by Gloria Cook
It was only a short distance but it took what seemed an interminable length of time to reach the carved wooden gate with the words Ford House burnt into it. Fumbling with the spring latch she leapt down the steps, threatening her balance. Whipping round to the back door, she knocked once and tried the handle, relieved to find the door unlocked. Shaking with nerves, inhaling deep breaths to calm herself, wiping her eyes on her sleeves, she went in through the back and into the kitchen. It was empty. Some breakfast dishes were washed and stacked on the rack, waiting to be dried and put away. The remains of a single breakfast, presumably Elena’s, were left on the table. She went to the door that led to the passage. ‘Hello! Elena!’
There came a strange groan and then the animal noise again. Lottie listened. Apprehension settled on her like a morbid, weighty cloak. Something was wrong. ‘Elena, where are you? Elena!’
‘Oh, is that you, Lottie? I need help. I’m in the bathroom.’ Elena’s voice, dry and strained, filtered down the stairs.
Forgetting her problems Lottie hurried up the stairs. ‘I’m coming, Elena. Don’t worry.’
Elena groaned, and Lottie rushed to the smallest room on the landing. She pushed the door open and gasped to see Elena sitting with her back against the porcelain bath, knees up, and gripping her enormous stomach. ‘What happened? Did you fall?’
‘Yes,’ Elena wailed. Her face was white and spotted with red blotches. ‘I came up to spend a penny and then got this terrible pain. I don’t know how it happened but suddenly I was on the floor. I’ve tried to get up but I just can’t. I think I’ve sprained my wrist. The baby must be on the way.’
‘OK, OK, no need to panic.’ Some sort of power kicked in inside Lottie. A strange calm spread through her and all tension left her in a whoosh. She felt light and agile, strong and able, totally in control. ‘I’ll help you into the bedroom. Have you been down there since breakfast?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Jim wanted to stay home today with me being due tomorrow, but I was so sure nothing was about to happen. Ow, ah, ah, ah!’
Lottie knelt and held her hand until the contraction had passed. Elena’s pains were only five minutes apart. The midwife was needed urgently. ‘I take it Jim’s working on one of Faye’s properties today. I’ll phone Tremore and get someone to fetch him home, and I’ll ring for the midwife. Before the next pain comes, I’ll haul you up. As soon as you can, put your good hand on the side of the bath.’
After a struggle to get Elena upright and a cautious walk across the landing, Elena was sitting in a chair while Lottie whizzed about and prepared the bed with the draw sheets and maternity things already waiting for this event. As soon as Elena had changed into a nightdress and bed jacket and was propped up against the pillows, her next pain came, a forceful one. Lottie held her hand and encouraged her to breathe deeply throughout. ‘I’ll fetch a damp flannel for your face. You’ve got the fire lit. I’ll build it up with logs then I’ll slip downstairs to make those calls. I could ring for my mother, but I’m afraid she’s out.’
‘Thanks, Lottie.’ Elena smiled. ‘I knew someone would be sent to help me.’
By the time Lottie had completed the phone calls and was returning upstairs, Elena was moaning softly through another contraction. Lottie hadn’t been at all quiet during her labour with Carl and had yelled all the way through the last hours, sometimes cursing Nate for her pain and distress. Was this one reason for the resentment she’d had for him? Right now she was at ease and even enjoying looking after Elena. ‘We’re in luck,’ she said breezily. ‘Nurse Stevens is in the village. She’s just finished a call on old Mrs Maker and will be here soon. Uncle Tris is fetching Jim. I’ve phoned the farm and Tilda’s popping down to take charge of the kitchen. I can stay until late. Someone will take me home. So there’s no need to worry, you’ve got plenty of support.’
‘Thanks, Lottie.’ Elena sipped from the glass of water left on the bedside cabinet. ‘But I’m not worried.’
‘I can see that.’ Lottie was gazing at the cradle and baby clothes and other nursery items in the room.
‘I’m not superstitious that something bad will happen if everything is ready beforehand. I made up my mind that even if the worst was to happen, I would enjoy making things for my baby, imagining what he will look like in the cradle, wrapped in the shawl that was once mine. And the Lord has a purpose for everything.’
