by Diane Allen
‘When your father gets his awkward head on, there’s no making sense of him,’ grumbled Ada to Polly, as they leaned over the first pen of sheep and lambs and then moved on to the next one, not seeing anything that took their fancy.
The next pen was full of bleating Swaledale lambs, some only a day old and still unsteady on their legs. The lambs all rushed to the pen edge, bleating and crying for their mother, or at least a bottle of warm milk to fill their empty stomachs. Polly bent down and held each one’s head in her hands. Their pitiful cries nearly made her want to cry. She couldn’t imagine life without her mother. The lambs tried to suck her outstretched fingers as she caressed their bony heads and looked into their pale-blue eyes.
‘Well, which one is it to be? Don’t pick a tup; we want a gimmer, then at least we can have lambs out of her.’ Edmund Harper stood back and watched his lass pick up each lamb and inspect it.
‘Mind they don’t pee on you, our Polly. That dress is clean, and I’m not washing it again for a while. Father, can’t you pick one? It’s a man’s job, not a lass’s.’ Ada was aware of Josh Metcalfe and a few of his cronies watching Polly looking at the orphaned lambs that they were selling, and she didn’t like the way they were grinning at her. They were Yorkshire Dales men, and a woman belonged in the kitchen, not out in the fields with the animals.
‘Let her be, Mother. One day Paradise will be hers, and she’s got to learn how to judge animals.’ Edmund leaned on the railings and watched his daughter. She was more of a son than Danny had ever been. Danny had never shown any interest in the farm; he’d never stopped on the fell top and gazed around him in wonderment. He’d seen Polly do that many a time and knew just how she felt. There was nothing like a good spring breeze on your face, and the cry of nesting lapwings and skylarks as you gazed at the green shoots of spring erupting from the frozen earth. Aye, he was proud of her; and they could laugh at her, but she’d sort the best pet lamb out, of that he was certain.
‘How about this ’un, Father?’ Polly lifted a bleating lamb clean over the railing by its front two legs, then tucked it under her arm for her father to inspect. The thin body of the day-old lamb wriggled, trying to escape, but Polly held it fast.
‘Aye, it looks all right. Now go and ask Josh Metcalfe how much he wants for it, and what he’ll give you for luck?’ Edmund watched Polly hesitate for a moment.
‘For luck – what do you mean?’ Polly struggled to hold the squirming animal as it tried to escape the tight grip it was under.
‘Aye, Polly, I’ve told you before: folk will give you a price, and then he’ll either knock something off there and then, or he’ll give you a bit of something back when you pay for it. That’s called “luck money”. Bloody animal might die next day, if it frets. That’s why you always give luck money.’
Polly stomped off with a determined look on her face, and Edmund watched Josh’s face change as she spoke to him just like any man would, before coming back to him.
‘It’s a shilling, but he’ll not give us any luck money, ’cause he says it’s a strong lamb, so it won’t need any. We’ve got to have her Father, she’s the best one.’ Polly rubbed her cheek against the lamb, which smelt of damp wool and lanolin.
‘Here, I’ll talk to him. He’s got an old broken-tooth Herdwick sheep in this next pen; she’s only fit for the knacker’s yard, but looks like she’s in lamb. I’ve always fancied Herdwicks, but they always want to go back to where they were born. They are devils for trailing, and can climb any wall in their way, but she’s too old for doing that. I’ll offer him something daft for the pair – he’ll probably be glad to get rid of them.’ Edmund walked over to the group of men. Ada and Polly watched as they joked and laughed, and a deal was reached, ending in Josh Metcalfe spitting into his hand and clenching it into Edmund’s.
‘What the heck your father’s going to do with a Herdwick, I don’t know. It’ll be off back up the Lakes, where they come from, as soon as you can say “Jack Robinson”. And that lamb you’ve got there will need a feed of bottled milk, before it’s mothered on. More work!’ Ada sighed, as Edmund came back, smiling.
‘Well, we’ve got a deal. You’ve got your lamb, and I’ve got my Herdwick. Now let’s see if we can keep them both.’
‘Aye, and I’ve a lump-head of a husband, and a daughter who acts like a lad. And just how are we getting this menagerie back home?’
