Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle

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Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle Page 110

by Pam Weaver


  Mirren had never been up at midnight before. She was a little afeared of the darkness, but she’d do anything to impress Jack and Ben. Everyone knew there would be great revels in the valley: eclipse dances and cinema shows, cafés open all night, midnight parties. The newspaper was full of notices of events and Grandpa Joe read them all out with a sad face.

  ‘This’s no way to prepare for the Lord’s coming, in such drunkenness and dancing. They should be on their knees in prayer, asking the Lord to be merciful to sinners and temper His wrath. Much is expected of us, children,’ he exhorted.

  Mirren was that wound up with excitement she stayed wide awake in the attic, watching out of the window as their visitors arrived by the front porch to stay in the grander rooms at the front of the house. Gran and Florrie were decked out in their best checked pinnies and hats, and never noticed Jack and Mirren in their lookout tower.

  Mirren didn’t like the thought of strangers using her jerry pot under the bed in the night but Gran’d clipped her ears and told her not to be cheeky to visitors. It was only for one night.

  Where were they going to hide all their pennies? She was dreaming of the sweetie shop down the village with a shelf of jars: rainbow crystals, liquorice straps and dolly mixtures, sherbert dabs and chocolate drops. She spent her money ten times over in her head, slavering with delight. For the first time in her life she was going to be rich beyond her wildest dreams. How she wished Dad could be here to see it all.

  At last she fell asleep, dreaming of cars dancing across the sky and coins falling like rain.

  Jack woke her with a start, shouting in her lug hole, ‘Gerrup! Time to get cracking…out of the window.’

  Getting out of the attic window was not for the faint-hearted. Jack had done the old sheet rope trick as best he could but it didn’t stretch down far enough. He just jumped the rest, falling on the grass and waving Mirren on.

  In the half-light she was terrified but tried to be brave and climbed down backwards, feet touching the stone walls until she ran out of sheet and had to let go. The jump took her by surprise as she fell on her side, cracking her elbow. Tears welled up in her eyes but Jack pulled her up roughly and she winced.

  ‘Hurry up, slow coach…follow me,’ he whispered, but Mirren was struggling to keep up in the darkness, trying not to cry as they made for the barn loft to meet Ben, guarding the lanterns, which Jack knew how to light.

  ‘I can’t carry one now, me arm…’ she cried, pointing to her elbow. Jack yanked the lamp off her.

  ‘Give it here and make for the gate,’ Ben offered, and she trundled on, watching Jack every step of the way.

  Out on the fellside they could hear sheep bleating at the noise of harmonicas and gramophone records echoing out into the night air. There seemed hundreds of twinkling lights dotted around the fields: campfires and the flickering of car storm lamps. It was as if the hills were alive with an army before some battle. Uncle Tom would go mad at all the mess in the fields.

  There was a snaking light along the river road in the valley, cars edging their way north to see this great show. If only her arm didn’t hurt so much, Mirren thought, but Jack kept rushing her to do gate duty.

  ‘I can’t open the gate, Jack. Me arm hurts,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be a girl’s blouse,’ Jack snapped. ‘We should never have let you come.’

  ‘Am not! Look yerself, it sticks out funny,’ she snapped, swallowing her snot, trying to be brave.

  ‘We’ll have to do it together then, but yer not having my share of the brass.’ Jack glanced at her arm. ‘This was my idea.’

  ‘It’s not her fault she can’t use it,’ said Ben with concern. ‘Why couldn’t you both have used the back stairs?’

  Mirren was glad someone understood. It was hard trying to stand her corner but the pain was yelping now.

  Jack ignored her protest and did the best he could, but the takings were down without the full workforce.

  Mirren knew she was letting the side down but even Jack could see her arm wasn’t right.

  ‘It’s sticking out funny. You’d better go off home,’ he yelled. But both of them knew if she was caught out of bed she’d be for it and in trouble for taking money from strangers in the dark.

  ‘Better stay put here,’ said Ben, pointing to the old barn, ‘until first light and we can pretend we got up early.’

