Wishing Water

by Freda Lightfoot

  Meg would be cross with her for staying away all night and make her feel worse than ever. Lissa tried to work out how best to explain. She supposed it had been wrong to break Meg’s rules, but what would she care now that she had the baby to think of? Nor did it help her case that Goldie had disappeared. Which was a worry. Lissa could only hope the pony had trotted home.

  Oh, but how she longed for some of Meg’s loving comfort.

  Lissa still hadn’t decided how to explain staying out all night when she pushed open the heavy door and walked into a kitchen alive with activity.

  ‘Where have you been?’ These sharp words came from Sally Ann, who was dashing about in a frenetic sort of way quite unlike her usual placid self. ‘Meg has been worried sick. Been out all night looking for you. We all have.’

  Grabbing a towel she ran off into the living room. Lissa followed, frowning as she struggled to find an answer. She never did find one.

  There was Tam who should have been out on the fells at this time of the day. Nick and Daniel in muddy boots not usually allowed in the kitchen, standing about looking helpless and goggle-eyed. And a strange man she didn’t even recognise. In the midst of all of this pandemonium, Meg, quietly sobbing as her life blood spread out on the rush matting, rather as Lissa’s had once done at Larkrigg. Only this was worse, far worse. This meant there was to be no baby and Lissa knew that was her fault too.

  When Meg came back from hospital she was not the same. A light seemed to have been switched off behind her face and Lissa could not bear to look at her. Tam had warmed the bed with a stone hot water bottle and now she was installed in it, her hair scraped back like a child’s, grey eyes translucent and sad.

  Lissa knew she had to speak. ‘Am I very wicked?’

  ‘No, of course not. What a thing to say.’

  ‘My mother was.’

  Meg took a deep breath and plucked at the bedclothes, as if she was too tired to be bothered with all of this now but knew she must put Lissa’s mind at rest. ‘Kath is different from you. Besides, she wasn’t wicked. You mustn’t take any notice of your grandmother’s warped view of things.’

  But Lissa felt compelled to purge her soul. ‘I didn’t want that baby. I was jealous of it.’

  Meg’s eyes pricked with tears. ‘I know. There was no need to be. Anyway, that was my last chance. I’m too old to try again.’

  A terrible silence as Lissa shouldered the guilt of this bleak reality. ‘Are you sad?’

  ‘A little, but I have you.’ Meg managed a smile. Her lips were trembling. Lissa wanted to ask if that would be enough but dare not, fearful of the answer. Meg turned her head away and did not notice her need. Was it possible to will a baby to die? She had never meant that to happen. Never. Lissa left the room, unable to witness Meg’s distress.

  Jeffrey Ellis died and Lissa attended the funeral with Meg as was only right and proper. Larkrigg Hall seemed even more gloomy than before and her grandmother’s glare only marginally less frozen than the stag’s head in the hall.

  Meg informed her that her grandfather had not forgotten her, as she had imagined. ‘When you were small he gave me a sum of money to invest for you. Not great, Lissa, but it will provide a nest egg for you when you come of age.’

  Lissa wasn’t interested in nest eggs. She wanted life to happen. She wanted action, to lift the gloom that had grown to be a part of her. She hurried back to school where everyone was singing ‘Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White’ and tried not to think of her witch of a grandmother who lived alone high on the fell.

  When she turned sixteen she left without taking her exams, despite all advice to the contrary.

  There was pressure from Meg to stay at Broombank, surprisingly enough, from Nick too.

  No longer a boy, he was broad and strong now, a grown man with a shock of red-blond hair. She could tell by the glances he gave Lissa that he did not see her as a nuisance any longer. Nor did she miss the looks exchanged between Meg and Sally Ann. Lissa knew that if she stayed at Broombank, in no time at all they would have her married off and settled at Ashlea with Nick, her life decided for her. That wouldn’t be right. Not for her, nor for Nick.

  The trouble was, she didn’t know what she wanted and that made her feel unsettled and inadequate. In the end Lissa decided she could only find whatever it was outside the dale. When she told Meg she was to leave, her face seemed to crumple.

  ‘Leave? Why? Where would you go?’

  ‘To find a job.’

