‘I do have one, though you may think it extravagant.’
‘I am learning that some extravagance does no harm occasionally. What is it?’
‘We want to get Oakwood Cider better known, don’t we? And the best way to do that is to offer free drinks. Not large ones, of course, but folks can never resist something for nothing, even if it’s just a taste. If Joshua takes the exhibits up, couldn’t he take them in the wagon along with a hogshead of, say, Regular as well? He’d need help, of course, and we’d have to take mugs from the shops which would no doubt run them short…’ Her voice faded as she regarded his expression. ‘You don’t like the idea, I can see it in your face.’
‘Nonsense. I think the idea is perfect.’ Exuberantly he swept her off her feet and swung her round, to the amusement of a couple of storemen stacking bottles. When he finally set her on her feet again it was with a hefty kiss on her cheek. It took every bit of Maddys self-control not to fling her arms about him and kiss him back with all the passion that was building up within her. She wanted to respond so desperately that her need for restraint distressed her far more than she could have imagined. She knew then that she could not marry him.
Putting her hands against his chest she pushed him away. ‘It’s time we stopped this foolery and got on with the accounts,’ she declared.
Looking at her scarlet face, Cal misinterpreted the reason for her sharp words. ‘You don’t need to bother about those two in the comer,’ he said cheerfully. ‘They’re blind, deaf, and dumb, the pair of them. Aren’t you?’ he demanded.
‘That us be, maister,’ replied one of the men, grinning. ‘Us can’t notice naught, you get on with your courting, if you wants. Don’t mind us.’
‘There!’ said Cal with satisfaction. ‘They didn’t see a thing.’
‘We should get back to work,’ Maddy insisted primly. As she left the storeroom, she was conscious of Cal pulling a face and of the men laughing.
‘Petticoat rule, that’s what you’m got now, maister,’ called one of them.
Maddy wished she could have joined in the good-humoured raillery. It was the sort of thing one expected in the weeks before a marriage – but there was not going to be any wedding. How and when to tell Cal, though? As soon as possible, she decided. That would be the fairest and kindest way.
Cal remained in a light-hearted mood. Tucking her arm through his as they crossed the yard, he heaved a sigh of contentment.
‘I’m really looking forward to our trip to Exeter,’ he said. ‘I feel it in my bones that we shall do well, and it will all be due to you. You are my talisman.’
Maddy tried to protest at this but he would have none of it.
He was in such high spirits that she had not the heart to hand him back her betrothal ring just then. She would choose some other, more appropriate time.
But that time never seemed to arrive. His hopes were set on the competition at the Agricultural Meeting and he talked of little else. It was to be the expansion of Oakwood Cider’s fame. That he wanted, and needed, her support was obvious, and put Maddy in a terrible dilemma. She could not desert him, not before Exeter, yet to break off their engagement after the Devon meeting would be terribly close to the wedding date.
Despite her other doubts, Maddy had great faith in Oakwood Cider, and she was convinced they would win at least one award. This helped to colour her decision. If she waited until after Exeter, then Cal would have the consolation of the medals she was certain he would win. After all, it would only be his pride that would be bruised by the cancellation of the wedding, his heart was not involved. Nevertheless, as time went by, Maddy continued to have qualms about her course of action. But then, she observed, it did not matter when she told Cal, she was bound to suffer.
May brought with it unpredictable weather, complete with thunderstorms and hail.
‘Thank goodness it have cleared,’ said Joan as they went up the lane on the day of the meeting. ‘But I be right glad I bothered to pin my skirts up, for it be muddy underfoot. I can let un down when us gets on the train. Fancy, us riding on a train!’
There was a surprise awaiting them at the head of the lane. Alongside Cal in the hired brake, clad in a much ruffled shoulder cape and exceedingly ornate bonnet, sat Mrs Whitcomb.
‘Mother finally decided she could not bear to miss the fun,’ said Cal, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Maddy was forced to smother a smile, knowing full well that Mrs Whitcomb had never had any intention of being left behind, not if the upstart Shillabeers were going.
