‘Dick, I’ve seen this before. I know what the shadow of death looks like.’ Her father looked up at his friend, eyes filled with desperate tears. ‘Good God, but if He would only take me instead!’
‘A lot of stuff and nonsense,’ Dr Grant said stoutly, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘There’s no need for anyone to be taken. Consumption isn’t the certain death it used to be. The child improves every time I see her. You keep on saying your prayers, and trust little Edie to me.’
Consumption. Edie knew that word. That was the name for her cough. Was it … did Daddy mean he thought she would die?
Cold fingers gripped at her heart. Unable to hold it back any more, her little body trembled as it was racked by a fit of painful coughing. The velvet of the curtain grew mottled with bloody spittle.
Dr Grant glanced at his friend. ‘I believe we’ve a spy in our midst, Seth.’
A second later, the curtains were pulled apart and Edie found herself being swung into her father’s bear-like arms.
‘Edie, what are you doing out of bed? And in your nightdress and bare feet, child!’
‘I’m sorry, Daddy,’ she whispered in her croaking, cough-rattled little voice. ‘I only wanted to look at the seaside.’
She expected her father to be angry, but he just smiled and kissed her hair.
‘Well, my pet, never mind this once. But you must go back to bed now.’
‘Daddy, am I going to die?’ she asked as he carried her to her room. There was pleading in the crack of her voice; the desperate need for the answer to be a firm, strong ‘no’ from the person who was, then, her god, sun and stars.
‘Not this time, sweetheart.’ He held her tightly to him, his face buried in her hair. ‘Please God, whatever it takes, not this time,’ she heard him whisper.
Less than a year later, he was dead.
Chapter 33
Edie blinked back a tear as she lived, again, one of her most painful memories.
‘You don’t understand, Sam,’ she whispered. ‘My father made a trade. I heard him do it.’
‘What trade?’
‘My life for his. He prayed that I’d be spared and God would take him instead. Then I started to get better, and he …’ Unable to help herself, she started weeping softly.
‘Hey.’ Sam gently guided her head to his shoulder and rested his cheek against her hair. ‘Edie, you can’t torture yourself with thinking that way. It was coincidence. God doesn’t bargain with people’s lives like that – only the old bastard downstairs makes those sorts of deals. Some people get better and some people don’t, that’s all.’
‘I know.’ She mopped her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘But, Sam, I didn’t know that when I was six. I grew up thinking it was my fault, and I still … I can’t just stop feeling that way, even though I know it isn’t true.’ She laughed. ‘I must sound like such a silly, superstitious little girl to you.’
Sam didn’t answer. He just gazed across the water.
‘You couldn’t save your dad so you try to save everyone else, don’t you?’ he said at last.
‘I suppose I do. I always felt I had to make my life … worth it, somehow. Worth the price he’d paid for it.’ She smiled wanly. ‘I’m not doing a very good job, am I?’
‘We’ll see,’ Sam said enigmatically.
She looked up at him. ‘What about you? I don’t know anything about your family, except that your great-uncle had Larkstone before you. I’ll trade you my story for yours.’
He nodded to the water. ‘My story’s out there.’
She frowned. ‘In the reservoir?’
‘It wasn’t always a reservoir. Here, I’ll show you.’ He stood up and stretched out his hand to help Edie to her feet. Puzzled, she let him lead her a little way along the track that circled the water.
‘There, look,’ he said when they reached a certain point. ‘About half a mile in, I reckon.’
‘I don’t understand, Sam.’
‘There used to be a farmhouse just there: a whitewashed, storybook sort of place with a millstone against the wall and a gang of fat white chickens by a red pump in the yard. I was born in it. In fact there was a whole settlement here, until the late twenties – Carndale. The villagers were evicted and buildings demolished, then they submerged the ruins.’
‘Good God,’ Edie muttered. ‘But … then where are your family?’
He pointed to a different part of the water. ‘That was the churchyard. You can still see the remains of the spire sometimes, when it’s been dry for a spell. My mam and little brother are in there. I don’t know where my dad is, he was off long before.’