  ‘But you’re too young to leave home. We could work together, at least until you decide what you really want to do. Wouldn’t that be fun?’ Meg’s hands were red raw with the salt she’d been rubbing into some freshly killed pork and Lissa looked at them with distaste.

  ‘There’s no work for me here, Meg. You have your sheep, and Tam. I don’t belong.’

  ‘Of course you belong.’ Meg again felt the grip of loss around her heart. She reached for a cloth and wiped her hands upon it, then rested them on Lissa’s shoulders, drawing her close. ‘How lucky I am to have you,’ she said. ‘No woman could have had a better daughter.’

  ‘Nor I a better mother,’ Lissa said, hugging her, knowing it was true and wishing it could be enough. The two exchanged tentative smiles.

  ‘We’ve had our differences, our difficult times, but what mother and daughter doesn’t? Broombank will always be your home.’

  ‘Broombank is your home, not mine. Turner was your name before you married Tam, not mine. Who am I? Not Lissa Turner. Not Lissa Ellis. Who? Where do I belong? I have to build a new life and find my own place in it. Don’t you see?’

  A small silence then Meg blinked and gave a tiny nod. ‘I suppose so.’ She wanted to talk about the baby, to say that she didn’t blame Lissa for what had happened, but couldn’t trust herself to say the words without crying. Perhaps a part of her still did blame Lissa for so thoughtlessly staying out that night, causing them so much worry and anguish. She could not offer the forgiveness Lissa so desperately needed so the breach between them was soothed, but not entirely healed.

  It came as a great relief to Meg that Lissa decided not to go to Canada. She’d been almost sure that she would. But Lissa had been adamant.

  ‘I won’t go where I’m not wanted.’ There was such bitterness in her firm young voice it cut Meg to the heart.

  ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’

  She had agreed to drive Lissa into central Lakeland to look for a summer job, with many provisos of course, and words of caution. Lissa had not spoken all the way through Staveley and Windermere, nor as they drove the long road that followed the lake as far as Waterhead at Ambleside.

  Meg changed gear and eased her way out of the traffic and into Borrans Road, driving past the steamer pier, closed at this time of year, and on past the open field wherein lay the Roman Camp of Galava, her mind full of worries instead of the magnificent view.

  As they turned left and headed out towards Clappersgate and Skelwith Bridge, the mountains of the Langdales rising ahead of them against an unusually blue sky, Lissa spoke.

  ‘Yes, this is what I want.’

  Birdsong filled the air, and the scent of new grass, but neither remarked upon it. Spears of pink and green were about to unfurl on the oak and horse chestnut and for a moment Lissa’s heart lifted. Her life was not over. She could begin again. She was sixteen years old and could make of her life whatever she wished.

  Chapter Three

  Jan Colwith stood on a box behind the huge glass drapery counter and adopted the pleasant expression of polite enquiry necessary for a difficult customer.

  ‘I’m sorry, madam, these are the only kid gloves we have in at present. Would you wish me to order a particular size or colour for you?’

  Jan could hear the hiccuping sounds of her brother’s deep voice trying to imitate Bill Haley issuing from the stockroom. The woman raised finely arched brows and Jan smiled apologetically, vowing to kick him the moment this dreadful woman had gone.

/>   ‘I see little point,’ the customer said tartly. ‘I shall call again when you have more time to attend to me, or perhaps I should wait until I go into Kendal. I am sure they will have a much better selection there. Good day to you.’

  ‘Good day, madam, and thank you for calling.’

  Derek Colwith erupted through the curtain behind her, snorting with laughter. ‘How can you be so polite to that dragon?’

  ‘The hideous noise you were making didn’t help one bit.’ Jan pushed back her straight brown hair, hooking it behind her ears with agitated fingers, brown eyes narrowing short-sightedly at her brother.’ Are you quite mad, Derry? You shouldn’t even be here Miss Stevens will have my scalp if she spots you.’ She glanced nervously about the shop, expecting her employer to emerge from among the dusty mannequins which stood, arms raised in silent appeal, in the wide window.

