Beneath a Frosty Moon

by Rita Bradshaw

  ‘You most certainly can and you will.’ It was said as firmly as her mother would have spoken. ‘You’ve had a long journey and it’s freezing out there. There is no way I am letting you leave here without something warm inside you. Now you finish that soup up to the last drop while I fetch your things. No argument.’

  By the time Rachel returned with her arms full, Cora had drunk the soup and eaten one slice of bread. She had to admit she felt better for it. She changed into the thick warm clothes that had been so welcome on icy-cold winter mornings at the farm when she’d had to struggle out of her nice cosy bed.

  Once she was ready, she and Rachel left the house together. Outside, the air was so cold it took her breath away for a moment, but the sparkling cleanness was wonderful, Cora thought, drawing in a satisfying lungful. Even on the coldest day at home the air was tainted from the industry lining the docks, along with the smoke and soot from thousands upon thousands of chimneys in the grids of streets in the town. She had never noticed the quality of the air before she had come to the country, but as soon as she had returned to Sunderland it had been one of the things that grated on her.

  The pair of them talked as they walked, but of inconsequential matters for which Cora was grateful. All she could think of was whether Jed would believe her when she said she’d never been Wilfred’s lass. Jed’s parents were fond of Wilfred, she knew that, and they wouldn’t have doubted that what he’d said was true, which unwittingly would have confirmed the lies to Jed. It was all such a tangle, such a mess.

  She left Rachel at the boundary of the two farms and walked on in the hushed silence. She could see the silhouettes of the farmhouse and the barns and buildings surrounding it in the distance now, and she actually put her gloved hand over her heart which was thumping so violently she felt it was going to burst out of her chest. How was she going to live the rest of her life if he didn’t love her any more, if all that he had been through had changed him and even made him resent that she was the cause of it? Because she was, even if it was indirectly. If Wilfred hadn’t loved her he wouldn’t have killed Farmer Burns and then convinced Jed he was responsible and forced him to go to war. She shook her head in momentary despair before continuing along the track.

  Jed straightened to ease his aching back for a few moments. He had been up at first light and he had worked solidly since then, only stopping briefly to eat the meals his mother had prepared. His face, which had long since lost the boyishness of youth and taken on the grimness of a man three times his age, softened for a moment at the thought of his mam. He knew she was worried about him and although he assured her constantly that he was all right, she was always on at him to rest more. But he couldn’t rest. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to enjoy a good night’s sleep again. No matter how exhausted he was when he fell into bed – and he made sure he was so tired he could barely stand let alone walk – he would toss and turn half the night and the other half plunge into nightmares the like of which he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

  In spite of the bitter night he was sweating, and now he put down the axe with which he’d been chopping wood for the past hour and flexed his shoulders and neck. One legacy from his POW days was that he was constantly in pain somewhere in his body. The army doctor had warned him of this and said that it was a result of the years of starvation and exhaustion, coupled with the injuries he had sustained. It would get better in time, the doctor had said. How much better he couldn’t say but in the meantime plenty of rest, good food and regular painkillers would assist his recovery.

  Jed allowed himself a wry smile. Rest was out of the question, he’d go stark staring mad, and he wasn’t about to put his faith in the pills the doctor had given him either. They had been quietly disposed of the first day he was back home. Still, he was certainly getting the good food so one out of three would have to do.

  After all the snow of the last days it was a beautifully clear night, he thought, lifting his face to the black sky that was alive with hundreds of twinkling stars gathered around the huge white moon. He remembered another night like this when he and Cora had stood in the beech wood under a frosty moon. He had comforted her about her mam leaving her da then and told her that whatever happened to them in the future he would never leave her. And what had he done? He had left her. She must hate him now or at the very least despise him for breaking the promises he had made that night. In spite of everything – her mam, her worry about her da, the uncertainty of the war and their suspicions about Farmer Burns – they had been happy then. Life had been sweet for both of them because they had each other. Hell, he’d been such a fool.

