by Ann Cliff
NINETEEN
‘Now we’ve got the harvest in we can think about other things. Let’s go on a trip to Fountains Abbey on Sunday! Will you come, both of you? Ma’ll be coming too, when she hears about it.’ Robin looked at Emma and Sally, eager to be off, to get out of Thorpe for an afternoon.
Sally was still quite tired after the effort of harvesting. All the stooks of oats were safely stacked in the barn, to be threshed out later. It was satisfying to look round the yard and see the corn and the hay, evidence of prosperity and hard work completed. But her arms still ached from throwing the sheaves up to the stacker and when she closed her eyes at night, she still saw the flying sheaves of golden grain.
‘I’ll stay at home just for once, but Emma should go. You’ll enjoy the ride, Emma. And the beautiful old ruins by the river, they’re full of history.’ Sally was also thinking that Emma, although much braver than before, tended to shyness in company. It would be good for the girl to go out with the Scotts without Sally to hide behind. And it would be good to have a day to herself for a change.
As Marcus was riding down to Thorpe on that bright Sunday morning Sally was getting on with the farm work, still wondering about Oliver Radford’s letter. What would Marcus think of the ban on further communication between them? Perhaps he would accept what Oliver told him. Thinking it over, it seemed to Sally that Marcus had a rather sad outlook on life at times. She’d seen it that day when they met in Kirkby. Perhaps he needed someone to remind him to look on the bright side? Even on that day, he’d seemed much more relaxed after he’d talked to her for a while.
Sunday was Joe’s day off and so Sally had to milk the cows and do all the chores by herself. Emma had gone off to lunch at the Scotts before the trip to Fountains. It wasn’t often that Sally was alone on the farm these days. With Joe and Emma as permanent helpers life was much easier. And she’d also been able to hire other workers when they needed them, such as a man and a wagon to help to lead in the sheaves of corn.
For most of the morning she was busy with the cows, feeding the hens and collecting the eggs and doing all the other small jobs round the yard. It was a reminder of just how hard her life had been when she had tried to farm all alone. Thank goodness that was over.
Once the work was done Sally sat down in the kitchen for a cup of tea and a slice of teacake and cheese. It was very quiet; the village of Thorpe was enjoying its day of rest. The ticking of the old clock was loud in the silence and from the yard she could hear the loud call of a hen that had just laid an egg and wanted the world to know. What now? There was always a job to do on a farm, but most of them could wait another day or two. She had two or three hours before the evening chores would begin. Going out into the garden, Sally picked some of the last of the summer roses. She arranged a bowl of roses in the hall and then decided to take the rest of the flowers to her parents’ grave. Sally often thought of her parents, but she’d had little time to visit their grave since her father died. Today was her first taste of leisure for weeks. But she couldn’t walk up through Thorpe on a Sunday in her farm clothes.
Half an hour later, neat and wearing a pretty print dress, Sally put on her straw hat and walked sedately up the village street to the church. The morning service was over and people had dispersed to their homes. The Crown Inn was next to the church and as she passed, Sally looked through the stone arch beside the inn. And there tied up to a rail she saw the horse that Marcus rode, Odin. It was the same chestnut, elegant head that had come between them while they were talking in Kirkby. Sally had a good eye for a horse and she certainly remembered this one. Sally’s heart went down. Marcus was in Thorpe, and hadn’t come near her. Marcus didn’t care about her, or he was so afraid of his father that he dare not disobey him. Or – was she in danger of being as negative as he was? Sometimes, it was hard to work out the truth, especially of complex relationships. She wasn’t sure what their relationship might have been, but no doubt it was over.
The churchyard was peaceful, with a pigeon cooing in the trees and Sally felt gradually calmer. She placed the flowers and then took off her bonnet and sat on a seat near the graves. What would Mother and Father have thought about Radford’s condition of sale? Her father in particular would have been delighted that the farm was coming back to the Mason family. And a lack of communication with Radfords wouldn’t have worried him. But what if I told him I wanted to see Marcus Radford? What would my father have said? Sally couldn’t find the answer. Neither could she decide what she would have done if her father had forbidden her to see Marcus again. She had loved her father and wouldn’t have wanted to cause him grief.