‘If this idn’t grand,’ declared Jack. ‘A proper family party, that’s what us’ll be!’
Beneath her elaborate bonnet, Mary Whitcomb’s plump face glowered, and Maddy had a greater struggle not to laugh.
She was thankful for her stepmother’s presence on the journey to Exeter, for Joan’s excited prattling made up for the silence of her companions. Cal’s introverted mood was due to the possible repercussions of the competition on his business, while his mother’s glumness was due to her disapproval of the company. Jack and Maddy’s silence, however, had a deeper, more tragic cause, for the closer they got to Exeter, the more they remembered their last visit, and the execution of Davie.
Maddy found it worse when they transferred from the train to a cab, for at first their journey took them through streets that were agonisingly familiar. Then, thankfully, they reached a part of the city she did not know and she began to relax. The traffic was so heavy that they were obliged to alight several hundred yards from the entrance and to walk the rest of the way.
When they arrived inside the park, Joan gave a wail of near-panic. ‘I idn’t never seen so many folk afore. Yer, let me clutch hold of you, Jack, for if us gets separated I wouldn’t never find you again.’
‘We’ll soon get our bearings, never fear,’ smiled Cal. He consulted the programme, which included a printed plan. ‘Look, the bandstand is marked by the big tree in the centre. If we get parted, that’s where we’ll meet up. Maddy and I are going straight to the tent where the cider is to be judged. The judging does not take place till this afternoon, but we’ve our exhibit to set up. What of you, Mother? You are welcome to come with us, if you won’t find it too tedious.’
Mrs Whitcomb had a difficult decision to make. She must either be bored or else accompany the hated Shillabeers. In the end Jack made up her mind for her.
‘You come along with us, Cousin Mary, and us’ll go and see what’s to be seen, eh?’ Tucking her hand under his free arm, he set off, calling over his shoulder, ‘Us’ll meet you two by the tree about noon.’
‘We’ll go and find Joshua and our wagon,’ said Cal, consulting his programme again. ‘I see the horses and wagons are ranged round the outer walls of the park, they’ll be there somewhere.’
They found the Oakwood wagon easily enough for it was festooned with oak leaves.
‘’Twere Miss Shillabeer’s idea,’ replied Joshua to Cal’s raised eyebrows.
‘I thought it would make us distinctive,’ said Maddy.
‘Just as long as we don’t get mistaken for Robin Hood and his merry men,’ replied Cal, clearly not sure about the idea.
‘I think it do look proper vitty,’ said Mrs Joshua, who had come along to help serve the free cider. ‘And folks’ll pick us out in an instant. Us’ve set up a table for the mugs and such, and us’ve got the barrels ready on the wagon.’
‘You may as well start now.’ Cal looked about him approvingly. ‘We couldn’t have a better spot. Being near the horses well catch both masters and grooms, farmers and yardmen. No matter what befalls, by the end of today Oakwood Cider should be known throughout the county.’
‘I’ll tell you what will have befallen,’ said Maddy. ‘Oakwood Superior will have won the gold medal.’
‘Such confidence!’ Cal smiled down at her, then he turned his attention back to Joshua and Mrs Joshua. ‘Are you ready? Have you everything you need?’ ,
‘Yes, thank you, maister,�
�� they replied in unison, obviously enjoying every minute of this new experience.
Before Maddy and Cal had gone many yards, a small crowd had already formed at the Oakwood wagon, enjoying the free cider. Smiling, they made their way to the exhibition tent, which was warm and smelt of bruised grass. Long tables were spread with white cloths, the areas marked off with labels bearing the names of the different exhibitors. One of the very large cider manufacturers began setting out its exhibits, and Maddy watched with awe as aproned cellermen arranged row after row of bottles under the direction of a top-hatted gentleman. They seemed so assured and competent that for the first time Maddy’s confidence wavered. Maybe they had overestimated the quality of Oakwood Cider, and they were due to be humiliated. Finally the large company set up a finely painted board bearing their name and the successes of their product at other shows.
