Chaff upon the Wind

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Fancy leaving the poor man on his own when he can’t even get out of bed,’ Milly said and smiled coyly at Jack. ‘You don’t know how to treat a man, our Kitty. It’s a good job I came across with a basket of pastries.’

  Kitty, bone weary, ignored her barb but thought, Aye, and I expect you saw me from the kitchen window and knew I was in the stackyard all day and that Jack was on his own, except for Johnnie. As Mrs G. would say, I’m not as green as I’m cabbage-looking. Aloud, all she said was, ‘Come on, Johnnie, downstairs and get yarsen washed for bed.’

  ‘I came with a message, actually,’ Milly went on. ‘Mrs Harding came to the Manor today but she could see how busy you all were so she asked me to tell you. She’s leaving at the end of the week. Going back to the Front, I think. Well, back to nursing anyway. She said to say goodbye to you all for her.’

  Kitty watched Jack’s face, but he was lying on his back just staring up at the ceiling, almost as if he hadn’t taken in what Milly was saying. Then from behind her came a scuffle and she turned to see Johnnie scrambling up from the floor, gathering his marbles together and stuffing them into his pocket. He rushed from the room, his small booted feet clomping down the stairs.

  Milly, unaware, prattled on, but Kitty had seen the expression on the young boy’s face as he had hurried past her.

  He had looked as if his whole world was about to come crashing down around him.

  ‘And I saw Mr Edward working that big traction engine,’ Milly was saying. ‘Who would have thought he would ever be well enough to—’

  ‘What?’ Jack hauled himself upright. ‘What did you say?’

  Milly turned wide, innocent eyes upon Jack, though Kitty had the shrewd notion that young Milly was not as naive as she would have everyone believe. ‘Mr Edward Franklin. He was helping Kitty with the threshing. He was running the traction engine . . .’

  ‘He was what?’ Jack thundered, so that even Kitty quailed momentarily under his rage.

  Trying to keep calm, Kitty said, ‘We’ve done a day’s threshing with Mr Edward’s help.’

  ‘You got that milksop to help you with my Sylvie?’

  ‘What would you have me do? Let it all go to rack and ruin?’

  ‘Huh! I’m surprised he didn’t blow it up. I bet the rough stuff’s all mixed up with the good grain.’

  Patiently, Kitty said, ‘No, it isn’t. I remembered to set the drum up with the spirit levels at the front and on the side.’

  ‘And the water? Did you keep an eye on the water gauge? If the levels go down, you could melt the lead plug in the fire box, then you’ll have trouble.’

  ‘One of the lads kept the water coming all day. There was no danger of that happening, I promise you.’

  Ignoring Milly’s presence, she sat on the bed then, close to him, and took his hand in hers. ‘But you know, there’s no need to let someone else take charge of Sylvie. You could supervise, Jack. You could teach another man to work her and be on hand all the time. There’s no need to let go of the business that your dad and uncle, and then you, have built up over the years.’ She paused and then added, so that the decision must come from him, ‘Is there?’

  She could see the conflict on his face, see the spark in his dark blue eyes once more and her heart was gladdened by it.

  He stared at her for a long moment. Then the smile that had so long been absent curved his mouth and there was a glimpse of the old Jack. He reached up and, with the fingers of his one hand, he traced the line of her face. ‘D’you know, Kitty Clegg, you’re some woman now. Yes, you’re really some woman.’

  Milly bounced off the end of the bed. ‘Oh well, if you two are going to get all lovey-dovey, I’m going.’

  ‘Bye, Milly,’ Kitty said, but her gaze was on Jack. If he could get back to work, if he could feel useful once more, a real man again, maybe things would be better.

  He needed her now, he really needed her more than ever before. Kitty knew she no longer loved Jack with the passion she had once felt for him. But now she pitied the strong, virile man brought so low by a cruel accident. She would stay with him but now it was not just because she was trapped, bound to him by the secret they shared. Perhaps there was still a chance that they could become a real family. Jack, his son – and her.

  Forty-Nine

  From that day, Jack started to recover his spirits. The following morning he got out of bed and, though it was a struggle and he lost his temper, he dressed himself, even before Kitty had left the house.

  ‘Now, don’t try to do too much . . .’ she began.

