Lucy thanked him again, and when he left her to rest, she cried until she thought her heart would break. Frank was gone, and with him, her own chance of a proper family. Her son would never know his father, and she would never experience the true happiness that she had witnessed between Barney and his Joanne.
Those two had something beautiful, a very special belonging that she could never even hope for.
Eight
It was one of the happiest weeks Lucy had ever known. Having worked at the Squire’s house for some time now, she had come to know the countryside well, but she had never lived as close to nature as she had done this past week. She loved it all: the sound of the pigeons cooing at early morning, the dew glistening on the grass and the sun coming up over the hill, sending out warmth and light, and making the heart feel good. After a couple of days, her concussion had passed, but the kindly doctor advised her to stay where she was. Bridget and Tillie had brought Jamie up to Overhill Farm and enjoyed some country hospitality. Out here, the shortages and hardships of the townfolk had, to some extent, been kept at bay.
In the evening she could see the lake in the distance, shimmering and twinkling under the moonlight. It was all a new and wonderful experience and she found herself walking earlier than she had ever done. At 5 a.m. she would run to the window where she would see Barney’s familiar figure as he went away to check his flock, the dog beside him and his master’s merry whistle echoing through the quiet morning air.
Later, when she was pushing Jamie on the old swing in the orchard, it was a pleasure to see Barney and his sons as they worked the fields, always with the dog running behind, and the lovely Joanne, busy all the day long, collecting eggs, tending her washing, cleaning house and baking treats for her large, loving family; ever busy, ever noisy, just as Barney had promised.
Barney and Joanne had three children. Thomas, at seventeen, was a serious and hardworking young man. Like the others he was devoted to his father who, in his eyes, could do no wrong. A handsome fellow, with sincere eyes and dark hair, he burned with ambitions of one day owning his own farm, unlike Barney who managed Overhill Farm for the wealthy local landowner Leonard Maitland, who lived at The Manse, down in the village.
Along with his brother Ronnie, Tom helped Barney run the farm; the two sons did all the basic tasks, like feeding the many animals, collecting food from the supplier, taking produce to market and chopping trees, selling some wood and logging the rest for the home fires. In addition it was their responsibility to generally maintain the house and buildings.
Winter or summer, there was always work to be done, and come harvest it was all hands that could be spared.
At fifteen, Ronnie was two years younger than his brother. With wild fair hair and his father’s blue eyes, he was accident-prone, fun-loving, sensitive, sincere and fiercely loyal. When he flirted outrageously, which was often, the girls fell at his feet. Though he loved his mother dearly, he was devoted to Barney, attempting to emulate him in everything he did.
Quiet and thoughtful, Susie was the only girl. Thirteen years of age and looking like a smaller replica of her mother, she adored her parents—especially Barney, who called her his “little angel.”
Susie loved to do things for her daddy. She would polish his Sunday shoes before they all went to church; make daisy chains for him when they were picnicking, run and meet him when he came home of an evening. She would scold him when she thought he was not looking after himself and, except for when she was learning the art of hat-making under the scrutiny of an old eccentric by the name of Doris Dandy, over in Everton, she was never far from her daddy’s side.
“I’d rather farm than make hats,” she told him once, and because he wanted her to acquire a regular skill that would stand her in good stead for the rest of her life, he would hear no more of such talk.
Lately, having become increasingly curious about the deeper things of the heart, Susie would often corner her daddy to discuss the mysteries and meaning of life. Sometimes out of his depth, Barney would talk and listen, and they would each learn from the other.
As for Lucy, in the short week she had lived under their roof, she had come to care deeply for Barney’s family. Everyone who knew them had a good word to say for them. The love and support they all gave each other was wonderful to see; even when brothers and sister argued, that bond of togetherness never broke.
Witnessing family life at first hand made her own loss and disappointment all the more poignant. If only Frank had stayed, instead of running away again she thought, maybe they could have had the same close family life. Yet in all her regrets, she did not hate him, though God knows she had tried hard enough to do so. She was bitter though; bitter and resentful of the fact that he could casually show up after all this time, only to turn her life upside down yet again. Thank goodness that the shock of the accident had brought on her monthly bleeding a week early. To have allowed Frank to make her pregnant again would have been a disaster.
Today was Lucy’s last day with the Davidsons. While she got herself and her son ready, Joanne and her family were downstairs waiting for her to join them for the evening meal. “I wish we could stay,” Lucy told the child as she fastened his blue jacket. “It’s been so lovely here. I’ll miss it all so much.”
In reply, Jamie ran his little wooden engine over the floor making train sounds. He loved being read to and petted by the older children in Barney’s family; in turn, they all adored the little chap and had spent many happy hours showing him all the farm animals. Like his mother, Jamie would miss all of this.
Lucy had been strong with every disappointment that life sent her way; Frank going off to sea; the discovery that she was with child, and having to tell her parents the truth; then her parents splitting up after weeks of rowing and fighting, and afterward finding herself out on the streets.
And only a week ago, when Frank had come home, her hopes had soared only to be shattered again; and as though to add insult to injury he had run off and left her lying hurt, leaving Barney to take care of her. That was a cowardly thing he had done.
