‘George – me dad can’t manage Samphire. She’s calving.’
At once the young man stopped his teasing. ‘He’s up near the Point helping his dad mend the nets, I reckon . . .’
But she was gone like the wind, calling back over her shoulder, ‘Thanks, Georgie.’
She ran along the curving river bank until she came to the place where the river widened out into intertidal mudflats, channelling a wandering route to the sea. Moored on the river bank was Robert Eland’s fishing boat, and on the headland, the very Point itself, father and son bent their heads over the nets, examining them for holes.
‘Danny, Danny!’
The two men looked up and Danny waved. ‘Summat up, Katie?’ he asked as she reached them.
‘Hello, Mester Eland . . .’
The older man nodded briefly.
‘Can you come and help us, Danny? Me dad can’t manage Samphire. Her calf’s coming breech.’
‘Oh heck!’ Danny muttered and then glanced at his father. ‘Dad . . .?’
The older man was silent, threading the nets expertly through his fingers. His eyes were downcast and his mouth was completely hidden by a thick, grey-speckled beard and moustache, so that Kate had no way of reading any expression on his face. It was impossible to see if he ever smiled, and the visible part of his face was weather-beaten and lined, his forehead seeming to have a permanent frown. He was a quiet man who gave the impression of being dour, even moody. Though Robert Eland rarely came to Brumbys’ Farm – hardly ever did he help with the harvest for he preferred the sea to the land – Kate’s stepfather would often meet him in the Seagull to play dominoes over a pint or two. ‘He’s a good man when you get to know him,’ Jonathan would say, to which Esther would reply, ‘You never see bad in anyone’, and Kate’s gentle stepfather would smile fondly at his wife.
Danny thought the world of his father; he was forever saying, ‘Me dad ses’ or ‘It was summat me dad said’. And that – for Kate – was good enough.
‘Where’s yar mam?’ Mr Eland was asking Kate now.
‘Gone to the Grange. We don’t know how long she’ll be and the cow’s in a bad way . . .’
There was a moment’s pause before he said, ‘All right, then. Off ya go, lad.’
‘Thanks, mester,’ Kate called over her shoulder for already her feet were flying across the grass back the way she had come.
‘Wait for me,’ Danny called after her, but, as always, he arrived at Brumbys’ Farm hot and breathless and a minute or two after Kate.
‘Get me – some hot – soapy water, Katie,’ he commanded, still trying to regain his breath, but having summed up the situation in the barn at a glance. In a few moments Kate was back with hot water from the side boiler in the kitchen range and a scattering of soap flakes from the wash-house dissolving in it.
Danny had taken off his shirt. His braces hung loosely down the sides of his trousers. He looked very thin, his shoulder-blades and ribs sticking out, but Kate knew his slight physique belied a wiry strength. He might not be able to run as fast as she could but he could beat her at arm-wrestling any day of the week.
‘We’ll have to hopple her, Mester Godfrey,’ Danny was saying, ‘else she’ll kick me shins to bits!’
Kate reached for the leather thong from the wall and handed it to Danny.
‘Kate – we’ll need some thin rope. Plough line’d be best, if you can find any.’
Kate screwed up her mouth and wrinkled her smooth brow. Then her thoughtful expression cleared. ‘Wait a bit . . .’
In the stable next to the barn the two cart-horses tried to nuzzle Kate as she squeezed past them. ‘Move over, Boxer. No, I ain’t no sugar – not this time. I’m busy. Oh, move over, do – I need that plough line on the wall.’
She pushed at the huge horse’s flanks and obligingly the animal side-stepped and allowed the girl into his stall to reach the line. Giving him a swift pat on his nose, Kate said, ‘I’m sorry, old feller, I can’t stay. Poor old Samphire needs help.’
Closing the stable door, she ran back to the barn and, stepping inside, saw Danny standing on a box pushing his thin arm, made slippery with the soapy water, into the cow. Samphire lowed and tried to move but because of the thong looped around her back legs she could not kick. Sweat ran down Danny’s forehead and his face was contorted with pain.
‘There – ain’t much – room in here,’ he gasped. ‘If I can – just . . . aaah.’ As he spoke one small back leg of the unborn calf popped out.
