when he and all his friends were gone.
What would happen when his farm was drowned under the reservoir? Nathan wondered briefly what God had in store for the people of Firby. He loved church services and he played the organ at church every Sunday, but he couldn’t imagine praying for anything less than world peace. Their own local problems seemed too trivial to offer up as a prayer to the Almighty. He wondered what Alice would say about that.
Alice was pleased to see him, as she always was, although she chided him gently for riding instead of driving. Nathan didn’t tell her that riding made him feel younger and he was on a young man’s errand. Rather diffidently he offered his violets; Alice took them with a lovely smile and inhaled their fragrance.
‘The scent of spring,’ she said.
‘Come and sit down, lass. We have to have a serious talk.’
They sat beside the fire. ‘Now what’s to do, Nathan? Is there trouble of some sort?’ Her clear eyes searched his face.
‘Nay, Alice. I think we should discuss the future. Our future.’
Eyes wide, Alice paused for a moment and then suggested, ‘You’re talking about the reservoir, upsetting our last few years?’
‘Forget the reservoir for a minute. Quite apart from that, you and me both are farming, at an age when maybe we shouldn’t be. This accident of mine made me think, I’ve had to rely on Joe from next door.’ Nathan took a deep breath. ‘We’re both on our own. Now, if you were to agree, Alice, we could get married. And,’ he looked over at her, but she hadn’t fainted yet, ‘buy a little place near Pateley, with an acre or two – keep a few sheep. What do you say, lass?’
The clock’s tick was loud in the silence. Alice smiled slowly; at least she wasn’t going to reject the idea immediately. ‘Do you know, I’ve been thinking the same thing myself. But it wasn’t my place to mention it!’
Nathan moved his chair nearer to Alice and took her hand. ‘That’s champion, we both think alike. It’s not just – for convenience, Alice. I’ve – well, I love you, have done for a long time.’ He got out a handkerchief and mopped his brow theatrically to make her laugh and ease the tension. ‘I was fair terrified in case you turned me down. I feel like a young lad again.’
Alice laughed, a laugh of pure happiness. ‘You need somebody to look after you, men always do… . I thought of sitting on your knee, but I might hurt the ribs. Let’s have a cup of tea, then we’ll do some planning.’ She leaned over and kissed him. ‘Your farm will be under the water, but maybe I can let this place, give us money to live on,’ she added as she handed Nathan a scone. ‘If I can find a tenant, that is. Woodley hasn’t many folks left. It’s too hard for young folks with bairns, up here away from everything.’
‘Aye, things have changed since we were young. But then, Alice, men who lose their farms to the water might be looking for a farm up dale. Kit Garnett knows all the farmers in Firby, you could talk to him about it.’
Nathan and Alice went for a walk, hand in hand across the fields, where the first tinge of green was appearing.
‘Spring’s a few weeks later up here.’ Nathan’s mind was working on what was to be done with Alice’s farm. ‘At Firby, grass is growing well and all my ewes have lambed.’
They came to a gate and Nathan took Alice very gently in his arms. Her head fitted into his shoulder naturally as she said, ‘We will be happy, Nathan, I’m sure of it. We’ll look after each other for as long as we’re spared.’
Riding home, Nathan decided to keep his news to himself for a while, until he got used to the idea of marriage to Alice. They were well suited and he didn’t know a better woman. But they had both spent long years living alone. They were independent spirits and would have to go gently to forge a new bond and a new way of living.
It was time to give up farming, but Nathan knew that both he and Alice would feel the loss of their farms. The remedy might be to look for a little holding straightaway, so they could start planning. Surely they could manage twenty or thirty acres and a few sheep? Somewhere handy for the little town of Pateley, in the sheltered valley beside the Nidd. There would be a bit of spare money to pay a labourer for the heavy work. They could keep Brownie and Alice’s Dales pony … and the best ewes from his flock.
As he turned in at his gate, Nathan grinned to himself. Alice might want to keep her favourite sheep, too.
‘We’re off to Pateley tomorrow, lad,’ Nathan told Joe, his helper. ‘But this time I’ll drive, not ride.’ It wouldn’t be wise to tempt fate.
TWENTY-ONE
In the middle of spring, Roger came back to Firby, having obtained a few days’ leave. Daffodils nodded in village gardens, blackthorn flowered in the hedges and birds were beginning to build their nests. Surely this time Rachel would listen to him. He was determined to marry her and he knew that she was just as stubborn as he was; she h
ad decided that they could never be together.