Through all of these events she had been strong. But now, as she prepared to leave Overhill Farm and the Davidsons, she felt so sad. It was one disappointment too many.
Now her stay was over, and when the meal was finished, Barney would take her back to Bridget’s and life would resume exactly as it was before. She would rise early, leave her son in the care of little Tillie, and trudge through the fields to the Squire’s house, where she would work a hard day before trudging back again. She had never been afraid of work, but it was a lonely kind of life, and she missed her son. He was growing fast and she was losing out on his development.
No home of her own, working every hour God sent, and no man to stand by her. Lucy thought it was not much of a life to look forward to. But that was the life she had been given and it was up to her to do the best she could with it. And she would, for what other choice did she have? She knew she should never have given into Frank’s wiles, should have kept herself pure for marriage, but somehow she’d never met the right man when all her schoolfriends did, and in her mid-twenties had felt like an elderly spinster. And oh—how Frankie’s caresses had thrilled her, and made her lose her head, heart, and virginity too. Oh well. It was true, the old saying that there was no use in crying over spilled milk—that was for sure. And now it was very unlikely that she would ever find a decent man who was willing to take both her and Jamie off …
As she walked into the homely kitchen, Lucy was astonished to see the family standing round the table, waiting for her; Ronnie, she noticed, had taken time to tame his unruly hair, Thomas gave her a welcoming wink, and Susie was quietly smiling.
Barney and his wife were standing together, he with his arm round her and she so content beside him. “Come in, my love!” She ran to greet Lucy, and as she led her and Jamie across the room, she said, “Look. I’ve made the table pretty for you.”
Overawed by what they had done, Lucy loo
ked at the table and wiped away a tear. It was laid as if for a banquet. Normally the table was simply laid, with the meals already served on the plates. There was never any fuss or ceremony. Over dinner, everyone would get together, tuck into Joanne’s home-cooking and talk about the day’s events.
This evening, though, was extra special to all of them. There was an air of excitement which Lucy could not understand; especially when they knew she was unhappy about having to leave.
It was almost as though they were pleased at the prospect of having the house back to themselves. Yet even while the unfortunate thought crossed her mind, Lucy could not believe it. This past week, Barney and his family had done everything they could to make her feel like one of them, so why would they be relieved to see her go? No! She was wrong. All this fuss and excitement was their way of trying to make her feel better about it. That was it. This was their going-away present to her. They wanted her to leave on a good note. And, for their sake, she would smile and laugh, and they would never really know how wretched she felt.
“Well, Lucy?” Joanne nudged her elbow. “What do you think to my table? They wouldn’t let me do it on my own. Everybody helped and even then, we were worried we might not get it all finished before you came down.”
Draped in a long, flowing tablecloth of crimson, the big old table was set like Lucy had never seen it. There were candles in pretty holders; glasses with long stems and a twirl of napkin in each one. In the center of the table stood platters laid with all manner of meats; there were bowls of steaming vegetables and a long dish of small crisply roasted potatoes—Lucy’s favorites; there was also a wicker dish filled with freshly-baked rolls, whose aroma filled the room, and right in the middle, two bottles of Barney’s homemade elderberry wine.
For what seemed an age, Lucy was speechless. “Aw, Joanne. It’s just … beautiful!” Now, as the tears threatened, she let them fall before discreetly brushing them away. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”
“It was no trouble at all.” Joanne slid an arm round her waist. “It’s our present to you,” she said, “to show how much we love you, and this little one.” She tickled young Jamie under the chin, laughing as he gurgled with delight.
The child’s response broke the atmosphere. Rushing forward, Barney took Lucy by the arm. “Tonight, you’ve been allocated my very own seat, at the head of the table.” And with no more ado he marched her there and sat her down. “And as for this little chap …” Lifting the child out of her arms, he sat him in the homemade high chair, which had been finished only that afternoon, with sturdy legs and straps to hold the little fella safe.
“He can sit with the rest of us, like a grown-up,” Ronnie declared with pride. “Father made the structure, Thomas made the legs, and I cut the leather straps to hold him in. We were still working on it up to half an hour since.” He groaned. “In fact, if you’d come down that much earlier, the babby might be rolling on the floor, because we only had the one leg fixed to it, and that would never have supported the fat little lump!”
Everyone laughed, with Susie protesting that Lucy’s Jamie was not “a fat little lump.”
As always before the evening meal, Barney stood before his chair and said Grace. Being farmers and working closely with the land, they all understood how, with one dark mood, Nature could devastate a whole year’s crop, and leave them desolate.
In all of Barney’s experience that had only ever happened once, soon after he’d taken up the post of Farm Manager here. He had never forgotten. Nor had he forgotten to always give his thanks.
He gave his thanks now, “For the food and warmth You send us. For bringing Lucy back to health, and keeping us all safe from harm.” Looking down on his wife, he stroked her hair. “And for this wonderful woman you blessed me with. Thank You, Lord.” His words were spoken with such quiet gratitude that there seemed nothing more natural in the whole world. And in equally quiet voice, everyone echoed his thanks.