  Mirren was so tired all she wanted was to curl up and sleep if she could lie comfortable. She crept behind them to the shippon. It was a fine warm summer night and excitement grew as dawn broke over the valley. The day was clear and promised a good view. She lay on the tussocks of hay sheltered by the stone wall, letting Jack and Ben deal with the stragglers. Her eyelids dropped and soon she was dreaming of a wonderful eclipse.

  There he was making a fool of himself as usual, thought Adey, watching Joe at his antics. He was sitting on the high ridge at World’s End, marvel-ling at the sight of such a throng of people now assembled on the slopes, just like the Sermon on the Mount. He had it on good authority that only a miracle would open the skies for he had been to the open prayer meeting that night and heard about the Reverend Charles Tweedale, Vicar of Weston, who had attached himself to the Astronomer Royal’s party at the Giggleswick Observatory in order to make sure that they would have a pure viewing of the corona.

  There was no stopping him when he was on one of his missions. He’d sent word for all Christians to kneel down and pray for the parting of any clouds, for he had dreamed that a great black cloud would obstruct the view if left to its own devices. He’d decided the least he could do was to hold a vigil on this side of the hills to back up any emergency should it arise on the other, where the Anglicans were gathered. Better that Chapel and Church should work together for the good of all, for a change.

  He’d tried to get Tom roped in but he was far too busy calming his restless cows. It was rumoured that animals could run amok at the first signs of shadows and darkness.

  He should have had more sense than to get Adey out here when she was busy up to her elbows in flour, baking baps with the last heat on the range. She might be hard as flint on the outside but he knew her heart was warm. She’d never got over losing George, and Ellie running off like that, and blamed herself for being a bad parent.

  Sometimes it was hard to fathom why Joe had taken to her so strong. The Yewell boys were known for being one-girl men. She’d not let him down, running the farm on tramlines. He couldn’t fault her housekeeping but even she knew she was laced up too tight. No one ever saw her sit down to count the daisies, allus on the go. There was never a grin on her face. Perhaps a bit of laughter would do her good, crack the enamel on that stiff mask into something close to pretty.

  If Adey stood still she would flop down and be a limp rag. It was better to be on the go. But Joe had dragged her high up the fell. The ridge might have a great view but there was nothing else going for World’s End but the old ruins that had saved the child last winter.

  She surveyed the sky. It was nearly 5.30 now and already light. She hoped Florrie had dowsed the fire but she could see in the distance a bank of cloud gathering that might scupper their view. Soon the clouds were playing hide-and-seek with the sun.

  Joe was looking at his fob watch. It was 6.10 and one black cloud was progressing ever closer to the sun. The eclipse was beginning to happen and the crowds on the hillsides were ready with their spectacles and smoked-glass eye shields.

  Even Adey was peering out anxiously. Everyone was willing the clouds to break. Then she saw her husband fall on his knees and throw out his arms, heedless of the curious looks from bystanders. It was time to wait upon the Lord as the cloud moved ominously on.

  ‘O Lord of the Heavens and Earth, open our eyes to the wonders of the Firmament. Just budge that cloud a little lower down,’ he was pleading, a single voice in the silence of anticipation and dread. Suddenly the sun stood alone with the moon creeping to its position through a window in the sky. Joe got up and came rush
ing over.

  ‘Come on, Adey, leave yer fiddling, come and see the miracle,’ Joe yelled from his perch. ‘Come up here and see the eclipse.’

  ‘Leave me be, Joe. I ought to go down and see to things,’ she snapped, but he strode over and grabbed her by the arm roughly.

  ‘For once you’ll do as yer bid. There’s more to life than griddle cakes and bacon. The porridge’ll keep. Have a bit of soul, woman…’ He pulled her towards the edge facing east, overlooking the fells where people now crawled like ants in the gathering gloom.

  Have a bit of soul indeed, she thought, as she stared up at the broken cloud watching the shadow pass across the sun. Suddenly there was a chill of air, and darkness was falling fast. The silence was unnerving. She was glad Joe was watching by her side.

  A hush fell over the crowds. A silence you could cut with a knife, so sharp and powerful. Then came the racing shadow over the fells like the wings of some black angel brushing across the earth, an eerie shadow of death passing over their heads.

