When he heard Carrie’s voice drifting down the stairs, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He crept up and watched them for a moment through the half-open nursery door. Carrie was sitting on the floor, her skirt pooled around her, singing a funny little song to the baby while she bounced him up and down on her knee.
‘This is the way the farmers ride …’
The sound of Henry’s gurgling laughter went through James’ heart like a dart.
He took a step back, and the floorboard creaked under his feet. Carrie looked up.
‘James? Is that you?’
He took a deep breath, pinning a smile to his face, and forced himself to walk into the room.
‘You’re early.’ She put the baby down and got to her feet. As she approached to kiss him, James held himself rigid.
It was too much to hope she wouldn’t notice. ‘Are you all right, my love?’ She pulled away from him, frowning.
‘I’m fine, thank you. Just a headache.’
‘Can I get you something? Some aspirin?’
‘No, thank you.’ He saw the genuine concern in her eyes. She seemed to care for him, but that wasn’t the same as love, was it?
Looking more closely, he could see the lines of strain in her face. She had been so preoccupied over the last few days. He had put it down to worry about her ailing father, but now he wondered if she was deciding how to tell him about Rob.
‘Dada!’ Henry cried out, toddling towards him, his chubby arms outstretched. James automatically went to pick him up, then stopped himself.
‘James?’ Carrie was staring at him, her frown deepening. ‘Don’t you want to hold your son?’
But he was already gone, closing the nursery door behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘Have you heard the news? Seth Stanhope’s crossed the picket line!’
Agnes kept her eyes fixed on the thermometer she had just used to take Eric Wardle’s temperature, but her attention shifted to the other side of the room where Eliza and Hattie Wardle and their sister Carrie were busy with the baking around the kitchen table. The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the cottage.
‘They were all talking about it when I went to fetch the water from the pump this morning,’ Hattie went on, up to her elbows in the bread dough she was kneading. ‘Mrs Morris said the men gave him a terrible time when he walked through the gates yesterday. Alec Morris even blacked his eye for him.’
‘And he didn’t fight back? That don’t sound like Seth Stanhope!’ Eliza said.
‘Nurse?’ Agnes looked round to see Mrs Wardle watching her anxiously. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked. ‘My Eric’s temperature in’t gone up or owt, has it?’
Agnes looked back at the thermometer, almost forgotten in her hand. ‘Not at all, Mrs Wardle, everything is just as it should be.’
She made a careful note of the number on the chart, her head half turned to catch the girls’ conversation on the other side of the room.
‘Serves him right anyway, whatever they did to him,’ Eliza declared from over by the range, as she prodded at some newly risen dough with her fingertip. ‘Blacklegs deserve all they get. In’t that right, Father?’
Eliza turned to her father, looking for his wisdom as usual, then her face fell as she remembered that he was too ill to reply. Agnes caught her crestfallen expression and her heart went out to her.
‘All the same, they didn’t ought to treat him like that.’ Kathleen Wardle spoke up for her husband. ‘Seth Stanhope’s still one of us, when all is said and done. And I daresay he’s got his reasons. In’t that right, Nurse?’
Agnes nodded absently. But all she could think about was Seth Stanhope walking in through those pit gates.
‘He was the last one I expected to break the lockout,’ Eliza said, pushing the loaf tins back into the oven and closing the door. ‘Everyone thought he was going to be the last man standing.’
‘Aye,’ Hattie agreed. ‘Mrs Morris reckons that’s why the other men are so angry with him. With Mr Stanhope back at work, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of them give in too.’
‘I bet your James will be pleased about that?’ Eliza said to Carrie.
She looked up from the cake batter she was stirring. ‘What?’
Eliza sighed. ‘Honestly, Carrie, you’re in a world of your own. All this time we’ve been talking, and you haven’t been listening to a word. And you’ve beaten all the air out of that batter, too. It won’t be fit for baking now.’
