For a Father's Pride

by Diane Allen

  ‘She can’t help it – my father was the one to blame. Besides, I’ll be glad to get my house back to myself. The sooner she’s out from under our feet, the better. A kitchen isn’t made for two women.’ Kitty was looking forward to her sister leaving, for Daisy was beginning to be the more dominant one, and she didn’t like sharing the decision-making.

  ‘Aye, and that bastard can stop being mollycoddled. He’s turned into a baby since she came,’ growled Clifford.

  ‘I think we could turn him into a gentleman, Clifford, if we put our minds to it.’ Kitty looked at her husband.

  ‘And why the fuck would we do that? He’s nowt to me.’

  ‘Clifford, I’ve never said anything until now, but I believe him to be your son. Regardless of who or what his mother is, you should raise him properly.’ Kitty felt the money in her apron pocket. She’d do as her sister asked, if the money kept coming – she was such a soft lump, her Daisy. She always had been the softer one of the two of them as they grew up, always looking after a stray kitten or an orphaned chicken that used to beg at the kitchen door.

  ‘He’s not of my loins – not a weak, scrawny thing like that. You’re soft in the head, woman. You can do as you please and think what you want, but keep him out of my way. Are you coming back home or are you walking?’ Clifford’s patience was running thin as he watched Daisy pick her way through the tall grasses of the garden. It should be his bloody house, not his sister-in-law’s.

  ‘Just be patient. I wanted to make sure I’d locked the door.’ Daisy pulled herself up onto the cart next to her sister.

  ‘Why? There’s no bloody Crown Jewels in there, and we are miles from anywhere. This spot isn’t exactly on the busiest highway.’ Clifford climbed up next to the two women and clicked his tongue, setting his horse into action.

  ‘God, he’s sarcastic!’ Daisy whispered to her sister.

  ‘I might be bloody sarcastic, but I’ve got good hearing, and I can stop this cart and throw you out,’ he growled.

  ‘You can, but you won’t. Otherwise, who would pay for next week’s shopping?’ Daisy knew she had the upper hand. Until the back-end lamb sales, Clifford’s bank balance would look rather empty. His only income would be coming from the spare butter that Kitty churned each day, and from the eggs that were sold in Hawes each Tuesday.

  ‘Phew, you are a bitch!’ Clifford grimaced. But it was better that Daisy was paying their way than him having to borrow from Oversby. He’d grin and bear it for now.

  21

  ‘So you are the lass who’s taken my lad’s eye.’ Luke Allen studied Daisy as she stood in front of him. She was all right, he thought. She had bonny eyes, but was a bit plain.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr Allen. Sam has talked so much about you.’ Daisy knew she had to impress. The villagers’ gossip was against her, and she had to sway his perception of her.

  ‘Aye, well, he can talk a load of rubbish sometimes.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Father! How good of you to say so.’ Sam’s face reddened and he looked as if he was about to explode.

  ‘It was all good, and not a load of rubbish at all. He was praising your business head, and saying you’d a sound eye for a new product.’ Daisy tried to calm the troubled waters between father and son, as well as move the conversation in the direction she wanted.

  ‘Aye, well, I like to think I have. What do you think of the shop? Our Sam says you’ve been in retail.’ Luke stood with his back against the shop counter and weighed up the lass, who was fast with her compliments. He knew her sort: quick to please, but with no depth to her character, particularly as she’d left her parents. Dales lasses just didn’t do that.

  Sam looked at his father – he knew what he was up to. Luke was testing Daisy, and Sam knew it damn well.

  ‘It’s a grand shop, Mr Allen – full of everything you want. And you try new brands. Sam tells me you have started taking products from Mattinson’s in Leeds. No doubt he’s mentioned that I worked for them?’ Daisy looked at him, knowing full well where the conversation was leading. Sam’s father hadn’t asked her to afternoon tea out of curiosity. It was because he wanted to know what she could do, and what he could get out of it.

