Lovers and Liars

by Josephine Cox

  ‘You’ve not a brass farthing to yer name, none of yer! It’s my money as keeps this place up and running. If I took a mind to move on, you’d sink without trace.’ For good measure, he gave her a vicious dig in the ribs that made her gasp with surprise and pain. ‘Like it or not, yer all dancing to my tune. It might serve yer well to keep that in mind.’

  She didn’t argue. But she looked at him … looked through him … wishing with all her heart that it might have been different.

  He could almost read her thoughts. ‘You want me gone from ’ere so bad yer can taste it, can’t yer?’ he muttered curiously.

  When she gave no answer, he took great pleasure in informing her: ‘Well, yer can want on, ’cause I’ll not be going nowhere!’ He smiled, a nasty little smile she had come to know only too well. ‘I mean, a man would be mad to leave such a nice, cosy set-up, wouldn’t he, eh?’

  She looked at him for what seemed an age, during which his smile faded and a look of hardness fired his eyes. ‘Got summat else to say, ’ave yer … sister dear?’

  To his consternation, she continued to observe him, wondering how this man who seemed like a stranger to her could ever have been her kith and kin. ‘I’d best go.’ She turned from him.

  ‘Oh, aye, that’s right!’ his taunting voice followed her. ‘You’d best hurry away to tend to them “things” you reckon are so pressing!’

  His laughter grated on her, but she wasn’t about to rise to any more of his taunts. Too often she had experienced his rage at first-hand, and she knew only too well what monstrous things he was capable of.

  Then there was the other, shocking thing. He hadn’t mentioned it yet, but he would. When it suited his purpose.

  If only she could get rid of him once and for all, she wouldn’t even hesitate. But there was no way that she could see. At least, not without her being hanged for it.

  His voice shattered her thoughts. ‘Who is it then?’

  ‘What!’ Startled, she looked up.

  ‘Wake up, woman! Yer said there were somebody to see me. Who is it?’

  ‘You’ll know when you get there, won’t you?’

  With that she flounced off, leaving him cursing and grumbling as he stomped back to the farmhouse. ‘Bloody women!’ He spat on the ground in disgust. ‘The lot of ’em want shooting.’

  Through the crack in the barn wall, Emily saw them leave; first her mammy, then him, that great bulk of a man, striding along as though he owned the place. ‘Good riddance to you!’ she muttered, though her face shone with love as she followed the homely figure of her dear mammy. Her heart ached. Given the chance, she would do anything to protect her.

  When at last they were gone, the girl breathed a sigh of relief. So as to not trip over it, she gathered up the hem of her long skirt, and went at a run towards the ladder at the far end of the barn.

  Unable to trust him, she frequently glanced back.

  When Clem first arrived, after her daddy deserted them, she had tried hard to like him, for her mother’s sake. But she couldn’t. He was not the sort of man you could take to, and how he came to be her mother’s brother she would never know, for Aggie was a kind, gentle soul – though she did have a fierce temper when put out.

  Clambering up the ladder, Emily pulled herself into the hayloft and made for the far corner. Here, she reached up on tiptoe, her arm stretching into the roof, where the two great wooden rafters joined together. The small brown notebook clutched tightly to her chest, soon she was seated cross-legged in the hay, her eyes closed and her heart beating fast with excitement.

  In her mind’s eye she could see every word written there, all her secret thoughts: the sorrow she had suffered when her Granny Clare had sickened from consumption and died, nearly breaking her grandad’s heart; the wrenching sobs she and her family had wept at the tragic loss of her darling baby brother. Some tears trickled down her rosy cheeks as she remembered little Michael, so pale and still, wrapped in her own baby shawl that couldn’t warm him … Then her tears dried as bitter resentment took their place – hatred for the man who soon after had invaded their lives. She had written about her love for her mammy, and her grandad, and prayed for her daddy, wherever he was.

  In fact, all her life as it was, had been entered in the pages of that little book.

  More recently she had confided of her growing love for John; of her hopes for the future, and even a little prayer that Clem would go away and everything would be all right again, just like it used to be.

  After a while, she laid the notebook on her lap and gingerly eased it open. She needed to reread the last entry – to make sure she had not been dreaming.