When Lucy looked up to see Joanne taking a discreet hold of Barney’s hand, Lucy’s heart was both sore and joyous. That small significant gesture between husband and wife was unseen by everyone else, but Lucy thought it the most touching thing she had ever been privileged to witness.
It was obvious that, even after more than twenty years wed, and three children into the bargain, Joanne and Barney still adored each other, as much as on the day they first met. Theirs was a deep, everlasting love, and one which Lucy sensed that neither she nor countless others would ever experience in their whole lives.
The meal was wonderful, and so was the company. They chatted and laughed and drank the wine, and when the child fell asleep in his chair, Barney lifted him out and made him comfortable on the sofa. “Right!” Returning to the table, he told everyone to fill their glasses and raise them for a toast, and when that was done he stood for a moment looking from one to the other, until his gaze rested on Lucy. “We would have liked you to stay here with us,” he said, and Lucy’s heart rose, “but as you know, your being here meant that Susie had to sleep downstairs on the couch, and though she didn’t mind that …” he looked at Susie and she nodded in agreement. “… it isn’t a situation that could continue for any length of time.” He hesitated. “You do understand, don’t you, Lucy?”
Lucy understood, and even managed a bright smile. “Of course I do,” she assured them. “I never really expected that I could stay here. I’m just grateful for the time and help you all gave me. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
Barney smiled at her. “Look under your plate, lass.”
Lucy was confused. “Under my plate?”
“That’s what the man said!” That was Ronnie, being his usual comical self. But there was a certain twinkle in his eye. In fact, as Lucy glanced at each family member in turn, she saw a twinkle in all their eyes.
“Go on then, Lucy. Look and see what he’s put there.” Susie was excitedly bouncing up and down in her chair.
Gingerly, Lucy lifted her plate and moving it aside, took out an envelope that was folded there. She opened the envelope and dipping her fingers inside, withdrew a large, shiny coin. “A guinea!” Her eyes widened in astonishment. “What’s this for?”
Barney told her fondly, “It’s your first month’s wages. Me and my Joanne have discussed it with the family, and we all agree there’s enough work on this farm for all of us. When harvest comes there’s no time to catch your breath; then there’s the carting and stacking, and any number of other tasks that could do with another pair of hands … especially for Joanne, who’s always rushed off her feet. This house is too much when she’s needed outside. That’s where you come in, Lucy. So, the job’s yours, if you want it?”
In a minute Lucy was out of her chair; running round the table she threw her arms round Barney’s neck. “Oh Barney … all of you! You don’t know what this means to me.” Going from one to another, she kissed and hugged them in turn. “Instead of passing this house every morning, and trudging all the way onto the Hall, I’ll be turning in at your gate.” The excitement was all too much. “I’ll be working with you all. Oh, it’s wonderful!” She laughed through her tears. “I can’t believe it!” She was sure that no one apart from Dorothy would miss her at Haskell Hall.
At that moment there came a knock on the door. “All right, matey, come on in.” Barney appeared to know who it was even before the door opened.
The door inched open and a man appeared; small of stature, with a kindly face and smiling eyes, he greeted everyone in turn. “Hello, Lucy,” he finished. “I hope you’re fighting fit after your accident?”
Lucy was not surprised to see him. “Hello, Arthur,” she answered. “Yes, I’m well, thank you.” A kindly man in his early thirties, Arthur Chives was well-known throughout the village of Comberton-by-Weir. In fact, there wasn’t a single house that he had not been into at some time or another, for he was the local handyman, tried, trusted and greatly respected by one and all. Lucy always suspected that he had a soft
spot for her, on the quiet. However, he was far too much of a gentleman to say anything.
“Come on then, m’laddo!” Barney held out his hand. “I trust you’ve brought it with you?”
“I have,” came the proud reply. “I’ve done everything you asked of me, and more besides.” He handed something to Barney, winked at Ronnie, and said, “I expect there’ll be a bonus in there somewhere for me, will there not?”
Barney took up the tease. “There certainly will be—in the shape of a roast dinner with all the trimmings … if you want it, that is?”
Arthur didn’t need asking twice. “That’ll do me,” he told Joanne, who was chuckling at the pair of them. “In fact, I could think of nothing else all the way here.”
“Right then! You sit down and fill your plate while I have a quiet word with Lucy.”
“Whatever you say.” In fact, Arthur was already privvy to the reason for Barney’s need to talk with Lucy in private.
Arthur had known Barney for many years; in their childhood they had learned the times-table together; ridden side by side across the fields on whatever horse they could borrow; shot rabbits for the pot, and later sat many a while on the porch, exchanging tales of when they were lads. They knew each other as well as any brothers might, and loved each other the same.
Leaving the others to chat, Barney rounded the table and taking Lucy by the hand, led her out to the back porch. They sat on the bench and there, Barney spoke his mind. “There’s summat you need to think about.”
Lucy asked him what he meant. But she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams what he was about to say.
Barney continued, “I know it’s none of our business, but well … Me and Joanne have been talking and what we think is this: it’s not good to bring a child up in a house of women—if you know what I mean?”
The Journey Page 11
