by McNeir, Leo
“I’m very happy for you, now you’ve got Glebe farm.” Anne smiled and looked down. “I know it’s silly, but I was wondering if I could … well, work for you, like an apprentice, you know.” She cut a piece of garlic bread and ate it without looking up. For all its flavour, Marnie knew her young friend did not notice the taste.
“Anne, it’s difficult at the moment. There are so many imponderables. I’m not sure how things will turn out.” It was Marnie’s turn to frown. She hated sounding so negative when faced with Anne’s hopes and dreams. Anne ate and nodded. “Look. I promise you I’ll talk to you about it again, once I have a better idea of how the work’s going. That’s a firm promise.”
“Thanks, Marnie.”
They had just finished the main course when the phone rang.
“Hi Marnie! I’m home. Thanks for a wonderful cruise. How are you, not too lonely?”
“Guess what?” said Marnie cheerfully. “I’ve got my first visitor.” Beth immediately became suspicious. She lowered her voice.
“Is everything all right?”
“It’s Anne. My designer friend.”
Beth became more suspicious. “The one you told she really ought to go to college but wants to work for you?”
“Yes.” Marnie’s voice sounded a little strained.
Beth continued. “The one who fully understands there’s no chance of that happening? The one who wouldn’t run away from home?”
“That’s right.” Marnie hoped her voice sounded convincing to both the people listening to her.
“Marnie?”
“Yes?”
“It’s a good job you were careful not to give her the wrong idea.”
*
During her first conscious moments the next morning, Marnie had to make an effort to remember where she was. She reached up onto the shelf above the bed and pulled down the travel alarm. Six forty-five. The first day. In her mind she went through a list of tasks, meetings to be arranged, people to ring. From now on every part of her work depended entirely on her, every phone call, every message. She would type all her own letters, put them in envelopes and stick the stamps on. Her staff were the answerphone and the fax machine, with Dolly giving moral support. Here, this morning, with the light creeping round the curtains and filtering into the cabin of Sally Ann, she accepted the challenges of her new life. She would do it. Just do it. She would take control. But first, there were matters to be resolved. She turned onto her side and called softly round the corner of the dividing partition.
“Anne, Anne. It’s time to get up.” There was no reply and Marnie lay back on her pillow, wondering if she could let the girl sleep on for a while, but there was no way of preparing breakfast or moving about the boat without disturbing her. She called again, a little more loudly. “Anne. Time for breakfast.” There was a sound of movement, an intake of breath, very faint, as if a face was partly under the covers. “I think there are some croissants and there should be enough milk in the fridge for cereal, but I suspect we’re out of orange juice.”
A sigh came from the direction of the galley and Marnie turned her head to speak again. As she did so, the face of Dolly appeared beside her, the cats front paws resting on the bed as she stood on hind legs and blinked at Marnie. “Good morning, Dolly. Time for your breakfast, too.” She stroked the soft ears and the purring began. Marnie swung her legs from under the cover and sat up to look round at Anne. The bed was empty. Marnie frowned. “Anne, are you in the loo? Are you okay?” No reply. She got up and quickly put on jeans and sweatshirt. The doors to the cratch were unbolted and pulled together. Anne had left via the bows.
It was a fine, mild morning with a light haze on the water, the sun flickering through the branches. There was no sound but birdsong, and the buildings of the farm, glimpsed through the bushes and trees, looked abandoned and desolate. Marnie walked towards them. The door to the barn was shut, but it yielded as soon as Marnie pushed it. Anne was sitting at the desk, sorting through piles of papers.
“How did you get in here? This is my top security wing.”
“You left the key on the workbench in the galley. The label said ‘office’. Your filing’s a bit behind.”
“It can’t be. I haven’t started yet.”
“Well, the paperwork you brought with you is all over the place.”
“It’s nothing important. I’ll deal with it as I settle in.”
“You won’t be settling in if you don’t sort those out.” Anne pointed to a small collection of papers on the corner of the desk. Marnie picked them up. The telephone connection bill (she’d wondered where that had gone), the mail redirection form for her flat, the invoice for her professional indemnity insurance. She replaced them on the desk. “I think you ought to do them straight away,” said Anne, “and I’ll go to the post box so they catch the first collection.”
“After you’ve had some breakfast,” said Marnie. “We’ll drop them off on our way.”
“Okay.”
Marnie looked round the barn. “You’ve been tidying up.”
“It needed it. There’s a black bag over in the corner next to a pile of paper that I think is rubbish. You’d better have a look before we throw it out. When do the bins get collected round here?”
“Er, I’m not sure. I’ve got to check up on that sort of thing.” Anne reached out for a pad and made a note. “What’s that?” said Marnie.
“Queries list.”
“It’s rather long, isn’t it?” Anne looked pointedly at the ‘urgent’ pile and the papers still waiting in front of her to be checked. She gave a theatrical sigh.
As they walked back to Sally Ann, Marnie breathed in deeply the fresh morning air while Anne carried the bundle of urgent papers, glancing through them while taking care not to trip over uneven cobbles. Marnie gave Anne a rundown on the availability of breakfast and waited while her friend pondered.