  Suddenly, a small, shuffling sound startled her. What was that!

  With fear licking at her insides, she laid the book face down and shrank into the background. Was there somebody else here? she thought worriedly. Did someone come in just now?

  A ray of early-morning sunshine crept in from the one window high up in the barn, and shone down on the page. A gentle wind blew against the old barn-walls, which creaked and groaned as if alive. And she heard the faint splash of a coal-barge wending its way along the nearby canal.

  She glanced about, satisfying herself that there was no one there. ‘You’re beginning to imagine things,’ she told herself, but then was it any wonder, if her nerves were on edge?

  Pushing aside her two plaits, Emily roved her gaze over the previous day’s entry and began to read it aloud.

  Chapter 2

  INSIDE THE FARMHOUSE, Thomas Isaac Ramsden waited for his daughter-in-law. He heard her come in through the back door, then a few minutes later he was relieved to see her enter the living room. ‘Here you are then, Dad.’ Aggie set the tray down on his lap. ‘There’s a nice cuppa tea in your favourite mug, and one of my raisin biscuits. You sit and enjoy that, while I go an’ hang out the washing.’

  While she spoke she smiled down on him, the love shining in her blue eyes. ‘Later on, we’ll go for a gentle walk if you like?’ she offered. ‘It’s a beautiful day outside. The fresh air will do us both good.’

  He nodded. ‘I can’t go far, lass,’ he reminded her. ‘Me old legs aren’t what they used to be.’ He carefully lifted his Coronation mug, which showed the new King, Edward VII, in his full-bearded glory, and took a grateful sup of the hot brew.

  ‘It’s all right, Dad,’ Aggie said. ‘We’ll just go as far as the orchard and back.’

  He nodded appreciatively. ‘Happen once we’re there we can sit awhile on the bench.’ He took another long slurp of his tea.

  ‘That’ll be nice,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s do that then, shall we?’

  ‘Happen I can smoke me pipe?’

  She smiled. ‘You allus do. To tell you the truth, Dad, I’ll be glad of a sit-down.’ She gave a low sigh. ‘Whatever we turn our hand to, me and Emily allus seem to be in a rush these days. There’s too much work, and not enough time to get it all done.’ Not so long ago, life had been so much easier, she thought. Her husband had still been here, and their new baby was growing in her womb. Potts End had been a joyful place then.

  Lost in his own thoughts, Thomas merely nodded. ‘Where is Emily?’

  ‘Gone off by herself somewheres. You know what the lass is like – up at first light to do her chores, then away across the fields.’

  ‘She’ll be back though, won’t she?’ His eyes dimmed over. ‘She will be back?’

  ‘O’ course she will. Whatever meks you say a thing like that?’

  ‘Michael never came back, did he?’ He paused, then: ‘I miss him.’

  ‘We all miss him, Dad.’ Aggie’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘But he’ll be back.’

  Cupping his ear, he asked worriedly, ‘What’s that you say, lass?’

  She gave him her cheeriest smile. ‘I said … Michael will be back. You’ll see … some bright day, in the not too distant future, he’ll walk through that door and we’ll all be together again.’

  On her words he looked up and smile
d. It was a sad smile. Though he didn’t want to dash her hopes, he believed there was little chance of his son ever coming home. His heart ached for Clare, and he lifted the mug to his lips again.

  Aggie read his thoughts and a pang of loneliness stabbed her heart. ‘Will you be all right if I go outside now?’ she asked.

  ‘O’ course I will.’ He looked surprised. ‘I’m not in me second childhood yet, you know!’

  She laughed at that. ‘Don’t I know it!’ Humouring him, she wagged a finger. ‘By! I’ve yet to see the day when anybody can get one over on you!’

  The old man pointed to his half-eaten biscuit. ‘I don’t suppose there’s another one o’ them going, is there? Or mebbe even a couple?’

  Prompted by an impulse of affection, she kissed the top of his head. ‘Oh, I dare say there might be a couple more hiding in the larder.’

  He gave her a little push. ‘Go on then!’ He grinned, a wide, uplifting grin that showed his surprisingly even teeth, of which he was very proud. ‘A poor old man could starve afore he got any attention round ’ere.’

