Audrey shook her head. ‘No, not yet.’
‘Oh well, I s’pose she has to keep quiet about it. That Miss Thomson, she’s dead strict. I’ve heard me mum say that Daisy isn’t supposed to have followers, not in the house at any rate.’
‘Followers?’
‘Young men – you know. Andy Cartwright’s her young man, an’ she meets him when it’s her day off. That’s when I’ve seen ’em… Anyroad, ne’er mind about them, eh? Let’s pick some o’ these blackberries. Come on, Audrey, what’s up? Are you scared of getting prickled? See, I’ll hold the branch down, then you can reach.’
The three girls were busy for several minutes, picking the purple glistening berries from the branches and popping them into their bowls. Audrey grew braver, reaching out further to the topmost branches until her bowl was more than half full.
‘Mmm…yum, yum!’ said Maisie as she put a succulent berry into her mouth then licked her lips. She reached for another one.
‘Don’t eat too many,’ said Doris, ‘or else you’ll get belly ache…and you mustn’t eat any other sort of berries, you know,’ she added, a trifle bossily. ‘You might get poisoned. It’s summat we learn, living in the country, but folk from the town don’t always know.’
‘We’re not stupid!’ retorted Maisie. ‘Are we, Audrey? Of course we know you can’t eat ’em… Anyway, what are they called, them big orangey ones? Look, them birds are having a rare old feast.’
‘They’re rose hips,’ replied Doris. ‘Wild roses grow there in the summer time. And those dark red ones are the berries of the hawthorn bush. Hips and haws, we call ’em.’
Maisie was quiet for several moments as they wandered further along the lane. She stopped every now and again to pluck another cluster of berries, gazing in awe at the beauty all around her. The trees growing behind the hedge were just beginning to change colour, the edges of the leaves tipped with yellow and brown, and a few already falling to the ground. She was loth to show Doris how ignorant she was of country matters. A tree was just a tree to Maisie, or had been until now. She could tell the difference between an oak and a sycamore, though, many of which were growing in the lane. And there, hiding amidst the branches, were the twin seeds of the sycamore trees, like little aeroplanes, and acorns, too, nestling behind the curly oak leaves. They had learned about ‘seed dispersal’ at school in so-called nature lessons, but it had not meant very much to them, brought up in the smokey streets of Armley. The trees in the park, near to where Audrey lived, were quite lovely, Maisie supposed, although she had never really given them much thought. And they certainly did not glow with the brilliance of these trees here, growing freely and in splendour as God had intended them to do.
She noticed a spider’s web in the hedge, glistening with droplets of dew, so different from the dusty cobwebs that hung from the dark corners of their rooms at home. A little stream rippled and gurgled between the hedge and the field and she heard a blackbird singing his heart out from a nearby bush. But when a grey squirrel leapt from the branches of a tree and scuttled across the path in front of her she cried out in delight. ‘Oh look, a squirrel! I’ve never ever seen one of them before, only pictures of ’em.’ She didn’t mind admitting it. ‘Isn’t he lovely?’
‘They can be a nuisance,’ said Doris, a shade reproachfully. ‘They strip the bark off trees, you know, and they pinch birds’ eggs from the nests. Still, they are rather sweet to look at, I suppose. The red ones are nicer, but you don’t often see them.’
Audrey had wandered off in front of the other two and now she stood in the middle of the lane, looking into her bowl which was almost full. Suddenly a black and white dog appeared, from out of nowhere, or so it seemed. It came bounding towards her, its tail wagging and its pink tongue lolling out in delight. She stood transfixed as the dog leapt up at her. It pawed and sniffed and jumped all round her, barking excitedly, whilst she, terrified, backed away. Then the bowl flew out of her hands and its contents rolled away across the lane, many of her precious berries trampled under the feet of the exuberant dog.
‘Go away! Go away!’ she yelled, falling over her own feet in fright and ending up in a heap on the ground. Then she burst into tears.
The next minute a boy came running from around the corner where the lane forked. ‘Prince, Prince! Come back here! Oh, you dreadful dog, just look what you’ve done… I’m very sorry…er… Miss.’ He went towards Audrey, holding out his hand to help her to her feet, but she just sat there and stared at him. ‘He wouldn’t mean to hurt you. Prince wouldn’t hurt anybody. He’s just playful, you see. He wants to make friends. Here Prince, here boy…now, sit!’