Roger had a plan that he would reveal when the time was right, to help Rachel to change her mind. He had seen an affordable cottage in a green area near Leeds and he thought that if they could rent it, Rachel could grow herbs in the garden and he could take the train to work every day. In time, it might be possible to find an engineering job in a more rural part of Yorkshire. With Rachel beside him, anything would be possible.
Charlie, Roger’s horse, was in excellent condition. He had been trained by Kit to pull the trap and had been taken on several trips to Masham and Ripon. Full of optimism, Roger suggested an outing in the trap to Woodley Crags, to see Alice Bolton. Rachel could go with him and they would pick up Nathan Brown on the way.
‘I’m too busy,’ Rachel told him when the idea was proposed. Part of her longed to go on the trip, but time spent with Roger would make the parting even harder. ‘Two cows have just calved and I have to teach the calves to drink.’
Roger felt desolate. He had planned this for weeks; he needed time with Rachel to get her to see his point of view. When they got to Woodley, he was hoping to take her for a walk away from the others, up on the moors high above the valley of the Nidd. There, she might see things in better perspective. It was important to make her see how small the objections she was raising were, in the scheme of things. He had always loved the high moors and he thought Rachel would feel calmer there, more ready to listen to him.
Ruth Garnett urged her to go. ‘You’ve been looking pale lately, lass, a change of air will do you good!’ she said firmly. ‘Mrs Bolton will be right pleased to see you, living up there on her own as she is. It must have been a long winter at Woodley. She might give you a recipe or two, for the book.’
That seemed a good idea, so Rachel agreed to go to Woodley, against her better judgement. Recipes might take her mind off Roger for a while. She and Ruth packed a picnic basket with cheese, ham, crusty bread and fruit cake that they would share with Alice Bolton.
The day chosen for the trip was sunny and Roger whistled as he yoked up Charlie. Rachel wished she could feel as cheerful as he was, but it was impossible. She decided to take a few packets of herbs that she thought Mrs Bolton might find useful: dried sage, rosemary and mint. Perhaps they might be exchanged for some of her lifetime of experience, hints that would make their book stand out from the rest. Susan Sutton had suggested that Rachel should talk to experienced women and ask them for detailed recipes.
Nathan too seemed very cheerful, standing nearly as straight as he used to do as he waited for them at his gate. He shook Roger’s hand and said how grand it was to see him.
‘You’re in good fettle, lad, I’m pleased to see,’ he said with a smile.
‘Springtime’s always a good time,’ Roger said as he helped the older man into the trap. ‘And this year it seems to be the best for years, Kit says.’
‘Plenty of blossom on fruit trees, let’s hope we don’t get a late frost,’ Nathan said in the timeworn formula, as Charlie trotted up the road.
Wrapped in a warm rug, Rachel sat beside Roger and pointed out various landmarks to him as they went along. Many of them would be lost when the water came, but she pushed the thought aside.
Alice came into the yard with a flock of hens following her as they clattered in. The hens scattered and her face lit up when she saw who the visitors were.
‘My, this is a nice surprise!’
Nathan climbed stiffly down from the vehicle and kissed Alice on the cheek. There and then in the yard, he turned to the others and said, ‘We have news for you and I’ll tell you right away! Alice and I are going to be married.’
Rachel felt a moment of shock, then joy. Grandfather was going to have a few more years of happiness, and neither he nor Alice would be lonely any more. They stood there hand in hand, looking happy.
Alice laughed at his enthusiasm. ‘Nathan, let’s go inside before we talk anymore.’ In the kitchen, Rachel said how happy she was and Roger smilingly told them he was envious.
They spread their picnic on the scrubbed table and Alice made a pot of tea. When she sat down, Nathan explained that they planned to move to a little holding near Pateley; he had one in mind.
‘Of course,’ Alice said, ‘Nathan will lose his farm to the reservoir quite soon, so we plan to move afore winter. And I am hoping to find a tenant for Woodley.’
Roger sat up and put down his bread and cheese. ‘Now I had better tell you my news. I have waited until today to be quite sure, but I collected a letter at the post office this morning and now I have the decision in black and white. The reservoir is going to be built here at Woodley, Alice. Not at Firby. So you will lose your land, but Nathan will keep his. Firby Hall will be spared, Rachel, so Kit and Ruth will be able to keep their home.’
There was silence in the kitchen for a minute or two, then the other three all spoke at once. ‘Are you sure? Why? What’s happened?’
