Now Anna sat up, reaching out thankfully to take the food. She had been ready to give up, to succumb at last to an overwhelming desire to close her eyes and never wake up, but the physical ache of hunger revived her instinct to survive.
The boy watched her as she ate ravenously, his brown eyes large in his thin face. ‘Are you going to have a baby?’ The question was innocent enough, but the girl scowled at him and did not answer. Yet it was the first time her face had registered any kind of emotion. ‘Where have you come from?’ Again, no answer. ‘Where are you going?’ To this she replied only with a vague lift of her shoulders. ‘Haven’t you got a home? A mam and dad?’
Anna lay down again. ‘Thanks for the food,’ she said flatly, deliberately ignoring his questions. Her words were a dismissal, yet the boy did not move. He sat quietly beside her and she could feel him watching her.
They heard a noise below and, startled, the boy scrambled away towards the ladder. Anna raised her head. He was peering down the open hatch, his eyes wide and fearful. Then she saw him relax, the sudden tension in his limbs drain away.
‘Hello, lad.’ Eddie Appleyard’s voice drifted up. ‘Come to see if our visitor’s still here, have you?’
The boy nodded as the man began to climb up towards him. ‘I brought her some bread an’ cheese, Dad. And some milk. But don’t tell Mam, will you?’
Eddie appeared at the top of the ladder. Even through the poor light, Anna could see that he was smiling. He reached out and ruffled his son’s hair. ‘No, son, course I won’t.’ His grin broadened and Anna had the feeling it was not the first secret that father and son had shared. ‘As long as you don’t tell her I’ve raided the larder an’ all.’ He handed up a blue-and-white-check cloth bundle as he glanced across to where the girl lay. The boy took it and moved back to her side. ‘Me dad’s brought you something too.’
The man levered himself up the last rungs of the ladder and stepped into the loft, bending his head to avoid the low rafters. He dropped to his haunches beside her as, now, Anna sat upright.
‘It’s very kind of you,’ she said huskily as she unwrapped the cloth. There was a slice of pork pie, two cold sausages and two slices of bread, spread thickly with butter.
‘And here’s a couple of apples,’ the man said, fishing in his pocket. ‘From our own orchard. We lay ’em out on newspaper in the loft to last us through the winter.’
Now they both sat and watched her eat. When she had finished, the man said kindly, ‘Now, lass, what can we do to help you? Are you heading for somewhere? I could mebbe take you there, if it’s not too far away?’
There was a long silence whilst the girl seemed to be struggling inwardly. She saw the man and his young son exchange a glance, but they waited patiently for her answer. At last she said haltingly, ‘No, I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Are you looking for work?’ Eddie asked. ‘Is that it?’
‘I suppose so, though—’ She hesitated, before adding bitterly, ‘I won’t be able to work for very long.’
‘Do you know owt about farm work?’ Eddie asked, carefully ignoring her brief reference to her condition.
The girl regarded him steadily, seeming to weigh up the consequences of her answer before uttering it. Guardedly, she said, ‘A bit.’
‘Can you milk cows?’
She shook her head, her eyes downcast. Her reluctance was obvious, but at last she admitted, ‘Sheep. I know about sheep.’
The boy clapped his hands excitedly. ‘We’ve got sheep. Lincolnshire Longwools,’ he added with a note of pride. ‘And it’ll be lambing time soon. She could help with the sheep, Dad, couldn’t she?’
‘Well—’ Now the man was doubtful. ‘I wasn’t thinking so much of her staying with us.’ His expression was both apprehensive and apologetic at the same time. ‘I was just wondering if we could find her a place on a farm hereabouts.’
The boy’s face fell.
‘It’s all right, Mister.’ Anna moved to get up from her warm nest in the hay. ‘I don’t want to cause you any bother.’ She glanced at him shrewdly as, remembering the previous night, she added softly, ‘No more than I have already.’ In a shaft of early morning light slanting through the rafters, she could see that Eddie had a scratch on his left cheekbone. A scratch that had not been there the previous evening.