The dog obeyed, but Maisie dashed forward in Audrey’s defence. ‘You ought to look after him better’n that,’ she shouted. ‘He frightened my friend to death, and look, she’s gone and lost all her blackberries. Come on, Audrey. Get up! See, that naughty dog’s sitting still now.’ Audrey scrambled to her feet, still with one eye on her attacker. ‘An’ I’ll give you some of my blackberries,’ Maisie went on, ‘and so will Doris, I ’spect… But he should be on a lead.’ She wagged her finger crossly at the strange boy not caring, at that moment, that he was older and bigger than she was.
An amused look crept across his face, and Doris, at his side, was smiling too. ‘This is Bruce,’ she said. ‘Bruce Tremaine. You know, the squire’s son – Mr Tremaine that I was telling you about. That’s Maisie and that’s Audrey,’ she continued, pointing to her two friends. ‘What Bruce says is right, though. Prince won’t hurt you, but he gets a bit excited sometimes. He’s a collie dog – you know, a sheepdog. He’s real good at rounding up the sheep, isn’t he, Bruce?’
‘So he is,’ said the boy. ‘And I’m really sorry that he frightened you…Audrey.’ Then he nodded at Maisie, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Yes…Maisie, you are quite right. I should have had him on a lead. As a matter of fact, I have one here, in my pocket.’ He patted at the short tweed jacket he was wearing. ‘But he likes to have a run and I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone. You two – you are some of our visitors, aren’t you, from Leeds…or are you from Hull? I’m very pleased to meet you both. I hope you are settling down and that you will like living here.’
‘We’re from Leeds,’ said Maisie, a little grumpily and determined not to say any more. She hadn’t forgiven him for the dog frightening Audrey like that, although she had to admit that he seemed quite a decent sort of boy, as boys went, and he had called them visitors and not evacuees, which was a point in his favour. The dog, too, he seemed OK now he had settled down. Maisie tended to steer clear of boys, especially of ones who were older than herself. If she was honest, she was scared of them lest they should turn out to be like Percy. But this boy, well, she could tell at a glance that he could not be more different.
For a start, he was posh. He spoke much posher than Audrey did, or even Patience and Luke. He had no trace of what Maisie knew to be a Yorkshire accent, the way most people spoke when they came from anywhere in Yorkshire. She knew he must be a few years older than she was – say thirteen or fourteen years old – because not only was he taller, but he wore long trousers. Boys of Maisie’s age wore short trousers and they did so until they were getting on for twelve years old and went on to the senior school. He was a good looking boy, too, she admitted to herself a little grudgingly. His hair was dark whereas Percy’s was a sort of mucky blond colour – why did she have to compare every lad she met with Percy, she wondered? – and she thought his eyes were brown; dark anyway, and warm and kind, and he had a round cheerful face and rosy cheeks.
‘I am really sorry that Prince frightened you,’ he said again to Audrey, who had not spoken as yet. ‘Here, give me your bowl and I’ll gather some more berries for you. We’ll have this full in two shakes of a lamb’s tail… Where are you off to anyway, Doris?’
‘Oh, just here and there,’ she replied. ‘I’m showing them around yer father’s land. I know he won’t mind. And on the way back we’ll perhaps see me dad. I know
he’s got a field to plough this morning.’
‘I’ll come with you then,’ said Bruce… ‘Here boy, here. Now…stay!’ Prince trotted over to him obediently and he fitted a lead to his collar. ‘He might not like it, but I can’t have him scaring our new friends. We’ve got a houseful, you know; mothers with their babies and toddlers. I heard one of them saying to her friend that it was as good as a holiday.’ He laughed. ‘Better, in fact, because she hadn’t got the old man with her.’
Maisie thought again about her mother. She, too, would love it here in the countryside… But she was also listening, though pretending that she wasn’t, to Bruce.
‘When do you go back to school, Bruce?’ Doris was asking him.
‘Oh, the middle of September. I have almost two weeks left yet. Then I will be home for half-term, round about the fifth of November. Although I don’t suppose there will be any bonfires or fireworks this year, worse luck. I expect we will be having some new boys at school. I’ve heard that there is a whole school being evacuated from somewhere near Hull, but goodness knows how they will find room for them all.’