  ‘Aye, well, we try our best. Our lad did happen to mention that you worked for Mattinson’s – said you were a bit of a cook. You must take after your father: he was a good baker. Not on the same scale as us, mind. I’ve four lads in my bakery up Gayle Lane. They start at three in the morning, and I’ve bread on the shelves by seven. Better bread you can’t find this side of the Pennines. I’m usually sold out by dinner time.’ Luke Allen put his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets as his chest filled with pride. ‘Now, which products did you make these Mattinsons? Owt I should be knowing about?’

  Luke’s dark-brown eyes stared at her, as Daisy reeled off her duties at the shop and what recipes she had made and given the Mattinsons. She didn’t want to sound as if she was bragging, but by the time she had finished telling him what she had done, it sounded rather good. It even impressed Daisy herself, let alone winning over old Luke Allen.

  ‘See, Father, she’s not just a pretty face.’ Sam linked his arm into Daisy’s. ‘I told you she knew her stuff.’

  ‘Aye, but the proof is in the pudding, lad. I tell you what, Daisy. You make me a pot of lemon cheese, and we’ll see if we can come to an arrangement. If it’s as good as that pot over there, tha can make it on a regular basis for this old duffer standing in front of you. And I’ll pay you well.’ Luke pointed to the shelf where Mattinson’s Lemon Cheese stood.

  ‘All right, I’ll do that for you. Once I leave Grouse Hall I’ll need to make myself some money, and it would be ideal to supply you with preserves – or whatever you want that I can make.’ Daisy grinned. Her life was turning full circle, but this time for the better, with a family she could trust.

  ‘You’re leaving Grouse Hall! Where are you going?’ Luke looked surprised.

  ‘My father left me Mill Race in his will – my old home up in Grisedale. I got the key last week, so I’m moving back home, back where I belong. I thought Sam would have told you.’

  ‘I never—’ Sam didn’t finish his sentence before his father butted in.

  ‘Nay, he never told me that. So you own your own house and all?’

  ‘Yes, and a little paddock where we used to keep a pig, and an orchard. I wish I could thank my father, but I’m sure it’s common knowledge that he died in the asylum and is buried there.’ Daisy blushed.

  ‘Aye, it was a sad do. You never know what’s going to happen to you from one day to the next. Live each day as if it’s your last – that’s what I say, as you can probably tell, by this belly of mine.’ He put his hands on his full belly while looking downcast, thinking about his rival, Tom Fraser. He’d been secretly happy when the old fella had gone mad; it had given him more trade. But to be buried without family around him, in the asylum’s graveyard, was not to be wished on anybody. ‘Anyway, enough! Come through to the back and meet Mary. She’s made us a bite to eat. She’s been fretting about meeting you all day; thinks you are going to pinch her lad from her. He’s the apple of her eye, soft lad!’

  ‘Father, I’m not soft. I’m my own man!’ Sam looked annoyed.

  ‘Aye, well, you are still in short trousers and always will be, as far as your mother is concerned.’

  Luke led the way through a low white door at the back of the shop. ‘Take no heed of this lot. This room doubles up as a storeroom. Mary keeps playing hell with me to tidy it up. But how can you, when stuff keeps coming and going all day?’ He snaked his way through piles of boxes and cans, until they came to a second doorway and entered the living quarters of the Allens.

  A round table was set with the best china on a white lace tablecloth, and four plush walnut chairs were positioned around the edge. A cake-stand stood proudly in the middle with a display of various home-made cakes, and elsewhere on the table were biscuits and fancies.

  ‘Mary? Mary! Where are you, wo
man, you’ve got a visitor?’ shouted Luke at the top of his voice.

  Sam winked at Daisy, reassuring her that she’d be all right with his mother.

  ‘I’m here – no need to shout, I was only in the scullery.’ Mary Allen entered the room. She was tall and thin, her white hair placed on the top of her head in a bun, emphasizing her height. ‘So you are the lass that my soft lad’s smitten with. I keep telling him there’s no match for a mother’s love. We’ll put up with our bairns, no matter what they do.’

  Daisy felt uneasy. Had she fallen for another Bob? Was his mother going to dominate Sam’s life? She felt herself blushing as Mary Allen’s eyes looked her up and down.

  ‘But you can’t keep ’em tied to your apron strings all their lives. They’d have nobody when you’ve passed away, so you hope they make the right choice in women. Sit down here, and I’ll make us a brew. I want to know a bit about you.’