  Adey watched the black moon devouring the sunlight. Joe shoved the smoked glass in front of her and she glimpsed briefly the sight of the corona of fire and bowed her head.

  All the songbirds were silent and the chill made her shiver, for she felt the whole world was wiped out and for a second she felt such panic. How many of their ancestors had stood and watched in terror as this mysterious act was performed in front of their eyes? They would have looked with fear and dread at this unexpected darkness.

  She thought of Mam and Dad, George and Ellie, and of the terrible war. All that grief and suffering, and for what? She was flooded with grief, and tears welled in her eyes. It was all there in that black shadow blotting out life and warmth and happiness, all the shadows of her own life rolled into one.

  Yet even this shadow could not blot out the sun’s rays and fire. It was an illusion of time and circumstance, just an illusion. The sun’s life burned regardless, the crown of fire would win through with power. Each of those twenty-three seconds seemed like an eternity of suffering burned up, devoured in the heat of life.

  Would the sun ever return them to brightness? What if Joe was right and this was the end of the world? Was she fit to meet her maker, this sad, shrivelled-up, old-before-her-time woman? More than anything she longed for it to be over, for colour and life to return, for the warmth to touch her very heart as it had when she was a child so many years ago.

  She turned to look at Joe afresh, her husband, her boys, Tom and Wesley safe, this farm, her life, and young Mirren, their second chance. This was what mattered now, not the past lives.

  Suddenly the Totality was over and the shadow slipped away. Light was beginning to return. The clouds raced in, closing the curtain on the sun. There was nothing to see.

  Huge cheers went up, a stirring of relief and excitement as the dark moment passed. The moors began to clatter with the roar of vehicles and engines revving up. Normality would soon return, but Adey was transfixed by what she had witnessed; something so unexpected, so personal, enlightening.

  It felt like a message just for her–as if scales had fallen from her eyes and she saw all things anew. How small the world below looked from this perch; how magnificent were the hills around them, grey and green. ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,’ she sighed.

  There was such a vivid green to the fields, a sharpness to the grey walls, a freshness of the breeze on her cheek as she raced down the slope towards the outline of Cragside. She noticed the white blossom dripping from the hawthorns, their scent wafting up her nostrils. She looked up at the frontage of their ancient farmhouse as if seeing its grandeur for the first time. This is my home, my family, she thought, though Joe might be standing in his midden clothes, still smelling of the farmyard, scratching his head at all he has seen, no doubt thinking his prayers have opened the skies. She saw Jack and Ben strolling among the crowds, eyeing the girls with interest. It was good that those two were becoming friends, but where was Mirren?

  Mirren woke in the hayloft at the sound of cheering, her eyes crusted, and she wondered where she was. Then she felt the pain in her arm and heard voices whispering down below.

  ‘Tom, behave yourself! I’ve got the breakfasts to do!’ giggled Florrie Sowerby. Mirren leaned over to see more. Tom was on his back pulling Florrie into the hay, fooling around, tussling her. What were they doing? He was jumping on her like a tup at a ewe. They were kissing and making silly noises. Wait until she told Jack.

  She was leaning so far out to see more that she rolled off the edge, falling between them with a scream. Uncle Tom lay back at the sight of her, laughing, scratching his head in surprise.

  ‘Look what’s jumped out of the hay.’

  ‘I’ve hurt me arm,’ she sobbed.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Florrie, trying to examine it. ‘I don’t like the look of this, love…It’ll need a looking-at and some of Dr Murray’s bone-setting liniment and plaster of Paris.’

  The two lovebirds straightened down their clothes and made for the door. Jack came tearing across the yard and in through the barn door.

  ‘Did you see it, Mam?’ he said, looking up at them all with a cheeky grin on his face.

  ‘Of course,’ Florrie smiled. ‘It were that grand it made my eyes water. It makes you think…’

  Mirren began to howl again, great rasping sobs that brought all her family running.

  ‘Does it hurt that bad?’ Uncle Tom asked.