‘Very fancy,’ remarked an old farmer who was setting out his bottles in the space next to theirs. He gave a cheery grin although his heavily starched high collar threatened to throttle him. ‘But they don’t impress me none. I reckon us be as good as they. When you comes down to un, cider be about apples and experience, bain’t un? Pretty painted boards and newfangled equipment don’t make a ha’p’orth of difference.’ Maddy smiled back, feeling heartened. The old farmer was right, small producers had just as much chance as the large ones where the quality of cider was concerned. Turning to their space on the table, she helped Cal to set out the bottles, adding the carefully printed labels that she had laboriously penned to indicate their classes. As a final touch, she added a few sprigs of fresh oak leaves. She was determined to make their presentation as good as possible – it was one final service she could do for Cal before she broke off their engagement.
They made their way back to the bandstand and met up with Mrs Whitcomb and the others. Jack was full of the wonders they had seen during the morning.
‘Just think,’ he declared, as they made their way to the luncheon tent. ‘In all my life I habn’t never set eyes on a real lord afore, yet yer they seems thick as fleas on a dog.’
His comments were cut short as the heavens opened, and everyone made a dash for the tent. They were a damp and bedraggled party as they ate, trying to avoid the drips coming through the leaky canvas, but Joan and Jack laughed at the discomfort and even Mrs Whitcomb’s complaints were muted. Cal, however, scarcely touched his food.
‘You wait until after the judging,’ he said, when Maddy urged him to take another slice of cold beef. Then I’ll be ready to eat a horse.’
Although she knew the competition meant a great deal to him, she had not realised how much. She, who thought she knew him well, could still be surprised at how much he concealed his true feelings. Then she allowed herself a self-deprecating smile. Hadn’t she thought she knew and understood Patrick? And look how wrong she had been about him.
‘Are you coming to the judging?’ Cal asked the others.
Mrs Whitcomb looked as though she was going to refuse, but Jack was too quick for her. ‘Course us be coming,’ he said positively. ‘Idn’t that what us’ve traipsed up to Exeter for? Let’s be getting over there, shall us, else us won’t get a good view.’
The exhibition tent was filling up quickly. Some of the interest was for the other exhibits such as honey and buttermaking, but the main crush of people was round the cider exhibits.
A buzz of excitement greeted the arrival of the judges. The noise died away abruptly as they clustered round the first exhibit, muttering together as the glasses of cider poured for them were first held to the light, considered carefully, then sampled.
‘Lor’, that be a job made in heaven,’ murmured Jack, only to be prodded into silence by the combined elbows of Joan and Mrs Whitcomb.
The judges’ progress was agonisingly show. When they reached the Oakwood exhibit, Maddy found herself feeling almost too tense to breathe. She tried to interpret their gestures and expressions. Was that nod one of approval? The inordinate amount of scribbling in their notebooks, was that a good or a bad sign?
There was no official announcement of the results, just a discreet placing of awards against the winners. In the surge forward to see, Maddy’s view was blocked. Cal, being taller, had an excellent view. ‘A gold medal for the Superior, a silver for the Regular, and a highly commended for the Rough.’ At first he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, then the realisation of it sank in. ‘We got an award of some sort for everything!’ he exclaimed, suddenly excited. ‘One gold medal and one silver and a highly commended! It’s better than I dared to hope.’ He hugged Maddy tightly to him, while folks patted him on the back and tried to shake his hand. There was no restraint about him now, he looked absolutely delighted.
Maddy, pressed against him by both his encircling arm and the force of the crush, was too moved to speak. This was how she had wanted it to be - a bright future ahead for him, to compensate for any upset at the end of his betrothal. The accolades for his cider marked a new phase in his business, and an end to their relationship.
‘This is all due to you, Maddy.’ Cal disentangled himself from his congratulators and gazed down at her. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘Yes, you could,’ Maddy found her voice to respond. The last thing she wanted was for him to think her indispensable. ‘I just brought the oak leaves.’
‘Just brought the oak leaves indeed,’ he chuckled. ‘From this moment on they’ll be my talisman, as well as a trade mark. They’ll be almost as much my good luck charm as you.’