  ‘Give over!’ She feigned shock. ‘You get more attention than anybody and well you know it, you old devil.’

  ‘Mebbe. But it’s another biscuit I’m wanting … that’s if you’ve a mind to fetch me one?’

  Straightening up, she sighed, ‘If it’s a biscuit you’re wanting, then it’s a biscuit you’ll get.’ With that she marched off, only to pause at the door and look back on him.

  Her heart was full to overflowing as she took stock of that dear old man, his head bent as he lost himself in private thoughts of days gone by. She and her father-in-law had a special kind of relationship, and she was grateful to have him in her life.

  Thomas Isaac had no idea she was taking stock of him. He was thinking of his home and his life, and his heart was warmed. Once a big strong farmhand, he had worked his way up, and put money by, until one proud day, he could buy his own little farm. Potts End wasn’t big by anyone else’s standards, but it had been his, lock, stock and barrel, until he had signed it over to Michael and Aggie, and he had good reason to be proud of his achievement. Nowadays, he was too old and tired to pick up a spade, but there were other consolations in life, such as the smell of dew on the morning air, the special excitements of haymaking and harvest, and the sun coming up over the hills. And most of all, the sight of Emily running towards the cottage after one of her long ramblings. Although he missed his wife, Clare, a bonny lass until the consumption took her, he thanked God he had these two wonderful women in his life, Aggie and Emily, for they meant the whole world to him.

  He thought back on his youth and smiled inwardly. He’d been a bit of a lad in his day, but had few regrets – except o’ course, it would be good to roll up his sleeves and bend his back to his work, but it wasn’t to be.

  From the doorway, Aggie’s thoughts were much the same. She had known Thomas Isaac as a big strong man, and had seen his body become frail and slow. But though his strength was broken, his spirit was not. He still had an eye for the women and a sprightly story to tell. He had a good head of iron-grey hair, and the pale eyes carried a sparkle that could light up a room when he turned on the charm.

  Lately though, since all their trials and tribulations, the sparkle had grown dim.

  Like her daughter, Aggie cherished the ground the old fella walked on.

  ‘Are you still there?’ Looking up, he caught her observing him. ‘I’m still waiting on that biscuit.’

  ‘Coming right up, Dad,’ she promised, and hurried away.

  Behind her the old man leaned back in his chair and shook his head. ‘You’ve a lot to answer for, son,’ he murmured. ‘When you took off, you left a pack o’ trouble for these lovely lasses, and no mistake!’

  Through the scullery window Aggie saw her brother, Clem, and her heart sank. He was emerging from the outhouse, his huge black dog, Badger, skulking at his side; there was a look of murder on his face, and a shotgun slung over his shoulder. God Almighty, what was he up to now?

  She went into the larder and, taking half a dozen biscuits from the tin, she placed them on a saucer and carried them in to the old man. ‘If you want any more, just give me a shout,’ she told him.

  Instead of acknowledging the biscuits, Thomas jolted her by declaring in a worried voice, ‘There’s bound to be trouble, mark my words.’

  She stooped to answer, her voice low but clear. ‘Why should there be trouble?’

  He pointed to the window, where a young man could be seen pacing back and forth. ‘That’s young John Hanley, ain’t it?’

  Following his gaze, she too saw John pacing back and forth, growing increasingly agitated. ‘He’s waiting to speak with Clem,’ she informed the old fella. ‘I’ve just been to fetch him.’

  ‘What does the lad want wi’ that surly bugger?’

  She also had been a little curious when John turned up at the doorstep earlier. ‘He wouldn’t say,’ she shrugged. ‘Happen he’s after more work. He’s already finished that job our Michael started him on.’ She gave a cheeky wink. ‘He’s done a grand job an’ all. After eight months o’ breaking his back, he’s made both them wagons as good as new … they’re completely rebuilt from the bottom up, so they are. The hay-trailer is stronger than ever, the ladders are safe to climb since he replaced all the rotting rungs, and he’s repaired so much o’ the fencing.’ She paused, before going on quietly, ‘All the jobs Michael would have done, if only he’d been himself.’