  ‘You wanted me out of yon bed. Now ya’ve managed it, so don’t try to be puttin’ me back into it, woman,’ he snapped, trying to pull up his trousers with his one hand. Though Kitty itched to help him, she stood where she was, keeping her hands firmly by her sides.

  He was panting by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs and fell into the wooden chair at the side of the range. His face was pale as he rested his head against the back of the chair, but there was triumph in his eyes.

  ‘Keep an eye on Johnnie, won’t you, Jack, now you’re downstairs? He’ll be no trouble, but I don’t want to take him with me today.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ he muttered testily, still trying to regain his breath and angry to find how much the accident and the weeks in bed had robbed him of his strength.

  In the whole of his life Jack Thorndyke had never before felt so weak and useless.

  ‘Right then, I’ll be off. Anything you want before I go?’

  ‘No, no. You go. And just mind what your fancy Mister Edward’s doing with my Sylvie. Mind he cleans out the boiler tubes and oils up properly. Keep an eye on things. Please, Kitty.’

  Kitty laughed, came to him and planted a kiss on his forehead. ‘I will. She’s in safe hands, I promise you.’

  ‘She’d better be,’ he growled. ‘I hope he knows what he’s doing. I don’t want him blowing her up.’ Kitty opened her mouth to say, Oh I don’t think he’ll do that, but the words never passed her lips. Perhaps, she thought deviously, this was what would get Jack back on his feet and out into the stackyard once more. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. She could see he was deep in thought.

  Avoiding her gaze, he said gruffly, ‘Mebbe I’ll tek a walk over tomorrow.’ He sniffed. ‘Just see what you are all getting up to.’

  ‘See how you feel.’ Kitty turned away so that he should not see the smile of triumph on her face. ‘It’s our last week at the Manor,’ she said, trying to keep her tone casual. ‘Next Monday, we’ll have to move to Sir Ralph’s Home Farm and that’s a bit far for your very first walk.’

  ‘Huh, he’ll never manage Sylvie on the road and towing the drum. I’ll have to be there.’

  Jack did not manage to walk to the Manor House for three days, although Kitty knew he had tried the very next day after their conversation. She arrived home to find Johnnie standing at the doorway of the cottage, watching the lane.

  ‘Mam, Mam,’ he cried, running towards her when he saw her shape looming up out of the dusk. ‘Dad tried to walk to the Manor today, but he got tired. I made him sit down and then we came home.’

  She rested her hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘In the kitchen. Ses he can’t make the stairs yet.’

  But the following day Jack walked a little further and on the third day he made it to the stackyard behind the Manor House.

  All the morning as she had bent almost double to rake the chaff on to the sheet, keeping the hole clear, Kitty had watched for Jack and his son to appear, but it was not until late afternoon that she saw him walking slowly towards the stackyard. He was alone. Calling to one of the young boys to take her place for a moment, she stepped towards Jack, brushing the dust from her clothes.

  ‘Where’s Johnnie?’ She was very surprised the boy was not with Jack for she knew he loved to be with the threshing. His passion for the threshing set and its work was nearly as great as his father’s. And that mornin
g he had grumbled because she had asked him to stay at home once more to be with Jack.

  ‘Oh Mam, why can’t I come with you? He’s a lot better. He’ll be all right on his own now.’

  ‘You stay here, Johnnie, and do as I say.’

  For the first time ever she saw a brief flash of a likeness to his mother in the disappointed pout of his mouth.

  Now, facing Jack, Kitty said again, ‘Where is he?’ but Jack did not answer. His gaze was roaming over the lines of his engine. He was drinking in the sight of her as a lover who has been separated from his sweetheart.

  Kitty grasped his hand and opened her mouth to shout above the noise of the throbbing engine, but at that moment a loud bang shuddered the air and a hiss of steam blew from a point above Sylvie’s fire box.

  Jack leaped forward. ‘The bloody fool. He’s let the water level drop. I warned you, Kitty . . .’

  Helplessly, Kitty stood and watched as Edward jumped down from the footplate, away from the scalding steam. Above the commotion, she could not hear what was said, but she saw Jack bunch his fist into Edward’s face and then, turning away, he climbed up on to the manstand.