  ‘Mother, she’s only come to tea. We aren’t going to elope together next week.’ Sam squeezed Daisy’s hand tight as he pulled out a chair for her to sit on.

  ‘I know how these things start. I only knew your father for six months and then we were wed. My mother nearly had a fit.’ On her way to the kitchen Mary stopped in her tracks.

  ‘Aye, but only because you were expect—’

  ‘Father, hold your noise. There’s no need for you to add your four penn’orth.’ Mary stopped Luke sharply. ‘The less said about that, the better. And let’s not tempt fate – we’ll have none of that yet.’ She wagged her finger and aimed it at Sam, while glaring at Luke, who was tucking into a piece of shortbread.

  Daisy sipped her tea as politely as she could. Mary had filled it to the brim, and her hand was shaking with nerves as she was cross-examined about her life, her hobbies and her appearance. Mary Allen wanted to know the far end of a fart, and where it had gone, over tea. And she wasn’t going to rest until she knew everything there was to know about Daisy.

  ‘And what made you leave home? I’ve heard various tales, but I want to hear it from you. You can’t believe all you hear, I know that! You seemed such a close family, when you were with your father on market days in Hawes and Sedbergh.’ Mary waited for Daisy’s reply and looked at her as if she knew what she was going to say, making Daisy feel uncomfortable as the biggest lie of her life came out of her mouth.

  ‘My mother’s friend at Gearstones Lodge sent for me to help her with her lodging business and, as I’m sure you are aware, I met and fell in love with a signalman while working there. Sadly he died on our wedding night, but I couldn’t bear to come home – I didn’t want everyone’s pity. So I applied for a job with the Mattinson brothers, and that’s where I was until I took ill and had to return home to my sister’s.’ Daisy couldn’t look straight at Mary. She’d lied, but she didn’t want her new life tainted by Clifford Middleton’s act of selfishness.

  ‘Did your mother not want you to come back home when she was dying? She was ill for some weeks, if I remember.’

  ‘By that time I was in Leeds, and my father insisted that I stay there. He knew how good my job was, and how much the family depended on me.’ Daisy carried on the lie, regretting every word that came out of her mouth.

  ‘But you didn’t even come to her funeral. I was there.’ Mary wasn’t finished. This lass was selfish. If her Sam were to marry her, then there’d be no help for her and Luke in their old age.

  ‘Mother, give over,’ Luke interrupted. ‘It’s like an inquisition – you’re frightening her to death. Just look at how white she is! It makes no difference. Her folk thought a lot of her, and old Tom left her his house and the lot. She’s a woman of substance, is our Daisy, and she’s going to make me a pot of that lemon cheese. I’ve told her if it’s as good as that Mattinson’s stuff, I’ll put an order in here and now.’ Luke leaned back in his chair and grinned at Daisy.

  Never had she been so thankful for an interruption. She’d hated lying to Mary Allen, but if she’d known the truth, she would never have Daisy in her house again.

  ‘You’re right. I just get carried away, but you only want the best for your lad. One day you’ll understand, when you’ve children of your own. I’ll make a fresh pot.’ Mary stood up with the teapot in her hand.

  ‘Mother, I keep telling you: we are just good friends, so you needn’t talk about family or weddings.’ Sam smiled at Daisy.

  ‘Aye, and I’m a monkey’s uncle! No other lass has ever been invited to tea by you, or your father. And I’ve never seen a lad so smitten. Today I know I’ve lost my lad.’ Mary filled up with tears and rushed into the kitchen, trying to hide her sobs.

  ‘Aye, she always was over-emotional, was your mother. Take no notice of her – she’ll come round. Anyway, lass, you’ve yet to convince me whether you’re worthy to enter this family. Your pot of cheese will tell me that.’ Luke laughed as he added, ‘I’m only joking, lass.’

  Daisy smiled at him, knowing full well that he wasn’t joking. She was just another business deal, and her lemon cheese had better be up to scratch, if she was to catch her man.