  ‘Well, young John seems to know what he’s doing.’ The old fella’s feelings were too raw to get caught up in that kind of discussion. ‘The lad may not be the fastest worker in the world but, by God, he’s thorough – I’ll not deny that.’

  ‘Yes, but all those smaller jobs are finished now,’ Aggie said. ‘And I dare say he’ll be keen to get started on the old barn, just like Michael planned. It’ll be a secure job for him as well.’ She peered out of the window towards the dilapidated barn. ‘By! There has to be at least a year’s work there. Aye, that’s what he’ll be after, right enough … a steady run o’ work right through to next spring.’

  ‘Look, lass, yer mustn’t forget who’s holding the purse-strings,’ the old fella cautioned. ‘That miserable brother o’ yourn won’t part with a penny more than he has to. I mean, he only paid the lad for all his work ’cause he’d only just got here and wanted to mek a suitable impression.’

  Aggie knew that but, ‘It won’t matter either way, if he doesn’t have John back to repair the barn,’ she remarked warily. ‘I imagine the lad can get work wherever he wants.’ She knew he had a good reputation. ‘They say as how he can turn a hand to anything.’

  Thomas Isaac looked up. ‘Between you an’ me, lass, I reckon young John is after summat other than work.’

  ‘What’s on your mind then?’

  He frowned. ‘If yer ask me, there’s summat going on,’ he ventured knowingly.

  ‘Oh? And what might that be then?’

  He looked her in the eye. ‘Yer know very well,’ he tutted.

  And it was true – she did. These past weeks she had been meaning to speak with Emily about the growing friendship between her and John, only work had got in the way. ‘You’re not to worry,’ she told the old fella. ‘Our Emily’s a sensible lass.’

  ‘She’s missing her da.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Fear, and a measure of anger rippled through her. ‘We’re all missing him. It doesn’t mean to say we’ll throw caution to the winds.’

  ‘Emily’s just a lass. She’ll be looking for someone to talk to … someone near her own age.’

  ‘I know that, Dad, and I’m sure that’s all the two of ’em will be doing – talking to each other. They’re just friends, after all.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Happen!’ That was all he had to say on the matter. But he could think, and what he thought was this: there was trouble brewing. He could feel it in his tired old bones.

  Outside, Clem ro
unded the farmhouse and, coming face to face with the young man, demanded to know his business.

  Though needfully respectful, John Hanley was not afraid of this bully. It showed in his confident stance, and in the way he spoke, quietly determined. ‘I came to have a talk with you, sir,’ he replied, ‘if you could spare me a few minutes?’

  ‘Oh! So you’ve come to ’ave a talk with me, ’ave yer?’ The older man regarded the other with derision, and a certain amount of envy. He saw the lean, strong frame of this capable young man, and he was reminded of his own shortcomings. The eyes, too, seemed to hold a man whether he wanted to look into them or not; deepest blue and fired with confidence, they were mesmerising.

  ‘It won’t take long, sir.’ While Clem took stock of him, John did the same of the older man.

  He had no liking for Clem Jackson. Nor did he respect him, but he owed this bully a certain address, for it was Clem Jackson who appeared to have taken charge of things round here, including Emily. And it was Emily he had come about this morning.

  Stamping his two feet, the older man impatiently shifted himself. ‘Get on with it then, damn yer!’ he instructed roughly. ‘Spit it out! I’m a busy man. I’ve no time to wait on such as you!’

  Taking a deep breath, John said, ‘I’ve come to ask if you will allow me and Emily to walk out together?’

  ‘Yer what!’ Growing redder in the face, Clem screamed at him, ‘Yer devious little bastard! You’d best get from my front door, afore I blow you to bloody Kingdom Come!’ Beside him, Badger’s hackles were raised, and he growled low in his throat.

  Raising the shotgun, Clem aimed it at John’s throat, his one eye trained down the barrel and his finger trembling on the trigger. ‘I’ll count to ten, and if yer not well away by then, yer’ll not be leaving on yer own two feet, I can promise yer that!’

  With his heart beating fifteen to the dozen, John stood his ground. ‘We’re just friends, sir,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s nothing untoward between us. Only, I am very fond of her, and I know she’s fond of me, because she’s said so. But it’s all right and proper, sir. I respect Emily too much to harm her in any way.’