Nobody’s Darling

  ‘You’ll do no such thing. Luke Arnold can be a bad enemy. You’ll ignore him, that’s what you’ll do, young fella-me-lad. If he comes round again, just get on with your work and pretend he ain’t there.’

  ‘He’s a bastard, and he deserves a thrashing! If it weren’t for what you said, about me going home without any wages for my mam, I’d knock all sorts out of him, I would.’ His eyes darkened with rage.

  ‘By!’ Thomas had never heard the lad use such strong language before. ‘He really has got under your skin, ain’t he? Well now, you can forget about giving him a thrashing, because that’s for his father to do. You and me, we do as we’re told, and we keep ourselves to ourselves. That way we don’t get in trouble, do we, eh?’ He waited for Johnny to answer, but it was plain to see that the lad was still in a black mood. ‘Did you hear what I said?’ he insisted sharply. ‘We don’t want no trouble, so we get on with our work and we mind our own business, ain’t that right?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘There ain’t no suppose about it.’ He pointed to the straw-bale beside him. ‘Sit down here, lad,’ he said kindly. When Johnny was seated beside him, he went on, ‘I ain’t saying as the bugger don’t deserve a thrashing, because he does. What I’m saying is, it won’t be you as gives it him, ’cause then he’ll have you right where he wants you. Don’t give him the satisfaction, lad. You know he ain’t worth it, don’t you, eh?’ He nodded with approval when Johnny grunted his agreement. He lit up his clay pipe and began sucking contentedly on it, and the two of them were quiet for a while, each thinking his own thoughts; the old one wondering whether he should have taken a wife to comfort him in his old age, and the young one dreaming of walking down the aisle with the lovely Ruby on his arm.

  He thought about the way she had looked up at him when he took her in his arms the other day, how her eyes told him all he wanted to know. He remembered how she ran from him, and how she had always given him the impression that she didn’t really care for him in that way. But in his heart Johnny truly believed that Ruby loved him as much as he loved her. He had to hope that there would come a day when she would be his wife – and, oh what a proud man he would be then. Thomas was right though, Ruby was proud, and if anything dimmed Johnny’s hopes in that moment it was the knowledge that she was different from any other girl he’d known. Loving and delightful as she was, there was something frightening about the way she talked of ‘fine clothes and a big house, and an army of servants for our mam, so she can put her feet up when they ache’.

  Anger rose in him then. God Almighty! Where did she get such grand ideas? For himself, he never hankered after things like that. All he ever wanted was Ruby. But if he could provide her with the things she craved, he’d work his fingers to the bone. Sometimes, in the early hours when he was taking the horses out to the top field and the air was heavy with dew, he would marvel at God’s wonderful world, and he’d think of Ruby, of how she ached for other things, things that didn’t really matter, and his heart would turn over with fear. He feared her ambitions would separate the two of them for ever.

  Then he’d see Luke Arnold galloping across the fields, a man only a few years older than himself, a layabout who’d never done a proper day’s work in his entire life, rich and spoilt and with all the things that Ruby put such great value on. Johnny was consumed with bitterness then. Luke Arnold didn’t deserve such an easy life. If there was any justice in this world, a man would reap only what he sows. That way, all men would get their just rewards.

  Thomas spoke again to issue a warning, ‘Stay well clear o’ that one next time the bugger tries to rile you, remember you’re worth ten of him!’ He shook his head and sighed, ‘It’ll be a sorry day when Luke Arnold is master of this house. Twenty year I’ve worked for Oliver Arnold, and I can’t remember a time when he’s ever caused me pain. I’ve seen his eldest son grow from an infant, and I’ve seen him become a father twice more. I watched him break his heart when his wife was taken, and I’ve been proud o’ the man he is. Oh, but I tell you, Johnny lad… the greatest sorrow he’s endured has a name, and that name is Luke – a bad ’un if ever there was one!’

  ‘Where did he get his bad ways?’ Like Thomas, Johnny had immense respect for the master, and often wondered whether Luke was more like his late mother. ‘You can see he didn’t get ’em from his father.’