‘Stop wittering, woman. Polly will hold onto the lamb, and I’ll lift the old lass in the back of the cart and tie her to the boards. She’ll not move so fast. After all, it’s not far to home.’
‘Father!’ Polly’s face was as straight as a poker. ‘That’s no way to talk about my mother. I think she may resent being called an “old lass”.’ Polly grinned.
‘You silly bugger, you know what I meant.’ Edmund flicked Polly with his cap and then, grinning, went to gather his sheep.
‘You’re as daft as your father. No wonder my hair’s white,’ grunted Ada. ‘Oh! Polly, look what that lamb has done down your skirt. I just give up.’
Polly looked down at her newly washed skirt. The lamb had urinated down it.
‘Sorry, Mam, she couldn’t help it.’
‘No, but you change as soon as you get home, and you must have a good wash.’ Ada shook her head, as Polly loved the lamb even more.
The barn smelt of last year’s hay and was warm and comforting to the senses, as Polly and her father dealt with their new additions to the farm.
‘Now then, Pol, watch what I do.’ Edmund got one of the dead twin lambs and cut his way through its skin, deftly skinning it and making the new pet lamb a jacket from the dead one’s woolly coat. ‘Look, I’ve left part of the legs in, so that we can feed your lamb’s legs through them. Here, pass me her over.’
Polly passed the pet lamb over to her father. She’d nearly retched as she’d watched her father skinning the dead animal, but knew that without the overcoat made from the dead lamb’s skin, the bereaved sheep would not accept the pet lamb as her own.
Edmund put the newly made jacket on the bleating lamb, bending its legs into the holes he’d cut, for a snug fit. ‘It’ll only be for a day or two, lil ’un, just until your new mother accepts you.’ He then rubbed the lamb’s head with blood from the dead lamb. ‘That’ll just make sure she thinks you are hers, and that she can’t smell our Polly on you.’ He got up from his bent knees and walked over to where the bereaved mother sheep was held within a tight pen. ‘Now then, old lass, let’s see what you make of this ’un. We can’t be seeing you without a baby of your own, can we, Pol?’
Polly watched as her father put the foundling lamb into the pen, and held her breath as the wild-eyed sheep sniffed at the intruder in her space. The first few minutes would tell if she was willing to accept her new baby, or if it was a life of being bottle-fed in the kitchen of the Paradise. Edmund and Polly stood back and watched. They couldn’t interfere. Even as the mother sheep butted the little lamb out of her way, they couldn’t step in that early, for it would take a minute or two for the lamb’s hunger for milk – and the sheep’s instincts to mother – to kick in.
‘Well, she’s trying her best, bless her. She keeps making for the old ewe’s udder.’ Edmund leaned on his walking stick as he watched the pair.
‘She can’t keep butting it – the poor thing’s ribs will get broken.’ Polly wanted to reach in and rescue her ward, but knew that she had to give them time.
‘Here we go, it’s found milk. Look at that lil lamb’s tail go.’ Edmund grinned at Polly as the old ewe admitted defeat, and nudged and bleated lowly at the new baby, which was helping itself to her milk.
Polly’s eyes were filled with tears. She’d seen the same thing happen nearly every year, and every year it astounded her, and made her feel a sense of awe that a mother’s feelings could be so strong.
‘Aye, lass, it’s only a sheep, don’t fret. We will leave them in this pen overnight, just to be acquainted, and then we’ll let them out into the high
pasture. Now, let’s have a look at this old devil.’ Edmund turned to the darkest corner of the barn, where he had placed the elderly Herdwick sheep. ‘She’s an old thing, is this ’un. Her teeth are nearly worn down, but she looks as if she’s carrying twins. She’s got milk for them, though, so that’s good enough.’ Edmund bent double over the wooden fence that held her, a decent space next to the dry barn wall. ‘She’s enjoying that bit of hay you gave her, Polly.’
‘She’s like a teddy-bear, Father. I’ve never seen anybody with her sort around here. Look at her face: it’s all white and curly, not like our patterned Swaledales.’ Polly admired the old Herdwick sheep, which was very different.
