Larkrigg Fell

by Freda Lightfoot

  Marriage on the rebound, wasn’t that the word she used? Oh, she was honest all right was Beth, you couldn’t fault her there.

  ‘Whose fault is that,’ he said, ‘if we’re never on our own?’ Feeling a miserable sort of satisfaction when he saw her blush, and hating himself for embarrassing her.

  Beth did not pretend she didn’t understand him. ‘You promised to be patient.’

  He ran work-worn fingers through the shock of thick fair hair, and it fell forward onto his brow. She had a sudden urge to run her own fingers through it, feel it’s softness and push it back again.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, and the sad bitterness in his voice jolted her. ‘Happen I’m regretting that promise. Or happen I might decide to be patient for a life-time. We’ll see. But if you’re not content with the usual way a man and his wife find to be alone, there’s nowt I can do about it.’ He didn’t regret letting her see the depth of his frustration, which gave such a cruel edge, to his tone, but he did regret its cause. He wondered bleakly if their marriage had any hope of surviving.

  ‘I thought we should have some space to ourselves. It would be a start,’ Beth finished, almost wishing she’d never broached the subject.

  ‘You could ask Dad. But if he won’t agree, you’ll have to put up with things the way they are, won’t you?’

  ‘Thank you,’ was all Beth could manage, stunned by this outburst and his sour mood.

  Yet he proved to be absolutely correct. Billy was every bit as obstinate as his father. He eyed her with doubtful suspicion when she broached the subject. ‘It’s just as it was when Andrew’s mam were alive.’

  Beth swallowed her impatience. ‘That’s a long time ago, Billy, when Andrew was a baby. Times move on.’

  ‘Not so long in the lifetime of this farm. Nowt’s worn out that I can see.’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘I’d sooner you leave things as they are.’

  Beth felt too new and insecure to press the matter further. And somehow, with the picture of Andrew’s sad face clear in her mind, getting to sleep in the big, soft bed was even harder that night, which had nothing at all to do with redecorating the little parlour.

  They continued to sit in the big farm kitchen, with the two old men either side of the fire hogging its warmth, while she and Andrew perched as best they could on a couple of hard stand chairs. They hardly looked at each other, let alone talked. It was uncomfortable and claustrophobic and not at all what Beth had in mind for her married life.

  And there were other irritations. If she moved a picture or ornament, put a chair back in the wrong place, it would then mysteriously return to its original spot. Once, she went so far as to buy a remnant of fabric on Kendal market and sewed a new pair of curtains in bright blue and yellow cotton, which she hung in the front parlour, for all no one ever used it. They lasted a day before someone silently took them down and replaced them with the dark brown brocade, which Beth had come to hate because they kept out all the sun and represented her failure.

  She might be married to the son of the house, and the two old men were impeccably courteous to her, but she felt no more than a visitor, politely tolerated.

  The only time she and Andrew could hope to be alone was after Seth and Billy went off to bed.

  At first she had escaped early to bed herself, tired from her exhausting day of housekeeping and learning the farm chores. Now she tried the very opposite. However tired she was, she determined to stay up for those few precious moments she could have Andrew to herself. She was anxious to get to know him better, told herself it was her responsibility as a good wife. Even if there were no sex between them, at least they could become better friends. Or what hope did they have?

  They would sit for a while in the two fireside chairs, as if there were nothing in the world wrong between them. More often there would be long, painful silences. At other times Andrew would talk about farming matters. Beth would struggle to take an interest, relieved that he cared enough to share his concerns with her, when she’d so badly failed his greater needs.

  ‘Would you credit it? Ben Cottram is selling up,’ he said one evening as he read the farming snippets from the local paper. ‘I never thought he’d give up.’

  ‘Why is he?’

  ‘Small farms are closing down every week. It’s very worrying. Young men aren’t so keen to take on this way of life as they once were, and won’t do it at all if there’s no financial incentive.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Beth said.