Carrie stared down blankly at the wooden spoon in her hand. Poor girl, Agnes thought. She looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
She wasn’t surprised. Out of the four Wardle girls, Carrie was the closest to her father. It must be hitting her hard, knowing what was to come.
Agnes cleaned the thermometer then finished examining Eric, checking under the straps of his brace.
‘There’s a place here that’s starting to look a bit red,’ she said. ‘I’d better put some powder on it before it turns into a sore.’
Kathleen looked distraught. ‘But I’ve been washing and drying him carefully, just like you said.’
Agnes looked at the woman’s anxious expression. Eric Wardle could not have had a better set of nurses than his wife and daughters. Kathleen and the girls attended him constantly. They had even moved his bed into the main room of the house so that they could keep their eyes on him all day.
‘I don’t want him to feel as if he’s on his own, stuck in the other room,’ Kathleen had explained. ‘He always liked to know what was going on.’
Agnes knew as well as she did that Eric Wardle was past noticing what was happening around him. But she understood how important it was for Kathleen to feel as if she was doing something that would make a difference. That was why Agnes had taught her how to give him a proper bed bath and how to clean his mouth out with a moistened cotton wool swab on the end of a piece of stick.
‘It isn’t your fault, Mrs Wardle,’ she assured her now. ‘Sometimes these things happen in spite of our best efforts. I’ll treat it now and then see about getting his splint adjusted so it doesn’t cause him any discomfort.’
‘Thank you, Nurse.’ Kathleen glanced at her husband. ‘Are you sure I’m looking after him properly? I’ve been doing everything just as you showed me, but I wasn’t sure—’
‘I couldn’t have done it better myself, Mrs Wardle,’ Agnes reassured her.
Kathleen looked gratified. ‘I just want to do my best to make him comfortable while …’ Her voice trailed off.
Agnes read the desperation in her eyes. Kathleen Wardle knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on to her husband for much longer.
Once she had made sure Eric was comfortable, Agnes went to wash her hands in the bowl his wife had set out for her on the scrubbed wooden draining board. Behind her, Eliza had set the first batch of freshly baked loaves on the table to cool, while Hattie divided up the dough into tins for the next lot. Carrie had put her cake in the oven.
‘I’m going up the allotment,’ she announced to her mother. ‘The potatoes and onions need to be got in before the cold weather sets in.’
‘Oh, but surely it’s too early for that?’ her mother protested.
‘All the same, I’d like to get it done. And Father would want the fruit bushes tied in, too.’
‘Yes, but—’ Kathleen started to say, then stopped herself. ‘Just as you like, love,’ she answered quietly.
Kathleen and Agnes looked at each other. They had both seen the look of fierce determination on Carrie’s face. It didn’t matter to Eric Wardle any more whether the fruit bushes were neatly tied, or the potatoes and onions harvested. But Carrie needed to do it all the same, for her own sake more than his.
‘I have to pass the allotments on my way to my next call,’ Agnes said brightly as she dried her hands and put away her towel. ‘Perhaps we could walk together?’
‘Aye, if you like.’ Carrie nodded,
but she seemed too preoccupied to take in what Agnes was saying.
They walked up the lane in silence, Carrie pushing Henry in his pram and Agnes pushing her bicycle over the cobbles. Usually Carrie would be talking, about the baby or her father, or anything at all. But today she seemed quiet and edgy. As they walked, she kept looking around her, as if she expected someone to jump out on her at any moment.
Then Reg Willis greeted them both from the front door of his cottage, and Carrie flinched as if she had been struck.
Agnes turned to face her. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Shepherd?’
‘Aye, why shouldn’t I be?’ Carrie turned on her, her blue eyes snapping.
Agnes blinked, taken aback by her ferocious reply. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’
‘No, it’s me who should be sorry.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘I’m not feeling mysen just now.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Agnes said. But she had the feeling it wasn’t just her father that was causing the young woman concern.
If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn Carrie Shepherd was trying to avoid someone.