  He groaned in the quiet of the night, shutting his eyes and clenching his teeth against the image of her in Wilfred’s arms, an image that was with him day and night. He knew his mam and da thought the sun shone out of Wilfred’s backside and he hadn’t disillusioned them about the lad they’d taken into their home and their hearts – what was the point? If there had been a chance of getting Cora back he would have told them the truth in an instant, even though he knew his mam would be as devastated at him killing Farmer Burns as Wilfred blackmailing him to join up. But it was clear Cora was happy with Wilfred and being able to live next door to her parents and family. She had lost faith in him and with it the love she’d felt. The only thing he could do for her now, the last thing, was to leave her in peace and let her be content and settled in the bosom of those she loved. But it was killing him. Slowly and surely it was accomplishing what even Auschwitz with all its horror had failed to do, and that was to crush the will to live. He couldn’t see the beauty in the world around him any more and that frightened him when he thought about it. From a little lad he had revelled in the countryside and the moods of nature, his spirit lifting and soaring like a bird on the wing at the sight of a field of waving corn, a pink-tinged dawn, the autumn mist rolling across newly ploughed earth, or a pale winter sun illuminating frosted spider webs.

  He shook his head as he opened his eyes and he was in the act of bending to pick up the axe once more when he looked beyond the woodpile with its covered tin roof and down the track leading away from the farm. He could swear he’d seen a figure in the distance but it must be a trick of the shadows against the white snow. He moved out of the shelter of the woodpile and scrutinized the track through narrowed lids. No one in their right mind would be out on a night like this, he told himself with a little ‘huh’ at his stupidity. He was imagining things now, on top of everything else.

  And then, as the track curved away from the hedgerow and trees bordering a field, he saw the figure again, slightly closer now. There was someone. It must be one of the old tramps who passed this way now and again, probably hoping for a hot meal and a night spent in the hay barn. His da always allowed them to spend a night or two in the warm in winter and these fellows had a way of tipping off others of their kind as to where they could get fed and watered. In the past, with the arrogance of youth, he had thought his father was barmy to permit it, but he didn’t think like that any more. Kindness didn’t cost much but it could be life or death to these poor blighters in such weather.

  He had only taken a few steps towards the figure when he became absolutely still. They were probably unable to see him against the shadows of the barn on one side of him and the woodpile on the other, but now the figure was quite distinct against the white snow and there was something about the way it was walking . . .

  He rubbed his hand across his eyes, afraid of what he thought he was seeing or rather of the hope that had surged up because of it and how he was going to feel when he was proved wrong, because it was impossible, impossible that it was her.

  He took a slow step forward, then another, then another, like a blind man. As he emerged from the darkness into clear view, he saw the figure stop for a moment, just a moment, before beginning to try and run, stumbling and almost sprawling on the icy, snow-covered track. He must have called her name because it reverberated in the frosty air, shattering the stil
lness, and then he was running too.

  They met in a wonder-filled embrace as he lifted her off her feet into his arms, crushing her in to him as he said her name over and over between smothering her face in kisses. Her arms were round his neck and she was kissing him back, half-laughing and half-crying but wholly his. How long they stood wrapped up in each other they didn’t know, but when, still swaying together but her feet now on the ground, their lips parted, it was as though all the explanations had already been said.

  ‘Cora, Cora.’ He stared at her and her face shone like one of the stars above them. ‘Oh, my love, my love.’

  ‘I thought you had been killed.’ She reached out and touched his face, her hand trembling. ‘I didn’t know – that you were home, I mean. I came as soon as I heard . . .’

  Her words were lost as he took her mouth again with such passion that they were blind and deaf to the world around them, and it was only when they became aware of Jed’s father’s two sheepdogs barking and jumping up at them that they drew apart once more. Jed gave a word of command to the dogs who immediately quietened, slinking round their legs, and as they looked to the farmhouse they saw his parents standing in the lighted doorway.

  ‘They – they’re calling you,’ Cora said weakly, barely able to form her words.