  The jet of steam was dying now as the fire was doused. As Jack operated the lever, the engine stopped. The team threw down their forks and came to see what had happened. Edward stood beside Kitty, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

  ‘I don’t know what’s gone wrong. Everything seemed all right . . .’

  ‘Melted the lead plug, that’s what’s happened.’ Nathaniel, the most knowledgeable one there other than Jack, sniffed. ‘’S’what an engine man dreads ’appening. You must have let the water levels drop, mester,’ he added, glancing accusingly at Edward. Then the old man turned away. ‘Well, I’ll be getting mesen home. There’ll be no more threshing for a day or two till Jack gets it replaced.’

  Even amid the furore, Kitty marvelled that Jack had resumed his rightful place so easily, so swiftly in the minds of the men.

  She touched Edward’s arm. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said softly, as Nathaniel moved out of earshot. ‘Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Just look at him. Just look at Jack.’

  It was not quite what she would have planned to happen, but there was no denying that her object had been achieved.

  Jack Thorndyke was back, back where he belonged. Standing on the footplate, Kitty and Edward saw him reach out to touch the well-known levers. His hand was trembling, but when he turned to look at them, all the momentary anger was gone and in its place there was triumph and happiness.

  Relief showed on Edward’s face and he moved towards the engine. Looking up at the man above him, Kitty heard him say, ‘I’m sorry, Thorndyke, for what’s happened. Is there much damage, because whatever it is, I’ll . . .?’

  ‘No, no,’ Jack said and he was actually smiling now. ‘She’ll just want cleaning out thoroughly and a new lead plug fitted, then she’ll be as good as new.’ With a proprietorial gesture, he patted the engine’s steering wheel.

  Jack Thorndyke had taken charge once more, the gesture said.

  ‘If you’ll show me what needs doing . . .?’ Edward was saying as Jack jumped down and stood facing him. ‘And about the plug? Where can we get another? Just say the word.’

  For the first time since before his accident, no, even long before that, Kitty saw the wide grin spread across Jack’s face. He leaned towards Edward as if sharing a secret. ‘I allus carry a spare, Master Edward.’ He tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. ‘Just in case, y’know.’

  It was then that Kitty moved forward and said again, ‘Jack, where is Johnnie?’

  ‘Eh?’ He looked down at her now, his annoyance at being bothered by what he considered a trivial matter showing plainly on his face. ‘What? Oh, him. I haven’t seen him since this morning. ’Spect he’s wandered off somewhere.’

  Kitty pulled in a shocked breath. ‘Wandered off? Jack, he never wanders off. He never goes anywhere without telling me.’

  The man shrugged. ‘He’ll come back when he’s hungry.’

  ‘How can you be so – so callous?’ she accused through gritted teeth, but he was turning away from her again, Johnnie forgotten. All that mattered to Jack was his beloved, injured Sylvie.

  ‘Oh you – you!’ she muttered and then she turned and ran towards the wall and through the rickety door into the garden of the Manor. Panting, she ran along the straight path leading to the back door of the house. ‘Mrs Grundy, oh Mrs Grundy.’ She pounded on the back door, almost falling in as it was opened.

  ‘What on earth’s all the racket about? Why, Kitty . . .’ The homely figure of the cook was holding her arms wide to embrace her. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

  Kitty clutched at her. ‘Is he here?’

  ‘Who, lass? Is who here?’

  ‘Johnnie. Is he here with you and Milly?’ There was just the faint hope that the boy had got bored at home with his father and had come to the yard as usual, and had called in at the kitchen of the Manor to sample Mrs Grundy’s scones and strawberry jam again.

  But the cook was shaking her head and Kitty groaned. ‘Jack was supposed to be looking after him . . .’ she was babbling incoherently now in her anguish. ‘But he’s let him wander off somewhere. He’s not seen him since morning. He must have been gone hours.’

  Edward, overhearing her brief exchange with Jack, had followed her from the yard and was now standing in the doorway of the kitchen. ‘What’s the matter, Kitty?’

  ‘It’s Johnnie. I don’t know where he is. He’s been gone since this morning. I know he didn’t really want to stay at home. He wanted to come here. He loves being at the threshing, but – but I told him to stay with Jack just – just . . . I mean, I wasn’t sure if Jack was really strong enough to be left for the whole day without anyone there if he needed help. Seems I needn’t have bothered.’ A note of bitterness crept into her tone. ‘He’s fit enough when it comes to anything wrong with Sylvie.’

