Saddle the Wind

by Jess Foley

  ‘Oh, Ernie.’ Blanche felt overwhelmed by the weight of the depression that fell, settling on her. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘What am I going to do? you mean. Don’t worry, I shall be all right.’

  ‘It’s both of us, Ernie. It’s not just you.’

  ‘You’ll be all right, Blanche. You can go back to Hallowford House. You won’t be homeless.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure I could, yes, but – without you? I can’t leave you with nowhere to go.’

  ‘I told you – don’t worry about me, Blanche. I shall manage all right. And if I can’t find any work I can always go for a soldier. The way things are going out in South Africa it looks like they could do with all the help they can get.’ He reached across the table and briefly pressed her hand. ‘We’ll be all right, Blanche, you’ll see.’

  Late in the morning a few days afterwards John Savill arrived at the cottage. He had expected to find Blanche ready to agree to his proposal, but to his surprise he found her reluctant even to discuss the matter.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘What’s the matter? Has something happened?’

  They stood facing one another in the little front parlour. After a little hesitation Blanche told him of Ernest’s having lost his employment at the farm. ‘He’s trying to find another job,’ she said, ‘– and somewhere else to live. Uncle John – how can I leave at a time like this? I can’t just – forsake him. How could I do that – leave him here to fend for himself?’

  ‘But Ernest is not a child.’

  ‘Of course he’s not a child. But I’m all he has left in the world. And how could I leave him to look after himself when I’m living in comfort just a few miles away.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hold you back.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘– that’s the last thing he’d do. He’d be the first to urge me to go. All his life he’s always thought about others.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t leave him. Particularly now when things are so uncertain.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘He went to Trowbridge to look for a job there.’

  ‘Well, when he gets back tell him to go and see my brother at the mill. There’ll be a job for him there.’

  ‘I’ve already suggested that this might be a possibility. I’m afraid he’s not very amenable to the suggestion.’

  ‘Oh, too much pride, is that it?’

  Blanche gave a resigned little nod, then she said brightly: ‘But he’ll find something. He’s very determined and very able. It won’t be long.’

  ‘And until he does? What will you do – sleep out in the fields?’

  When she didn’t answer, Savill said: ‘Listen, I’ve got a cottage in Hallowford that will be empty for a few weeks. At least have that until you find somewhere else to live – if you’re both determined to be so stubborn.’ He gave a slow shake of his head. ‘And what will happen when Ernest does find a job, Blanche? When he does get back on his feet?’

  ‘Well – then I’ll be able to do what I choose. But until then – I have to stay with him.’

  Savill said: ‘What you feel for your brother is pity, Blanche – and that’s not the best foundation for happiness.’

  ‘No, Uncle John,’ she said quickly, ‘it’s not pity. I love Ernest. Not only that, but right now he needs me. Later, when he’s settled about his job, then I’ll think again about what I want. But for now I have to think of him.’

  Savill gave a slow, resigned nod. ‘I can see that in your present frame of mind you’re not going to see things differently.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, let me know if you want the cottage.’

  ‘I will. And thank you, Uncle John.’

  He put his arms around her, held her for a moment. ‘Don’t thank me. I want what is best for you.’

  Blanche remained sitting near the parlour window after Savill had gone from the cottage. Then, hearing a faint noise she turned and saw Ernest standing in the doorway, Jacko at his side.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘– when did you get back?’

  ‘Oh – just this moment.’

  She smiled at him, but his returning smile didn’t quite hide the look of melancholy behind his eyes.

  ‘Did you have any luck?’ she asked.

  ‘No – not today.’ He came on into the room. ‘I’ll try again tomorrow.’

  ‘Mr Savill was here,’ she said after a moment.

  ‘Oh? Yes?’

  ‘He said there’s a job for you at the mill, if you want it.’

  Ernest looked away. ‘I don’t want to work for Mr Savill.’

  His answer came as no surprise to her. Nevertheless she asked, ‘Why not?’