Maisie gathered that he was away at boarding school for most of the year, like those girls she had read about in the Angela Brazil books. Billy Bunter, she supposed, was the boy’s equivalent, although she hadn’t read any of those. Neither had she met anyone before who went to a boarding school.
They crossed a field and came to a pond where ducks and geese were swimming around, then to a paved area inside a gate. ‘This is where our pigs live,’ said Bruce. ‘Do you want to see them, girls? Doris is quite used to them, but you might find it a bit…you know…whiffy.’ He wrinkled his nose.
‘Yes, please,’ said Audrey.
‘Yeah…I don’t mind,’ said Maisie.
Bruce swung back the big wooden gate. ‘Mind your feet,’ he said. ‘It’s rather messy. You should really have your wellingtons on. Anyway, you’ll remember the next time you come, won’t you?’ He smiled at them, and Maisie actually found herself smiling back a little.
She nodded, but she couldn’t remember whether her mum had packed her wellingtons or not. She thought not, because they were shabby and a bit small for her. The ground was muddy, but only in parts, and there were places where straw had been put down so she tried to place her feet there. Audrey was not managing too well, tip-toeing around very carefully. It was a good job, though, that she had sensible lace-up shoes on today and not her fancy ankle-strap things. Even so, she was looking in some dismay at the splatters of mud on her white socks. It didn’t matter about Maisie’s knee length grey ones; they were full of darns anyway.
There was a wall round the pig pen and a little house at the back, and on a carpet of straw lay a huge fat pig, the biggest one Maisie had ever seen. She could not remember, in fact, ever seeing a pig at all, except for dead ones hanging up in butchers’ shops. And sucking away at the pig’s stomach were six or seven tiny little piglets. No – eight, she decided as another one suddenly ran out of the house at the back. There were so many she could not count them all.
‘That’s Ruby, our prize sow,’ said Bruce. ‘I shouldn’t get too close, Maisie, if I were you,’ he added as Maisie leaned right over the wall. ‘She might think you are wanting to steal her babies.’ At that moment the sow gave a loud snort, looking at her visitors with a malevolent eye. Maisie laughed, whilst Audrey jumped and took a step backwards.
‘Doesn’t it pong?’ said Maisie, holding her nose. ‘You were right, Bruce, about it being stinky.’ She had used his name, for the first time, without being aware of it.
‘That’s rude, Maisie,’ said Audrey. ‘I don’t suppose they can help being a bit…er…smelly.’
‘That’s right,’ said Bruce. ‘It’s a smell you get used to after a while. It’s just a pig smell; it’s not because they’re dirty. Actually, pigs are very clean animals, and they only roll in the mud when they get too hot… Isn’t that so, Dad?’ he said as a man came in through the gate.
‘What’s that, Bruce?’ said the man.
‘Pigs aren’t dirty animals, are they? I was just telling our visitors about them.’
‘Aye, that’s right, lad,’ he said. Maisie recognised him as the man she had seen two days ago with all the women and children getting in the shooting-brake. Of course, he was the squire, Mr Tremaine. He looked just like she imagined Bruce would look when he was a man, with the same kind brown eyes and cheerful ruddy face, although his hair was nearly all grey. To her surprise, though, he did not speak nearly so poshly as did his son.
‘Hello, you lasses,’ he greeted them. ‘I’m glad you’ve brought your new friends to see us, Doris. I’m going to shoo you out of here though, now, ’cause there’s work to be done. Off you go.’
He entered the pig pen though a little door. ‘Hey up!’ he said as he tipped the bucket he was carrying into a trough. Out fell a mass of potato peelings, carrot tops, bits of swede and turnip, all mixed up together in a sludgy gooey mess.
‘Come on,’ said Bruce. ‘I’ll show you the rest of the estate, then you can go and see Doris’s dad.’
‘Aye, he’s over yonder,’ said Mr Tremaine, waving his arm vaguely. ‘Cheerio, girls. Nice to meet you. Come and see us again.’
‘Bye, Mr Tremaine,’ called Doris, and ‘Bye…’ said the other two, not knowing him well enough yet to use his name.
They went past fields where crops were growing. ‘Potatoes, beetroot, carrots, swedes, brussel sprouts,’ said Bruce. ‘We supply the local shops, and the market, of course.’