Sally sighed and went slowly to the churchyard gate. It was all too difficult and probably always would be. She looked across the wall to the inn; there was Marcus, leading his horse through the arch. Although she felt like hiding behind a gravestone Sally stood still, with her hand on the churchyard gate. Her heart was hammering and she felt herself turning bright red. I hope he doesn’t see me….
‘Sally!’ Marcus called, and ran the short distance between them, with Odin trotting behind. ‘I came to Thorpe to see you.’
His arms went round her out there in the sunshine, and Sally’s heart experienced a surge of joy. This wasn’t the gloomy man she’d seen in Kirkby! ‘I-I didn’t think you’d see me,’ she stammered.
‘Of course I saw you! You can’t hide that hair!’ Marcus was laughing with sheer lightness of heart himself. But suddenly a grave look came over his face as he looked down at her. ‘Tell me quickly … we have so much to talk about … but – are you engaged, or promised to anyone else?’ His voice was urgent.
Sally was puzzled for a moment and then she saw the problem. ‘You mean my paying guest! Poor Simon. He was here for his health and he died not long ago. But I told you the last time we met, he was just a guest, Marcus.’ She paused, considering what a real lady should say. And she could see that Marcus was still waiting. Sally was used to taking the lead and making up her mind; she knew she was sometimes seen as unfeminine, especially by Aunt Bertha. And she didn’t want to appear forward and unfeminine with Marcus. She was not yet sure of him, however pleased he seemed to see her.
‘I have no engagement, or involvement with anyone at all.’ It came out primly, but it was probably the correct thing to say even though Sally felt like shouting, ‘It’s you I want, you idiot!’ That would have been nearer the mark.
Marcus let out a long sigh. ‘So that’s it, that’s the main thing. I was hoping, but I wasn’t sure until I saw you!’ He beamed at her. ‘May I walk home with you?’ He offered his free arm, the one that wasn’t holding the horse.
‘What if Sol sees us and tells your father? We’re not supposed to communicate, ever again. It’s a condition of sale for the farm.’ Sally drew back.
Marcus looked grim. ‘Come on, we’ll walk down the street together.’ So Marcus led the horse down the street, with Sally on his other side. There was still nobody about except a few ducks on the green, lazing in the afternoon sun and not in the least interested in whether Sally was walking close to Marcus or not.
‘It doesn’t matter, Sally. I can’t be dictated to all my life. I have just been told of his “conditions” this morning. And I told my father that I was coming to see you today. I stopped at the Crown for a bite to eat, that was all.’
So Marcus had defied his revered father, to come to see her.
‘I’ll tell you more when we get to Badger’s Gill.’
At the farm Marcus put his horse in the stable and they sat together in the garden, on an old stone bench. Bees were humming in the Michael daisies and the scent of the fading roses rose up in the warm air. Sally brought out a jug of lemonade.’ When I got the letter with that condition, I thought it was the end—’ Sally began.
The last words of this speech were smothered because Marcus leaned over and kissed her. ‘All right, I should have come before, I know. But it seemed so hopeless and I thought you were set with that fair-haired boy, too
. And then I had this idea of getting to the bottom of the murder. I thought that would end the quarrel for Father. But it didn’t, of course.’
Sally took his hands in hers. ‘Start at the beginning, Marcus. Did you get to the bottom of the mystery? What have you found?’
Sitting there in the sunshine, Marcus told Sally the story of Foxholes Wood and what had happened there fifty years ago.
‘The poor things! Marcus, it sounds so likely. People often said that my grandfather couldn’t remember anything. His memory was bad, we all knew it. I suppose that’s why they didn’t bring a case against him. Most people believed him when he said he couldn’t remember what happened.’ Sally sat quiet for a while, thinking about her grandfather. ‘But it was worse for your family … Mr Radford was left without a father, at a young age. It probably changed him, Marcus.’ That strong, determined, ruthless face, Sally thought, had perhaps been formed as a result of the tragedy.