They reached the allotments. It was a grey, overcast day with a stiff wind blowing down from the hills, and for once there was no one else tending their land. Agnes looked over the neat patchwork of brown and green, admiring the vegetables growing in their regimented rows. It appealed to her sense of order.
‘Which one is your father’s allotment?’ she asked.
‘This one, closest to the fence.’ Carrie eased the pram through the gateway and parked it on the narrow strip of grass that separated the allotment from its neighbours.
‘You’ve kept it up very well,’ Agnes observed.
‘Aye.’ Carrie looked around. ‘It’s what Father would have wanted.’
‘It must be very satisfying, growing your own vegetables. But I’m not sure I’d have the patience for it. I wouldn’t know where to start, either.’
‘I grew up here,’ Carrie said. ‘I’ve been helping Father on the allotment for as long as I can remember. I even looked after it by mysen while he was away in the War …’ She glanced at the old wooden chair that stood forlorn in the corner of the plot, then turned away again. ‘These days I like to come up here when I want to be on my own, to think.’
Agnes regarded her carefully. ‘And is there anything in particular you need to think about at the moment?’
Carrie didn’t reply. She took a trowel out of the pocket of her sacking apron and bent down to dig at the potatoes, loosening the earth around each straggly green plant.
‘You know you can always talk to me, if there’s something troubling you?’ Agnes ventured.
‘I in’t ailing.’
‘No, I can see that. But I like to think I can help with other matters, too.’
Carrie ignored her. She finished loosening the soil and carefully pulled out the plant, revealing three or four potatoes growing at its root.
Agnes sighed. ‘I’ll leave you in peace. But don’t forget, if you ever want to talk—’
She started to walk away, but Carrie called after her.
‘Wait!’
Chapter Forty
Agnes turned around slowly. Carrie had straightened up to face her, the plant hanging limp from her hand. Her expression was troubled.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘There is summat on my mind. I need to tell someone before I go mad, but I can’t talk to anyone else.’ She looked around her across the empty patchwork of allotments, as if checking they were truly alone. Then she turned back to Agnes. ‘Can you keep a secret?’ she asked in a low voice.
Agnes tried not to smile at the question. If only Carrie knew how long she had been keeping her own secrets. ‘You can trust me,’ she said.
Carrie paused for a moment, and Agnes could see her weighing up her words, wondering how to say whatever it was she had to say.
Finally, she spoke. ‘Out there, on the lane … I was worried about meeting someone.’
‘Who?’
Carrie hesitated, then said, ‘Rob Chadwick.’
Agnes wasn’t surprised. She should have realised that arrogant young man would have been somewhere at the bottom of it.
She hoped Carrie hadn’t done something foolish, for her own sake.
Carrie must have seen the expression on her face, because she said quickly, ‘Nay, it’s nowt like that. At least, not on my part. Not any more.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I love James,’ she said firmly.
‘But the young man won’t take no for an answer?’ Agnes guessed. She could just imagine Rob Chadwick refusing to accept that any girl was immune to his charms.
Carrie hung her head, looked down at the plant in her hand. ‘He wants me to go away with him,’ she said quietly.
Agnes was shocked. ‘But you’re a married woman!’ she exclaimed.
‘That don’t mean owt to Rob. If he wants summat, he don’t like anything to stand in his way.’ There was a trace of bitterness in Carrie’s voice.
‘You told him no, I take it?’
‘I tried, but – it’s more difficult than that.’ She looked wretched.
‘In what way?’
‘He knows something about me, a secret. He says he’ll tell James …’
‘What kind of secret?’
Carrie pressed her lips closed, as if she was trying to force the words back, to keep herself from saying them out loud.
Finally she lifted her haunted gaze to meet Agnes’. ‘Henry in’t James’ son,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘It was a terrible, stupid mistake.’ Once Carrie had started speaking, her words tumbled out in a torrent. ‘I was going to marry James, but I wasn’t sure – when Rob came back, I thought I still loved him …’ Her blue eyes pleaded with Agnes for understanding.