“Marnie, in Business Studies at school they taught us the most important problems facing small firms. You’re a small firm aren’t you?”
“About five foot seven,” said Marnie. “That’s quite tall, really.”
“I’m being serious. Mrs Alderman said the number one problem is cash-flow. Would you agree with that?”
“Do I get a GCSE if I give the right answer?”
“Do you agree?” Anne persisted, realising that Marnie was floating on a cloud of excitement on this first day of a new life. She felt the same herself, tinged with the knowledge that for her the first day was about to end in half an hour with a drive home.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Marnie. “Don’t people call it the ‘life-blood of the enterprise’? That’s rather good. I think I deserve a GCSE for that.” Anne handed her a paper from the bundle. “What’s this?” said Marnie taking it.
“A blocked artery,” said Anne. “It’s an invoice to Willards Brewery. It’s got Friday’s date on. Does it need a covering letter? I could set up a template on the computer.”
The conversation continued through breakfast. Marnie hastily dealt with the most urgent bills and forms ready for posting. They set off at eight. Anne got out of the car at the post box and read the notice giving details of collections. Buckling her seat belt, she gave Marnie an outline of the service.
“There’s a collection at eight-fifty. The main thing is to remember that the afternoon post goes at five-fifteen. Also, the sub post office in the village shop closes at one o’clock on Wednesdays.” Marnie’s brow furrowed as she tried to take in the information while guiding the car onto the road leading out of the village. Anne scribbled the times on her list, which by now boasted a number of items crossed out. “I’ll leave you the list so you can check it over later.” She put it in the glove box and almost immediately took it out again to add another entry.
“What’s that?” said Marnie.
“It’s the computer helpline.”
“But the computer’s still in its box. I don’t even know if I’ll need the helpline until I get it out.”
“That’s why you’ll need it.”
Suddenly the chatter came to a stop. The jobs list went into the glove box with a final click and Anne sat silently looking out at the countryside flashing past the window. Marnie felt the change of atmosphere like a cloud across the sun. They drove down the dual carriageway and turned off towards the Chilterns and Anne’s home town. It seemed only a short time before they found themselves pulling into her street, the ordinary street of ordinary houses, a million miles from the strange ruins and isolation of Glebe Farm.
Jackie opened the front door, smiling warmly, with the smell of coffee lurking in the hall. As if on cue, two slices of toast jumped in the toaster as they entered the kitchen and Marnie was offered a chair. The house seemed so solid and permanent after Glebe Farm. Anne excused herself, saying she wanted to change into clean clothes, and went upstairs. From the stairs she could hear the conversation, her mother enquiring about the farm, the journey up on Sally Ann and the new work; Marnie, her voice lower pitched, became less distinct as Anne reached her room.
Bundling a fresh shirt, underwear and jeans under her arm, she went to the bathroom and washed. It was all very convenient and familiar, her home, her family. Anne had never been a rebel. She valued her family and home too much for that, had come too close to losing it all when her father was made redundant. But somehow, she knew that now was the time for change. Finishing her exams at school had been the end of a line, like shutting a gate behind you on a footpath. She finished brushing her teeth, pulled on her clothes and went back to her room.
From the window she could see out into the street. There was no-one in sight. Parked cars. A caravan on a neighbour’s drive. Anne brushed her hair, not noticing her reflection in the mirror. The sounds of conversation from the kitchen were muted and she knew that at any moment her mother would call up the stairs and ask if she wanted toast or coffee. She would go down, say good-bye to Marnie and watch the car drive up the road. She would wave and smile until it went round the corner at the end of the street. She could see the dark blue Rover parked outside the house, stylish and purposeful, like Marnie, like the person she wanted to be. Behind her, she could hear footsteps on the stairs. Her mother was coming up to see if she was ready.
She turned to see Marnie standing in the doorway. Instinctively, Anne held out her hand and attempted a smile. Marnie came forward and held Anne’s hand in both hers. Anne remembered the promise that Marnie had made to talk to her about plans as soon as she knew how things were going. It was some kind of comfort.
“I think,” Marnie began, glancing towards the wardrobe. “I think you’d better pack some warm things. It can get quite chilly in the evenings on the canal, especially by the end of summer.” Anne struggled to make sense of the words. “Oh and let me give you a word of advice. It’s a good idea not to go around with your mouth open like that. You might swallow a fly and …” Marnie had no chance to continue as Anne leapt forward and hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe.
*
“Why did you change your mind? What did mum say?” Anne had managed to contain herself while packing and little had been said in the house except that Anne was going to stay with Marnie for an unspecified time and “see how it went from there.” Marnie threaded her way through the morning traffic and pulled onto the dual carriageway before replying.
“First, I thought I was being rather hasty. After all, your exams are over and you’re free from school. You can decide what to do when the results come out in August. A lot could have happened by then. Your mum told me about your dad’s new job and that it seemed to be okay. So I thought I could at least invite you for the weekend, in fact I would have done anyway, but for the lack of civilised mod cons or a guest room.”
“But it’s not just for the weekend,” said Anne.
“No. Let’s take it in stages. You can certainly stay for the summer and longer if you want. We can decide how long when we see how things settle down.”