  ‘No, and he didn’t get his bad ways from his mam neither,’ Thomas informed him. ‘Some folks are just bad, and there ain’t no telling why. But like I say, lad, it’ll be a sorry day for all on us when he’s the master of Arnold Lodge. But most especially for young Ida. Miss Teresa can take care of herself, ’cause she’s cut out of the same mould as her brother. But the young ’un’s a different kettle o’ fish altogether.’ He shook his head forlornly and his spirits plummeted until he told himself that none of it was his concern. He didn’t have no worries, and wasn’t about to take on anybody else’s. All the same, thoughts of the gentle Miss Ida being left at the mercy of Luke and Teresa made his blood run cold.

  ‘That’s enough of other folk!’ He rose from his seat and carefully put out his pipe. ‘Come on, lad. We’ve a deal o’ work to do afore you can make your way home. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can retire to my own quarters.’

  Thomas had lived over the stables these past twenty years, and now he was content to end his days here, with a hearth he could call his own and a good master to serve. His only fear was that he might outlive the master, because then he, like young Miss Ida, would be at the mercy of a hard and spiteful young man.

  * * *

  By six o’clock the horses were fed and stabled, the harness hung in the tack-room, polished and gleaming, the carriage cleaned inside and out, and everything ship-shape, as Thomas put it. At ten past six, he straightened his back from his labours and told Johnny, ‘Right, lad. There ain’t nothing else to do for the minute, so I’m away upstairs to my quarters. I reckon it won’t be too long before I go to my bed, ’cause more often than not, that young bugger Luke will have me out at midnight to run him here or there. If his father knew he was dragging me from my bed at all hours, I reckon he’d skin the hide off him.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell him, then?’

  Thomas groaned. ‘Don’t think I haven’t been tempted. But no, it ain’t worth causing trouble for. You should remember that, lad. You don’t go making trouble for yourself with the gentry, unless you want to come off worse.’ He saw Johnny was about to protest, and so quickly instructed, ‘When you’ve had your swill, get off home. Mind you check the horses just before you leave. Oh, and don’t forget to secure the stable doors behind you.’ He patted Johnny on the back, adding an apology, ‘Sorry, lad. I know I can trust you to do what’s needed, eh?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see to it,’ Johnny promised, and the older man knew he was leaving everything in safe hands.

  ‘I’m tired, I’ll not deny it,’ he said as he made his way towards the far end of the stables to climb the narrow stairs there. ‘I ain’t so young as I was, and that’s a fact.’

  ‘You’ll be fine when you’ve washed and eaten. It’s been a long day, that’s all,’ Johnny assured him. ‘But if you want me to come over the weekend, you’ve only to ask.’

  ‘No need for that.’ Thomas would never admit that he couldn’t manage on his own for two days. ‘I’ll see you five o’clock Monday morning, and don’t be late.’ Johnny was never late, but Thomas felt the need to assert his authority just then. Without a backward glance he went on, up the stairs and into the haven of his tiny quarters.

  ‘You’re a proud old fella,’ Johnny whispered. ‘Proud and stubborn, just like your niece Ruby.’ Even the mention of her name warmed him all over, and he began whistling a merry tune. Taking the bucket to the pump, he filled it to the brim with water then carried it back to the stables; Thomas had warned him never to strip-wash in full view of the house. ‘The master don’t want you offending the young ladies.’

  Inside the stables
, Johnny poured half the water into a smaller bucket before making his last check of the evening. The hunters were bedded and content, and the big greys nuzzled him in turn as he went from one stable to the other, forking over the straw beds and checking the water level in the trough. ‘You’ll do, my beauties,’ he said softly, caressing each nose in turn. He loved these animals, and they sensed it. ‘I’ll be away soon ever I’ve had my wash, but Thomas’ll see to you first thing.’