  ‘Stop fussing. If I can’t call in at lunch time and talk to my own sister it’s a poor do. Anyway, I might buy something, mightn’t I?’ He swaggered outrageously, making Jan giggle as he strolled into the centre of the floor, hands in pockets, to gaze about him with a fine display of urbane assurance. They both knew he didn’t feel half so brave as he appeared but that was all part of the joke. If the last customer had been a dinosaur, Miss Stevens was a dragon.

  ‘What a sight you do look, Derry. Where did you get those socks?’

  ‘Don’t you like them?’ He hitched up his trouser legs an inch or two, which was no mean feat judging by their narrowness, to reveal bright, lime green socks. He grinned. ‘Cool, eh? They’re luminous. I’ve got some shocking pink ones too.’ He pulled out a comb and started to slick back his already neat quiff which made Jan laugh all the more.

  ‘No wonder Miss Stevens calls you a Teddy Boy.’

  She looked again at the socks and the thick crepe soles of his shoes. Her gaze slid over his long grey jacket, only an inch or two short of Teddy Boy length. Admittedly the lapels were not velvet but they tapered narrowly and hooked with a double link button at the waist. The most conventional garments he wore were a pristine white shirt and a slim grey tie. At weekends he was fond of a rather dashing silk waistcoat or a leather jacket and skin-tight jeans. But today was Friday, a work day.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, sis, but I’m not really a Ted. Get as near to it as I dare but haven’t quite got the nerve to go all the way. Besides, old Brandon would never permit any of his clerks to dress so outlandishly, even in their free time. Old fuddy-duddy, that’s what he is.’

  ‘What does he think of your socks?’

  ‘Er, he hasn’t seen them.’

  ‘Make sure he doesn’t then or you may be forced to apply to Miss Stevens for a job.’

  Derry rolled his eyes heavenwards with exaggerated charm. ‘I’d rather chew nails for a living.’

  Jan started tidying away gloves. It had been a long morning, starting shortly after eight, and she was tired. Her legs were aching, she was hungry, and not really in the mood for her brother’s jokiness so she spoke more sharply than she intended. ‘What did you want anyway?’

  ‘Ooh, sorry to bother you.’ He fingered the net on a hat that dangled on a T-shaped counter stand and Jan slapped his hand away. ‘Only to tell you I won’t be home this evening. I’m going over to Tony’s.’ His apparent nonchalance did not sit easily with the glance he slanted at her.

  Jan pursed her lips then let them burst open in a tiny explosion. ‘Oh, that’s so unfair. So I’m to cope with things on my own again, am I?’

  ‘You do it so well.’

  ‘Dad will be hurt.’

  ‘Let him be. He should have thought of us before he brought that - that creature home.’

  ‘You didn’t think she was a creature once.’

  ‘I’ve learned different.’

  Jan’s eyes were pleading. ‘I know you’re hurting but don’t make trouble, Derry. Please. We have to live with the situation whether we like it or not. There’s nothing else we can do.’

  ‘I don’t have to sit there watching them bill and coo. Where my mother used to sit,’ Derry said, a fierce brightness in his brown eyes.

  Jan fell silent, unable to summon up the energy to argue, or the right words. After a moment she said, ‘Mum’s gone, Derry. Dead and buried. Life goes on.’

  He started circling the shop again, running his hands over the glass counters, flicking the ribbons that hung in brightly coloured rows from their reels, spinning a stand of buttons round like a whirligig.

  ‘Stop that, you’ll do some damage.’ Jan studiously gave her attention to smoothing out the gloves, slipping each one into its appointed place in the drawer, a sick feeling settling in her stomach at the prospect of a difficult evening ahead.

  ‘Had any applicants for the vacancy yet?’

  Jan shook her head. ‘Most of Carreckwater are wary of Stevens Drapery.’

  ‘Except you.’ Derry raised enquiring eyebrows at her, but his smile was conciliatory.

  ‘I don’t have much choice, do I? I like to eat.’

  ‘Where is she now, the old harridan?’

  ‘At lunch.’

  ‘It’s nearly two. What about your lunch?’

  ‘I get half an hour. When she comes back. Just time for a quick sandwich and to powder my nose.’ Jan wrinkled it ruefully as she stowed the glove drawers back under the counter. ‘Speaking of lunch, hadn’t you better go and eat yours?’ She glanced at him, anxious suddenly. ‘You did remember to pick it up from the kitchen dresser, didn’t you?’