‘She’s a bit of a way from home, wherever Josh has got her from. She must have come from above Kendal – that’s Herdwick country. They like the rugged mountains up there. They are hefted to where they are born, so they always want to go home. We’ll have to watch her like a hawk. You know, when she has her lambs, they will likely as not be black. They always are. Then they go lighter every year until, like this one, they are as white as snow.’ Edmund watched Polly as she looked at the sheep, eating happily. He’d teach her everything he knew, and then it was her choice what she wanted to do with her life. ‘Some folk say they came when the Vikings invaded these shores, and others say they were washed up on the Lakeland shores, when a Spanish ship sunk on its way to Ireland. Whatever is right, they are an old breed, and they’ve been about longer than we have.’
‘That long, Father – that’s amazing. Can I have her? I’ll make sure she doesn’t roam.’ Polly watched the sheep eating. It looked docile enough, and she’d recognize it anywhere.
‘She can be yours, our Polly, but Lord help you, because she’ll keep you on your toes. But for now let’s close this lot in the barn, and be away in for our supper.’ Edmund leaned on his stick. His knees ached; rheumatism was no friend of his. Too many days in the past kneeling on damp grass, delivering lambs and climbing up fell sides, checking that sheep had caught up with him. Good job he had Polly. She’d be his stick, and in another year she’d be old enough to take on a few more jobs. Aye, everything would be all right. Edmund felt content as he closed the barn doors and placed his arm around his lass whilst he walked across the cobbled farmyard. The weather had taken up for the better, lambing was going well, and there was a good smell of supper coming from the kitchen. What more could a man ask for?
4
Tobias Middleton leaned over the gate of Grouse Hall, remembering that his so-called father had clouted him around the ear for swinging on it, even though it had been nearly off its hinges when he was a youngster. Now it was freshly painted in verdant green, and was the gateway to a perfect cottage garden filled with traditional border flowers, which his mother loved to tend when she was not busy fussing around him. He gazed down the valley and watched the morning sunrise over the fell end. It was going to be a good day; the warmth from the early May sun already told him that, as he watched the narcissi nod their beautiful white heads in agreement along the paved path to the hall.
‘Now then, Master Tobias, you’re up early this morning.’ Jed Mathews, the shepherd Tobias employed to look after his flock, wished him good morning and then leaned against the wall to exchange a few words, before going about his business.
‘Now, Jed, how are we doing? What are we waiting to lamb now?’ Tobias stood up and looked at the old man. He was well into his seventies, but as fit as a whippet, and wasn’t happy unless he was dealing with sheep. His weathered, tanned face told the tale of the dale, every line made by the strong northern winds and the hail and snow that battered the northern fells. His strong, straightforward manner matched his looks.
‘Nearly finished for another year, just a few stragglers left down yonder in the bottom pasture.’ He pointed to the pasture that ran down to the main road leading to Hawes. ‘You’ve had a good year, Tobias, you’ve got some strong lambs. They’ll fetch a good price this autumn when you come to sell them.’
‘Well, it’s all thanks to you. You’ve put a lot of hours in, and I appreciate it, Jed. In fact, come into the house and have breakfast with me. Agnes always makes too much for me on my own, and I can smell the bacon from here.’ Tobias stood up and beckoned the old man through the gateway. ‘Come on, man, I don’t bite. And you’ve no one at home cooking for you.’
Jed was hesitant. It wasn’t right to eat with his employer. You’d never have seen Tobias’s father ask his shepherd into the house; his grandfather, happen, but not the devil that had been his father.
‘Aye, I don’t know, you’ll not want me at your table. Look at me: I’ve got muck on my knees, and the lambs have peed and dribbled on me. It wouldn’t be right, now that Grouse Hall is all done up.’
‘Get yourself in here. I’m not that posh and snobby that I can’t reward my hardest worker with a good warm breakfast.’ Tobias put his arm around the shoulders of Jed and urged him into the kitchen of Grouse Hall. He’d never forgotten the hunger that had been in his belly as a young boy, hiding under the kitchen table like a wounded dog. ‘Now then, sit here, next to the fire. I know it’s not that cold this morning, but I bet there’s a bit of a nip in the wind on that fell top. Agnes!’ Tobias shouted to the resident cook, who was clattering plates in the pantry. ‘Put another egg in the pan – we have a guest.’
Bacon and eggs were already cooking on the newly fitted Yorkshire Range, and Agnes came running out and put another egg into the frying pan.