They had gone in a full cirle and when they arrived back at the big house Bruce said goodbye to them. ‘I won’t invite you to come in today,’ he explained. ‘Mother’s got her hands full at the moment with all our guests, and I don’t think she would be too pleased. Another time, though.’ He smiled cheerily. ‘Goodbye for now, girls. See you soon.’
‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’ remarked Audrey as they walked away.
‘Yeah…he’s OK,’ said Maisie. ‘Dead posh though, isn’t he?’
Doris laughed. ‘I suppose so. He’s started talking like that since he went to boarding school. But he’s not stuck-up or anything. He’s still just Bruce… Look, there’s me dad; over there in that field.’
Mr Nixon was guiding a plough, pulled by two brown horses. Maisie guessed they were the ones she had seen earlier that morning. She watched, fascinated, as the blades of the plough turned over the soil, making a deep straight furrow in the earth. He stopped when he reached the end of the field nearest to the lane, but it was clear that he did not have much time to stop and chat. He spoke kindly enough, though, to his daughter and her friends.
‘Finding yer way around, are you, girls? Aye, you’ll soon settle down ’specially when school starts again. Run along now, Doris, there’s a good lass. And tell yer mam I’ll be wanting me dinner prompt at half-past twelve. You best’d go and give her a hand, hadn’t you?’
‘Yes…I suppose so,’ said Doris to his retreating back. She looked put out that her father had not spent more time with her.
Just as Bruce resembled his father, so Maisie thought that Doris looked like hers. Mr Nixon was large and fair-haired, with blue eyes and a snub nose, like his daughter’s, but which seemed too small for the rest of his plump face. Maisie did not think he looked as friendly and kind-hearted as Doris was, but it was probably because he was busy.
They had come into sight of the church tower again, and the clock said ten minutes to twelve. Doris left them with a cheery wave. ‘Tara, then. See you at school on Wednesday. Hope we’re all in the same class, eh? Keep yer fingers crossed.’
‘Bye, Maisie,’ said Audrey when they reached the village green. ‘I’ll have to go now and help Daisy with the dinner. Perhaps I’ll see you later. Or…tomorrow, maybe.’
‘Yes, I ’spect so,’ said Maisie. ‘Look, there’s Daisy at the door.’
Audrey had lost some of her cheerfulness as they got near to the house. Maisie thought her friend had enjoye
d herself this morning, apart from the incident with the dog. Now she looked a bit miserable again, although she did keep saying that Daisy was kind to her. Maisie wished they could both be together, as they had planned. But quick on the heels of that thought came another one. It was really rather nice to have Aunty Patience all to herself.
Chapter Ten
When all the children had been sorted out, Infants and Juniors, local children and those from Leeds and Hull, Maisie and Audrey found, to their relief, that they had been put into the same class. An added bonus was that their friend from the farm, Doris Nixon, was with them; also the girl from Hull, Ivy Clegg, whom they had met at Sunday School. But the greatest delight of all, especially to Maisie and Audrey, was that their teacher was to be Miss Mellodey, the one they had admired back in Armley and who had been so kind to them on the train journey.
Instead of the original three classes, there were now six classes of school children in Middlebeck. Three of them were in the school itself, two in the church hall, not very far away, and one, for the oldest children, the ten and eleven years olds, in the Village Institute at the other end of the High Street.
Miss Mellodey’s class consisted of boys and girls of nine and ten years of age, the third year Juniors, or Standard Three, as it was called. During the following school year, when they went up to Standard Four, those children would be sitting for the Scholarship Examination. But there was plenty of time, as yet, to think about that. Who could tell where they might be in a year’s time? The war might well be over; they could be back in Leeds or Hull. The children knew, as did the grown-ups, that they could not look too far ahead. ‘One day at a time…’ Maisie had heard those words spoken by both Patience and Luke. She knew that the future was uncertain, but the present, for her at least, was a very happy one.
At school she had her three good friends, Audrey, Doris and Ivy, as well as her beloved Miss Mellodey. Their class was held in the main school, right opposite to the rectory and next door to where Audrey lived with Miss Thomson, so it was very convenient for both of them. Miss Mellodey, also, lived very near, at the schoolhouse with the headmistress, Miss Foster. The headmistress was in charge of an Infant class – as well as being in overall charge of the school – and this class of younger children met in a classroom which had been built on to the main building, jutting out into the playground at the back.
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