‘You’re right. But he’s very – inflexible. I’d hoped that the truth would put an end to the hatred, Sally. But he said this morning that nothing had changed for him.’
Marcus stretched and looked across at Sally. ‘Now that our grandfathers have been laid to rest, you and I at least have nothing to come between us. What do you say, little Bo-Peep?’
Sally looked down modestly. ‘I don’t want to come between you and your father. And I don’t really know what will happen if I break the condition of sale, for Badger’s Gill. But….’
Marcus smiled, and Sally thought his face was thinner than she remembered it. ‘So there is a but, is there? I love you, Sally. And I am prepared to upset all the Radfords at once, if necessary, so long as you want me with you.’ There was a long interval, with Marcus and Sally very close together. ‘My little Bo-Peep!’ he murmured into her hair.
‘Marcus, I have missed you more than I can tell. I want to be with you!’ Sally felt her face flushing again, but she didn’t care. This was happiness. ‘I am so happy that you feel the same way! But I think we can be generous. Let’s take things gently and hope that your father will change his mind about me. Give him time.’
In one way, Sally thought, Oliver’s opposition was a good thing. Marcus had shown that he was prepared to stand on his own feet, make his mind up. She admired him for his independence, knowing how hard it was to achieve in a farming family. Marcus was his own man, thank goodness.
‘I believe I know some of the problem: my grandmother. She’s the one who is most implacable. The death soured her, poor thing. But there’s something else.’ Marcus was looking at her closely. ‘It’s only right that you should know the whole truth about my father. I know that judging by his letters he would seem to be an ogre to you. He’s told me what went into them! I think he enjoys dreaming up scorchers, to tell you the truth. He likes words, he writes all his own business letters, doesn’t trust it to Hill. I’m afraid he polishes up the insults as a hobby!’
Sally laughed. ‘I rather wondered … they were so very rude!’ But I was just as bad, she thought guiltily. That first letter … I hope Marcus didn’t see it.
‘Well, one night I got it out of him. My father refuses to see you, won’t visit Thorpe – because you’re too much like your mother, Sally.’
Sally’s eyes widened. ‘But he didn’t know my mother – did he? She never mentioned him!’
‘He was in love with your mother, but she married your father instead. I don’t know how well they knew each other, though. And there was no suggestion of betrayal, or of going back on a promise. She just chose Robert Mason. I don’t even know whether she knew of Father’s feelings. He told me he’d been very serious and devoted to business, as a youth.’
In the silence of the garden, the humming of bees was loud.
‘And my father was – devastated.’ Marcus took her hand. ‘I can imagine how he felt.’
Sally sat quiet, digesting this thought. ‘Poor Oliver! So it wasn’t exactly hatred, after all.’ She shook her head.
‘Far from it. That’s why he bought the farm, you see. Not out of revenge, but to help your parents without appearing to. Nobody else offered a bid and no doubt the auctioneer told him, knowing my father could afford to buy it.’ Marcus took another sip of his drink. ‘I learned quite a lot about Father that night. He’s not as ruthless and hard as he pretends to be. But he cares what people think of him, more than I do. That’s why he dresses so well. And he likes people, especially tenants, to see him as a tough businessman.’
‘But later, he was happy with your mother? What was she like, Marcus?’ There was a great deal that she didn’t know about Marcus. And Oliver Radford was emerging as almost likeable! Sally couldn’t quite believe it.
‘Mother was calm, practical and warm-hearted. Just like me!’ He laughed. ‘Yes, they were happy. But I have a feeling that since she died, the past has come to mean more to him. He gets very agitated if I ask him to come to Thorpe.’
The shadows were lengthening across the green as they talked on, absorbed in learning about each other. At length Marcus looked at the sky and then across at the farmyard. Sally’s cows were assembled round the gate, staring reproachfully over the wall into the garden. They knew it was milking time, even if those silly humans had forgotten.
‘We may be trying to follow our destiny, but the cows still have to be milked! I’ll give you a hand, lass – I suppose there’s no one else to help on a Sunday?’
Sally and Marcus tied up the cows and then under Sally’s direction, Marcus helped with the evening chores. The sun was setting by the time they finished and turned the cows out again.