“That’s great.”
“I think we ought to agree on a basis for your stay.”
“Ground rules,” said Anne.
“Terms and emoluments,” said Marnie in a mock pompous voice.
“Oh, I don’t want anything,” said Anne quickly. Marnie ignored the interruption.
“It would be great if you could sort out the filing, as you were doing this morning, and help me to organise the office.” Anne reached into the glove box and pulled out her list. She read it over to Marnie.
“I can get the computer set up and running,” she added.
“Right. Now, I will pay you a weekly amount, say …” Before she could finish, Anne put her hand on Marnie’s arm.
“Marnie, you don’t know how much you’ll be earning at first. Board and lodging will be fine, if that’s all right. Apprentices in the old days never got much pay. They were being trained free.” Marnie shook her head. She suggested an amount.
“No, no,” said Anne. “Board and lodging, like an apprentice, like Telford or Jessop.”
“Blimey,” said Marnie. “I’m having an industrial dispute on my first morning. I think I’ve just taken on a shop steward. Look, I’m the employer, I set the conditions. Now, do you want the good news or the bad news?” Anne was puzzled by the question. “Well?” said Marnie.
“The bad news, I suppose,” said Anne.
“Okay. The bad news is you’re going to get the worst pay and conditions of anyone, probably, in the whole of the British interior design industry.”
“Right. And the good news?”
“The good news is I’m back-dating it to the start of the week.” Marnie was happy that she had resolved her first office problem. Anne was just happy with everything. The sun was beginning to come through the thinning clouds. It promised to be a fine early summer’s day, as Marnie signalled for the turning off the dual carriageway and took the road to Knightly St John.
10
Sarah was already awake, or perhaps it was the noises that woke her. She rose silently from her bed, trying not to disturb her sisters and looked down into the lane in the pale light. It was scarcely dawn.
“What is it, Sarah?” From the furthest bed one sister called out to her in a whisper.
“Horses. I can hear horses. The men returning!” No longer concerned with silence, she put on her shoes and pulled a shawl over her nightshift. By the time she reached the front door, the house was awake and she was followed into the lane by her sisters and her mother, half smiling, half anxious at what they might discover.
At once they knew this was no homecoming. There were raised voices, women screaming, men shouting, the stamp of horses and the rattle of harness. Above it all rose a pall of smoke and flame that they saw before they came to the road. The smell of burning filled the air. Sarah held the arm of one of her sisters to prevent her rushing ahead. They stopped at the end of the lane, eyes staring, hands raised to their mouths. Soldiers on horses were throwing lighted torches onto the roofs of houses. One man begging them to stop was struck down with a pistol barrel for his troubles. Men and women and children were running among the horses, others were standing by the roadside wailing in despair.
“What men are they?” said Sarah’s mother.
“They must be the King’s men,” said Sarah and in that moment, two of the men detached themselves from the main party and galloped towards them, one holding a torch, the other with sabre raised. Sarah heard her sisters gasp and reached for their hands. “Get behind us, mother!” she called over her shoulder and began shouting at the soldiers. Her two sisters joined in, a weak, thin line of girls in shifts blocking the entrance to the lane, daring the men to charge them. The girls lifted their hands in the air, screaming like demons, frightened and frightening. The soldier lobbed the torch over their heads and it fell short by yards, spluttering on the dusty path. His horse shied. The other soldier reigned in and they turned back. The sisters and their mother clutched each other, trembling where they stood.
&nb
sp; “What do we do?” said a sister.
“We must stay,” said Sarah.
“How long?”
“As long as it takes, until they go. We must see it through.”
*
Thursday 15 June
The first day of the New Life almost began with a head-on crash with the post van by the field gate at the top of the track. Admittedly, the incident took place at walking speed, but it could have resulted in an embarrassing shunt. The postman gestured to Marnie to come on while he reversed into the field to let her pass. She drew level and opened her window.
“Sorry. Didn’t expect to run into anyone.”
“Same here. It’s been years since any post went to Glebe Farm, but there were so many letters I thought it had to be right. I’ve left a bundle against the wall by the barn door.” He was an older man with a country accent and Marnie spotted the brass badge bearing the name Alan.
“My name’s Marnie Walker. Nice to meet you. This is Anne. We only got here last night. I’ll go round to the post office this morning and let them know we’re here.”
“Right. Well, I hope you’ll be happy down there.” He paused as if trying to find the right words. “Where are you actually, I mean, are you living there, at the farm, like?” Marnie suspected that this would only be the first of many occasions when she would have to explain about living on Sally Ann while refurbishing the buildings. His reaction, self-control just this side of incredulity, would probably become familiar in the days and weeks to come.
“I think we ought to record an explanation on tape and just play it to people when they ask that,” said Anne as they bumped down the track. At the barn door she gathered up the small bundle of mail, bound with a rubber band, while Marnie put the key in the lock. She threw the doors wide open to let in the light and the fresh air and Anne dumped her holdall on the floor by the desk. “Shall I put my bag on Sally Ann? We won’t want it cluttering the office all day.”
“Okay. Let’s work out a programme for the morning. I’ll go through the post and I have some phone calls to make.”