  ‘Oh, Blanche,’ he said, ‘how can I go and work for him when things are the way they are with you and him?’

  She had guessed that this would be his answer. She said, ‘He’s also offered us a cottage in Hallowford for a few weeks. Until we find somewhere else.’ Seeing Ernest’s frown, she quickly added: ‘We’ve got to live somewhere, Ernie.’

  ‘You mean I’ve got to live somewhere. You can go on back to Hallowford House.’

  She was silent for a moment, then she said:

  ‘What makes you so sure that I want to do that? Where will it get me if I do?’

  He sighed. ‘We’ve been through this before. For one thing you’ll be living in comfort. Admit it, Blanche, this isn’t the right home for you. You deserve something better than this.’

  ‘Meaning that you don’t?’

  ‘Ah, but I’m used to it. This is the only kind of home I’ve ever known. That’s not the case where you’re concerned.’ He moved to the window, stood staring out across the tiny front garden onto the lane. ‘Thank Mr Savill for me,’ he said, ‘but I’ll manage without his charity.’

  Blanche felt a flash of anger at his words, at his pride. ‘How?’ she asked. ‘How will you manage?’

  He remained gazing out. ‘I’m going away,’ he said.

  ‘Away?’

  ‘Away from Colford. Away from Wiltshire.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s no money in farming – not for a common farmhand, anyway. I’ll never amount to anything if I stay here. I shall be twenty-nine come October. Twenty-nine – and what will I have to show for it? What have I got to show for God-knows-how-many years’ hard work? Nothing. I ain’t even got a roof over my ‘ead that I can be sure of. It’s no way to live.’

  ‘But – but where will you go? What will you do?’

  ‘I shall go north.’ He turned to her now and she saw the determined set of his mouth.

  ‘I shall get work in a factory – in one of the cloth factories there.’

  ‘You could work in a cloth factory here in Trowbridge.’

  ‘Trowbridge!’ he said scornfully. ‘You don’t realize it, Blanche, but the West Country’s almost finished now when it comes to wool production. Oh, yes, it’s jogging along, but its heydays are over. If you want to make money now you’ve got to go where the big factories are – where they can really go into production. And production can only come from machines.’

  ‘There are machines here,’ Blanche said. ‘Mr Savill has machines at his mill.’

  ‘I don’t mean a handful of machines, Blanche. I’m talking about the great factories full of them.’

  ‘Well, in time they’ll have them here too, won’t they?’

  ‘Oh, yes? How will they drive them? You need power to drive machines. Which means coal. Which is why they build the factories where the coal is to be found. In Leeds and Bradford and those other Yorkshire towns. They’re becoming the centres now. Look at East Anglia – they’ve got no coal supplies and their wool industry’s dying on its feet. And the West Country’s not much better.’

  ‘We’ve got coal in the West Country, Ernie, haven’t we?’

  ‘Ah, a bit, but nothing to compete with further up north. And that’s where I’m going. Leeds or Bradford or somewhere like that. That’s where the money is.’

  ‘You always said you’d stay
on the land. You said you’d never work in a factory.’

  He shrugged. ‘Times change. I’ve got to do something. I can’t stay here and starve. You know, Blanche – I’ve heard stories of factory men in Yorkshire walking round with pound notes stuck in their ‘atbands.’

  ‘You sound – determined, Ernie.’

  ‘I am.’

  He sat down, bent to stroke the dog’s head. ‘We’ll have a good life, eh, Jacko, boy?’ Jacko’s tail thumped the floor. Blanche said after a moment:

  ‘I’m coming with you, Ernie.’

  ‘You? Come with me?’

  ‘Why not? I can work as well as you.’

  ‘Ah, I daresay you can, but …’ He shook his head. ‘I never thought of you coming along, Blanche.’

  ‘Does that mean you don’t want me to?’

  ‘No, of course not. It don’t mean that at all. It’s just that I never considered it.’ He paused. ‘It might not be easy at first, Blanche. Times might be hard till we got established.’