‘Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry.’
She looked up at him, and was surprised to see that his eyes were wet.
‘It’s not like me to be such a sentimental old bugger,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘I don’t come down here much, but our Jacob would’ve had his birthday today. He’d be twenty-three, if he’d lived. He was only a bairn when we lost him.’
‘Tell me about him,’ Edie said quietly.
‘Oh, bright: bright as they come,’ he said with a faraway smile. ‘Shy, sensitive, studious: nothing like his dull-witted oaf of a big brother, but for some reason he still thought the world of me. Mam talked about scholarships, trying to get him into some posh school so he could join one of the professions. But scarlet fever carried him off before he turned ten, and Mam was right behind him. Losing Jacob broke her.’ He sighed. ‘And you know, London, some days I’m glad. It would’ve killed her all over again if she’d had to see her home destroyed as well.’
‘What happened to you after she died?’
‘I was fifteen. That’s a man, round these parts, and I made a decent job of managing our little plot on my own for a while. Then when they announced Carndale was due to be flattened, my dad’s uncle offered me a job at his place. I’d only met the old boy once.’
‘Why?’
‘Suppose he must’ve felt responsible for me. He was a nice old lad, was Pete: a real gentle giant. He had no children of his own, and I reckon he got fond of me over the years – God only knows why, mardy little sod that I was. When he shuffled off, I found out he’d left me Larkstone.’ He picked up a stone and skimmed it across the water. ‘So, there I am still: doomed to the life of a small farmer for evermore, since the army won’t have me.’
‘How come the village never warmed to you? You were only a boy. It doesn’t seem fair they took against you from the start.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, that was my fault. I wasn’t much different from Davy Braithwaite at that age – angry at the world, after what happened to my family and my home, and hardened from struggling by alone. A tough little sod to like, in other words. I never went out of my way to make friends in Applefield, and they were naturally suspicious of someone who appeared in their midst without roots or relatives in the sort of place where families had been established for generations. Always ready to believe the worst of me. But I’m content enough, long as I’ve got a book to read and a bottle of stout to wash my bread and butter down with.’
‘Sounds like a lonely life,’ Edie said quietly.
‘For some it would be. But you know I’m not much for company, London.’ He looked down into her upturned face, and his voice softened. ‘Sometimes, though, I could wish …’
‘What?’
‘Sometimes, at night in the farmhouse, I think it would be pleasant …’ He trailed off, holding her gaze for a moment. Before she knew what was happening, he’d leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
He drew back almost immediately. Edie could feel her lips tingling from the brief, unexpected kiss.
‘Sorry,’ he said, looking as though he’d surprised himself as well as her. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’
‘Um, that’s all right,’ Edie said, colouring deeply. ‘You … you were saying something about the farmhouse?’
‘Yes. I was thinking … I was thinking it might be nice to have some company of an evening. If
I could find someone who wanted to keep company with me.’
‘Davy and the POWs could sit with you.’
‘Not the sort of company I had in mind, London.’ He drew her into his arms and planted a soft, lingering kiss, quite deliberately this time, on her lips. Edie’s eyes closed as his mouth caressed her.
‘What sort did you have in mind?’ she asked breathlessly when he drew away.
‘The sort that keeps you warm at night,’ he whispered as he pressed her close. ‘To have and to hold, you know? The sort that might eventually result in new, smaller company.’
Edie felt light-headed, and sagged limply in his arms. ‘I … Sam, I …’
‘No need to give me an answer now. We’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart.’
The endearment sounded strange on those eternally gruff, teasing lips of his, but Edie’s tummy jumped to hear it. Sam kissed her again – once, twice, three times, each touch of his lips so gentle and tender, yet simmering with barely suppressed desire. Then, to her great disappointment, he let her go.
‘We’ll discuss this further tomorrow,’ he said, stroking soft fingertips over her cheek. ‘It’s getting late. You ought to go meet your friend.’