  Jed raised his hand to his parents but then turned back to her. ‘Before we go up to the house I have to tell you,’ he whispered. ‘I love you, Cora. I always have and I’ve never stopped loving you, not for a second.’

  ‘And I love you. Everything Wilfred said to your mam and the letters he wrote, it’s all lies, Jed. He was always just a friend, nothing more. And Farmer Burns, you weren’t responsible for his death. It was Wilfred, Jed. All the time it was Wilfred.’ She gulped as she added, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘No, don’t ever say that to me. You’ve nothing to be sorry about. Come on, we’ll go and talk inside, but Cora?’ He stopped again and looked deep into her eyes. ‘Are you sure, about Farmer Burns?’

  She nodded.

  He swore softly as he put his arm round her. ‘I’d like five minutes alone with Wilfred Hutton,’ he said grimly. ‘I always knew there was something wrong about that day. I hit Burns to be sure, but not hard enough to kill him. I thought it must have been one of those freak accidents in the end, but it makes sense now.’ And then he pulled her hard in to him for another fierce kiss. ‘But what am I saying?’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Nothing matters now. We’re together at last and I won’t let you go again.’

  Entwined, they walked up the track towards the two figures standing in the doorway, the dogs bounding ahead of them and into the house. It was Jed’s mother who called to them, saying, ‘Cora, lass, what a surprise. The dogs heard something and we let them out but we never expected this. Come in out of the cold, the pair of you and have a hot drink. We’ll go in the sitting room, there’s a nice fire in there.’

  Jed winked at Cora as they followed his parents through the hall and into the sitting room. ‘She’s bursting to know what’s happened,’ he whispered, ‘but I bet Da’s told her not to rush in where angels fear to tread.’

  Cora smiled but in truth she felt more than a little intimidated by Jed’s parents. Wilfred had told them a pack of lies but would they believe that? She couldn’t blame them if they had reservations about her now. She hoped they would accept that Wilfred had only ever been a friend, the boy next door who she had grown up with and loved as a brother, but it was a tall ask. And now they were going to hear about Farmer Burns and Jed thinking he’d killed the farmer, along with the blackmail that had caused Jed to go to war with everything that had ensued thereafter. If she was his mother she wouldn’t feel too kindly to the girl who was the catalyst for it all.

  In the event she needn’t have worried. Over hot milky cocoa and Jed’s mother’s teacakes, the four of them talked for over an hour. There was shock and fury from Jed’s parents but this was directed at Wilfred, the lad they had treated as one of their own; for Cora they had nothing but sympathy and compassion. Their son was a different matter. Jed got a lecture from his father on the folly of not coming to him on the day of the farmer’s death, and Mrs Croft said nothing which was perhaps even more damning than her husband’s anger.

  Jed sat with his head bowed. He knew exactly how his parents were feeling, but the lowered head was not because of remorse because he had disappointed and upset them by not confiding in them, but because he needed to hide the light in his eyes that would have told them he didn’t care about anything but that Cora had come to him.

  It was just after nine o’clock when the older couple left them to go upstairs. Jed’s father smiled at Cora and told her he was expecting to see a lot more of her in the future now everything was sorted, but Deborah Croft put her arms around the lass who held her son’s happiness in her hands and whispered, ‘He needs you more than you will ever know, dear. He was dying inside before you came.’

  ‘Me too, Mrs Croft,’ Cora whispered back.

  They looked at each other for an infinitesimal moment and then Jed’s mother gave the slightest of nods as she touched Cora’s cheek in a swift caress before turning and leaving with her husband.

  ‘What was that about?’ Jed had been standing across the other side of the room in front of the fire and now he came over to her, taking her into his arms. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing really. She just loves you, that’s all.’

  ‘And I love you.’ His arms, telling of his hunger, crushed her in to him and for long moments they were lost in each other, both of them barely able to believe they had weathered the storm and come into safe harbour.

  ‘Jed?’ After a while she drew back in his arms, lifting her hands and cradling his face. ‘Was it bad, your time as a POW? I want to know it all, to understand.’