‘Well done, Danny.’ Jonathan Godfrey moved forward as if to help, but as he did so the cow jerked her rump and knocked against Danny, causing him to lose his precarious footing on the box. He let out a gasp of pain as his arm, trapped deep within the cow, was twisted into an awkward position.
‘Get back, Dad,’ Kate hissed and darted forward to set the box straight and help Danny back on to it. ‘You okay?’ she said softly. Anxiously, she looked up into Danny’s brown eyes, full of pain. He bit his lip but nodded resolutely.
Again he was moving his hand deep inside the cow, trying to release the unborn calf’s other back leg. Danny took a deep breath and grunted with the effort. Slowly Kate moved closer to the cow. She began to murmur soothingly to the animal as she had heard her mother do so often. At the same time she ran her hands gently up and down the cow’s back. ‘There, there, old girl. We’re trying to help you. Soon be over.’
‘Aaah,’ Danny gave a gasp of pleasure and relief as the second tiny back leg appeared. Thankfully, the boy eased his arm out of the cow. As he did so, he grabbed the tiny, protruding legs.
‘Quick, Kate. Give us the line.’
Kate handed it to him and swiftly he tied one end round the calf’s legs and passed the other end to Kate.
‘Hold it taut, Kate, we don’t want him tucking ’em back in.’
Danny stepped down from the box. There were red pressure bruises all the way down his arm and he winced as he bent over the bucket of soapy water to wash away the blood and slime.
‘Have you hurt your arm, Danny?’ Jonathan Godfrey asked in concern.
‘It’ll be right, mester. Just twisted it a bit when I fell off the box.’
‘That was my fault,’ the man said with contrition.
Danny stood up and Kate could tell that the grin he gave was a little forced. ‘Right then, let’s have a go.’
All three of them grasped the line and, with one accord, pulled on it. As if sensing that they were trying to help her, Samphire appeared to pull in the opposite direction, though her lowing sounds became more frantic and high-pitched.
‘It’s no good,’ Jonathan Godfrey gasped as they paused for breath. ‘You’ll have to fetch the vet.’
The two youngsters looked up at him askance. ‘The vet?’ They both spoke at once, and Kate added, ‘Me mam’d have a double-duck fit if we was to waste money on a vet.’
The man gestured helplessly towards the cow, now looking round at them reproachfully. ‘But we can’t manage. We’ll lose calf and cow if we don’t get some expert help soon.’
‘Let’s give it just one more try, Mester,’ Danny urged. ‘Then I’ll go for the vet.’
‘Me mam’ll go mad!’ Kate muttered, grasping the rope and pulling with every ounce of her strength.
‘Come – on!’ she heard Danny gasp and echoed his entreaty in her mind.
Suddenly there was a loud sucking sound and the calf slithered out on to the mound of straw beneath the cow’s hind legs. The man and the two youngsters, still pulling hard, fell back together in a heap. They disentangled themselves and sat up. In front of them was the newborn calf lying in the straw. Samphire, her cries of pain stilled, looked round in surprise as if to say, ‘Where did that come from?’
Kate laughed aloud and scrambled on all-fours to where the wriggling creature lay. She picked up handfuls of straw and wiped the calf.
‘Oh, he’s lovely. Look, Dad, he’s . . .’
At that moment the door of the barn was flun
g open and her mother stood there. ‘What on earth . . .?’ began Esther Godfrey. Her glance rested briefly on Danny and her mouth tightened noticeably, but she directed her anger at her daughter.
‘Kate! I thought I told you to go to bed. How many times do I have to tell you . . .?’
‘Esther,’ Jonathan’s deep voice interrupted in gentle reproach. ‘The youngsters have been helping me. I couldn’t have managed without them.’
Kate saw her mother open her mouth but at that moment she saw the calf struggling to its feet, and whatever sharp retort she had been about to make was stilled. Then once more her gaze came to rest upon Danny’s head, bowed over the plough line he was looping into a neat coil.
‘Thank you for your help, Danny.’ Her mother’s tone was stiff and unfriendly and as Danny’s head jerked up, Kate saw that there was puzzlement in his dark brown eyes and a red flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.
Handing the coiled line to Jonathan Godfrey, he nodded briefly to Kate and went towards the door.
