Moorland Mist

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘So I see,’ Ivy said dryly. ‘We make bread in Yorkshire.’

  ‘Emma makes good bread too,’ William said quickly, making Emma blink with surprise at his swift defence of her.

  ‘We bake bread two or three times a week but we like some fresh soda scones for breakfast and girdle scones for tea,’ Emma explained. ‘I expect we shall get used to the different ways of doing things, but for now I would be happy if your husband can make a girdle and a swee for me.’

  ‘He will. I’ll tell him.’

  ‘I need to buy some black-lead to polish the range. I think it’s a long time since it has been cared for.’

  ‘You’ll be right there. Old Ed would never think of polishing anything. He didn’t even clean the flues. George Milne sells polishes, and paraffin for the lamps, candles, buckets, scrubbing brushes and all that sort of thing. He and his brother have a hardware shop in Wakefield but he comes round with his horse and cart once a month. He was here last week so it’ll be a while afore he’s back. You can get it in Wakefield, though. It doesn’t take long if you go on the train from Silverbeck Station.’

  ‘I expect there will be other things we will need. Is there a grocer’s in Silverbeck? We shall need a bag of flour and oatmeal, salt and sugar.’

  ‘If you write a list I’ll drop it in at Mr Nicholson’s on the way home. He’s an obliging man. I guarantee he’ll make you a special delivery tomorrow. He might even come this afternoon. His brother has the cobbler’s and Miss Nicholson, his sister, runs a little bakery and sweetshop. She sells newspapers to order as well.’

  ‘Thank you. I will write a list now,’ Emma said gratefully.

  ‘We shall need to buy some bacon until I can buy a pig to kill,’ William said. ‘I hadna considered household things but we need to eat.’

  ‘Mr Dixon has left a side of bacon hanging in the pantry and I think there is a ham wrapped up in white cotton. He told me he had cut a piece off to take to his sister. It was almost as though he felt it already belonged to us,’ Emma said sadly.

  ‘Then I must pay him,’ William said, rising from the table.

  When the men had gone out, Emma made a long list for the grocer and gave it to Mrs Wright.

  ‘I must get on while Jamie is sleeping. I want to scrub the kitchen floor so that it will be dry before dinner time. You can help me, Polly, if you have finished cleaning your bedroom, but I would like you to hang the nappies on the clothes line in the orchard first. I saw a bundle of pegs on the shelf beside the boiler. They looked new but you had better take a cloth and wipe the line in case it hasna been used for a while.’

  ‘I’ll hang the nappies now,’ Polly said.

  ‘We shall all feel the benefit when the kitchen is clean and fresh, and all the dishes have been washed and the cupboards cleaned. We must keep the boiler filled up in the dairy so we have plenty of hot water, and keep the fire going. Can I rely on you to see to that, Polly? I will help you put your bed up and bring in the mattress this afternoon, and I’ll find a sheet, or some kind of material, to hang over the window until I can make some curtains.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be very happy here,’ Mrs Wright said.

  ‘Oh, I will. I never had a room of my own afore,’ Polly said. ‘I promise to work hard and try to learn everything, Mrs Sinclair.’ Emma knew she was barely four years older than Polly but she felt more like twenty-four when she looked at the girl’s earnest young face.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do your best, Polly. I think we shall both be tired enough to sleep anywhere by evening. You will need to look after Jamie each afternoon while I milk the two cows. When we get more we shall all need to milk. I will teach you then.’

  ‘M-milk a c-cow? M-me?’ The girl stared in horror.

  ‘They’re very quiet. Don’t worry. You’ll soon get used to them.’

  Emma remembered how frightened she had been when she had first been close to a cow, but William and Maggie had been very patient. She enjoyed milking now. She smiled encouragingly at Polly and Mrs Wright nodded her grey head with satisfaction, convinced that Mrs Sinclair might be strict about how things should be done but she would be a kind mistress to the lass.

  Half an hour later, Ivy Wright gathered up her shawl and basket to return to her own home. The big kitchen floor was thick with dirt and greasy spills and mud from the farmyard. She watched Emma scrubbing energetically and shook her head.