Susan spluttered on her shandy. ‘He did what?’
‘All right, keep your voice down,’ Edie hissed. She glanced around the Golden Fleece’s cosy snug, which was filled with farmers and their wives enjoying an evening pint of bitter after their hard day’s work. ‘He proposed. At least, I think he did. The word “marriage” never actually cropped up.’
‘You didn’t say yes, did you?’
‘Well, no, but I didn’t say no either. Sam told me I didn’t need to give him an answer right away.’
Susan shook her head. ‘This is all very sudden, Ede. Yesterday you weren’t even sure he was interested in you, then tonight … How did it happen?’
‘I’m not entirely sure myself.’ Edie paused to take a sip of the sherry Susan had insisted she have to help her recover. She’d still been in a daze when she arrived. ‘I chased him to the reservoir because he’d forgotten to pay me. The next thing I know, we’re sharing all these personal things – I mean, Sam Nicholson, never known to use one word when none will do, crying in front of me and telling me all about how his brother …’ She trailed off. ‘I don’t think he meant to ask me, really. We were sharing a moment and he got carried away.’
‘I thought he’d been giving you the cold shoulder.’
‘Not quite, but he’s avoided being alone with me since we almost kissed, definitely.’
‘And yet all the time he must have been pining away for you,’ Susan said in a low voice. ‘Did he tell you why he’d been avoiding you?’
‘No, he never brought it up.’
‘Well? What answer will you give?’
‘I’m … not sure.’ Edie swallowed another mouthful of her drink, enjoying the sensation of the sherry warming her right to her toes. ‘When he kissed me – Sue, it felt wonderful. I didn’t want him to stop, at the time. But …’
‘… but you’re still unsure whether to accept him.’
Edie blinked into her glass. ‘I’ve really fallen in love with this place. The people, the countryside, the animals – this whole part of the world. I love Larkstone Farm, and the work I do there. If it was possible for me to stay forever, I would.’
‘Have you fallen in love with Sam though? That’s the important question.’
‘I think … I think I might have,’ Edie murmured. ‘I’m just not sure he loves me.’
‘You mean he didn’t tell you he did?’
Edie shook her head. ‘He was ever so sweet when I told him about my dad, and when he held me, it felt like what I always thought love must feel like. But the word itself never crossed his lips. He isn’t the sort of man who’d find it easy to talk about feelings, I know that.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve just always had this idea of the perfect proposal in my head, you know? Ever since I was a little girl.’
‘Darling, we all do. What was yours?’
‘Oh, nothing very original. The man I love on one knee, telling me I’m the only woman for him and he can’t live without me. In my daydreams he tends to be in uniform – since the war started, at any rate.’
‘Well, how did Sam ask you?’
Edie scoffed. ‘Not like that. He told me he got lonely in the farmhouse and wouldn’t mind a bit of company, if I fancied it. No telling me he loved me, no down on one knee, no ring; not even so much as a “Darling, will you marry me?”’
Susan pursed her lips. ‘Mmm. Very romantic.’
‘That’s Sam all over: just a rough-around-the-edges Northern farmer, more used to talking about treatments for ovine foot rot than love. And I wouldn’t mind him asking me the way he did at all, if I really believed he did love me. I’m just not sure if it’s really me he wants or any old wife – someone to share the evenings with, and help shoulder the burden at the farm. He knows I’m a hard worker; that comes in handy in a farmer’s wife.’
‘You don’t think he asked you for that reason, do you?’ Susan scanned her friend’s slight figure. ‘You’re hardly a beast of burden, Ede.’
Edie sighed. ‘No, I suppose not. Sam’s a difficult one to read, but I do believe he’s … attached to me. But however much I like the idea of staying in Applefield as his wife, that isn’t enough for me. I need to know his feelings are strong enough for us to make a life together. Marriage must be a miserable affair when one side loves more than the other.’
‘Of course you need that,’ Susan said, squeezing her hand. ‘After all the affection you missed out on growing up, the least you deserve is a husband who adores you.’