Eddie made a dismissive gesture with his hand, but she could see the wariness deep in his eyes. The boy was still glancing from one to the other, biting his lip. Suddenly, his expression brightened again. ‘What about the cottage, Dad? Couldn’t she stay there?’
The man looked at him, at the girl and then back to his son. ‘But it’s nearly falling down, lad. It’s hardly weatherproof.’
‘You could mend it, Dad.’ The boy’s face was alight with eagerness. ‘You could do the walls.’ He glanced at Anna. ‘They’re only mud.’ Now he looked back again to his father. ‘And Mr Wainwright could do the roof.’ Once more he explained to Anna, ‘It’s a thatched roof and Mr Wainwright does thatching. He mended the corner shop in the village. It’s got a thatched roof an’ all. Oh Dad, do let her stay. Please. She’s got nowhere else to go.’
‘Is that right, lass?’ the man asked her quietly and when she nodded, he sighed.
His brow furrowed, he sat deep in thought for several minutes until a shout made them all jump. It was Bertha’s shrill voice in the barn below them.
‘Eddie? Where are you?’
The boy made a sudden movement like a startled fawn, but his father put his finger to his lips.
Bertha was at the bottom of the ladder. ‘Are you up there, Eddie Appleyard? ’Cos if you are—’
It sounded as if the woman suspected that Anna had spent the night in the hayloft. Like statues the three of them were motionless, the boy holding his breath, his father looking guilty. Anna watched the man with detached curiosity. He’s afraid of her, she thought with a flicker of surprise. Never before had she seen a man fearful of a woman. The other way about, yes, oh yes . . .
She closed her mind against thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her.
Bertha’s voice, still calling her husband’s name, was further away now. ‘She’ll be gone in a minute,’ the man said in a low voice, ‘then you can go down, Tony.’
‘What if she asks where I’ve been?’
Eddie’s smile flickered briefly. ‘Well, I wouldn’t tell her you’ve been up here with this lass. Don’t worry, I don’t think she’ll ask you. It’s me she’s after.’ He looked at Anna. ‘She’ll be wanting the trap harnessed. She always goes into the town on a Thursday to see her sister and do a bit of shopping.’ He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound, and his face looked suddenly much younger, laughter lines wrinkling around his eyes. ‘For all the things I’ve forgotten to bring from the market the day before when I’ve had one too many.’
He stood up and brushed the hay from his clothes. ‘Come on, Tony. Time you were getting ready for school.’ He turned back to Anna and smiled down at her. ‘You stay here. When the wife’s gone, I’ll come back and take you down to the cottage.’ He pulled a wry expression. ‘But it’s not much to look at.’
The man descended the ladder first and the boy followed, pausing briefly to smile back at her. Anna raised her hand and curled her fingers in a kind of wave, but could not summon an answering smile.
Three
‘It’s not much of a place,’ Eddie said again as they walked up the slope away from the farm, ‘but it’s in a good spot near the woods. Sheltered, but very isolated.’ Anna felt his glance. ‘It’ll be lonely for you.’
That’ll suit me, she thought, though she said nothing.
She had waited in the hayloft until she heard the trap rattle out of the yard, the sound of its wheels on the roadway receding into the distance. Only a moment later she had heard the man calling softly from below. ‘Coast’s clear, lass.’
They walked on, but near the top of the hill Anna paused and looked back towards the farm where the man and his family lived. Cac
kle Hill Farm, for she had seen the name on the gate as they left, was set against a background of trees, beyond which was the rolling countryside of the Lincolnshire Wolds. She turned and followed the man, who was still plodding to the top of the rise. When they reached it, they both paused to take in the view below them. The land sloped away again and at the bottom of the track on this side of the hill Anna could see the outline of a cottage nestling against a wooded area on the right from where she was standing. The land was cold and stark, the trees naked against the grey sky, but in spring and summer she guessed the view would be idyllic. Just beyond the cottage she could see a stream bubbling down the hillside and disappearing round the far side of the wood. Sheep dotted the sloping fields and, for the first time in weeks, Anna smiled.
‘You like it?’ Eddie asked gently. Anna jumped. For a moment she had forgotten he was there.
‘Oh! Oh yes.’ She nodded. ‘It was the sheep. I – I like sheep,’ she added diffidently.
