It was Adam who was saying, and for the umpteenth time, ‘I still don’t see why she had to go with him, that’s all.’
Rose stared at her son. If he said that once more she would box his ears, big as he was.
‘And you needn’t look at me like that, Mam. She could have bedded down with Naomi in the kitchen.’
‘The desk bed isn’t big enough for one let alone two, and how would I feed another mouth? The chances of her picking up work just like that are few and far between and you know it. And it was me who asked Jake to take her, I’ve told you. Apart from anything else she needed to get away from her uncle.’ Rose glanced at Peter and Stephen as she spoke before her eyes returned to Adam. The younger children knew nothing of the circumstances that had caused Hannah to leave.
Sulkily, Adam said, ‘He’ll love this, playing the big man. And I’m supposed to go to the farm, cap in hand, and ask to see her?’
‘Give me patience!’ Rose stood up abruptly, her voice sharp as she said to her two younger sons, ‘Get yourselves away to bed and don’t wake the twins. I want no playing about the night.’ Not that the poor little devils had much energy for playing up, she thought in the next moment. Everybody was skinnier and quieter these days and her lads were no exception.
Once the two boys had left the kitchen, Rose stopped clearing the table. Speaking to Adam but intending her words for Wilbur too, she said, ‘I’m sick and tired of you griping about Jake. There’s no way we could have had Hannah here the way things are. Have you looked in that cupboard lately? Have you? Well, don’t bother, there’s nowt in it. And you might not like to hear it but if it wasn’t for your brother you’d likely be going to bed on an empty stomach.’
‘That’s right, rub it in. It’s not my fault we’re locked out.’
‘I know that.’ She was conscious that Wilbur had kept his head down and had remained silent. More than anything else in the last weeks and months, it brought home how bad things were. ‘I know that,’ she repeated more softly. ‘But it wouldn’t hurt you to show a little gratitude now and again. He’s never once made a show of what he brings and you know it, Adam. And what he gives keeps our heads above water, make no mistake about that. Fanny Boyce’s youngest has just died with pernicious anaemia and there’s two or three others in the street with it.They’ve stopped the free school dinners for the bairns and folk are eating stuff that’s only fit for pigs. Whole families are going into the workhouse and last week another man jumped off the Wearmouth bridge—’
She stopped as Wilbur got to his feet. Not that the movement was abrupt, in fact it was slow and measured and seemingly without heat.Without looking at anyone, he reached for his cap and put it on his head, and again the action was unhurried, even leaden.When he walked out of the kitchen into the scullery, Rose remained standing where she was, and it wasn’t until they all heard the back gate swing to in the yard that she rounded on Adam, saying, ‘Now look what you’ve done.’
‘Me? I haven’t done anything.’
‘Joe, go with him.’ Rose glanced at her son. ‘You too, Naomi. Talk to him, lass. Tell him something funny that’s happened at work. Make something up if you have to.’ When Adam made to stand with the others, she added, ‘You, wait a minute. I want a word.’
‘What?’ Once they were alone, Adam’s voice was defensive.
‘I’ve not asked before because it’s none of my business but this last going-on changes things. How serious are you about Hannah?’
She could see her son was slightly taken aback and his voice stammered a little when he said, ‘W-w-what do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean and I want a straight answer. Is she the same as Flora Upton and Dolly Weatherburn and some of the other lassies you’ve walked out with in the past? Or does she mean more to you? If she doesn’t, now is the time to leave well alone. She’s going to have enough to cope with at that farm without you adding to it if you’ve no intention of playing fair with the lass.’
‘That’s good, that is. I thought mothers were supposed to think the best of their bairns.’
Rose stared at him, a hard look.‘Don’t act the injured innocent, not with me. And I’m not blaming you for sowing your wild oats, it’s natural enough, especially with the lassies throwing themselves at you. But Hannah’s a good girl. You know that. And she’s still only a bit lass. You’re her first lad.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘Aye, well, just so long as you do. She’s not like Dolly or that last one you knocked about with for a while, what was her name?’
‘Lily Hopkins.’
‘Aye, her. Got a name for herself, she had, but Hannah’s a different kettle of fish. So, I say again, are you serious about the lass or is it just her bonny face that’s the attraction?’
‘What difference does it make with things the way they are? It’ll be a long time before I can take on a wife and family.’ Adam glared at her as though the current situation was her fault. ‘Anyway, it takes two, don’t forget that.You asked Hannah how she feels? No, I thought not.’
Ignoring Rose’s call to stay put, he stamped out of the kitchen, banging the door behind him.
Rose stood with her hands leaning on the kitchen table staring after him. He hadn’t answered her question and that bothered her. She loved her son and on the whole he was a good lad; even when he’d been in work he hadn’t been one for the drink and he always spoke civilly to her and with affection. But that was Adam, charming and easygoing when he was getting his own way and everything was rosy. But his weakness was the lassies. And she didn’t altogether blame him, no, not when some of them were brazen in their encouraging. That Lily Hopkins had stood waiting for him at street corners for weeks after he’d finished with her, even waylaying him outside the church of a Sunday morning once or twice.
