Elm Tree Road

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Lije said. ‘The poor lad is always hungry. But I don’t suppose you’d have eaten it after it fell in the dirt.’

  ‘No. He’s welcome to it.’ She’d realised by now that the youth was slow-witted, poor fellow.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Nell Greenhill.’

  He looked down at her left hand. ‘Where’s your husband?’

  ‘Dead.’

  ‘Don’t you have friends or family to stay with? Even our women don’t usually go travelling round the countryside on their own.’

  He swung her up in his arms and she forgot to answer, because that made her feel helpless yet protected, which was such a relief, though it took her breath away to be so close to his big warm body. Cliff had been thin and wiry, not much taller than her, but Lije was even taller than her father, and he was muscular and tanned from an outdoor life. But he wasn’t like Bart Fuller. Lije had a cheerful friendly face, and she didn’t feel at all afraid of him.

  ‘Take a fall, did you?’ he asked as he began walking.

  ‘Yes. My own fault. I wasn’t watching where I was putting my feet. Are you taking me to the next village?’

  ‘No. To our camp. It’s much closer.’

  She wasn’t sure she liked the thought of that.

  As if he’d read her mind, he said quietly, ‘No need to be afraid, Mrs Greenhill. We’ve never murdered anyone yet. Gran’ll look after you. She’s a great one for waifs and strays, Gran is. She says if you’re kind to others, the world’ll be kind to you.’

  ‘It’s a nice thought.’

  ‘But you don’t believe it?’

  ‘No.’

  Another of those assessing looks. ‘I think the world’s been unkind to you.’

  She couldn’t bear to talk of that, so shook her head slightly and looked away. To her relief, he respected her silence.

  It only took them a few minutes to walk down the lane and turn off it onto a narrow track. The other man hadn’t said a word the whole time. He moved forward to open a gate to the left and checked that the lad shut it carefully after them.

  ‘We camp here every year at this time,’ Lije said. ‘The farmer doesn’t mind as long as we don’t steal anything or make a mess. And we don’t. We always give him a couple of our baskets in thanks. And pegs. People always want pegs.’

  ‘Sick of the sight of the damn things, I am,’ Saul muttered.

  ‘Language! We have a lady here,’ scolded Lije.

  Saul shrugged and moved slightly ahead.

  They turned into a field and there in the corner were several Gypsy caravans, colourful ones which looked well cared for, plus a couple of small carts. The vans were gathered in a sociable way round a central fire, with the horses standing together nearby, as if they too enjoyed company.

  As Lije walked across to the most brightly painted van, Gran came to the door and called, ‘Take her to the stream first. She needs to soak that foot. Give it a few minutes, then bring her back to me and I’ll bandage it.’

  He changed direction, walking past the caravans, ignoring the people who stared and the children who whispered to one another. There was a stream at the lower end of the small field and he set her down gently on one bank. ‘Better get your stockings off, unless you want to soak them too.’

  She blushed, wondering if she could manage to do that without showing her upper legs. With some difficulty she managed to get her suspenders undone and started to push the stockings down, but it hurt too much to finish the job and she couldn’t help whimpering in pain.

  Lije bent down to lift her feet gently in turn and pull off the black woollen stockings. He chuckled. ‘No need to blush. I’ve seen women’s legs before more than a few times.’

  He was surprisingly gentle as he helped her place her right foot in the chilly water flowing past, then the left one. ‘There. That’ll help.’

  He went to sit on a nearby tree stump and wait. He didn’t try to make conversation, so she didn’t either. Then she realised something.

  ‘My knapsack!’

  ‘Saul will leave it with Gran and it’ll be safe there. She’ll look through it at what you’ve got, but she won’t steal anything. She might offer to buy something, though. They don’t like us going into shops, you see. Don’t trust us.’

  ‘It’s mostly got dirty clothes in it.’

  ‘You’re blushing again. I never saw such a lass for blushing. My sisters get their clothes dirty too. Do you think I’m too blind to see their underwear hanging out to dry? Don’t you think they see my drawers whenever they wash ’em?’