  Johnny was always reluctant to leave. For a long while he leaned against the rail watching the horses and taking pleasure in their every move. It was warm in the stables and the smells invaded the air like a physical presence; the sweet warm aroma of horses’ sweat, the pleasant dry smell of newly polished leather – familiar things that gave him a feeling of great contentment. The big old barn with its great oak beams and high wide roof, the tack-room hung with saddles, working-harness and riding gear; he knew every inch of it, his hands had touched every surface, and his fingers had ached from polishing the harness until it shone like a mirror. This place was like his second home and he understood why Thomas had bided here these many years, content to live out his life in the rooms above. There was something very special about this way of life. Not like the mills and the foundries where so many men earned their living. Huge monstrosities that belched black acrid smoke over the land, places that were more like jails, where a man could choke from the noise and chaos. Here there was peace, and beauty, and a wonderful sense of freedom.

  Glancing out of the doors to the church steeple that towered above a nearby village, Johnny read the time on the clock face. It was already twenty minutes past six. If he didn’t get to the main road by quarter to seven, he’d miss his tram. ‘All the same, I can’t get aboard with the muck and sweat still on me,’ he muttered. After collecting a towel and soap from a small cupboard, he tied the towel securely around his waist and tucked it into the top of his trousers. Placing the larger bucket on a stool, he plunged his two arms in and gasped aloud. The water was ice-cold, sending a ripple of goose-pimples over his skin. Yet it was gloriously stimulating in the close heat of the evening. Now he dipped the soap into the water, vigorously working up a green frothy lather which he rubbed all over his bare chest, then his neck and arms and as far round his back as he could reach. That done, he scooped handfuls of water from the bucket and followed the same pattern, until the soap was washed away and his skin glistened beneath the incoming shaft of sunshine. Taking up the smaller bucket from the floor, he leaned forward, straddled his legs wide, and poured the entire contents over his head, at the same time running his free hand through his thick black hair and allowing the water to run over his shoulders and down his back.

  Blinded by the water, Johnny couldn’t see the girl standing in the doorway, her avaricious brown eyes following his every move and with a look on her face that would have given old Thomas a heart attack.

  Moving forward with soft footsteps, she was careful not to betray her presence there, and all the while she kept her gaze on that magnificent body, the strong shoulders broadened by work, the thick muscular chest, that rich dark hair and those distinct handsome features that had first drawn her to him. Johnny was nothing to her. She felt no compassion, no tenderness, no conscience as to the possible consequences of her desire to take him to herself. She thought only for the moment, and of her own needs. Soon she would be seventeen, and Teresa Arnold felt the stirrings of womanhood within her. She ached for a man, any man; but the forbidden fruit was always the best. Johnny was ‘forbidden fruit’, and she resented that.

  She was almost on him when she changed direction, her silent fleeting footsteps taking her into the tack-room where she saw Johnny’s jacket flung over the back of the chair. For a long delicious moment she stroked her delicate white fingers over the rough cord material, her imagination running riot and her senses tingling. She knew he would come in here before he left for the weekend, and the thought spurred the wanting in her. When he came in, she would be waiting. Bending low, she put her face against the cloth. In her mind’s eye she saw the two of them writhing on the ground, their naked bodies merging. Trembling now, she straightened up, smiling knowingly as she began undoing the tiny pearl buttons on her blouse. At the same time she looked out of the door and glanced over to where he stood. He was combing his hair now, almost ready. His back was to her, a broad wet expanse, taut and tanned by his hours in the fields. For some long time she had planned this evening, the way she would greet him when he came in through the door, how his senses would be so overcome by her beauty that he would not be able to resist.

  The last button slid open and she slithered the blouse over her arms. It fell to the ground. Her small white breasts were bared now, excitement flooding through her. Soon. Very soon. She could hear him now. Her trembling fingers undid the belt around her waist. In her mind’s eye she could see him naked, wanting her.

  Upstairs, Thomas was puzzled. From his tiny window he had seen the girl hurrying towards the stables, but as yet, he hadn’t seen her come out again. ‘She means trouble,’ he muttered, frantically pulling on his boots. ‘Bloody women! — they can be wily as foxes when they’ve a mind.’ His thoughts flew to Johnny and he was afraid. At the door he paused, his instincts telling him to peer carefully out before he went barging down the stairs. Happen he were wrong and she weren’t making for the stables after all.

