He was silent until they had travelled some distance from Sandilands Farm and then, as though there had been no break in his words he said, ‘You heard her, Betsy – what she called me. Joseph and me, we are not full brothers you see. I have always known that.’
‘You are her son, no matter who your father was. Did she used to taunt you with that too when you were little, Daniel?’
‘Yes. I don’t often think about it now and she did feed and clothe me when I was a boy. I still owe her that.’ He gave the reins a flick and the pony moved faster.
‘You do not owe her anything. She’s a cruel, cruel woman and I hate her for what she did to you. What she is still doing to you. Oh Daniel, my love, if I had known all that I would not have lifted a finger to help her.’
She leaned against him and he said quietly, ‘Careful, you’ll tip us out. It’s over now. I should not have mentioned it, so we won’t talk of it again.’
For the rest of the journey Betsy thought about the cruelty and ignorance in the world and renewed her determination to do something about it. Teaching folk to read and write was the first step. More and more she realized how lucky she had been. Looking across to Daniel’s set face as he drove along, she knew that good did sometimes come from bad practices. She would always think that selling people was wicked, but in her case it had proved to be a blessing, even though she still felt ashamed to have had to stand in that line in the market and be looked over like livestock.
As they reached Redwood Farm they saw two of their pigs wandering down the road with Jim herding them back inside. Daniel stopped and climbed down, limping along to help.
‘I was milking the cows when I thought I heard someone,’ Jim said. ‘When I finished I checked. The gate was open and the pigs were out. I’m sure someone was about but whoever it was had gone by the time I came out.’
‘Never mind, Jim,’ Betsy said. ‘Come and have a stoop of ale now everything is safe again.’ Looking across to her husband’s tired face she added, ‘And you need to rest that ankle Daniel.’ She took hold of his hand as the three of them went indoors. She pushed away the immediate thought that Thomas Shooter had returned and let the pigs out as revenge for her spurning of him. Was he in the area again and was this the start of a spiteful campaign against them? She shivered and decided to keep an eye on everything even more than usual.
That night as they almost fell into bed and into each other’s arms, she was laughing and crying together. Coping with Daniel’s surly mother and fending off his brother while running their household for a few days had made her appreciate even more the joy of their own home. She said no more to Daniel about the way his mother treated him and Joseph. Even if he accepted it and tried to please her, she never would for his sake. Maybe it isn’t only women who need to be set free, she thought, but I cannot discuss that with Daniel because I know it would hurt him too much.
Snow fell on Christmas Eve and as Daniel piled more logs on to the fire and Dumbo came to rub against her legs before settling in front of the blaze Betsy thought she must be the happiest woman in the land. All her preparations were done ready for tomorrow’s festive meal and she even dared to wonder if 1822 would bring them the child they both hoped for.
‘Young Tom who worked here last year is back,’ Daniel said coming into the kitchen one morning the following April. Betsy shivered but her husband had his back to her at that point and didn’t notice.
‘He’ll be over the stable again. If you get time slip over with some sheets and bits and pieces so he can be comfortable there, will you?’
As he went through the door Betsy found her voice. ‘Where is he now, Daniel?’
‘Down the bottom field. He can eat with us at midday, and fend for himself in the evening.’ Then he was gone and Betsy shivered again.
She quickly gathered the things she needed and hurried over while she knew Thomas Shooter was a long way away, but his words from a twelvemonth ago as he left the farm pounded in her head. ‘You’ll pay for this.’
She knew she ought to tell Daniel and the problem would be solved. Yet surely she could handle the trouble herself. If she complained to Daniel now he would wonder why she had not done so last year. She must simply never let a situation arise when she was alone with Tom.
He greeted her with a grin when he came to the table at midday, but said nothing to her. Nevertheless she was conscious that he was watching her throughout the meal and she felt very uncomfortable and glad when the ordeal was over and the men returned to work.
In spite of her optimism at Christmas, she had, since the last miscarriage, been afraid to hope too much that one day she might carry Daniel’s child to full term. Daniel said that the next time she must rest from the moment they knew but although she had not argued with him about this, she knew it wasn’t the answer. The cause, in her view, still lay within her family background and she was determined to find out much more about the Choicelys. She wasn’t sure how she would do this, but her mind constantly reverted to Mrs Wallasey and her many wise words during the years she had worked for her.
‘There is always a way,’ she had told Betsy on more than one occasion. ‘When a difficulty stands between your dream and the reality, examine your dream and if it is genuine then look for another route around the problem.’
‘My dream is genuine,’ she told Dumbo as he rubbed round her legs one morning when she was working about the house. ‘But I don’t know how to find the answer without upsetting Daniel.’
The cat moved away, curled his tail around his body and sat as still as the china-cat ornaments offered for sale in the marketplace. Betsy smiled down at him, ‘You have a lot of patience, Dumbo,’ she said, ‘but not much intelligence, I’m afraid. It’s all instinct with you.’