Agnes stiffened. ‘Did he take advantage of you?’
‘Nay, it weren’t like that. I were as much to blame as he was. I thought—’ Carrie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t know what I was thinking, truly I don’t. But straight afterwards, I knew I’d made an awful mistake, that it was James I wanted. I felt so ashamed, I nearly called off the wedding. I didn’t want to marry him feeling so dirty and wrong …’
‘So why didn’t you tell him?’
‘I wanted to,’ Carrie insisted. ‘But then I thought if I said anything it would make it – I dunno, more real, I suppose. I just wanted to forget all about it, to bury the whole thing and pretend it had never happened.’
‘But then you found out you were pregnant?’
Carrie nodded. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I knew straight away it must be Rob’s baby. I decided it were God’s way of punishing me, making sure I’d never be able to forget what I’d done.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘I were beside mysen, I didn’t know what to do. I even thought about going to Hannah for one of her cures …’
A trickle of ice ran down Agnes’ spine. She had dealt with the terrible aftermath of such cures often enough back in Quarry Hill. She wasn’t surprised someone like Hannah offered help of that sort.
‘But then James guessed,’ Carrie went on. ‘He was so happy, so delighted he was going to be a father, there was nothing I could do about it. I hoped and prayed it might turn out to be his baby. Months and months I worried about it. Everyone thought I was just anxious because it were my first. They said that was why Henry was born early.’ She looked up at Agnes, her eyes bright with remembered hope. ‘I wanted them to be right. I wanted so much for him to be James’ son. But deep down I knew the truth.’
She looked so forlorn, Agnes’ heart went out to her. ‘And James has never suspected?’
‘Why should he? He trusts me.’ Carrie sounded bitter, full of self-hatred. ‘Not that I deserve it, after the way I betrayed him.’
‘You said yourself, you made a mistake.’
‘Aye, and I’m paying for it now, in’t I?’ Carrie chewed her lip. ‘He’ll never forgive me for this. I’ve lost everything. I wish Rob Chadwick had never ever come back
to Bowden!’
She burst into tears, and Agnes hurried through the gate to put her arms around her, comforting her. ‘Don’t cry, pet,’ she tried to soothe her. ‘I’m sure it will be all right.’
‘How can it be all right?’ Carrie pulled away from her sharply. ‘Rob’s going to tell James, and everything is going to be ruined. Rob reckons my husband deserves to know the truth, and happen he’s right. He’ll hate me, and it’s no more than I deserve.’
She fell sobbing into Agnes’ arms again. She felt as fragile as a child. Poor girl, Agnes thought. There might be some who would say Carrie had got what she deserved, but Agnes was not one of them. She knew only too well what it was like to go through life burdened with a terrible secret.
‘It seems to me there’s only one thing you can do,’ she said. ‘You must tell James yourself.’
Carrie pulled away from her again, her face mottled from crying. ‘I couldn’t do that!’ she gasped.
‘What choice do you have? He’s going to find out anyway, and surely it’s better coming from you than Rob Chadwick?’
Carrie was silent for a moment, taking it in. ‘It will break James’ heart,’ she said.
Agnes nodded. ‘Perhaps. He’s certainly going to be angry and upset that you didn’t tell him the truth sooner. But if he loves you—’
Carrie shook her head. ‘How can he love me after this?’
‘I don’t know,’ Agnes admitted. ‘But I do know this is the only chance you’ll have to put things right.’
Carrie looked at her, blinking back her tears. ‘Is that what you’d do?’
Agnes hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘It’s the best thing to do,’ she said firmly.
Carrie looked agonised. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I suppose I will have to tell James. He deserves to know the truth, and he deserves to hear it from me.’ But even as she said it, Agnes could see the courage ebbing from those blue eyes.
Agnes left Carrie on the allotment and returned to her rounds. As she cycled away, she looked back over her shoulder at the forlorn little figure sitting on an upturned bucket in the middle of the patch of ground.
District Nurse on Call Page 30