‘That’s a fine animal!’ Marcus watched Primrose walking proudly out of the shed.
‘She’s to be shown at Kirkby, next week. We’ve decided to have a go at the championship.’
‘Good, I’ll hope to see you there. We’re tied up with the show, of course.’
That might be interesting. If she talked to Marcus at the show, under Oliver’s nose … Sally put the thought away. ‘Colsterdale’s a fair way to ride, tonight. Perhaps you should go now, before dark.’ Sally felt she had to say it, although she wanted him to stay. But Marcus laughed.
‘There’s a moon tonight, Sally. I’ll come round the sheep with you and perhaps have a cup of tea before I leave.’
Emma was not back, so probably she was having supper at the Scotts’. Down in the gill, the sunset was long gone but the moon was rising above the ridge. The Thorpe Beck gurgled its way down to the river with a peaceful, contented sound. Sally and Marcus were on a farm walk in the moonlight and for the first time, Marcus went with her into Badger’s Gill.
‘I can see why you love this farm. It’s a beautiful spot. A bit lower down the hill than my place at Colsterdale. I like the big trees and the hedges. I suppose Kirkby is a bit warmer, but Thorpe’s a civilized sort of place.’
‘I’ve always loved it. See how the wood slopes down to the gill? That’s where the badgers sometimes play. But of course I’ve never lived anywhere else. I’ve never been very far, Marcus, I’m afraid.’
‘No need to go far, when you live in a place like this. And you’ve looked after it well, too.’
Sally glowed with pleasure; Marcus could not have said a better thing to her. Except for the next thing he said.
‘Come and sit on this log, my lass. Little Bo-Peep, it’s time we got serious. ‘Now….’ and his arms went round her. ‘That’s better. Will you marry me, little Sally? I want to live with you, happily ever after!’
Their moonlit shadows moved towards each other and merged. They could hear the quiet murmuring of pheasants settling down for the night, but neither of them paid any attention to the birds.
‘Well!’ Sally emerged rather breathless, from a long kiss. ‘Er – live where, Marcus dear?’ This was the crunch. She’d have to face it, now; the thought that if she married, it would mean leaving Thorpe. Miss Mason of Badger’s Gill realized that she would lose her farm. And her name, too and the little business she wa
s building up and that she was so proud of. It would be a big sacrifice.
‘Colsterdale, I suppose, although Father was talking about going off and leaving me in charge of Nidd. But I expect you don’t want to leave Thorpe?’ Marcus looked guilty, as though he’d forgotten Sally’s ambitions in the joy of the moment.
‘I’ve had to fight for Badger’s Gill. You don’t suppose I’d want to sell it?’ Sally drew away from him, just a little.
‘What do you really want, my little Bo-Peep? Truly now! I can see that you’ve enjoyed the fight, you’ve kept the farm and beaten Sol Bartram. What next?’ Marcus drew her to him.
Sally was quiet; she was saying goodbye to Badger’s Gill. It would soon all be over.
‘Yours is a hard life, my darling. I want you to enjoy a little more leisure … but what do you want?’
‘I want to be the best woman farmer in Yorkshire and for this to be the best farm! I want to win prizes at shows, and Badger’s Gill to beat everybody!’ Sally could feel the familiar fizz, but the words didn’t quite ring true, even to her.
‘Does this mean you’re turning me down?’ The dark face was worried.
‘I’ll be honest. I really want to have a loving husband and children. I don’t want to live alone, to be successful Miss Mason, fading into a spinster … oh, Marcus. It will be hard to leave! I never wanted to leave Thorpe!’ Tears welled up as Sally looked around at the moonlit fields and woods.
‘But you’ll marry me?’ Marcus persisted. ‘We can keep Badger’s Gill, my girl, for one of our children.’
Our children! Sally’s deepest, most secret wishes were going to come true. ‘I will marry you, Marcus, and leave Thorpe. There, my choice is made.’ Marcus too may have to sacrifice, thought Sally. In his case, his relationship with Oliver. But he was evidently putting that aside. She sighed deeply. ‘But you haven’t said what you really want, my Roman soldier?’