Maddy heard him with a sinking heart. He seemed determined to make her a vital part in his success, and she feared that if he persisted she would find her resolve weakening. She had made the right decision, she knew that. At least, her head did; it was only her heart that turned traitor, suggesting to her that anything was better than a life without him. Sometimes she could almost believe her heart, until she was in his company for a while, with her need to betray her love stabbing at her like a physical pain, and then the knowledge that he did not return her feelings would be pure anguish. She knew that her unhappiness – for unhappy she would assuredly be – would poison their marriage and make Cal unhappy too, which was something she knew she could not bear.
The return journey from Exeter was a jubilant if weary affair. Even Maddy threw off her melancholy to smile and exchange reminiscences of the day with the others. It was Joan who was loudest in her admiration, not of the kilted band of the Black Watch, whom she described as ‘proper handsome’, but of the latest sewing machines.
‘The shirts and petticoats I could make for my lot with that machine,’ she breathed in awe. ‘And in no time at all. There were one for only six pounds ten shillings. That idn’t much, considering.’
‘Not if you says it quick,’ replied Jack. ‘Lor’, I despaired of getting these two away from they contraptions. They must’ve seen every sheet in Exeter turned sides to middle by my reckoning.’
‘He’s just scoffing because he’s a man,’ said Mrs Whitcomb. ‘If he had to strain his eyes night after night sewing with needle and thread, he’d sing a very different song, wouldn’t he, Cousin Joan?’ As she appealed to Joan for support, she sounded surprisingly affable. Unexpectedly, after the first frosty hour or two, she had clearly enjoyed the day as much as anyone. Listening to her chattering away, Maddy realised that Mary Whitcomb’s ill temper probably stemmed from loneliness and boredom. The poor soul needs some distraction to take her out of herself, decided Maddy. Perhaps when Cal and I are wed— She cut off her thoughts abruptly. For a brief, foolish moment she had forgotten that she was not going to wed Cal and that his mother would not be her responsibility.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Cal, noting her small wince of pain.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Maddy said untruthfully. Then to divert the conversation away from herself, she asked, ‘Will you come back to Exeter for the second day of the Meeting?’
‘I think so. There were many things I did not have a chance to see today.�
��
‘I know where he’ll be going,’ said his mother, sounding almost flippant. ‘To look at those smelly, noisy steam things.’
‘I’d certainly like to see the latest in farm machinery,’ smiled Cal. ‘But I want to have a look at the cattle, too. I caught a glimpse of some very fine South Devons in the pens. Would anyone care to join me?’ His invitation was general, but he was looking at Maddy.
‘No, thank you,’ she said. You go on your own and climb about your steam engines to your heart’s content.’
‘But wear stout boots,’ advised Jack. The ground were churning up bad enough today, by tomorrow ’twill be a proper quagmire. And thanks for the invite, boy, but I reckons the missus and me have seen enough wonders to last us for quite a spell, eh, maid?’
‘Us have,’ agreed Joan. ‘Twas like another world.’
‘I shall be glad to spend the day resting my feet, I think,’ said Mrs Whitcomb. ‘As Maddy says, you go and enjoy yourself.’ It was the first time she had referred to Maddy by name, the first hint of approval that she had ever given. Maddy was forced to bite her lip at the irony of it. She was thankful that she would have one whole day free of Cal. It would give her time to bolster her resolution and to think what she was going to say to him.
* * *
The next time Maddy saw Cal was in church on Sunday morning, where they had no chance for a serious conversation. Knowing she could put it off no longer, Maddy set off for Oakwood Farm that afternoon.
‘You staying to tea?’ asked Ellen in surprise when she saw her.
‘No, thank you. I’d just like a word with Mr Calland, please.’
‘Come in then. He’m in the front parlour, and making a right mess of un, too.’
As soon as she entered the room, Maddy saw what Ellen meant: booklets, brochures, and farming magazines – trophies from two days at the Devon meeting – were strewn all over the floor. Cal’s face lit up at the sight of her.
‘This is a grand surprise,’ he said. ‘Ellen, make some tea for Miss Shillabeer, if you please.’
Daughter of the River Page 44