  ‘You’re very blunt-spoken.’

  He shrugged. ‘I say as I see. And you’re very closed to the world.’ He laid one of his huge tanned hands on hers. ‘It’s a beautiful world mostly, you know, even if bad things happen. Listen to those birds getting ready to sleep. And look at the patterns in the water, or the way the setting sun’s colouring the sky. I don’t know how folk can bear to shut themselves away from it all.’

  She followed his pointing finger from a row of birds in a tree, to the water, which was starting to reflect the red-gold of the sky, and then she looked up to the sky itself. ‘It is beautiful.’

  ‘And that beauty’s free for all who bother to stop and look at it.’ He closed his hand over hers and gave it a quick squeeze. ‘It’ll come better, lass. Whatever it was that hurt you, it’ll come better.’

  She didn’t try to answer that, continuing to enjoy the sunset sky. After a few minutes the pain of the cold water on her ankle brought her attention back to her present problem and she eased one foot out of the water.

  ‘Probably had enough for now. Let’s get you back to Gran. Here, hold tight to your shoes and stockings.’ He dumped them in her lap, scooped her up and carried her back to the caravans.

  Gran was sitting outside hers and stood up as they approached. ‘Bring her inside and I’ll bandage that foot.’

  When Nell was lying on a padded bench that ran along part of the inside of the van, Gran told Lije to leave them to it and came to sit beside her with a roll of clean rag. ‘Lift your skirt and I’ll bandage it nice and tightly. It’ll be all right in a day or two, though you’ll not be able to walk much for a while. You might as well stay with us. We’re not going anywhere for a day or two.’

  Nell stared at her in surprise and Gran gave her a smile so like her grandson’s that she looked suddenly much younger.

  ‘Do you have room for me, Mrs … er … Gran?’

  ‘If you’re not too proud to use that bench for a bed. It’s Lije’s but he can sleep outside. He does that half the time anyway. Hates to be indoors, that lad does.’ She continued to bind the ankle slowly, making sure the bandage would support her, but wasn’t too tight. ‘Hiking, were you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You won’t be able to walk away from your troubles for ever, you know.’

  ‘How did you—?’

  ‘Sorrow in your eyes. And young women don’t usually walk round the country on their own, even widowed ones.’ She finished binding the ankle and fastened the strip of clean rag with a safety pin.

  Nell surprised herself by confiding, ‘It helps to get out into the open air.’

  ‘Yes, it’d help me too. But you’re not a wanderer, not really. You’re a home body. I’ll read your palm before you go.’

  ‘You must let me pay you for helping me.’

  Gran drew herself up. ‘We didn’t ask for payment.’

  ‘But I usually pay for my night’s lodging and food. That’d be only fair.’

  ‘We’ll see when you go. Up to you what you feel like giving us. If it’s nothing, that’s all right too.’ She stood up. ‘Now, I’m hungry, even if you aren’t.’

  ‘I am. There’s some bread in my knapsack, and cheese. You could add them to the meal. No use wasting them.’

  Gran nodded, as if in approval, and went to the knapsack. She seemed to know exactly where to find the food in it and Nell remembered Lij
e saying his grandmother would look through the things but not steal any of them.

  Somehow she didn’t mind that. Gran was like no one she’d ever met before but you couldn’t help trusting her.

  The next two days seemed unreal to Nell, more like a dream. The fine weather continued, so at first she sat on a blanket on the ground, propped against a wheel of the caravan. Everyone was busy, either doing the domestic tasks, caring for the animals, making baskets or carving things in wood, mainly clothes pegs.

  She asked if she could help and they gave her peas to pod and carrots to scrape. Later, a woman brought a small baby across to her.

  ‘Keep an eye on her, will you? Just for an hour. Don’t want her to choke or cry herself silly, but I’ve got the washing to do.’

  It took all Nell’s courage to touch the baby when she whimpered, then she picked her up and cuddled her, not caring if anyone saw the tears running down her cheeks. She saw Gran give her a sharp look, but no one came near her. And when the tears dried, she found herself enjoying the snuggly little baby.