  ‘Without government investment hill farming would be finished. And if it went, that would damage the whole environment. The grass would grow too long and kill all the rare flowers, then there’d be no butterflies, no seeds for the birds. The bracken would take over and you’d have a wilderness where no one could walk.’ Beth listened, fascinated, beginning to see her young husband in a new light as he talked of these matters so close to his heart. She found she enjoyed watching his awkwardness fall away as his enthusiasm grew with each point he made.

  ‘It’d damage the rural economy, d’you see? Even tourism. Jobs would disappear, and a whole way of life. Everything would be different.’ He was looking so furious Beth had to smile.

  ‘But that scenario isn’t going to happen, Andrew. The government is investing in hill farming and you aren’t going to lose Cathra Crag.’

  ‘I hope not. But I feel sorry for Ben. He put everything he had in to that farm and now his sons aren’t interested. You can’t trust your own family these days, can you?’

  She was shocked. ‘You can trust Seth and Billy.’

  ‘Unless Seth decides to do summat daft. It’s his farm don’t forget, not mine. And even families can let you down.’

  Remembering her own betrayal, Beth had to agree. As her thoughts wandered, she missed what Andrew was saying next, then came to, realising he was still talking about Seth.

  ‘But he’ll do naught about it. You can’t make him plan. This electricity business is typical of him. Says he’s too old to be bossed about, and why should he consider aught he don’t want to.’

  Beth laughed, not thinking it mattered since they were all safe here together. As Andrew continued to talk she watched how small creases formed over the bridge of his nose with the worried over issues so dear to his heart. How every so often he would run his fingers through his fair hair and rumple it, making him look young and vulnerable. His lean, boyish face had filled out a little but there was no spare flesh on his taut, muscled body. He worked too hard for that. She couldn’t help but admire him, and he wasn’t at all bad looking, though she’d paid little attention before. A countryman born and bred, right to the heart of him. Patient, steady, reliable, as Ellen had once been at pains to point out.

  ‘I resent us being so backward here,’ he was saying. ‘Broombank use modem technology wherever they can, take note of scientific developments with regard to feed, injections, doses and drenches and the like. As a result they keep a healthier flock and make money, while we struggle from hand to mouth.’ He began to pace about, fidgety with frustration. ‘Old Seth was never swamped with paperwork, and even Dad is pottering on to his retirement. It’s no way to run a farm. The old ways are gone.’

  Beth nodded in sympathy, but her mind was paying less attention to his words and more to watching his movements. Strong, lithe, powerful. ‘I agree you can’t talk Seth into doing anything he’s set his mind against. I’ve learned that much. It took me all of Friday to persuade him to change his shirt and underthings so I could wash them. It was a long battle but I won in the end. I even succeeded in getting him to change those dreadful trousers, so I could clean and mend them.’

  Andrew gave a sudden grin. ‘Not his cap and waistcoat though.’

  ‘No,’ she admitted on a gurgle of laughter. ‘I haven’t got that far yet.’

  They laughed together, eyes dancing, glancing shyly at each other and then away again. After a moment, a silence fell between them, growing to the point of awkwardness and Beth set
aside the knitting she was working on and stood up. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now. I’m tired.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Will you be coming up soon?’ She hesitated at the door, wondering if she should suggest that he come up now, with her.

  She was not unaware of the need which so often flared in his eyes when he looked at her, for all he might try to disguise it. Some day soon Beth knew she would take her husband to her bed, and felt an unexpected thrill of anticipation.

  He kept his eyes on the fire as he spoke. ‘I’ll happen glance at the paper first.’ He made no move to follow as she walked from the room and quietly closed the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  Beth sat on the edge of the bed and stared about her, striving to make herself feel better by admiring the small improvements she’d made. She’d hung pictures on the walls, put new curtains at the small window, a blue jug of flowers on a chest of drawers, and a rug upon the linoleum-covered floor. Yet somehow the room seemed as empty and cheerless as ever. The big feather mattress was admittedly comfortable but did nothing to ease her loneliness as she lay in the centre of this huge bed, all alone each and every night.