  ‘I missed it,’ she sobbed. ‘I missed it all. I were asleep and they never waked me.’ She stared hard at Jack, one of her darkest glowers. It was then that Uncle Wes took a snap of her holding her elbow and scowling with his little box camera.

  Gran gathered her up to comfort her, trying not to touch the sore bit. ‘Don’t fret on it, lass. Happen you’ll be young enough to see it again,’ was all she could offer. ‘I nearly missed it myself and that would have been a great pity, Mirren. There’ll be no second chance for me.’

  If only she’d stayed in her own room and out of mischief but she had to go following Jack Sowerby It was all his fault and she wasn’t ever going to speak to him again; not never.

  ‘Look at the mess!’ shouted Uncle Tom, surveying the litter over the fields. No sooner had the world and his wife departed, and the farmers mopped their brows and counted the cash, than the real price was there to see. There were makeshift camps and fires, broken bottles, tyre marks and ruts and spilled petrol cans.

  ‘The dirty buggers!’

  ‘Thomas! Not in front of the children, please,’ shouted his mother.

  Before the day was over there was news of other farms where lambs were caught and roasted on makeshift spits over fires.

  ‘Never again!’ sighed Tom.

  Mirren had had to have her arm set in plaster down in Scarperton and that meant a trip on the bus and more expense, so she offered her cash and then out it came about Jack’s little scheme. Gran was not impressed.

  ‘I can’t leave you lot, five minutes…Now there’s doctor’s bills to pay and the house to clean out. Those mucky beggars from Bradford left the bedrooms in a tip. They’ve broken crockery, and my fancy towels are missing and the little china horse that belonged to Great-Aunt Susannah. Don’t go asking me to take in lodgers again, not so much as a please and thank you, and them with a car and a chauffeur.’

  ‘Oh, don’t take on so,’ said Grandpa Joe. ‘They’re only things. They can be replaced. Pity the poor devils who’ve to go back to soot and smoke and toil. Town folk don’t know how to behave in the country. They think it’s a big park to play in. They forget it’s our livelihood, but no mind…’

  Mirren emptied her pockets of coins and put the whole lot on the table with a scowl.

  ‘There’s three shillings in coppers and two shilling pieces and sixpence…You can have that, Gran, for my doctor’s bill,’ she sighed. The furry sweets she was keeping back in her pocket. No one was having those.

  ‘We’ll put it in your piggy bank
for a rainy day,’ Gran said, siding it all away. ‘I have to admit it was a grand do seeing such wonders in the sky.’

  Mirren scowled again. ‘But I didn’t see any of it, it’s not fair…’ She turned for sympathy but none was coming.

  ‘You can take that look off your face, young lady. Life’s not fair and the sooner you learn that lesson, the better.’

  Adey reckoned there were three miracles delivered on that June morning. The first was the easy one: the opening of the clouds to let them have the only clear view of Totality in the entire country. But the second was much harder to quantify. It was as if that eclipse brought such a change in their household and in herself that even she couldn’t understand. It wasn’t so much as if she got in the habit of cracking smiles more often or bothering a bit more about what she dolled herself up in, it was more as if she were one of them pictures that got itself hand-tinted with a bit of colour wash. Her knitting patterns were a bit brighter and her pinnies took on a bit more of red and blue and brightness.

  She distempered the walls of the parlours with warm earth colours. Flowers found their way into vases and in the winter she and Mirren sat hooking a great rug for the hall, made up from fabric cut from old clothes from the attic. The design was a great sun with a moon half across it, then full on and then passing over.

  It was to make up to Mirren for missing all the excitement and to rest Adey’s ankles and back a bit more. The sky didn’t fall if you sat down and rested up a while.

  Mirren’s elbow was a bit of a mess and needed trips to the infirmary. The child was sad to have caused extra expense but Adey shook her head and laughed it off, saying, ‘I told you the money from the eclipse would come in handy one way or another. What matters most is getting you straight again, young lady.’

  What mattered most was the coming of this unexpected gift to Cragside, this second chance, this miracle of God’s grace, as Joe called Mirren, proof of His forgiveness. Hard work had its place but without joy and time to count the daisies, what was the point? Adey had learned her lesson and would pass it on.

 

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