  ‘Perhaps one day.’ Now was not the time. This was too perfect, too precious. ‘But for now I need to get you back to Mrs Burns so you can get some sleep. We’ve got tomorrow to talk – we’ve got endless tomorrows.’

  ‘You won’t shut me out? I know that’s what some POWs do, to get through, but I want to share it with you in some small way.’

  ‘I won’t shut you out.’ And when she continued to stare at him without speaking, he said again, ‘I won’t shut you out, I promise. How could I? You’re part of me, part of the fabric of my being, my soul. How could I shut you out?’

  Now she flung her arms round his neck, reaching up on tiptoe and covering his mouth with hers with such passion that her emotion shook both their bodies.

  It was a long time later, after they had loved and talked and loved and talked again when he said once more, ‘I need to get you back to Mrs Burns. It’s late and you must be tired. She’ll have my guts for garters, you know that, don’t you?’

  Cora giggled. ‘She’s waiting up for me,’ she admitted.

  ‘Now she tells me.’

  Once in the hall Cora pulled on her coat and wrapped her muffler round her neck, her hat low over her ears, but the bitter cold of the frosty night still made her gasp as she stepped outside. They walked hand in hand along the track where just hours before she had trod with such apprehension, and Stone Farm was within sight when Jed stopped, pulling her in to him as he murmured, ‘Do you remember that other night? It was just like this. Cold and frosty and beautiful. I told you I loved you beyond words and that what we had happens once in a lifetime. Do you remember?’

  She nodded. She remembered.

  ‘I promised you I would never leave you and I broke that promise. Can you forgive me?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’

  ‘Will you marry me, my love, and soon? Next summer? As soon as Maria gets a job and can take your place at home?’

  She smiled at him in the light of the moon, the glinting sparkle of the frost like diamond dust and their icy breath mingling as she said, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ with such fervour that a roosting bird in the hedgerow rustled its protest at being disturbed.
Jed was her life and she wanted nothing more than to be his wife. It would be hard work, being a farmer’s wife, but she felt she had been born for it. The towns and cities held nothing for her now; here she could breathe and grow into the person she was meant to be. She was home.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was the middle of August and post-war Britain was seeing dire warnings about the shortage of coal for the forthcoming winter; rationing increased with grim messages of greater austerity by the government and there were strikes here and there all over the country. Councils were seeking aid to rebuild towns and cities; police and Ministry of Food enforcement officers were cracking down on black marketeers; and fifty thousand servicemen were queueing up for a divorce as the epidemic of unfaithfulness during the war years came to light.

  The country was in a mess, Gregory remarked grimly to Nancy as he sat reading his newspaper in Rachel’s parlour on the morning of Cora’s wedding. He emerged briefly from the article on the fortune being earned in the sale of nylons, chocolates, perfume and other scarce goods by unscrupulous ne’er-do-wells to shake his head at his wife and sigh despondently, before saying again, ‘Aye, a real mess,’ and returning to the paper.

  And she supposed he was right, Nancy thought from her place on the sofa opposite Gregory’s armchair, but somehow, with everything so right for her immediate family, she couldn’t summon up the concern she perhaps ought to feel. She glanced at the downy head of the baby at her breast as contentment flooded through her like a warm toddy. Douglas was a supremely happy baby and rarely cried unless he was hungry.

  There was Cora, she mused, as the baby’s mouth pulled strongly at her breast, about to wed the man she loved and take up her new life as a farmer’s wife, and Jed’s mam and da seemed to think the world of her already. Their Horace, to his great delight – and if she admitted it, Nancy confessed, great relief on her part – was to finish his last year’s schooling in Northumberland while he lived with Cora and the Crofts at Appletree Farm, ready to take up the job Mr Croft had lined up for him this time next year. Horace had been a different boy since Cora had told him what she had arranged. She hadn’t even had to nag at him to do his chores over the last months. Having left school, Maria was starting work as a receptionist at a dental practice in Holmeside the following week, and Mr Turner, the dentist, had promised he would train her as a dental nurse in due course which Maria was thrilled about.