  Andrew had looked almost gaunt, with tired rings beneath the eyes. How badly she must be hurting him. It wasn’t the sort of marriage he deserved. But was she ready to offer him more?

  She listened to the sounds of him riddling the ashes in the fire grate, then going out to do his final nightly round of checking on the stock. It would take him ten minutes, then she would hear his footstep on the stair, passing her door as he made his way to his own room. Would he ever come to her of his own volition? Did she want him to?

  Her mind conjured up pictures of him in his single bed, and she couldn’t help but worry over the future. Was this what she had expected, to live a celibate life? Was this what she’d wanted? If she’d thought about it all, probably not.

  But Pietro was lost to her and she must make the effort to be fair to Andrew. For her own sake as much as his. Life must go on. Hadn’t she told herself so a dozen times?

  Sighing, she got up from the bed. There were few comforts in the bare room, for all her efforts. She hung her clothes in a cupboard, certain it must be damp and, as she did each and every night, stripped off her clothes, stood on a towel, and by the light of her candle started to wash herself from the bowl of hot water she’d set on the chest of drawers. Having a proper bathroom installed was another change Seth would probably never sanction, even had they the money for one.

  She’d slicked her body all over with the warm soapy water when there came a tap at her door.

  Panic gripped her and she glanced about for her old dressing gown. ‘Just a minute.’

  But the door opened before she could move and Andrew stood framed in the doorway, his anguished gaze at once taking in her slender loveliness, her naked body glistening with soft soap and candlelight. ‘God, I’m sorry, I thought you said come in.’

  Beth stood transfixed, caught like a rabbit in the glare of a car headlight. She could not move, could say nothing, only gaze into his dark eyes, her breath a tight ball in her chest. From fear? Excitement? She knew not. Then he was slamming the door closed and he was gone. For some reason her heart gave a hard thump of disappointment.

  Ellen called the following afternoon and begged Beth to come up to the tarn.

  ‘What d’you think? Pegleg has found a mate.’

  ‘Oh, but that’s wonderful.’

  ‘There’s just one problem.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’m not sure she cares for his bachelor pad. Bit small.’

  At the tarn they watched as Pegleg demonstrated the precarious art of landing and take-off on this small sheet of water high in the cup of the mountains. He struggled, as ever, against the windstream, judging the right moment when he must put the brakes on.

  ‘He’s got his under-carriage down,’ Ellen cried. ‘Good lad.’ Wings flapping madly, he missed the tarn entirely and came to a flurried halt in the reeds. His new wife appeared supremely unimpressed. She certainly declined to imitate Pegleg’s clumsy efforts. Waiting patiently until he had concluded his demonstrations, she enticed him to swim with her. Preening themselves and each other, they seemed thoroughly content.

  ‘Where do you think he found her?’

  ‘Who knows? He’s been off searching almost everyday for weeks.’

  ‘I’m glad. She’s a beauty, and he won’t be alone any more.’

  It was comforting sitting here with Ellen, the summer sun soothing her, making her feel lazy and languid as she watched the swans, entranced by this developing romance.

  But at the back of Beth’s mind was an image of the previous evening, seeing herself captured in candlelight, as Andrew must have seen her. His need for her had been plainly written in the burning gaze of his eyes, moving hungrily over her body. Never, in all the time she had known him, had she seen him look so desolate.

  Yet what had surprised her most, was her own reaction. The urge to gather him in her arms had been overwhelming. And it had taken her hours to settle to sleep after he had gone, her body fidgeting and churning with some unexpressed ache. What’s more, for once she hadn’t dreamt of Pietro.

  ‘Do you reckon she’ll stay?’ Ellen was saying, and Beth jerked her mind back to the present.

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘She’s playing hard to get. See how she swims away from him. Taunting him. No better than she should be.’

  Beth’s giggles faded as the candlelit image again rose in her head. ‘She likes him really, you can tell.’ As she liked Andrew.

