‘Oh.’ The child looked crestfallen.
‘But you can come and visit me whenever you like.’
‘You’d best go home now, Maisie,’ Tony butted in. ‘Your mam’ll be wondering where you’ve got to. She’ll be worried.’
Maisie nodded and jumped down from the stool. ‘’Bye, ’bye, Mrs Bertha and thank you for the scone.’
As the child let herself out of the back door, Tony turned on his mother. ‘Mam, what are you up to?’
Bertha adopted her most innocent expression. ‘Whatever do you mean, Tony? What should I be up to?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly, ‘but it’s summat.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ Bertha said, but as she turned her back on her son she was smiling to herself.
‘I think it’s time you left,’ Tony said bluntly. He found Anna busy trying to cope with a ewe and a difficult birth. It was obvious she had not noticed that Maisie had been later home than usual or that she had appeared from the direction of the farm instead of round by the wood.
Her mind still occupied with the sheep, Anna said, ‘Fetch your father, Tony. I think he might need the vet to this ewe. The lamb’s all right, but the mother—’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll get him, but did you hear what I said?’
Anna looked at him and blinked, dragging his words to the forefront of her mind. ‘Leave? Now? Why?’
‘Maisie was down at the farm, sitting in me mam’s kitchen as large as life and twice as cheeky.’
‘The wilful little—’
‘Please, don’t punish her. I’m only telling tales – I don’t reckon to – because it’s for your own good. I – I—’ He hesitated, not wanting to sound disloyal to his mother, yet he had this awful feeling that something was not right. ‘Me mam’s being nice to her and I don’t know why. It’s – it’s not natural. Not when you know what she thinks of you.’ His brow puckered and he muttered, ‘I can’t understand it. I’d’ve thought she’d be horrible to Maisie an’ all.’
‘Mm.’ Anna was thoughtful too. ‘So would I. Or at the very least, make it so obvious she wasn’t welcome that she didn’t visit again.’ She eyed Tony speculatively. He was fifteen now and, in a lot of ways, mature for his age.
‘Is there anything else you’re not telling me?’ she asked bluntly.
Tony shook his head. ‘Not really. But—’ Again he hesitated and Anna probed gently. ‘But what, Tony? Tell me. Please.’
The words tumbled over each other in a rush. ‘If she – wants to get at you, the easiest way is through Maisie, isn’t it?’ He ran his hand through his hair, with an action so like his father’s that Anna almost smiled – would have done if their conversation had not been so serious. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t be saying this,’ he anguished. ‘Not about me own mam. She wouldn’t hurt Maisie. I know she wouldn’t do that but – but . . . oh I don’t know what to think.’
‘It’s all right,’ Anna said huskily. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t be angry with Maisie, but I must impress upon her that she is not to visit the farm. And come the better weather, this year we really will go.’
But at the end of the month, Eddie slipped on an icy patch in the yard and broke his leg and even Tony was now forced to ask Anna to stay a while longer.
‘He can’t work for six weeks and I’d have to stay off school.’ He pulled a face. ‘And me mam doesn’t want that. She’ll see to the dairy work if you’d go down and milk the cows—’
‘You mean she’s agreed for me to do that?’
Unsmiling, Tony nodded and there was bitter sarcasm to his tone. ‘Oh yes. Even me mam’ll swallow her pride if it gets her out of doing the milking.’
The weeks passed. Eddie’s leg mended and then it was almost haymaking, followed by harvest and then another winter was upon them. Although the passage of time did not diminish her fear, Anna began to feel secure in her little cottage haven near the woods and gradually her need to move on lessened. She knew Eddie wanted her to stay. Of Tony’s feelings, she was less certain. Sometimes he would be as friendly and caring as ever. But at others he ignored their presence in the cottage for days. He was brusque with Maisie and offhand with Anna. No doubt, Anna thought grimly, his mother had been pouring vicious lies into his young ears and turning him against them. Anna couldn’t blame the lad: it was natural that he would believe his mother. She no longer cared what Bertha thought about her. She rarely saw her and, for the most part, she managed to ignore the woman’s malevolent presence over the hill.