‘What shall I do?’
‘Well … he said he was in no hurry for your answer. Take some time to think it over. I’m sure your heart will guide you down the right path.’
Chapter 34
It was the next morning when Edie saw Sam again. When she arrived at work he was there in the farmhouse, barking out jobs in his usual manner. She tried not to blush as she took her place in line.
Lambing season had drawn to a close now. Edie had worried that might mean the War Ag would move her on, but she’d heard nothing so she assumed she’d be remaining at Larkstone for the time being.
She was glad. She’d grown fond of her fellow workers, and she dearly wanted to see what she thought of as ‘her’ lambs growing up. Luca had told her Larkstone would be a paradise in the summer, and Edie longed to experience it.
Then, of course, there was Sam. Edie was prepared to admit, if only to herself, that he was the main reason she didn’t want to go anywhere else. She hadn’t realised how precious her teasing, kind, curmudgeonly boss had become until he’d held her in his arms and planted those too-fleeting butterfly kisses on her lips.
She could still hardly believe he’d made her an offer of marriage, out of the blue like that – an offer which, if she accepted it, meant she could remain on the farm she’d grown to love forever. If she could only be sure of his feelings …
Edie felt a stab of disappointment when Sam put her on hoof-cleaning duty with Davy instead of choosing her to help him muck out the chickens. He was back in businesslike mode, barely registering her presence, and for a moment she wondered if she’d dreamed the kisses, the proposal: everything. But as she went to follow Davy out, he put a hand on her shoulder.
‘Hold on, London. I owe you six bob. You’d better take it now or no doubt I’ll have you chasing me halfway round the county for it this weekend.’
‘Oh. Yes.’ She hung back while the other workers went to their jobs, watching him open his cashbox.
‘The farmhouse is looking nice,’ she said, to fill the awkward silence as much as anything.
He glanced around at the fresh paint, the new carpet, and the watercolour prints that now adorned the walls. ‘Aye, thought I’d get it looking a bit more homely. You like it, do you?’
‘I do. Very cosy.’
‘I
’m glad to hear it.’
He handed her six shillings and she put the coins in her dungaree pocket.
‘Busy tonight?’ he asked as he closed up the cashbox again. ‘Wondered if you fancied going to the pictures with me.’ He looked up. ‘Nothing funny. Thought it’d be nice to spend some time together away from this place, that’s all.’
Edie thought so too, and she was about to agree when she remembered she already had plans.
‘I wish I could,’ she said with an apologetic grimace. ‘I’m going to the Palais in town.’
‘What, out again? Never knew you were such a social butterfly, London.’
She laughed. ‘I’m not usually, but some friends from home are here on leave. That’s why I asked for a holiday tomorrow.’
‘Right. Well, another time then.’
‘Definitely.’
He hesitated, hovering over her, and Edie thought for a moment he might be about to kiss her again. Her stomach leaped in anticipation, but then he seemed to change his mind and only nodded briefly.
‘Better get to work,’ he said.
At the end of the day, Edie was preparing to mount her bicycle when she heard a familiar voice call her name. She broke into a smile of delight when she spotted a long-legged figure in army uniform striding towards her, waving.
‘Alfie!’ She beamed at her friend, who, as he got closer, she could see was handsomer than ever. He was sporting a deep tan, and his light brown hair had been bleached pure blond by the sun. ‘Darling, you didn’t need to meet me from work. I’ll be seeing you tonight.’
‘How could I keep away, knowing my best girl was so close by?’ He picked her up and swung her around in his arms, then planted a hearty kiss on her forehead.
She giggled. ‘Put me down, you daft so-and-so. When did you arrive?’
He looked at his wristwatch. ‘About half an hour ago. I dropped my bags at the pub and dashed straight here.’ He cast an approving glance over her figure. ‘Ede, you look like a million quid.’
‘I’m hot, dirty and covered in sheep muck, Alfie Hume,’ she said, laughing. ‘I appreciate the compliment, but you’re not fooling anyone.’
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