  Lije came back from the farm with a wheelbarrow full of big chunks of wood and a bucket with a lid. It was set carefully in the middle so that it couldn’t fall over. ‘Here’s the milk, Gran.’

  ‘Go and stand it in the stream, you fool, or it’ll go sour.’

  The old woman seemed to be directing all the activities. But even so, her fingers were always busy at other tasks. Today she was weaving a small dish out of long stalks of grass, a job that seemed very skilful.

  By the third day Nell was able to limp round with the help of a walking stick Lije had made her from a fallen branch. When she stopped for a rest, Gran came to sit by her, bringing the little basket to work on as they talked.

  ‘That’s very pretty.’

  ‘It’s nearly finished. I made it for you.’

  Nell was surprised. ‘For me? Why?’

  ‘To remember us by. We shan’t meet again.’

  ‘How can you be so sure of the future?’

  Gran smiled very slightly. ‘No one’s sure of anything in this world, but I can sometimes see what’s likely. When I read palms, I don’t tell lies.’

  ‘Oh.’

  She reached out and picked up Nell’s hand, staring at it for a while, then looking at her sympathetically. ‘You’ve had a bad time, lost a child. That’s why you were crying when you held Tiddy’s baby.’

  Nell swallowed hard, not wanting to talk about Sarah, and tried to pull her hand away. But Gran kept firm hold and turned back to the hand again.

  ‘You’ll find another child to love.’

  ‘No one can replace my Sarah.’

  Gran looked at her sadly. ‘I know that. I’ve lost two children myself. But the child you meet will help fill the empty space inside your heart.’ She ran her index finger lightly along the creases of skin on Nell’s palm.

  ‘Hope grows and hope fades, but things will get better. Watch out for three big trees on a hill. Elm trees. You’ll have reached the end of this journey then. They’ll shelter you for a time, those elm trees will.’ She frowned. ‘You have an enemy. Be careful of him.’

  Nell looked at her in surprise. ‘I can’t think who would wish me ill.’

  ‘Be careful,’ Gran said again. She traced the creases. ‘You’ll never be rich, but you’ll never be short of money, either. And you’ll live a long life. Happy mostly, but sad sometimes, as all lives are. But there’ll be enough happiness to keep you going steady-like. What more can any of us hope for? You’ll find the person you’re looking for, but the other person you love isn’t where you expect.’

  She let go of Nell’s hand. ‘Don’t believe me, do you?’

  ‘I … don’t know. I’ve never had my palm read before.’

  ‘Time will show if I speak true. Now, it’s going to be raining tomorrow, but we’ll be moving on anyway. We’ll get you to a town and you can find a comfortable place to stay for a few days, till your ankle’s better. Don’t do too much walking, even then. Take things easy. You’re not in a hurry, after all.’

  ‘I still want to pay you and—’

  Gran held up one hand in a gesture to stop her. ‘Gifts are good between friends, but we’ll not talk of payment. My granddaughter, Phenie, is getting married soon. She admired your pretty underclothes when she washed them. Would you miss one chemise?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Nell limped across to her knapsack and took out one of her two spare chemises, not without a sigh. She hoped she could find another as pretty to buy. ‘Give her this one.’

  Gran shook her head. ‘You should give it her, since it’s your gift. I’ll send her over.’

  Phenie came to the caravan, looking rosy and happy.

  ‘I heard you’re getting married,’ Nell said. ‘I wanted to wish you well and give you a present.’

  When she held out the chemise, Phenie’s eyes widened incredulously. ‘For me? Oh, it’s lovely!’ She held it against herself, beaming, gave Nell a quick hug, and under her grandmother’s eyes, calmed down and said, ‘I wish you happy travelling.’

  When she’d gone to show the chemise to the others, Gran held out the little basket, which was now like a small flexible bowl. ‘Won’t weigh you down too much.’