Lottie nodded, going quickly to the bed as Elena grimaced as the next pain started building up. After it had subsided, ‘Aren’t you at all afraid?’
‘I’m nervous, of course. Are you afraid of something, Lottie? I sensed unease in you when you asked that, and when you entered the bathroom you looked as if you’d been crying.’
‘I’m afraid to give birth to my baby!’ she blurted out, regretting it immediately. What a thing to say to a woman soon to give birth herself. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right.’ Now it was Elena reaching for her hand.
‘Most of us are afraid of something. We all need someone to see us through the rigours of life. You haven’t told anyone about this before, have you? The fears we hold in our minds tend to grow out of control when we keep them hidden. Don’t be afraid to bring it out in the light, Lottie. Tell Nate and tell your mother. They’ll understand. They love you. Their love will see you through.’
Having someone to understand her and offer just the right words brought on a rush of tears. Lottie felt an enormous release of fear, sorrow and self-pity. ‘It’s not a good idea to worry about something until it happens, is it? I got myself into a right state when I was having Carl. I thought that after seeing so many animal young born, giving birth would be easy. I was my usual wilful self throughout my pregnancy and early labour, refusing to take advice and rest, and it all became a terrible trial.’
‘I’m sure all will go well the next time.’ Elena squeezed her hand, then she was pressing harder as the next pain contracted her body. This time she made a lot of noise. ‘Ohh, that really hurt, but it’s one more over with.’
‘That’s the spirit, think positively. I will too from now on. And I will stop being so selfish. I was a spoiled brat, always demanding my own way.’
‘Don’t lose your vitality, Lottie. It’s what makes you who you are. Nate fell in love with every part of you.’
‘But he didn’t know everything about me when we got married. I’m sure there’s a lot he doesn’t like.’
‘Maybe there’s a little, but that’s natural. I’m sure he’s also finding it exciting to discover your hidden qualities. You and Nate have spent more time apart than together. Now you’ve got the joy of finding out more and more about him. It took me a while to get used to Jim’s stubbornness, but I was thrilled to discover he wanted to occasionally cook us romantic dinners.’
‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ Lottie recalled Nate’s new, spirited sense of purpose. He was also being patient and understanding, because she didn’t often feel like making love and there had been no intimacy for weeks.
‘Lottie, the last pain was over five minutes ago. Do you think the labour’s easing off?’
‘Probably not. Your body might be taking a little break. I remember that happening to me.’
The midwife arrived and the journey of Elena’s child into the world started again. It was evening before Lottie left to walk up to the farm and it was growing dark. Her steps were light and her mind uplifted. While Jim had paced up and down outside the bedroom, smoking endlessly, joined after work by his adopted son Alan, and adopted daughter Martha, Lottie had stayed in the bedroom with Elena, supporting her through the final stages of labour. Watching as the baby emerged from Elena’s body and was placed on her tummy, hearing its first cry, had reached a place in Lottie’s soul she’d had no idea was there. To see the joy on Elena’s, and then Jim’s face, as Nurse Stevens declared the baby to be perfect, was something she would never forget, an experience she felt honoured to have shared in.
She burst into her mother’s kitchen in
her old exuberant manner. Everyone was gathered there and they all looked at her expectantly. ‘It’s a boy! A healthy seven pounds and eight ounces. Elena had quite an easy time of it. He’s to be named James after his father, and Timothy. Elena asked me if I would like to add a name for him and I chose John. He’s absolutely beautiful. It was the most moving thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘Well done, my love.’ Emilia smiled at Lottie and then to herself. ‘Thank goodness you happened to call on Elena.’ Thank goodness for more than one reason. Lottie had found no comfort in anything she or anyone had said to her. It seemed someone kind and gentle outside the family had been just what Lottie needed to prepare her for her next childbirth.
Carl toddled to her and Lottie swept him up in her arms. She was now looking forward to her new child. She was surrounded by excited people all wanting to know more details.
Tom encircled Jill’s hand with his. ‘Our turn will come, darling.’