  He sighed and propped one elbow on the counter, cupping his chin in his hand while he grinned at her. ‘Yes, sister dear, don’t fuss over me. I’m a big boy now.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder.’

  ‘I’ve eaten my corned beef sandwiches and very good they were too, though a touch more pickle would be appreciated.’ He didn’t tell her that he’d also popped into the pub for a meat pie and half a pint of bitter.

  ‘Cheek! Do them yourself in future. I’m not your servant.’ She aimed a swipe at him and laughed as he ducked. Then, as wickedly spry as if he were still a boy of ten instead of seventeen, he leapt up into the window and positioned himself among the mannequins.

  Jan squealed her dismay, running round the counter to make a grab for him. ‘Derry, stop it. You mustn’t play your silly games here, especially not in the window. You’ll cause mayhem. Miss Stevens may be back at any moment. Do behave.’ She’d grown quite breathless with anxiety as her words fell upon deaf ears. Her brother simply grinned, sticking his arms out in imitation of the mannequins.

  ‘Why do they stand in this silly way?’ he asked.

  ‘Because they do.’

  ‘Don’t you think I add a touch of class? Perhaps people will like my socks and come in and buy them.’ He glanced out through the window as if expecting a queue of people to have formed already and found himself looking down into a pale, oval face with wide, dark blue eyes.

  He was startled, as, apparently, was she. Then a wide mouth broke into the prettiest smile he’d ever seen and he stared entranced for what might have been eternity.

  ‘Mr Colwith. Have you quite taken leave of your senses? Get out of my window this instant.’

  The dragon had returned, via the back door, which was most unsporting of her in Derry’s opinion. The stentorian voice made him jump so violently he knocked his head on the low ceiling. Turning too quickly he sent one mannequin in a smart apple green two-piece flying. Instinctively he tried to catch it but that only made matters worse as he elbowed the stomach of the one behind him and his thick crepe soles got caught up with another. The mannequins came down like dominoes, arms and legs flying free in a kind of celebratory danse macabre. All he could do was helplessly watch them fall, a bright blonde wig dangling from the link button of his jacket.

  He stepped down into the shop considerably chastened. ‘I’ll put them all back…’

  Miss Stevens grasped his ear in a pincer-like grip and marched him to the door.

  �
�Out!’ she barked.

  Derry cast an agonised glance at his sister but Jan was beyond words, her face as white as the sheets that were used to drape the precious models in the stockroom.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry…’

  ‘Hello!’ The pansy-eyed girl stood in the doorway. ‘The card in your window says that you need a new assistant. I don’t mind hard work, and could start right away if you like, by fixing the accident you seem to have had.’

  Lissa had fallen in love with Carreckwater the moment they drove into it. She thought it a delightful little village, situated as it was in a wooded valley in the heart of Lakeland with its very own small lake. To the north was Rydal and Grasmere, to the south Ambleside and Windermere. The jagged, snow-tipped peaks of the Langdales stood proudly to the west, and in the east Kentmere. Beyond that came Broombank and her own beloved fells

  She knew that it was her cheek that had got her this job, and best of all, the other girl shop assistant had quickly offered accommodation in her own home.

  ‘If you don’t mind sharing, that is?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Lissa had raced off at once to collect her suitcase from the car and tell Meg she could go home without her. It had been hard, suddenly, saying goodbye to Meg, despite the friction that had grown between them recently but at the same time Lissa was excited, looking forward to a new beginning.

  ‘You’ll write regularly, and come home to see us from time to time?’

  ‘Of course I will. I’m not a million miles away, am I?’

  They stood facing each other, uncertain, awkward, then Meg put out her arms about Lissa and hugged her. It felt slightly awkward and Lissa knew Meg still felt some resentment over her desire to find Kath, as well as her more recent teenage rebellion. Now Lissa just wanted to lean her head on her foster mother’s shoulder and beg her forgiveness, to try to explain all that was in her heart and somehow make her understand. But Meg was stepping away from her, moving to the car, smiling a distant smile as if she couldn’t wait to get away.