  Daisy stirred the thickening lemon cheese in the heavy brass jam-pan. The smell of lemon filled the kitchen of Grouse Hall and made it feel homely. Tobias watched as she judged whether or not it was ready to pot, and waited to run his fingers inside the pan that he’d been promised. Six warm jam jars were lined up on the scrubbed pine kitchen table, and Daisy carefully spooned the thick yellow mixture into each awaiting one, lovingly wiping the dribbles from the side of the jars, before putting them next to the open kitchen door to cool. She laughed at Tobias as he nearly burned his tongue in his eagerness to lick the remains of the lemon cheese from the pot.

  ‘Watch what you’re doing! Let it cool first, you greedy monkey.’

  ‘I’ve never had anything like this – you’ve got to make it again.’ Tobias grinned as a dribble of cheese went down his chin.

  ‘Nay, there’s no money at Grouse Hall for luxuries like lemons. I’ve only made this because Luke has given me the ingredients. Once I’ve got my own house tidy, I can make it again, and the stove at home is a lot better. If I can start selling this on a regular basis, I’ll get some income coming in.’ Daisy talked away to Tobias, even though he didn’t understand half of what she was saying, and didn’t care either, as he scraped the last dribbles of lemon cheese from the pan.

  ‘Well, I’ll just be bloody glad to get you out from under my feet.’ Kitty entered the kitchen with a bucket of warm milk, fresh from the cow in the barn. ‘You’re filling this bugger’s head with rubbish, and getting in my way. He’s nobbut using you, is Luke Allen. He knows a good deal when he sees one. He always did try to undercut our father when he was alive, but you were too young to remember, and your head was always full of rubbish.’

  ‘He’s not a bad man. Anyway, that’s how business works – you’ve got to be competitive, or else folk will go elsewhere. That is one thing I learned from my time in Leeds.’

  ‘Leeds, Leeds. It’s all you bloody talk about. But I notice they don’t write back to you so quick. When will you get it into your head that you were their skivvy, and nothing else?’ Kitty sighed at Daisy’s thunderous face. ‘Here, take this milk; skim the cream off, put it in the butter churn with the other cream I put in there last night, and make me some butter to take with you to Hawes. You’re sitting nicely, with a paid house in place and a grand scheme, but we’ve still to make a living.’

  ‘You’ve got Tobias’s money. I promised to give you something every month towards his upkeep, and I’ll be true to my word.’ Daisy snatched the bucket from her sister.

  ‘Aye, and that will only be a flash in the pan. You’ll not be able to keep paying me when you’re married to that simpering Sam. Besides, it’s all going on Tobias: look how hungry he always is. Clifford will soon realize money is coming in from somewhere, other than us making it.’

  Daisy glanced at young Tobias. He looked healthier now, and there was spare meat on his bones and more colour
in his cheeks. ‘You’ll not say anything to Clifford, will you, Kitty? He can’t go back to treating the lad like a dog, once I’ve left. And you’ll make sure Tobias can sleep in my old room, not back under the table?’

  ‘I’ll not say anything, but you are simple in the head to be wasting your hard-earned brass on his bastard, because that’s what he is: a whore’s bastard with no prospects, as you would say. Aye, he can sleep in your old room, but I expect under the table will be warmer in winter. At least he’d have the heat from the kitchen fire.’

  Daisy knew her sister was right. The lad would never be accepted in society, but at least for a while she could see that he was fed. She skimmed the cream from the top of the milk and added it to the rest of the cream, before screwing down the metal lid that held the wooden panels and handle. She hated this job. Sometimes the cream would quickly turn into butter, and sometimes it could take up to an hour of turning the handle that rotated the wooden panels that battered the cream. Her arm would ache by the time it was made, and then she’d have to add salt to the separated butter and pat it into usable blocks with the butter-pats. Never mind. After she’d done this job, she was going to see Luke with the lemon cheese and, hopefully, some butter to sell him.

  Kitty’s words rang in her ears as she turned the handle of the butter churn. The truth hurt, but Kitty was right: the Mattinson brothers hadn’t written to her since she had left – she had just been another worker to them. And yet she was sure Jim had thought something of her. She was just a bad judge of men – that was the top and bottom of it – and she only hoped she’d got it right with Sam.