‘Come and take a seat, Lottie,’ Emilia fussed in maternal mode. ‘Tilda cooked a meal for Jim, Alan and Martha. Did you have anything to eat?’ When Lottie smilingly shook her head, she went on, ‘I’ll get you something. You sit and take it easy. Nate phoned. He was worried about returning to an empty house, but when I explained where you were and why, he suggested that as you’ll probably miss the last bus back, which you have, and as the time factor couldn’t be judged, you might as well stay over for the night.’
‘I’d love that.’ Love being cosseted in the heart of her family. Feeling weepy and emotional, she picked Carl up and hid her face against his sturdy little body.
* * *
With the night to himself, Nate ordered a taxicab to take him back to where he had been for most of the day. Coose-Craze Farm. Nearly a dozen times he had called on the rancorous major, subjecting himself to insult and ridicule, and threats that Lofty, the bull terrier, would be set on him. Lofty was not a problem. Nate had learned on his second visit that the dog could easily be bribed with biscuits and was soft and playful. And he realized early on that Randolph Gibbons was more bluster than antagonism. He was costing Nate a small fortune in gin, cigars and other inducements, but Nate thoroughly enjoyed playing mind battles with the old boy and matching him drink for drink. It was a mercy that Lottie didn’t seem to mind him coming home pie-eyed.
‘Show me a photo of the little woman,’ the major demanded on one occasion. Nate had discovered him out for a stroll, leaning his arms on a field gate – a gate that needed replacing, for its five bars of wood were rotting – gazing across the stubbled land shorn of its crops. The view glided down to the meadow and the woods that framed and protected the farmstead. The banks at the sides of the gate were littered with rain-squashed blackberries.
Nate had shown him the picture he kept of Lottie and Carl in his wallet. The major had put his horn-rimmed spectacles on and stared at it from the distance necessary for the longsighted. ‘A fine-looking boy. So this is she who you want to push me out of my retirement home for, eh? Very, very nice. Lottie, you say? She looks too good for you. Made a huge mistake marrying a damned foreigner. Why are you so certain she’d be eager to have Coose-Craze?’
‘She wanted us to buy it when it was up for sale, but I was in Texas then and I refused to let her to go ahead alone with an offer. Lottie wants to stay close to her family in nearby Hennaford. I want only to make her happy. Now I’ve seen the place I very much want it too.’
‘Close to her family, eh?’
It was all that the major said for a long time. Nate cottoned on that he was off brooding, as he often did. Another time, when the old man was snoozing, he’d gone to Violet Treloar in the kitchen, where he had learned much about his background. ‘I think he came down here because none of his relatives, cousins mainly, I think, wanted him near them. I get the impression he’s moved around a lot in the last fifteen years. He’s lonely. That’s what makes him so grumpy,’ she chattered while ploughing through an overflowing basket of ironing. There were a lot of shirts and collars, all stiffly starched. Not only was the major sloppy with his drinking habits; he was a fastidious dresser. The plain and purely functional women’s clothes he saw in the basket pointed to Violet living in at the house.
Nate enjoyed being in Violet’s company. She was hospitable and jolly, attractive in a pagan way. She was in a long-standing engagement with the cowman, Howard Hayes, who, like Nate, was a D-Day veteran, and whom Nate had met and found to be an amiable sort. The workforce was mainly like those of Ford Farm and Tremore Farm. Ordinary, honest, hard-working men and women, eager to do well by their employers, families and the tiny community in which they lived. There was only a dozen homes, all tied to Coose-Craze, in the hamlet, and most were inhabited by Treloars and the Hayes. Nate thought Howard Hayes a very lucky man to be marrying Violet.
‘That’s kinda sad,’ he said. ‘I hear he takes little notice of how the farm is run.’
‘You’re right there. ’Tis a good thing we’ve got a good foreman in Howard’s father, Morley. Major could be robbed blind and know nothing about it. Still, we all know our jobs and are happy just to get on with it. His solicitor and the auctioneer see to everything else for him. When I first met you, Mr Harmon, I thought it would be wonderful if you bought the place, but part of me don’t want to see the major packing up and ending up somewhere else where he’s not wanted. He’s just a sad old man with not much to show for his life. He tolerates your visits because he’s desperate for company. You show an interest in him, even though it’s really for your own ends.’