  ‘If you go on working as hard as that, lass, you’ll have no milk to feed that baby of yours. Don’t waste all your strength. There’s another day coming, aye, and another after that. The little feller needs his feed and his mam.’ Emma sat back on her heels for a moment and brushed the escaping curls from her brow with the back of her hand.

  ‘I hate a dirty house, especially the kitchen. I intend to be the best wife I can be. Anyway, this will not be so bad next time – if I can get to the bottom of the dirt now.’ She viewed the half of the flagged floor with satisfaction. ‘It looks better and I’m sure it smells clean after so much hot water and soda.’

  ‘Aye, I agree it looks grand, but I tell you, lass, you’ll rue the day if you tire yourself out. Neither your husband nor your baby will think any more of you.’ Emma smiled and thanked her once more for her generous gift of food and her help in clearing and cleaning Polly’s small room.

  ‘You’re welcome, but you take my advice and don’t work too hard.’

  Later, Mrs Wright reported to her husband. ‘Mrs Sinclair is a pretty young woman, but when she smiles it lights up her little face, and she has lovely eyes. I’m sure she’ll be kind to our Polly.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Joe Wright said, ‘the poor lass needs a bit of luck.’

  Fourteen

  Emma saw Cliff Barnes for the first time when he ambled into the kitchen after William. She was amazed at the breadth of him, although he was not quite as tall as William. He peered at her from beneath the thatch of blond hair hanging over his eyes.

  ‘Hello, missis,’ he mumbled shyly when William introduced him.

  ‘Cliff has earned a good dinner,’ William said, eyeing the food Emma set on the table and they both sat down. ‘I found two scythes but one has a broken handle. I managed to sharpen the other and Cliff has worked as hard as two men when I showed him how to use it.’ William sounded pleased. ‘We have cleared the nettles and brambles, and the rubbish round the dairy and the byre.’

  ‘Found three lots of eggs.’ Emma was to find Cliff always mumbled into his chest and rarely looked anyone in the eye.

  ‘They must have been there a long time,’ William said, eating his dinner with relish. ‘I found a sickle with a broken handle too. I want to go down to the village to find the joiner and ask if he can repair them but I’ll wait until Cliff has finished for the day. We found two cartwheels amongst the brambles. They’re in fair condition if I can find a man to put a new rim on them.’ He sighed. ‘Back home I would have known where to take them.’

  ‘Uncle Joe will know,’ Polly said, then blushed shyly. ‘Aunt Ivy says he knows everybody for miles around.’

  ‘Aye, lassie, I’m sure he does. I’ll call and ask him and I’ll tell your aunt she brought us a tasty pot of – what did she call it?’ Emma looked up and saw Cliff eyeing the remains. She guessed he was still hungry.

  ‘I haven’t made a pudding today,’ she said looking at William. ‘I should probably have gone to the village for some provisions instead of scrubbing the floor.’

  ‘No, you’ve done well, Emmie. The place feels better already. It smells clean and fresh now. If we have bacon and eggs for tomorrow’s breakfast, we’ll manage with the bread and cheese Annie sent. I didn’t think about things like food.’ He grinned at her. ‘Your mother would say “men never do until they’re hungry,” wouldn’t she?’

  ‘She would but Annie guessed how it would be and she’s been very generous. I think Cliff wants to finish the remains of the hash, don’t you, Cliff?’

  He nodded vigorously. He didn’t wait for her to
spoon it onto his plate but reached for the pot and spooned every morsel into his mouth, as though he was afraid she would take it away. None of them knew he had spent many hungry days and weeks since he was a homeless thirteen-year-old, fleeing from the beatings of a drunken stepfather. Emma poured them all a glass of milk and gave them a piece of Annie’s shortbread, keeping the rest in the tin. She guessed Cliff would finish off any food in sight.

  ‘If I can get the other scythe repaired, we’ll start scything the first of the fields now I’ve seen Cliff can work so well. The grass is too long for grazing, even if we had animals to eat it. It’s too late to grow turnips so we shall need plenty of hay for the winter when I buy more cows.’

  ‘We shall have milk to sell then, though,’ Emma said with satisfaction.

  ‘I’m glad you enjoy milking, Emmie. We need to sell plenty of milk to pay the bills. The blacksmith said he would try to fix Dixon’s old mower. It will be a lot quicker than scything if he can.’