Once more Jonathan’s deep voice prompted gently, ‘Esther, the lad saved the calf and probably your cow as well.’
Esther seemed to be struggling with some inner conflict, but as Danny passed by her, she reached out her hand, touched his shoulder briefly and said, ‘I am grateful, Danny, really.’
The boy hesitated and, for a moment, stared up at her. Then with a muttered ‘Missus’, he moved on out of the doorway.
As they heard his boots crunching across the cinders in the yard, Esther’s attention came back to Kate. ‘I don’t want you to see so much of Danny from now on, Kate. He’s growing up and come Monday he’ll think of himself as a working man. He’s no longer a boy.’
Kate stared wide-eyed at her mother, her mouth slightly open in shock. Why was her mother behaving so strangely? Danny had always been her friend. He was only a few months older than she was and they had both lived all their young lives at Fleethaven Point.
‘Why have you gone all funny with Danny, Mam? You’ve never stopped us bein’ friends before. I can’t just . . .’
‘Mebbe that’s where I made me mistake – I should have put a stop to it a long time ago!’ her mother muttered, then she raised her voice and added, ‘Dun’t argue with me, Missy, ya’ll do as I say. Now off to bed with ya.’
‘Mam . . .?’ Kate began but her protestations were cut short by Esther flinging her arm out and pointing towards the house.
‘Bed!’
Three
The next morning at breakfast, Kate was subdued and silent. Had her mother really meant what she had said about Danny the previous night?
‘Look after Lilian while I get the dairy work done, will ya, Katie?’ her mother asked, bustling between kitchen and pantry where the milk stood waiting in churns. ‘Just wheel her up and down the lane, mind. No sneaking off to the Point.’
So – she had meant it. Kate bit her lip, but decided not to argue – at least, not at present.
‘Can’t I c’lect the eggs, Mam?’ Kate hated wheeling the baby in the black baby car; its handle was too high for her and it was heavy to push on the uneven surface of the lane.
‘Later – when you’ve got the baby to sleep for the morning.’
There was no escape. For the remainder of the Easter holidays, it seemed as if her mother deliberately kept her busy. Collecting eggs, feeding the hens, fetching the cows from the meadow for milking twice a day and running errands – anywhere except to the cottages at the Point. And, of course, wheeling Lilian. The baby’s blue eyes stared resentfully up at her from inside the huge hood of the baby car, the tiny mouth puckered, ready to whimper.
‘Talk to her, Kate,’ her mother would say. ‘It’ll soothe her.’
But Kate could not bring herself to talk to the baby like her mother did. To the young girl it sounded daft!
She had no opportunity to see Danny. Now he had started work and she would soon be back at school, Kate realized there would be even less chance of meeting him.
‘Look sharp,’ her mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs as Kate dressed on the first morning of the new school term. ‘Yar dad’s getting the trap ready to take you.’
Tears threatened as Kate realized afresh that only she needed taking to school now. This morning there would be no Danny appearing on top of the Hump and running down towards Brumbys’ Farm for a ride to school in their trap. There would be no playing their usual game.
‘Go on, Dad, get going. Mek him run. ‘E shouldn’t be late.’
Smiling, Jonathan would flick the reins to make the docile pony inch forward, the animal seeming to know it was all in the game and that he shouldn’t set off too quickly but give the boy a fair chance of catching them.
‘Come on, Danny, faster, faster . . .’ Kate would stand up in the trap shouting back to him, her merry laughter bouncing on the breeze. ‘We’ll leave ya and ya’ll be late an’ get the cane.’ Then she would say to Jonathan, ‘Let him catch us now, Dad, he’s out o’ puff.’
Jonathan would ease back on the reins to halt the pony and the boy would clamber up into the back of the trap, breathless and red in the face, but laughing. Always Danny Eland seemed to have a broad grin on his tanned face.
But this morning there would be no game and no laughter because there would be no Danny.
Kate sat stiff and silent in the trap, looking back down the empty lane. Her gaze took in the flat fields stretching westwards as far as she could see, trees dotted black against the low horizon. The lane wound gently following the natural line of the sand-dunes all the way to the outskirts of Lynthorpe.