  He winced when the door made a small squeak as he came out onto the wooden platform. In the same moment a movement caught his attention, causing him to glance down into the tack-room. She was there, hiding in the shadows. For one shocking minute he couldn’t believe what he’d seen; he didn’t want to believe it. What in God’s name was she thinking of? The master’s daughter, half-naked and waiting in the tack-room. Looking beyond, he saw that Johnny was making his way there. What to do? God above, what to do? He couldn’t rightly betray her, even though she deserved it, the little hussy! But then he couldn’t let Johnny walk in on her like that. By! Before this night was through, both he and the lad could be out on the streets looking for another job. The thought spurred him into action.

  ‘JOHNNY.’ His voice carried the length of the barn. ‘Hold on a minute, lad.’ He came down the stairs in a hurry, rushing towards the younger man and keeping him from entering the tack-room. ‘I meant to ask you if you’d take a look at the master’s hunter. I’ve an idea she might be going lame, but for the life of me, I can’t find a cause.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ Johnny recalled fetching the horse in from the fields. ‘He seemed all right when I brought him in earlier.’

  ‘Aye, well. Happen you’d best take a look at him. We can’t be too careful.’

  ‘If you’re that worried, Thomas, all right, I’ll take a look.’ He didn’t want to miss his tram because he had ideas of calling on Ruby tonight. All the same, he wouldn’t leave a horse in distress. Like Thomas said, you couldn’t be too careful where animals were concerned. Without hesitation, he swung round and made haste to the hunter’s stable. As he went inside, he glanced round, visibly surprised to see Thomas going in the opposite direction. ‘Did you check all four hooves?’ he called out. ‘If he’s picked up a stone, I can’t think where it came from because that top field’s clean as a whistle.’

  ‘Just give him the once-over, lad. See what you think.’ Thomas paused outside the tack-room. ‘Soon as you’ve done, you’d best get straight off. You don’t want to miss that tram do you, eh? I’ll fetch your jacket… save you a few minutes.’

  Deliberately keeping his eyes averted from the shadows where he knew she was lurking, and pretending not to notice the silken garment lying crumpled nearby, Thomas went straight to the chair, snatched up Johnny’s jacket and made haste out of there, closing the door behind him.

  Well, there’s nothing in his feet and his limbs seem sound enough.’ Johnny came forward, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Are you sure he was limping?’

  ‘Aye, well, happen I were wrong,’ Thomas
chuckled. Happen it’s me as is crippled.’ His relief at having defused a very dangerous situation showed in his ready smile. ‘If you go at a run, you’ll just make that tram.’ He gave the jacket to Johnny.

  ‘If you’re still concerned on the morrow, it might be best to call the veterinary.’

  ‘Naw. The natural way you have with the animals, lad, I reckon your opinion is as good as any “veterinary”.’

  ‘But you will call him if you’re worried on the morrow?’

  ‘Aye. Now get off home.’ He walked Johnny to the door, remaining there until the tall familiar figure was out of sight. Only then did he climb the stairs to his own quarters. As he went inside and closed the door, he was aware of furtive movements down in the tack-room. ‘You’ve been outfoxed, you bugger,’ he chuckled softly. But he knew he must be ever vigilant, because she wouldn’t give up. Folks like her set their sights on a particular possession, and neither hell nor high water would stop them from owning it. The smile slid from his face. If it came to it, he might be better to let Johnny go. He was young and strong, he had a good head on his shoulders, and he was unusually quick to learn. He went to the window and stared out. A great anger welled up in him when he saw the girl going at a run towards the house.

  ‘Why did you have to set your sights on this particular lad?’ he asked bitterly. ‘There must be any number of young men who would give their right arm to break in a bad filly like you.’ Sighing, he turned away. ‘I hope you’ll not be the cause of me losing him. Johnny Ackroyd is the best I’m ever likely to find. He’s a good lad, hard-working and with a natural knowledge of horses that comes straight from the bone. You can’t teach that kind of instinct.’ He was angry now, ‘He’s my right arm, you bugger. It would be a sin and a shame if I have to let him go because of a flighty wicked thing that don’t know right from wrong.’