  Later, he confided to Emmie that he dared not leave Cliff to work alone.

  ‘He was going to scythe through the cartwheels instead of pulling them out first. They were half-buried in nettles.’

  ‘I suppose he has plenty of strength but not much intelligence,’ Emma said, ‘but we’re lucky to have someone to help. You will remember to bring in the mattress for our bed before you go to the village, won’t you?’

  ‘We’ll do that in a couple of hours.’ He gave her the boyish smile which always made her heart give a little flip.

  Jamie had slept well all morning but now he was demanding a feed.

  ‘Polly, will you empty all the things from the top of this big dresser while I feed and change Jamie, please? I will wash the plates and dishes and throw out those that are badly cracked. You wash down the shelves ready to put them back. At least we shall know they’re clean and ready to use. We’ll clean out the bottom cupboards tomorrow.’

  ‘Everywhere is filthy,’ Polly said.

  ‘It is, but at least Mr Dixon has left a lot of things which will be useful. That will save us having to buy everything. I haven’t seen any flat irons yet. I’m making a list of the things I shall need to buy. I brought a supply of candles. I must remember and get them out before dark.’

  ‘Aunt Ivy had a look in the cellar,’ Polly said innocently. Emma hid a smile. The blacksmith’s wife was a kindly woman but she had obviously been satisfying her curiosity. She enjoyed a gossip too and Emma was glad she didn’t know they were so newly married. She must be wary. ‘She said there were two pretty oil lamps on a shelf behind the cellar door, as well as some lamps for the cowshed.’

  ‘They will be useful then,’ Emma said, wondering when she would get round to discovering everything herself. William had told her the wardrobes and drawers in the other front bedroom were full of clothes. ‘We shall be able to cut up some of the old clothes to make a hearth rug. Can you make rugs with rags and canvas, Polly?’

  ‘My stepmother showed me but I’m not very quick.’

  ‘You’ll improve with practice. It’s a job for winter evenings but I would like to make a rug to cheer up the kitchen as soon as I can.’

  Emma was bringing in the two cows for milking when a man drove into the yard with a large pony and trap. He had a jovial manner and introduced himself as Ben Nicholson, the grocer.

  ‘I’ve brought the things you ordered, Mrs Sinclair, and Bob Roberts the butcher has sent you some meat. We thought it must be difficult for you moving all the way from Scotland, especially with a youngster.’

  ‘That’s very good of you to make a special delivery,’ Emma said gratefully. ‘Could you carry them into the kitchen for me, please, while I—’

  ‘Don’t worry about the money. Most of the farmers get their groceries on account and pay at the end of the month. I like my money prompt, though. I have my own bills to pay.’

  ‘Of course, but if that suits you it will please my husband. That’s the way it was in Scotland.’

  ‘There we are then, I’ll carry the bag of flour through to the pantry, and the oatmeal. You’ll want it in there, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, please. We haven’t got round to cleaning out the pantry yet but I washed and dried a stone crock for the salt. I shall be able to bake some bread tomorrow now you have brought everything. I’m very grateful.’

  ‘My word, you’ve made a difference in here!’ he exclaimed as he entered the kitchen. ‘I haven’t seen it look this clean since Doris Dixon was a young woman. She wasn’t brought up to farming so she kept a couple of maids to do the work. She was a bit better than the rest of us – a nice woman, though. Her father owned a woollen mill and he re-furnished most of the house when she married Ed and he paid for her clothes. When he died, things went downhill. He left the mill to her two brothers. They were supposed to pay Doris an allowance, or so she said. The brothers quarrelled so the mill had to be sold.’

  ‘I see,’ Emma said slowly. The grocer obviously liked to gossip too. ‘We have a lot more cleaning to do yet,’ she said, stifling an unexpected yawn. ‘We’ll get around to everything eventually.’

  ‘Of course you will. Ivy said that. How are you, young Polly?’ Mr Nicholson asked, seeing Polly standing on a stool to reach the top shelf of the dresser. ‘I heard you’d got a job here. It looks as though you’ll get a thorough training before you go off to make some man a good wife, eh?’ he teased. Polly blushed shyly.

  ‘And you’re on your way to milk the cows, are you, Mrs Sinclair?’