Just before they reached the first houses, Jonathan turned the trap to the left and took a lane leading inland. ‘We mustn’t forget to pick Rosie up.’ He smiled down at Kate, but her normally happy face was solemn.
She felt lost without Danny.
When the trap pulled up outside the smithy, however, and little Rosie Maine came running up, Kate’s spirits lifted a little. It was impossible not to be cheered by Rosie – she was such a bright chatter-box, with white-gold bouncing curls, merry blue eyes and a round chubby face that always seemed to be smiling. Jonathan held out his hand and the child climbed up the step into the trap. She flung her arms about Kate’s neck and hugged her hard. Then she sat down and pulled her skimpy dress over her knees. Already, the shapeless shift dress seemed too short for her. Over it, she wore a grey hand-knitted jumper that had been washed so many times, the wool stitches had matted together.
Rosie swung her bare legs and giggled as she pointed at her canvas shoe. ‘Look, me big toe’s poking through. I got a new pair at Easter, but me mam ses I’ll only spoil ’em if I wear ’em for school.’
She wriggled closer to Kate and slipped her hand through the older girl’s arm. ‘Ooh, I ’ave missed you, Kate, these holidays. I didn’t even get down to see me Grannie Harris and to come an’ play with you. Me mam’s been a bit poorly. She’s having another babby, y’know.’
Rosie’s mother was always having another baby, Kate thought. Rosie, at five, already had two younger brothers and now there was another child on the way.
‘She’s been sick ev’ry morning this week, but that’ll go after the first three months,’ the child added, frighteningly knowledgeable for one so young. Rosie paused and looked about her as the trap rattled on. ‘Funny without Danny, in’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Kate mumbled, but could not trust herself to say any more. Rosie was the last person she wanted to see her tears. The child idolized her and Kate loved Rosie as she might a younger sister – more, if she were honest, than she loved her real sister, well, half-sister.
Rosie chattered on. ‘We might be coming to live at the Point, in that cottage that’s empty near me Grannie Harris’s. I’ll like that.’
Jonathan Godfrey looked down at the excited little girl. ‘Your father will still work at the smithy, though, won’t he?’
Rosie’s father, Walter Maine, had been wounded in the war and had lost a leg. Whe
n he and Enid Harris from Fleethaven Point had married some six years earlier, Kate had been their bridesmaid, and the newly married couple had made their home in the two small rooms above the smithy where Walter worked.
‘Oh yes.’ The bright curls bobbed as Rosie nodded vigorously in answer to Jonathan’s question. ‘But there bain’t room there for all us lot now, Mester.’
Kate saw the slow smile on her stepfather’s face, and despite her unhappiness at missing Danny, she wanted to smile too. She well knew the cramped conditions the Maine family lived in, even though they had brought it upon themselves by having so many children. But it would be nice to have little Rosie living nearer.
‘You tell your dad and mam that if they want to borrow the horses and a wagon to move, they’d be most welcome.’
The child’s pink cheeks shone and her pretty mouth stretched wide in a grin. ‘Thanks, Mester, I will,’ and as the trap pulled up outside the school gate, Rosie jumped down and was gone, running into the playground.
‘She’s like a little whirlwind,’ Jonathan murmured, and Kate smiled thinly in return.
‘Bye, Dad. See you tonight.’
‘Kate?’ The soft tone made her look back at him. ‘Be careful coming home tonight.’ He paused, as if knowing that what he felt obliged to say would cause her more pain, ‘You – you’ll be on your own when you leave Rosie at the smithy.’
Kate closed her eyes against the tears and swallowed the lump in her throat. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded, turned and ran into the playground without looking back.
All through the long morning, Kate’s glance kept wandering to the place where Danny used to sit, now occupied by a fat, spotty-faced boy. It gave her a shock every time she glanced across, half-expecting, half-hoping to see Danny, to see instead the ugly boy sitting at Danny’s desk. She didn’t want anyone else sitting in the place that had been Danny’s. She would have preferred it to remain empty rather than that anyone else should sit there. At playtime she sat morosely in the corner of the playground, refusing to join in any of the games, dreading the end of afternoon school when she must face the long walk home alone.
The Fleethaven Trilogy Page 42