‘Your grandfather wouldn’t recognize this spot now, Master Tobias. You’ve done it proud.’ Jed looked around the kitchen with its new range, pot sink and warmly decorated walls.
‘And my father would have cursed me under his breath. Let’s not waste words, for he was not a man close to anyone’s heart, Jed.’ Tobias leaned back in his chair and watched Agnes plate up two helpings of bacon, egg and fried bread. He thanked her as she placed them on the table in front of them.
‘Aye, but your grandfather was an honourable man. When he said it was a deal, it was a deal, and he was always true to his word. You take after him and your mother. She’s a good gentle soul. She’s put up with a lot from the gossips, over the years.’ Jed nearly dribbled onto his plate, looking at his portion. He’d want nothing else for the rest of the day.
‘Well, it was my mother who got us out of those dark days, and I’m eternally grateful to her. I’m thankful that she raised me up well and, when I couldn’t make the decisions for myself, she was there. Now tuck into your food, Jed, it’s going cold. There’s tea in the pot. Help yourself.’
‘Thank you, sir. Breakfast looks grand.’ Jed lifted his knife and fork and cut into the perfectly fried egg, making the yolk run into the crisply fried bread.
‘Jed, do you know the family at Paradise Farm, further down the dale? Harper, I think they are called. Have they been here long?’ Tobias watched as the egg yolk dribbled down Jed’s stubbly chin, and smiled to himself as Jed wiped it away on the back of his ragged jacket sleeve, before answering.
‘You’ll mean Edmund, his wife Ada and the lass – now what do they call her? I haven’t seen her since she was a baby. They’re a bit protective of her, what with her father doing what he did.’ Jed wiped the remains of the egg with the buttered bread from the plate that had been placed in front of him, then started on the bacon.
‘What do you mean by “her father”? Aren’t Edmund and Ada her parents?’
‘No, she’s their lad Danny’s, but he buggered off before she was born, and Edmund and Ada have brought her up as their own. She’ll not know that, because I don’t think she’s ever been told; best not to. Least said, soonest mended, and she’s not wanting for owt.’ Jed watched Tobias as he listened with interest to his words.
‘And where’s her mother? And does nobody know where her father is?’ Tobias wanted to know more about the dark-haired beauty he had come into contact with twice in the same number of days.
‘She died giving birth. I think she had twins,
but I’m not sure. I do know they were born out of wedlock. I think the girl’s Polly – aye, that’s her name, now I think about it. Her father, Danny, is in America, but you never hear him talked about. He robbed his father of his savings, when he jiggered off. Ada and Edmund never mention it. He broke their hearts, but they worship his lass.’
‘Another black sheep. It seems my father wasn’t the only one who didn’t face his responsibilities.’ Tobias leaned back in his chair and put his thumbs in his waistcoat pocket; he’d found out a little of what he’d wanted to know.
‘Talking of black sheep, Edmund’s got a Herdwick with triplets, in his bottom pasture. The lambs are as black as night, bonny things, but I bet he doesn’t keep them long. They are fond of wandering.’ Jed leaned back and looked at his clean plate. ‘That breakfast was worth a king’s ransom, sir.’
‘Agnes is a good cook. She keeps me well fed; perhaps a little too well fed. You say the Harpers have Herdwicks. What on earth does he want with them?’ Tobias grinned.
‘I think the lass has taken a fancy to them. Like I say, they do anything for her.’
‘So she likes her farming, then?’
‘She’ll match any fellow, when she gets a bit older. Edmund’s taught her everything. Paradise Farm will be hers after their day, and it’s a good farm.’ Jed rose from the table.
‘Will she now? Well, fancy that. Are you leaving me, Jed?’ Tobias stood up and looked at the spotlessly clean plate of his guest.
‘Aye, I’d better go and walk this breakfast off. I’ll take a last look at them late lambers and then get myself home. I’ll be back in the morning. Can you keep an eye on them this evening, sir?’
‘Of course, Jed, you know I like to keep an eye on everything. Get yourself home. I’ll have a wander down to the bottom pasture myself, now that we’ve got the worst done. A few stragglers, as you say, is nothing to worry about. Besides, it’s a lovely day. I might make a start on tidying the barn, ready for hay-time. It’ll keep me out of mischief.’