  ‘That’s all right. I’m strong. And I’m as determined as you are. I can put up with a lot when I have to.’

  ‘But, Blanche …’ He frowned. ‘I thought you’d stay on here. Go to live at Hallowford again. Surely that’s the best place for you, isn’t it? And Mr Savill wants you to go back that badly.’

  ‘Yes, I know, Ernie, but – well, I’ve thought about it, and I want to make my own life. It’s time I did. I can work up north as well as down here. Children need teachers there as well as here. And if I can’t teach I’ll work in a factory like you. With two of us working in a factory we could earn good money, couldn’t we?’

  ‘Oh, ah, I daresay.’

  ‘So …? Will you take me with you?’

  He studied her for a moment, one hand abstractedly stroking the dog’s head. Then, smiling, he said, ‘I reckon you’re set on it, are you?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Then we will.’

  ‘Oh, Ernie!’ Blanche got up, a brightness in her eye at the thought of the opportunities that were to be theirs. ‘When shall we go?’ she said.

  ‘What about your teaching at Ashton Wick?’

  ‘I’m not due back there yet. I can write to Mr and Mrs Andrews. I’m sorry to let them down, but it can’t be helped.’

  ‘All right, then.’ Ernest shrugged. ‘We’ve got to be out of here in another two or three days, so we might as well go straight away. We can start in the morning.’

  They spent the rest of the evening making plans. They would go to Leeds, they decided. As they sat at the table, counting out the little money they had saved, Ernest said, looking at the coins near Blanche’s hand:

  ‘That’s your sovereign. The one Mr Savill give you.’

  ‘Yes. What about it?’

  ‘Oh, Blanche, you can’t use that.’

  ‘Why not? This is no time for sentimentality. We’re going to need every penny we can get.’

  When they had counted up their money they reckoned they would have enough to take them to Bradford by train and pay for lodgings for a few weeks till they earned their first wages and got on their feet. Later in the evening after Blanche had packed a few belongings into a bag she wrote to Mr Savill and to Mr Andrews, telling them that she was going away. She would post the letters on the way to the station, she said. Looking at Ernest as he stood packing some of his belongings, her attention was suddenly caught by Jacko who stood close to Ernest’s feet, clearly bewildered at all the unaccustomed activity. ‘Ernie,’ Blanche said, ‘what shall we do about Jacko?’

  ‘We’ll take him with us,’ he said.

  ‘Even on the train?’

  ‘Why not? Dogs travel in trains. They ride in the guard’s van. And I daresay they’ve got dogs in Bradford.’

  They prepared for bed early that night, ready to make an early start. As they stood facing one another on the tiny landing at the top of the stairs, each carrying a lighted candle, Ernest said:

  ‘I’ll wake you at six-thirty. That’ll be time enough to get to the station.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you sleep well.’

  ‘You too, Ernie.’

  He put out a hand, gently touched her cheek. ‘You’re a good girl, our Blanche.’

  He gazed at her for a moment then leaned forward and awkwardly kissed her a peck on the cheek. It was such an unaccustomed gesture on his part that it took Blanche by surprise. She smiled and gave a little nod. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said, ‘we’ll take the first step, Ernie – towards our fortunes.’

  ‘Ah, that we will.’

  ‘Well – goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Blanche.’

  With Jacko at his heels, Ernest turned and went into his bedroom. Blanche watched his door softly close and then went into her own room.

  She lay awake in bed with dreams of the future going through her mind. It was time she got away from Colford and Hallowford. No matter how much Uncle John wanted her back at Hallowford House she could not see any future there for herself. She had to make her own future. From now on it was up to her. At last she slept.

  She was awakened by the barking of Jacko. She sat up in bed and looked at her watch on the small, cheap bedside table. It was almost seven. Ernest had overslept. Quickly she got out of bed and, pulling on her dressing gown, left the room and knocked on Ernest’s bedroom door. There was no answer. She knocked again, and called his name. Still getting no response she opened the door. The room was empty.