  Edward stepped towards her and, ignoring Mrs Grundy’s watchful presence, took Kitty’s hand in his grimy ones.

  ‘Don’t worry, Kitty. I expect he got bored at home and he wouldn’t dare come to the yard if you’d told him not to. I’ll organize a search party. Most of the team are still clearing up. I’ll catch them before they leave.’

  Back in the yard, Edward called the workers together. ‘Have any of you seen the boy today? Young Johnnie?’

  They looked at each another, murmuring, and then all shook their heads. At once Edward was issuing orders, sending the boys running in all directions to fetch more help and to begin a proper, organized search party. And all the while Jack Thorndyke remained with the engine, his hand resting possessively upon Sylvie’s steering wheel, taking not the slightest interest in the search for his missing son.

  Fifty

  As dusk fell there was still no sign of the boy and by now the whole neighbourhood had been alerted. Men from Sir Ralph’s estate had joined in the search and Kitty knew that by now Miriam, who was due to leave the very next day, would know too. What would she be feeling, Kitty wondered, hearing that her son was missing?

  She knew already how Mrs Franklin felt. On returning to the Manor Mrs Grundy had said, ‘Madam ses I’m to lay on food for all the searchers, Kitty. Tell ’em all to come back here for a bite. Isn’t she good?’

  Kitty nodded, unable to speak. Of course she was good, but the cook, bless her, had no idea that it was Mrs Franklin’s own grandson who was missing.

  They searched the stackyard, the fields, the woods and along the banks of the meandering streams around Tresford. All in vain.

  ‘Where can he be?’ Kitty whispered, twisting her fingers.

  They were standing in the small back yard at the Manor, taking a respite while Mrs Grundy and Milly bustled in and out of the back door with tea and sandwiches and glasses of homemade beer. Kitty could not hide her desperation. If anything had happened to Johnnie . . . He was her life, she realized suddenly. Even though she had not borne h
im, from that very first moment when she had taken him into her arms the little chap had wound himself around her heart. If she were to lose him . . . A small sob escaped her and, hearing it, Edward put his arm about her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. ‘We’ll look again.’ Then he was moving away but not before Kitty had seen Jack’s glowering face. He had noticed Edward’s gesture and a sneer twisted his mouth.

  The search continued as dusk fell and then storm lanterns were lit. Kitty watched as the line of flickering lights moved across the fields, the men’s voices, calling the boy’s name, echoing through the night air. As the darkness deepened, there was still no sign of Johnnie.

  ‘You must go home and rest, Kitty, you’re worn out,’ Edward tried to insist. Jack had already gone home, but Kitty was no longer angry with him. What he had accomplished this day was little short of a miracle and, had it not been for her anxiety for Johnnie, she would have rejoiced wholeheartedly.

  Kitty shook her head. ‘I can’t leave. I can’t rest. Not until he’s found.’

  Edward sighed, but argued no more. ‘Is there anywhere you can think of where he might go? Would he go into the town, do you think? It was market day today – well – yesterday now,’ he added, for midnight had come and gone. ‘Is there anything he’s particularly interested in, like animals or motor cars, anything like that?’

  Kitty’s voice was little more than a strangled whisper. ‘Nothing that I can think of . . . Oh!’ She clapped her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. The words almost spurted out but she held her fingers firmly over her lips until she could formulate the words properly.

  ‘What? What is it? Have you thought of something?’

  Indeed she had thought of something, but she could not tell him what was in her mind. All she could say was, ‘He – he might have – have gone to the Hall.’

  Edward was puzzled. ‘The Hall? Whatever for?’

  ‘To – to say goodbye to Miss Miriam.’

  ‘Miriam?’ His puzzlement deepened, as well it might, Kitty thought. She swallowed and haltingly tried to find a plausible explanation that would cover the truth. ‘During the last few weeks while – while Miss Miriam has been coming to dress Jack’s wound, well, the boy has become fascinated by her. He – he thinks she’s a pretty lady. And . . .’ Kitty smiled, but the smile held a sadness that Edward could not have understood. ‘And she’s been very sweet . . .’ she swallowed the lump in her throat, ‘to him.’