But, unbeknown to her mother and even to Eddie and Tony, Maisie’s visits to see Bertha continued. Not often, but now and again when there was no one about to see, the growing child would skip into the yard and knock on the back door of the farmhouse.
And Bertha would smile to herself and welcome the child into her home, content to bide her time. Bitter though Bertha was, she was a patient woman.
Twenty-Three
On the last day of January 1953, Eddie said, ‘I didn’t like the look of the sky this morning, lass. Did you see it? A real shepherd’s warning. I reckon we’re in for some stormy weather.’
Anna glanced skywards and pulled a wry face. ‘The wind was rattling round the cottage last night and through the trees in the wood. You should have heard it.’ She smiled. ‘I could almost imagine it was the sea.’
Though she could not have known it, Anna’s words were prophetic.
The wind howled all day. By nightfall it had risen to gale force. Anna sat by the fire in the white cottage, a half-finished peg rug on her knee. She worked calmly at it, pulling the pieces of rag through the hessian, trying to blot out the sound of the raging storm outside. Maisie sat close to her, her brown eyes wide with fear.
‘Time you went up to bed,’ Anna said, but her daughter only drew closer.
‘Can’t we sleep down here tonight, Mam? I don’t like the wind. It sounds as if it’s trying to blow the thatch off the roof.’
‘We’re safe enough here, darling,’ Anna murmured and a small, wistful smile played around her mouth. How could she explain to her young daughter that the elements had never held any fears for her; it was only at times like these, when other people shuddered and shut their doors against the weather, that she felt safer than at any other time.
No one would venture to seek her out in this kind of weather. Anna sighed. Perhaps it was time she stopped being quite so fearful. Six years had passed and, though she had had one or two frightening moments, they had all been in her imagination. She had not been found. No one had come looking for her. Since the early days after her arrival no one had challenged her or asked an awkward question. Eddie no longer tried to probe gently. And Tony, now a tall, thin, sixteen-year-old, due to sit his O level examinations this coming summer, rarely made reference to her past life. Even Pat Jessop, still a good friend, had stopped asking. The village gossip had died down, although, on the rare occasions that Anna ventured into the village, she was still aware of the curious glances.
Maisie broke into her thoughts. ‘Buster doesn’t like this weather either.’
The dog, now fully grown and already a good sheepdog, huddled against their feet, whining every so often to remind them that he was there and that he needed a friendly stroke of reassurance. As Anna was bending forward to pat his head, a loud banging sounded at the back door, making Anna and Maisie jump and Buster leap to his feet and begin barking.
In an instant all Anna’s resolution fled and her fear was back as strongly as ever. Maisie ran to the window and peered out into the wild, black night. Even she, young as she was, knew that her mother did not like the door opened until they knew who was standing on the other side.
‘It’s Mr Eddie.’
‘You’re – you’re sure?’ Anna persisted.
Maisie nodded vigorously. ‘Let him in, Mam.’
Still a little reluctant, Anna shot back the bolt and opened the door, letting the storm into the warm kitchen. Eddie almost tumbled into the room and Anna had to fight the wind to s
hut the door. He leant against the table, bending over it to regain his breath.
‘It’s the sea, lass.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s breached the sea wall at Mablethorpe and other places down the coast. People’s homes are flooded. There’ll be a lot of folk needing help.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Pat told me.’
‘Pat? When have you seen Pat?’
For a moment, Eddie looked shamefaced. ‘I was in the village and I just called to see if she needed any help. Don’t like to think of her struggling about on her bike in this weather. You know, if there was a babby bein’ born somewhere—’
‘I know,’ Anna said softly.
‘She’d got a call to go into Ludthorpe and help set up a rescue centre in the town hall.’
‘You’re taking her there?’
Eddie shook his head. ‘No, someone’s picking her up.’
Maisie was tugging at Eddie’s sleeve. ‘How far will the sea come? Will – will it get here?’