Two shocks in one day! Rachel put her hand to her head. ‘I can’t believe it, Roger. Mr Bromley was so certain, he came to see us only the other week! Leeds had made the choice when Guy went to see them and that was it, he said.’
‘So I thought,’ Roger grinned. He turned to Nathan and Alice. ‘I hope you’ll be happy with the decision. Mrs Bolton … if you plan to move, it won’t be such a blow.’
‘Aye, I’m right enough,’ Alice said calmly. ‘Folks down at Firby stood to lose much more than I will, over this. Rachel here will be easier in her mind, won’t you, lass?’
Nathan smiled in his serene way. ‘I’m very glad for Firby, Roger. For myself, well, we’re off to Pateley and that won’t change. I’m a mite too old to be farming, I fear.’
Roger waited a few minutes for the shock to subside a little and then said, ‘You may not realize it, but we have Rachel to thank for this decision. She wrote the letters and articles in the Herald, that was what turned the tide in our favour.’
‘How could that be?’ Rachel was mystified. ‘I brought it to people’s notice, but how could the Herald change anything at Leeds?’
‘In a couple of ways. Number one, when Lady Agnes went to stay with her brother, she took Herald copies with her, to show to Lord Danby. Apparently he’s the sort of man who likes a crusade, so he started asking questions. Even went to Leeds, although I didn’t see him.’
Rachel thought for a minute. ‘Lady Agnes was trying to get over Guy’s death … maybe she was hoping to put right the damage he was doing to Firby.’
‘Number two, Mr Sutton of Cranby Park had joined the fight and he got together with Lord Danby. Mr Sutton is very much influenced by his daughter, who is of course influenced by … Rachel Garnett! Susan Sutton admires you, Rachel. So it happened in London and then Leeds was given to understand that they’d never get the scheme through Parliament, unless they took it up to the moors.’ Roger sat back, his eyes bright. ‘I spoke to the Suttons on my way to Firby, but it wasn’t certain then.’
‘And Mr Bromley?’ Rachel couldn’t quite believe that he had lost the fight.
‘Mr Bromley has gone to work for a company in the south – much more civilized than Yorkshire, he told me. So I’ve been given the Woodley project.’ Roger lifted his cup. ‘May I have another cup of tea? Thirsty work, talking.’
After the meal, Roger suggested that as the happy couple may have things to discuss, he and Rachel would take a walk.
The breeze blew Rachel’s dark hair away from her face as they walked and she relaxed a little, thinking over what he had just told them. Roger led her to the upland track, climbing all the way until they reached a ridge. From where they stood, they could see the river snaking across the valley floor on its way to the sea. Small white clouds drifted above them, looking rather like the fluffy white sheep dotted about the heather slopes below.
‘I hadn’t realized just how worried we have been – about Firby, and our future, and Grandfather too,’ Rachel confessed. She breathed out slowly and felt the weight of worry roll away
. ‘He seems so happy! We have a lot to tell Mother and Father tonight.’
Roger put an arm round her waist. ‘So … now let’s think about your future and mine, my darling.’ He was looking at her with love in his eyes, his hair shining in the sun. ‘Can you take a leap of faith and agree that we should, we can be together? The details will work themselves out, you’ll see. We will be so happy!’
‘I’m trying to be sensible, Roger,’ Rachel said, sticking to the old argument. ‘I just can’t see that it would last. We come from different worlds.’ Even to herself, it sounded lame, the excuse of a girl who was too scared to embark on marriage.
‘We’ll make our own world, together.’ Roger paused and looked out across the landscape. ‘We both love the same things, the countryside, the animals… . I have a plan to rent a cottage, somewhere not far from here. The Woodley dam will take some time to complete. I’d have to go to Leeds at times, of course.’
They could live together in the country, in her own world! Rachel could hardly believe it.
‘You could work on your recipes and the Herald columns and send them in by post, just as you do now… . Please say that you’ll give me a chance, Rachel. I love you very much. Please marry me.’
Rachel looked out with him across the smiling landscape, basking in the spring sunshine. Roger’s argument was so persuasive … and he knew that she wanted to go on writing.
‘You love me, Rachel?’ It was a question, but very gentle.
With a sigh, Rachel put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I love you, Roger. I’ve been dreading our parting. Yes, I will marry you.’ She thought of Susan Sutton, who had given her the gift of a little more confidence, even today. Susan Sutton admires you, Roger had said.
It was lack of confidence that had held her back, the confidence to leave home and go to live with Roger, away from her family. That, and the worry at home, their uncertain future. Rachel knew it was still a big step, she would still be leaving home, but they would be in the same world.