‘I must say I’ve enjoyed my times here. I wouldn’t want to see the old boy out in the cold either. I’ve got fond of him. Do you think he’ll give way to the pressure I’m putting on him?’ While Violet welded the heavy hot irons, which she heated on the range, he watched the lithe movements of her body. She was wearing a shapeless green and white frock, but it didn’t disguise her fully feminine figure. She had strong arms and rather big hands but her legs were well shaped. Her thick, unruly hair only saw a quick rake through with a comb and it had grown down in varying lengths. It was a mess, but like the white cotton socks and ankle boots she was wearing, it somehow added to her appeal. She didn’t know fashion or make-up and likely didn’t care to, and it didn’t matter one bit. Nate wondered if it was the fact that he was presently sex-starved that was making him see Violet in sensual terms. Partly maybe, but there was something beguiling about her. Strange that he should be looking at her with base thoughts; he’d never taken any notice if one of the guys from his army unit had pointed out a pretty girl. From the familiar way Hayes moved about her, it was obvious they were lovers. Nate envied the farmhand.
Violet caught him staring at her. ‘Did you want something, Mr Harmon? A drink? Something to eat?’
‘What?’ He shook his mind clear. He had no right to be eyeing up another woman. It wasn’t fair on Lottie or Violet. ‘Oh, no, thanks. I wouldn’t dream of stopping you from your work, Vi. Call me Nate.’ He needed to keep his distance from her, but he had just suggested a less formal footing. He mustn’t flirt with a woman he hoped would become his future employee.
She had given him a close lingering look. ‘I will. Nate.’
Had he been dreaming or did she pout her lips at him? He had thought about Violet a lot since then, and he had spent a lot of time with her alone. The major dozed each afternoon and Nate always made straight for the kitchen. Violet didn’t seem to mind. She had started staying on when it was her afternoon off. ‘To hear about your life in Texas and in the army,’ she’d said this afternoon. ‘Nothing exciting’s ever happened to me. To talk to you is like going to the pictures. I want to hear about it first-hand.’ He was happy to tell her anything. ‘You’re just like John Wayne,’ she’d said, then, lifting her eyes to him, added, ‘But much better looking.’
Now he was going back to Coose-Craze because thinking over all Violet had told him about the major he had an idea that made him fairly confident he could clinch a deal with the old boy
to sell up to him. It couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He told himself this second visit was only to see the major.
Night had laid a dark velvety carpet over the landscape of Coose-Craze and the only light came from a crescent moon and a lantern hanging outside the farmhouse back door. His arrival started up the poultry cackling and the young collie barked and ran at him. He quieted Flash, but Lofty had been disturbed inside the house and was butting the back door. The door was thrown open and in the dim electric light the outline of the major appeared. ‘Who’s there?’ he roared. ‘Speak up, damn your eyes or I’ll blast your head off!’
‘It’s OK, Major.’ Nate thought it wise to put his hands up high above his head as he approached the door. ‘It’s only me. Nate Harmon.’
‘OK! You think it’s OK to disturb a chap’s home on a cold dark night, Harmon? No manners, you Yanks. Don’t you know it’s the done thing to phone first? Do you fancy having your head blown off?’
‘No, Major.’ Nate was contrite and sounded it. He was also worried the major, unsteady and perhaps confused after all the gin he had consumed this afternoon, might accidentally press the trigger of the shotgun. He had hoped the major was warming to him, and that his eagerness to come back tonight hadn’t ruined his chances. If the old boy was offended and dug his heels in, it might be difficult or impossible to shift him. ‘I’m sorry I’ve alarmed you. Forgive me, I should have rung. Please let me in. I’ve got something to say which I think you’ll like to hear.’
‘Go on, Major, let him in.’ Violet’s voice came from behind him. ‘Now he’s here you might as well listen to what he’s got to say. Mr Harmon’s mentioned he plays chess. You could have a game afterward. I’m sure you can give him a thorough thrashing.’
The major lowered the shotgun. ‘Well, all right. Come in, Harmon, but don’t forget to wipe your bally feet!’