  Starting down the narrow stairs she called to him. Still no answer. Entering the kitchen she found it empty but for Jacko who stood tied by a rope to the leg of the kitchen table. At the sight of her he strained to reach her as she went past him into the scullery. Ernest was not there, neither was he in the front parlour. Nor was his bag, or his overcoat. There was, though, on the kitchen table, a letter, addressed to her.

  Her hand shaking slightly, her heart thumping, she took up the sheet of notepaper, unfolded it and read the words that he had written.

  My dear Blanche,

  This letter will come as a great shock to you, and I’m sorry to be the cause of so much disappointment. By the time you read this I shall be well on my way, and there will be no point in your trying to catch me up. This is the only way, Blanche – you must realize that – for me to go on my own. It will be easier for us both. You won’t be held back by me anymore, and you’ll be able to go and live with Mr Savill again, which is what you should have done. I, on the other hand, will do better alone. I shall find success much faster if I’m on my own – and I do intend to find success, you can rely on that. And you can also rely on the fact that once I’m settled and am doing all right I shall write to you. Then, if you care to, you can come up north to join me. It won’t be long till I do – and I shall, I promise you that. I promise you faithfully.

  In the meantime, look after yourself. I’m sorry to desert you like this, Blanche, but I hope you will understand and won’t think too badly of me. And please, look after Jacko for me. I can’t explain to him as I can to you, and he’ll miss me, I know. Still, I know I’m leaving him in safe hands. If only I could tell him it’ll only be a while and we’ll be back together again. I must go. Forgive me, Blanche. Just be patient for a little while, then you’ll hear from me and we’ll have everything we want.

  Until then you’ll always be in the thoughts of

  Your loving brother,

  Ernest

  When Blanche had read the letter she read it through again. Then she laid it down on the table and, moving to the dog who was agitatedly whining, pleading to be set free, she bent to untie the rope that held him. As her fingers worked at the knot she murmured:

  ‘He’s gone, Jacko. Ernest – he’s gone without us.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  When Blanche released Jacko from the rope that tethered him, he ran to the door, scratching at it, whining to be let out. Then, when she opened the door he dashed out into the yard, round the house and into the lane. She stood there
watching as he sniffed around, seeking Ernest’s scent. And all at once, finding it, he took off, dashing away along the lane.

  Later she made her way to Trowbridge station. On her arrival she not only learned that Ernest had been there earlier and had bought a ticket for Bradford before taking the train, but she also found Jacko there, sitting silently and unmoving on the platform, waiting as if at any time Ernest might return. She had taken his lead with her and after attaching it to his collar she coaxed him reluctantly away, bringing him back again across the fields to the cottage.

  If she had imagined that that was the end of it where the dog was concerned, however, she was mistaken. Whilst worrying herself over what she should do and where she should go, she also had the added pain of seeing Jacko moping about the house, wandering from room to room. Very swiftly the dog set up a pattern in which he would climb the stairs to Ernest’s room, circle the room and then come back downstairs where he would move from the kitchen into the scullery, then pad back through the kitchen and into the front parlour. There he would go to the window where, rearing on his hind legs, forelegs on the window frame, he would gaze out along the lane, eyes and ears alert for the slightest sign. Five or ten minutes later and the whole pattern would begin again. Watching the creature’s worried movements, his continual searching, Blanche thought she would go crazy. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Jacko, be still!’ she cried out to him after observing the pattern of his repeated searching for the tenth time. ‘He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s not coming back!’ The dog turned to her, looked up at her with sorrowing eyes, then after a moment moved on again, his search continuing.

  From the day Ernest and the dog had found one another they had never been separated. Now Ernest had gone and Jacko’s world had come to an end.

  As time wore on it was as if the dog realized that his master would not return, and, as if resigned, his prowling ceased and he lay down beneath the old sideboard, head on his paws, dark brown eyes open, looking at nothing. When, later, Blanche put down food for him, he ignored it.