  ‘I am. They’ll know I’m strange. They may not milk well at first.’

  ‘If you get any fresh eggs to sell, or any butter, you let me know. I can usually sell ’em so long as there’s isn’t a glut, as there usually is about Easter.’ He went off whistling a merry tune, leaving Emma looking forward to sitting on her milking stool and resting her head against a cow.

  True to his word William, with Cliff’s help, had carried the large mattress back upstairs and laid it on the brass and iron bedstead, but as soon as he had eaten his evening meal he went to catch Peggy, his own Clydesdale mare. He had wrapped the scythe and sickle blades together in an old sack and bound them well with string so that he could carry them once he had mounted. Cliff, who was already an ever-willing helper, was there to pass them up to him.

  William called at the forge and thanked Ivy Wright for her tasty pot of hash and returned her pan.

  ‘I’m on my way to the joiner’s. I believe you said he’s at the far end of the village?’

  ‘Aye, that’s right,’ Joe said. ‘I expect you’ll give him plenty of trade by the time you get the carts and tackle repaired.’

  ‘Very likely. Can you recommend a good man to put two new rims on some cartwheels?’

  ‘Judd Grimshaw’ll be the man for that. He lives a couple of miles further on. You can’t miss him. There’s half a dozen cottages and his shed. He makes barrels for the brewery, but he mends all the wheels round here. Makes a good job, but you’ll need to bargain him down. Start as you mean to go on, lad, that’s my advice. If he’ll not do it, there’s a man on the road to Wakefield who makes carts and he’s good.’

  Billy Little, the joiner, was a cheery middle-aged man with several children running around his premises and another one on the way.

  ‘Joe Wright said you’d likely be needing some repairs so I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Sinclair. I can use all the trade I can get with my family to keep.’ William showed him the scythe and sickle. ‘The scythe will be no problem. I have a new handle in stock. I’d take a bit longer to make one for the sickle. When do you need them?’

  ‘As soon as possible for the scythe,’ William said hopefully. He was delighted when the man offered to do it right away if he cared to wait.

  ‘That’s splendid. I need to see a man called Grimshaw. I believe he lives further along this road?’

  ‘That’s right, he does. If you go to see him now, I’ll have this scythe ready when you return.’

  It was further than
William had anticipated. He was glad of Joe Wright’s advice, though. Grimshaw was a talkative man and it was later than he had expected by the time they had struck a deal. Although the summer evenings were long, the light was beginning to fade by the time William returned and Billy Little had gone inside for the night but he came out when he heard the horse’s hooves. He passed up the scythe, now beautifully repaired and William thanked him warmly.

  ‘If you’re along by Moorend, I’d be pleased if you’d call in and tell me which of the things you can repair and quote me a fair price. There’s a couple of farm carts and a trap which were half-buried in nettles, and a wheelbarrow and what looks like a turnip barrow.’

  ‘I believe you.’ Billy sighed regretfully. ‘Ed Dixon was a nice old man but I had to stop doing work for him. He could never pay me. A man can’t work for nothing when he has a family to keep.’

  ‘No, I know that. I promise ye’ll not have the same problem with me.’

  The two men shook hands and parted company. Joe Wright was leaning against the wall of his forge, smoking a pipe as William reached that end of the village. He guessed the blacksmith intended to waylay him, though for nothing more than curiosity. He sighed. He was tired and ready for bed. It had been a long day. Besides, he was looking forward to having Emma to himself, and holding her in his arms, in nothing more than her nightgown, and maybe not even that. He guessed she would still be the shy lassie he remembered. Reluctantly, he drew the mare to a halt. Bonnybrae had been some distance from the nearest village so he was not used to people being interested in his affairs, but he knew the blacksmith was not a man to offend, especially when they were employing his niece. He stayed to talk a while.

  Emma was deadly tired by the time she had fed Jamie and made him ready for bed. Polly had helped her carry a large wardrobe drawer from one of the other bedrooms. They set it on two chairs beside her bed.

  ‘The clothes basket will do for him during the day but he will have more room in this at night and I can reach him from the bed,’ Emma explained.

  ‘Mr Dixon told Aunt Ivy there’s a cot in the attic. It used to be his. I expect she forgot to tell you.’