Eddie nodded. ‘Mek you feel at home, d’they?’
Her smile faded and at once her face took on a closed look. ‘Something like that,’ she murmured and the man knew he had said the wrong thing. Silently, he vowed not to mention her home, nor question her about her background. But he liked this lass. He wanted to help her. She was like a lost sheep herself and his tender heart reached out to her. He sighed. If only his wife would be as kindly disposed towards her.
They were nearing the cottage now and Anna could see that it was as tumbledown as he had said. It was a small, lime-washed, mud-and-stud, thatched building with a central front door and a window on either side. To the left of the door, there was a gaping hole where the mud had crumbled away, leaving the wooden slats of the framework exposed. On the same side of the cottage the thatched roof was badly in need of repair. Several of the windowpanes were broken and the front door leant drunkenly on its hinges. When Eddie pushed it open, it scraped the mud floor.
‘This place is only used at lambing time. I stay here, specially if the weather’s bad. My lad comes too – if his mam’ll let him.’ The last few words were murmured, almost as if he did not intend the girl to hear them.
The door opened into a tiny hallway with steep stairs, more like a ladder than a proper staircase, leading to the upper floor.
‘It’s two up and two down, but I only ever use this room,’ Eddie said, leading her into the room to the right. He laughed as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the other room. ‘I put the sheep in yon one.’ He stood looking about him. ‘But it’s not too bad in here. At least it’s weatherproof. We’ll get a fire going in there.’ He nodded towards the grate, beside which, built into the brickwork, was a bread oven.
Anna glanced around. It was like stepping back into the last century – or maybe even the one before that. There were no rugs to clothe the coldness of the beaten-earth floor. In one corner there was a rusty iron bedstead, but there was no mattress on it. A wooden rocking chair stood near the fireplace, and in the centre of the room there was a table and one kitchen chair. But to the girl, who had lived rough for months in barns and outhouses, the promise of somewhere dry and warm was heaven-sent.
‘It’s a bit sparse.’ Eddie smiled apologetically. ‘But we don’t need much when we stay here. Anyway, I’ll fetch you the feather mattress I use. It’s in our loft at the moment.’ He pointed. ‘That door there’s the pantry. I’ll soon get that stocked up for you. And this one’ – he opened another door that led directly out of the kitchen at the side of the cottage – ‘goes outside to the privy. It’s down the path there. And you’ll have to fetch your water from the stream, I’m afraid. But it’s fresh and clean. Comes from a spring up the hill.’
Anna nodded.
‘Like Tony said,’ Eddie went on, ‘I can repair the walls and the windows. I’ll rehang the front door and I’ll ask Joe Wainwright if he—’
‘I can’t pay for work to be done,’ Anna said at once. Then, realizing she might have sounded ungrateful, she gestured with her hand and added, ‘It’s – it’s very kind of you, but I – I have nothing.’
Gently, Eddie said, ‘I wouldn’t expect you to pay, lass. The cottage belongs to me and it’s high time I got it repaired up.’
‘But I can’t afford to pay you rent, at least not at the moment.’
The man dismissed the idea. ‘Don’t you worry about that, love. Besides, you’re going to help me with the lambing.’ He paused significantly, as if he realized he was forcing her to make up her mind, before adding quietly, ‘Aren’t you?’
They regarded each other steadily for several moments before she nodded slowly.
When Tony arrived home from school it was already dusk. He rushed into the kitchen and skidded to a halt, surprised to see his mother standing behind the table unpacking her shopping. Before he could bite back the words, he said, ‘You’re home early. I didn’t think you’d be back from Auntie Lucy’s yet.’
Bertha smiled. ‘I couldn’t wait to get back to show you what I’ve bought you. Here – ’ she held out a brown paper bag towards him – ‘open it.’
Tony sat at the table. ‘But it’s not Christmas yet.’
His mother smiled at him. ‘Oh, that’s just a little extra one from your mam.’
Inside the bag was the usual bar of chocolate she always brought him after her trip to town, but today there was another present. A Dinky toy.