  Nell took it with delight. ‘It’s beautiful. How do you manage to make the tiny patterns so perfect in every detail? It’s like lace round the edge.’

  ‘I’ve been practising for longer than you’ve been alive. But people won’t pay as much for these, because they’re small. They want bigger things for their money. I still make my lucky grass bowls for family and friends, though.’ She studied Nell, head on one side. ‘I don’t think you’ll wake up crying for your child again. You will weep now and then when something reminds you – mothers do – but you’ll sleep more soundly.’

  ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done.’

  ‘Only brutes walk past someone in trouble.’

  Lije came to find Nell. He was driving a small trap with a piebald pony pulling it and took her to a bus stop, from where she could travel into Crewe. ‘Take the time to get better before you set off again,’ he said as he waited with her for the bus.

  ‘Gran said that too, and I will. Thank you for your help, Lije.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He fumbled in his pocket. ‘Here. This is a present for the child you’ll one day love.’ He smiled at her surprise. ‘Gran’s not the only one who can sense the future. You’ll see.’

  The bus came just then and she only had time to cram his gift in her pocket and climb awkwardly on board. When she craned her neck to look behind them, she saw him driving off down the road, not looking back. She wished he’d stayed to wave her goodbye.

  She pulled the small piece of carved wood out of her pocket and found it was a whistle with tiny flowers and insects carved in the surface. It was a delightful piece. Any child would love it.

  But whatever Gran had said, she couldn’t imagine loving a child again. It left you too open to hurt.

  * * *

  Crewe was big and grey, not at all to her taste now she’d grown used to the open countryside, though the people she asked directions from were friendly enough. The air tasted smoky, and when she ventured out of the lodging house she’d found in a quiet street, the smells weren’t always pleasant.

  The following day her ankle was feeling a lot better, so she walked slowly round Market Square and part-way along Victoria Street, looking at the shops. She came to a draper’s which sold ladies’ underwear, so bought another chemise to replace the pretty one she’d given to Phenie. This one wasn’t nearly as pretty, so she couldn’t resist buying some ribbon to trim it with, even though she told herself this was stupid because no one else was going to see it.

  But she’d had so many plain and practical garments in her life, so many second-hand clothes, that something in her hungered for dainty things to wear. Flora had been right that she should buy pretty things for herself, for the sheer pleasure of it. Renie would approve of that
too, she was sure.

  She wondered how her younger sister was getting on, if she’d received all the postcards. And on that thought, she bought three more postcards to send to her friends and sister.

  While Nell was at the boarding house, fretting at the limitations her ankle imposed, there was a minor crisis. The landlady’s daughter, who helped her mother with the hard work of running it, scalded herself badly while her mother was out.

  Nell heard the screams coming from the back of the house and hurried along from the dining room, which was also the day room, to see if she could help. She found Janie in the kitchen and made her hold the injured hand under the cold tap. While the girl did this, Nell picked up the ladle and some peas that had been knocked off the table, and calmed the child down.

  By the time Mrs Ransome came back, Janie was cradling her scalded hand, wrapped in a clean tea towel, and Nell was shelling the rest of the peas.

  After scolding her daughter for daydreaming again and getting into trouble, Mrs Ransome apologised to her guest. ‘It’s not right that you should be doing that. But how I’m to get tea ready in time without Janie’s help, I don’t know. Those men are always hungry when they come back from work.’

  ‘I’m happy to help with any chores that I can do sitting down,’ Nell offered. ‘I’m a little tired of sitting on my own, reading.’

  Mrs Ransome hesitated. ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’

  ‘I’m happy to help, truly.’

  So Nell spent the rest of the afternoon in the cosy kitchen, chatting and working, peeling potatoes, chopping onions and beating some eggs for a pudding.

  By the time she limped along to the dining room, the meal was almost ready.

  At this place it was hard for the men to ignore her as they had in the hotel, since the six paying guests were all seated round the one table. Two of them lived there permanently, three were regulars who had rounds in the area. They were polite to Nell, but chatted mainly to one another about sales.