Sighing heavily, Rose began to clear away the dirty dishes, reflecting bitterly that they barely needed washing, so clean had they been left. The broth hadn’t been thick enough to stick to her family’s ribs, that was for sure, and there was no way Wilbur and the lads would bring anything in this week. Nobody had any money left to give for any odd jobs, even the big houses on the outskirts had been pestered to the point they were locking their gates. Privet hedges had been cut so many times they were bald, scissors and knives worn away with sharpening and re-sharpening, tea cosies and doorstops and clippy mats were piled up in the houses of folk who’d been kind enough to buy and keep buying, and anyone who wanted a bit of painting and decorating undertaken had long since had it done.
Had she said enough to Adam to make him consider how he saw the future with Hannah? She hoped so. And him saying he wasn’t sure how the lass felt was rubbish. You only had to look at Hannah to see she was fair barmy about him.
A squall of rain against the kitchen window brought Rose’s head turning and she shivered. It wouldn’t be long before the nights began to set in and the weather changed, and there was still no end to the lockout in sight.
Naomi reappeared, shaking the drops of water from her hat. ‘It’s raining, Mam.’
‘Really? And there was me thinking you’d had a bath with your clothes on.’
‘Oh you, our Mam.’
They smiled at each other.
‘Where’s your da?’ Rose asked, no longer smiling.
‘He’s all right. He’s with Joe in the Tavern.’
Another precious few pennies gone on beer.
As though Naomi had read her mind, her daughter said, ‘I gave Da the extra the forewoman slipped me when I stayed behind and cleared up after that vat leaked today. It was only a bob, Mam.’
A shilling. Enough for some cow heel and tripe and a bit of black pudding for tomorrow’s dinner. She always thought in terms of food these days. Life revolved around thoughts of food.
‘I . . . I thought he needed a jar the night, Mam.’
Rose looked at her daughter. Naomi stumped up her wage good as gold each week and the last little while had flatly refused to keep back so much
as a penny or two for herself. Her arms were sticking out of her coat which was far too small for her and her boots needed mending before the winter. Her voice soft, Rose said, ‘You’re right, lass, he did.’ She pulled Naomi into her, holding her tightly for a moment before she pushed her away, saying, ‘Put the kettle on, hinny, and we’ll have a brew.’
Chapter 11
By the end of the week Hannah felt she knew what it was like to cook for an army. After moving her things into one of the lower bedrooms on the day she had seen Farmer Shawe, she had been grudgingly given the lowdown on where everything was and how things were done by a disgruntled Enid. The next morning Hannah had risen before it was light to see to the two men’s breakfast and begin baking for the workers’ lunch, which had taken the whole of the next six hours. Jake had come down first, standing in the kitchen doorway and smiling as he said, ‘You must have been up at the crack of sparrows.’
She had been taking a batch of fruit buns out of the oven and had been too busy to feel nervous of him. ‘There’s lots to be done,’ she’d said by way of answer, adding, ‘Where do you and Farmer Shawe normally eat your meals? In the dining room? The porridge is ready and I’ll do the eggs and bacon once you’re eating that.’
‘Aye, the dining room’ll be fine,’ said Jake, glancing at the kitchen table which was laden with flour and dried fruit and numerous tins and dishes. ‘I’ve asked Clara to lend a hand in here each morning, by the way. She’ll put you right on how much is needed and so on.’
‘Thank you.’ She flashed him a quick smile.
In a short while when Clara appeared it became clear to Hannah that Enid had been sparing in her instructions. But for Clara’s help, the amount of food would have been meagre, to say the least. As it was, the twelve large plates of pastry made with pig’s fat and filled with chunks of ham and egg, the bread and cheese, baked jam rolls, fruit buns and several tins of bread and butter pudding sticky with sugar and dried fruit went down a treat if the empty plates and dishes were anything to go by.
It wasn’t until the end of that first day that it occurred to Hannah that perhaps Jake had suspected Enid might attempt to make her look foolish and inexperienced which was why he’d sent Clara to her aid. She climbed into bed so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open, and she considered the matter for all of thirty seconds before she fell asleep.
The rest of the week passed in a frantic whirl, culminating with the preparation of food for the harvest supper on the Saturday evening. Clara had told her the supper was an important event in the farm calendar. One of the big brick and tiled barns was swept out, the cobwebs brushed down from the rafters and a row of trestle tables set down the middle of the building after the floor had been covered with rush matting.
Plenty of beer, cider and blackberry wine was brought in, along with lemonade and ginger pop for the youngsters. Several huge joints of roast beef and pork provided the main part of the supper. Each one had filled its oven and tested Hannah’s strength when she lifted them in and out. The whole week had tested her strength, along with her stamina and ingenuity. She didn’t know what she would have done without Clara’s advice and help each morning.