  ‘But would you stay if you were her? As well as being too small for a couple, it’s an empty spot. Winter lasts for eight months of the year, and the wind can cut you to pieces. It’s wickedly lonely with no other swans or water birds of any kind for company. Bit bleak, wouldn’t you say?’ Then Ellen half glanced at her. ‘How’s your own love nest?’

  Beth managed a smile. ‘About the same. Andrew is good to me, and we get on OK.’

  ‘Married life suiting you then?’

  Beth flushed, turning her face away from Ellen’s curious gaze.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

  ‘I am. It’s just - well - it takes time, I suppose. There are one or two things we need to - well - sort out - as you might say.’

  ‘Then grasp the nettle,’ Ellen said, her attention once again fixed upon the swans. ‘As our new bride is doing here.’

  The young female was making a valiant attempt at a take-off. She was plainly anxious about the sweep of fell which rose steeply all around, and the lack of space she had to play with on the water itself. She was beating her wings with a kind of frantic resolution, sending the water swirling. Even so she too ended up in the rushes, nose down in the sphagnum moss.

  ‘Oh, dear. Not going well, is it?’

  After more abortive attempts she finally managed to get airborne, and for some moments circled the sky above the small tarn, beating her wings dramatically in the thermals. Then with a supreme effort Pegleg was up there with her.

  ‘They’ll go now,’ Ellen said, rather quietly. ‘Find a more salubrious lake, with good company and better landing facilities.’

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Life changes and you have to change with it, or you’re done for.’

  ‘But I shall miss him.’ Beth watched as the pair circled once more, then flew away together, no more than specks in the distance.

  ‘This isn’t the place for them. Every pair must have their own space that they’re both happy with. They need to start afresh, somewhere else. With married quarters.’ She laughed.

  But Beth was sad. ‘Bye, Pegleg,’ she whispered.

  She visited the tarn every day for a week after that, but Ellen’s warning appeared to be correct. Pegleg and his bride never did return to Brockbarrow tarn.

  Beth, however, had no wish to leave Broomdale. F
or all it was quiet and lonely at times, she loved it here. And if her marriage wasn’t quite what it should be, then it was up to her to make it right. She would begin with that dratted parlour.

  ‘Every pair must have their own space that they’re both happy with.’ Isn’t that was Ellen said?

  Beth made her plans and when they were complete, presented them to him. ‘Tam is bringing my things over from Broombank tomorrow. They can’t find space for my stuff indefinitely, it wouldn’t be fair, and I really would like to have my own bits and pieces about me.’

  ‘Bits and pieces of what?’ He looked surprised. ‘Haven’t we enough stuff here?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not mine, is it? I’d like my own cushions, pictures, books and ornaments. Some crockery Meg gave me and, oh, various bits and bobs.’ She smiled. ‘I might re-cover those two old chairs in the parlour, then we could light a fire and be cosy together each evening as the nights draw in. Just the two of us. It could be our room. Don’t you think Billy and Seth would agree this time? It would be so pleasant?’ she wheedled.

  How could it be anything but pleasant to have Beth all to himself? For a moment Andrew felt himself weaken, then an image of her, naked in the candlelight, came into his head and he felt again that burning frustration deep in his belly. The more they were alone together the more he craved for her, and the more her rejection of him rankled. It was like living in a hair shirt. No, best to avoid close contact altogether. He tightened his lips and his resolve.

  ‘I thought we’d settled the matter of that damned parlour. If you start doing things to it, there’ll be all hell to pay.’

  Beth drew in a deep breath. ‘I must take my chances. I’m re-opening negotiations. I know it belonged to your mother, and was used only for special occasions, but things are different now, Andrew. We’re married, and need time to ourselves. We can’t sit every night with those two old men, kind as they are. The place is too small, too cramped, and it’s driving me mad. We need space to get better acquainted, as they say back home in the states.’ She laughed, trying to lighten the tension.