Despite the gravity of the news, Eddie smiled. ‘I hope not, love,’ he said. ‘If it did, then—’
Though the young child did not understand, Anna realized what Eddie meant. If the sea reached Cackle Hill Farm, then half the county would be under water. She put her arm round her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her close. ‘There’s a hill or two between us and the sea. It won’t reach us.’
Maisie’s lip trembled. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Sorry, love.’ Eddie put his hand on the little girl’s shoulder. ‘I should have realized you wouldn’t understand. No, the sea won’t get here. But there is something you can do – ’ his gaze found Anna’s face – ‘that we can all do to help them poor folks whose homes have been invaded by the water.’
‘What?’ the child asked whilst Anna’s heart stood still. Before Eddie put his suggestion into words, she knew what he was going to say and her fear was back one hundredfold.
Oblivious to her feelings, Eddie said, ‘There’ll be hundreds being evacuated. They’ll need somewhere to stay. I was wondering—?’
‘What about the farmhouse?’ Anna’s tone was sharper than she intended. ‘You’ve plenty of room there.’
Eddie’s mouth tightened. ‘Bertha won’t have strangers in the house—’
Anna opened her mouth to retort that, for once, she understood how his wife felt and that she too didn’t want strangers in her home. Then she saw the look of disgust on Eddie’s face as he spoke of Bertha. Anna closed her mouth, the words unspoken as shame swept through her.
She remembered the night he had found her, soaked to the skin, exhausted and homeless. He had brought her to his own home, given her shelter, fed and clothed her – all against the wishes of his wife. He had done all this for her and now he was asking for that same compassion from her.
Anna touched his arm. ‘What do you want us to do?’
Eddie smiled. ‘I knew you’d do it, lass,’ he said, hoarsely. ‘I knew – that whatever it cost you – you wouldn’t turn your back on those poor folks.’
Anna glanced away, unable to meet his trusting gaze, feeling very guilty that she had almost allowed herself to be every bit as selfish as Bertha.
Eddie, mercifully unaware of her inner turmoil, said, ‘Tony’s coming with me. We’re taking the tractor and trailer. We should be able to get through the water to rescue folks.’
‘Can I come?’ Maisie piped up. ‘I want to go with Tony.’
Eddie rested his hand briefly on the child’s curls. ‘No, you stay and help your mammy get ready for some visitors.’ He turned back to Anna. ‘They’ll be cold and hungry. Can you make some soup or a stew?’ Anna nodded as he went on, ‘And you’ll need blankets. I’ll see if I can get some more. I must go—’
‘Eddie – ’ Anna grasped his arm briefly – ‘be – be careful.’
With a brief smile and a swift nod of the head, he was gone out into the wild night.
In the early hours of the morning, Anna, who had not been to bed at all, though she had at last persuaded Maisie to go, heard the sound of Eddie’s tractor chugging along the track around the wood and towards her cottage. As she opened the door, the blustery wind caught her skirt and tore at her hair. On the back of the trailer, she could see Tony with a woman and two children. One was only a baby, the other a little boy about Maisie’s age. As the vehicle drew to a halt, Anna reached up with welcoming hands to help down the refugees.
‘Oh, you’re soaked through. Come in, come in. There’s a good fire and hot food.’
The little boy held out his arms to be helped down, but the woman sat still on the trailer, clutching her crying infant to her but staring straight ahead as if she was unaware of Anna’s presence.
Eddie jumped down from the tractor and came to stand beside Anna.
‘Poor thing,’ he murmured. ‘She’s in shock, I reckon. Her husband’s missing.’
‘How terrible,’ Anna said and then raised her voice, ‘Come along, love. Let’s get you and the little one inside.’
At last, with Tony’s urging, the woman allowed him to take the baby from her and hand it gently down to Anna. Then, woodenly, the woman climbed down from the trailer and moved into the cottage. But it was as if she was unaware of anything around her. She didn’t seem to be aware of her own discomfort or even to notice the crying of her baby.
Anna sat the forlorn little family before her fire, wrapped them in blankets and ladled out hot soup, thick with pieces of meat and sliced vegetables.