But she had got through without any howling mistakes. She glanced across the barn from where she was pouring lemonade for some of the bairns, her eyes sweeping over the assembled company. Everyone who lived at the farm was present, from Florence and Herbert Lyndon’s little babbie to old Isaac Mallard, along with the farm workers and their wives and families who lived in the next village. It was like one massive family and even the young children spoke of the farm as ‘theirs’. She had been surprised to learn that from the age of seven or eight the lads were doing jobs like scattering manure in the ridges of soil after ploughing, feeding the animals and cleaning out the pigsties, hen crees and stables, while the little lassies were introduced to milking, collecting the eggs from the hens and ducks, and other numerous jobs once they were home from school.There didn’t seem to be much time for playing, but all the bairns appeared perfectly content with their lot. They were certainly plumper than the town children, their rosy cheeks and bright eyes testament to their good health.
When the meal was over, Farmer Shawe made a little speech thanking everyone for all the work that had been done, and immediately after that Daniel and John Osborne struck up a tune on their fiddles to start the singing and dancing. It was at this point Hannah began to feel uncomfortable. Everyone seemed to know how to dance, even the youngsters found a partner and formed a line, moving along it in turn as the dance progressed. Not that everyone was dancing. The farmer and Jake were sitting talking to Isaac and smoking their pipes, and Florence was dangling her baby on her knee, a smile on her face as she watched her husband dance with his smallest niece, a little tot of five.
Hannah began to clear the remnants of the food, glad to have something to do, but after a few minutes Daniel tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Leave that.’ He was smiling. ‘You’ve done enough work this week keeping us all fed and watered. Come and dance.’
‘I can’t.’ She glanced across to where his brother was still playing. ‘I really can’t.’
‘Course you can. I’ll help you clear later.’
‘I don’t mean that. It’s just that I’ve never . . . I don’t know the steps.’
‘You’ve never been to a barn dance afore?’
Hannah shook her head. She had never been to any sort of dance before but she wasn’t about to tell him that, she felt silly enough as it was.
‘Well, there’s got to be a first time for everything and if I say so myself, I’m a canny teacher.’ He grinned at her, took the plates out of her hands and put them down on the table before pulling her towards the dancers.
Aware she would make a spectacle of herself if she tried to disentangle her hands, but worried she would make even more of a spectacle of herself if she attempted to join the long line of men, women and children, Hannah said urgently, ‘I’d prefer to watch for a while if that’s all right.’
‘Nonsense.You’ve got to participate to get the hang of it. Trust me. And no one is going to be looking at whether you get it right or not anyway, everyone’s too busy enjoying themselves. Folk won’t laugh at you.’
Hannah wasn’t too sure about that, but once she had joined the line she found it wasn’t as hard as she expected. Daniel’s brother was calling out instructions to the dancers as he played his fiddle, and owing to the fact that more than a few of the adults were a little tiddly, even old hands were getting it wrong, which caused much hilarity. Slowly she began to relax and enjoy herself.
It was over two hours later in a break from the dancing that Daniel said,‘Come and sit a while, Hannah. Tell me about your life before you came to the farm. What made you leave the town?’
She had known someone would ask eventually and she had her answer ready. Shrugging nonchalantly, she kept her voice light when she said, ‘My mother and I lived with my uncle and aunt above his shop which is where I worked too. It was too . . . constricting, I suppose. And I don’t really like town life much, so when I had a disagreement with my mother I decided it was time to spread my wings a bit. Mr Fletcher said he and Farmer Shawe needed a live-in housekeeper and so it seemed the perfect answer.’
‘I think so.’
Something in his voice made her continue, ‘Mr Fletcher’s sister, Naomi, is my friend and I’ve always lived a few doors away from the family. Her brother and I were walking out before I came here.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Are you still walking out?’
She stared at him, her flushed cheeks not altogether due to the dancing. ‘I - I’m not sure.’ That sounded so silly she said quickly, ‘It all happened in a rush, my coming here, and I’m not sure how Adam will see things, me being so far away.’
‘Monkwearmouth isn’t so far away. I’d walk twice as far if I—’ He stopped abruptly, rubbing his chin before he said, ‘They’re starting the dancing again, come on.’
‘No.’ Her voice w
as firm. ‘I need to clear away and see to things in the farmhouse.’
‘I’ll help you.’
‘No.’ She softened her refusal by adding, ‘But thanks anyway. Look, your brother needs a break, doesn’t he? So he can dance? I think it’s time you took your turn.’
‘Aye, maybe.’ He seemed subdued.
‘But thank you for teaching me the steps. I’ve enjoyed it.’
‘Have you?’
His face brightened but when he opened his mouth to say more, Hannah rose quickly to her feet, saying, ‘I’d best get on now.’
In the farmhouse kitchen she placed the dishes on the table and stood for a moment, gazing around her. She was going to make changes here, clean things up and get everything shiny like it had been in the days when Farmer Shawe’s wife was alive.There hadn’t been time to do anything but cook this week but now the harvest was gathered in and the feast was over, she’d have a chance to do a bit more. Everything was dusty and dirty, the covers on the sofa and chairs in the sitting room needed washing and all the curtains in the house. ‘But don’t worry, there’ll still be room for you two,’ she said to Buttons and Polly who were curled up in one of the armchairs looking at her with green eyes.
Above the Harvest Moon Page 14