‘Aw, Mam – thanks! It’s that tractor I wanted.’ He opened the box and ran the toy along the table, imitating the sound of a real vehicle. ‘Chugger-chugger-chugger.’
Bertha watched him fondly. ‘That’s all right, love.’ She sat down opposite him and rested her arms on the table. ‘Now, tell me,’ she said, ‘what you’ve been doing at school today.’
‘We had writing this morning and sums and then we played footie this after.’ The boy reeled off the events of his day.
With deceptive mildness, Bertha asked, ‘And did you enjoy the piece of pork pie and the cold sausages as well as the sandwiches I packed for you?’
The boy sat very still. His eyes were still on his new toy, but now he was not moving the tractor or imitating its sounds.
‘You can tell your mam, Tony love. I won’t be cross. I just want you to tell me if you took them. That’s all.’
The boy’s lower lip trembled. He opened his mouth once, then twice, but no sound came out. The back door opened and closed and there was the sound of Eddie removing his boots in the scullery.
He appeared in the doorway into the kitchen and stood there for a few moments, glancing between the two seated on either side of the table. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’ Bertha snapped. ‘Me an’ Tony are just having a little chat. That’s all.’
‘Oh aye. What’ve you been up to now, lad? Not in trouble at school, are you?’ Eddie moved into the room and went to stand beside his son’s chair. He smiled down at the boy and ruffled his hair. Tony shook his head but still did not speak. Instead he stared miserably at his new toy as if all the joy had been taken out of the gift. Eddie looked across the table at his wife, a question in his eyes.
‘I was just asking him if he’d enjoyed the pork pie and sausages that’s gone missing out of my meat safe in the larder. That’s all. Simple enough question, I’d’ve thought, but it seems as if he doesn’t want to answer me.’
‘Ah.’ Eddie let out a long sigh. ‘Now I get it.’ Heavily, he said, ‘Go out and feed the hens, there’s a good boy. Me and ya mam need to talk.’
Tony scrambled from his chair, leaving his new toy on the table. Quietly he closed the door from the kitchen into the scullery, but he did not leave the house. Instead, he stood with his ear pressed to the closed door. He could hear every word clearly.
‘You know very well the lad didn’t take the food, but it’s your way of trying to find out. You shouldn’t use him, Bertha. It isn’t his fault you an’ me don’t get on nowadays.’
‘And whose fault is it, I’d like to know? I don’t disappe
ar off to market every week and come home rolling drunk, after being with goodness knows how many trollops in the town. And then you have the gall to bring one of ’em home with you. Into my house.’ She beat her chest with her fist.
Wearily, Eddie said, ‘Bertha, I don’t go with trollops, as you put it. In fact, I don’t go with other women at all—’
Bertha snorted. ‘Spect me to believe that. I know what men are like.’
Eddie regarded her with pity and shook his head slowly. ‘Bertha love, I wish you’d believe me. We’re not all the same. Just because your dad was a ladies’ man—’
‘Don’t you say things about my dad, Eddie Appleyard. You’re no saint.’
‘The whole town knew about your dad and his carryings on, love.’
‘I aren’t sitting here listening to you calling my dad names just to mek ya’sen feel better.’ She wagged her finger in his face. ‘He didn’t get drunk and come home and knock his wife about.’
Appalled, Eddie stared at her. ‘Bertha, I’ve never—’
‘Oh ’aven’t you? How do you know what you do when you’re sow drunk?’
Eddie dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t believe it. He was not a violent man. Never had been. And though things were not right between him and his wife, he couldn’t imagine that he would ever attack her physically. But then, he had to admit, he did get ‘sow drunk’ as the locals called it, a state that resembled a snoring, snorting pig. And, to his eternal shame, Eddie had to admit that he could not remember what he had done when he was in that state.
He couldn’t even remember having brought the girl home from the town until Bertha pulled him from the trap and there the girl was, just sitting there. But that was something he was never going to admit. Not to his wife and certainly not to that poor lass. He didn’t want her to think that he hadn’t meant to help her, that he couldn’t even remember making the offer.
‘So?’ Bertha was leaning towards him. ‘What did happen to my pork pie and sausages?’
Red Sky in the Morning Page 2