‘I call this “full-up soup”,’ Anna said, trying to raise a smile from the little boy. But he was white-faced and silent, the shock and terror showing in his eyes.
Maisie appeared in the doorway, a shawl over her nightdress, her bare feet sticking out below the uneven hem. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and stared at the strangers sitting in their kitchen. Then she sidled across the room to stand beside Tony, but stared wordlessly at the young boy, who was now eating the soup hungrily.
‘We’re going back—’ Eddie said, making for the door.
‘Not before you’ve had a warm and something hot to eat,’ Anna said firmly. ‘Come on, sit down at the table. You too, Tony.’
‘But—’
‘No “buts”. You can’t help folks if you’re exhausted yourselves.’
‘By heck.’ Tony grinned, sitting down. ‘She’s getting to be a right bossy boots.’
Despite the tragedy that was unfolding all the way down the east coast of Britain, Eddie managed a brief smile. ‘Aye, but she’s right, lad.’
They tucked into a large bowl of soup and crusty fresh bread, but within minutes they were both rising and leaving the cottage. ‘We’ll have to go back, lass.’
Anna nodded. ‘Take care then. Both of you.’
When they had gone, it was strangely quiet in the cottage. Only the wind, still howling outside, disturbed the silence.
‘What’s your name, love?’ Anna asked the woman, who had scarcely touched the soup. She sat clutching the blanket around her and rocking to and fro. Then she began a strange keening, a kind of dry-eyed crying.
‘Don’t, Mam.’ The young boy stood up and put his arm about his mother. ‘Dad’ll be all right. The mester said he’d go back and look for him.’
But his mother just shook her head in a hopeless gesture. ‘He’s gone. I know he’s gone.’
The boy glanced helplessly at Anna, who was nursing the baby and trying to spoon some warm milk into the little mouth, all the while wishing that Pat Jessop would walk through the door and take charge.
‘What’s your name?’ Now Anna addressed the boy, who seemed to be recovering from their ordeal more quickly than his mother.
‘Peter Warren.’
‘And your mam’s?’
‘Clare. And the babby’s called Susie.’
Without warning, the woman suddenly stood up, threw off the blanket from around her shoulders and stumbled towards the door. ‘If Bill’s gone, I don’t want
to live—’
Before Anna could reach her, Clare pulled open the door and rushed out into the wild early morning. ‘I don’t want to live any more,’ she wailed, her words caught and tossed callously away by the gale.
‘Here, hold the baby, Peter,’ Anna said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get her back. Stay here.’
Snatching her coat from the peg behind the door and pulling it on, Anna hurried out into the storm leaving the two children and the baby. The woman was stumbling down the slope towards the stream, her arms stretched wide, her lament carried on the wind. A loud, hopeless wailing that chilled Anna’s heart.
If she reaches the water, Anna thought, I’ll lose her.
The stream was a rushing torrent from recent rain and a smattering of snow. The woman could be swept away. She was teetering on the bank when Anna grabbed her around the waist and unceremoniously pulled her to the ground. They rolled over and over, locked together in a desperate struggle, the one determined to end her misery, the other stubbornly refusing to let her throw her life away. They rolled over the edge of the bank and slithered into the icy torrent. The breath was knocked from Anna’s body, the water gurgled in her ears, but she held on fast, her arms around the woman’s waist. Suddenly Clare stopped struggling and went limp in Anna’s grasp. Together, they were carried a few yards, bumping along stones and rocks on the bed of the stream.
Then Anna surfaced, gulping in air. Somehow she gained a foothold and dragged herself to the edge, lugging the dead weight of the woman with her. Panting, she lay on the sloping bank, half in, half out of the water. And still Anna held on to her burden. Gasping, she struggled to heave herself up, but all the time she refused to let go, not even for a second, in case Clare was feigning weakness in an effort to break free when she felt Anna’s hold relax. But Anna was determined not to let go.
Just as she had once been saved, now she vowed to haul this distraught and desperate woman back from the brink.
Red Sky in the Morning Page 17