She had no more trouble with Thomas Shooter. She only saw him when he came to eat in the kitchen and to her great relief he ignored her, never lingering now but going back to the fields with the others. She was glad she hadn’t made a fuss because they needed all the help they could get at this time of year and it could be difficult to find anyone else now.
For those first few days after his return she was anxious in case he pulled the trick of coming over faint ‘queer’ as he put it, and not returning to the stable loft, but coming into the kitchen instead, but it didn’t happen and she felt herself relaxing more. Nevertheless she stayed well away from the stable.
It looked like being a good harvest but Betsy tried to think of an excuse not to attend the harvest supper when the time came, yet if she stayed home that could present an even greater danger. Perhaps it would be best to take part but to stick by Daniel’s side throughout the entire evening. These thoughts went round in her head as she busied herself with her daily tasks, until the morning towards the end of harvesting when she saw from the kitchen window her husband and Tom approaching the farmhouse.
Tom went round the corner to the stable and Daniel came into the house. ‘Bit early for food,’ he said, ‘but I want to talk to you while the others aren’t here.’
Wiping her hands she turned towards him, and he pulled a chair out for her to sit on. ‘I’m thinking of taking young Tom on permanently, Betsy. We can afford it and it will mean you won’t need to work so hard outside. I know it’s a strange time to do this but there’s a lot of maintenance work to do around the farm and he can do all this during the next few months.’
At first she didn’t fully take in what he was saying, then she felt herself gripping the sides of the chair as his meaning crept into her brain.
‘No,’ she said, then, grabbing at his hand, ‘No, Daniel, please, please don’t do that.’
‘Why not? He’s a good worker and—’
‘I can’t explain but please don’t do it.’ He was gazing at her now and quickly she added, ‘It’s – it’s just something I feel. He’s not good for the farm – I just know it, Daniel. Please.’
Her husband’s face looked grim. ‘I’m partly doing it for you. I thought you’d be happy. You
won’t be toiling in the fields if we take on another hand.’
His expression softened and he put an arm round her shoulders, ‘Betsy, I love you and I want the best for you. Someday you’ll have the children we both want and it will be better for you not to have to work so hard on the farm. Probably won’t need to work in the fields at all. Tom has proved his worth – the fact that he returned this year – after all, he could have picked up casual jobs almost anywhere, but he chose to come back here. Anyway, unless you can find a proper reason not to I shall take him on.’ He let his hand slip from her shoulder and she took it in hers, and pressed it close to her heart.
‘Please, I beg of you Daniel, don’t do this.…’ She saw Tom come into the kitchen, saw the satisfied smirk on his face and stifled the scream that threatened to erupt. Daniel turned towards the door and motioned Tom to sit at the already laid-up table. Jim arrived at that moment and they all sat down to eat.
Betsy thought she wouldn’t be able to swallow a mouthful, but when she noticed Tom glance in her direction she took a large wedge of cheese and put it on her plate. She would not let him see how rattled she was, but her determination to stand out against this proposal at all costs soared. If necessary she would have to confide to Daniel what had happened, and although she knew the hired hand would deny it, Daniel would believe her. Of course he would. The tiny seed of anxiety that he would question why she hadn’t told him before was firmly squashed as she stared boldly across the table at Thomas Shooter.
Daniel stayed behind when the two other men left for the fields. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘what is all this nonsense about, Betsy?’
‘I don’t like Tom Shooter.’
‘You won’t have to work with him. You will only see him for a short time for his meals. He’s a strong lad and—’
‘No,’ she said, ‘no, Daniel. There’s something nasty about him.’
‘You’ll have to come up with more than that.’
‘He – he tried to kiss me at the harvest supper last year.’
Daniel said, ‘The devil he did. I won’t take him on. Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘He was leaving the next day and I didn’t want to worry you.’ When her husband left the kitchen to return to work Betsy sat down quickly. Her heart seemed to be racing around inside her. She put her arms on the table and rested her head on them for a few moments. This always calmed her when she felt really churned up.
Her relief at how easy it had been after all made her feel light-headed. She realized that she was worried about how Daniel would react. His sudden surges of temper never lasted long, but when they happened they were like an explosion and this time she knew she had no right to fly back at him as she usually did.
She stood up and moved across the kitchen. There was much to do for the supper tonight when all the farms in the area joined together for their thanksgiving for the harvest. There was no time to dwell on her joy that by this time tomorrow Tom Shooter would be on his way, never to return to Redwood Farm.
Occasionally Betsy saw the farmer’s wives and some of the children at market but she did not know them well. A lot of the wives were older than she was but she did not look for their friendship as she would have done had she been able to go to market during her time with George Hatton. Now she had a busy and fulfilling life, apart from her childlessness. And that was of more concern to her than to Daniel, for she longed to have a family with him. However many children there were she knew he would support her in giving them all, boys or girls, as good an education as they could.
The local farmers all came to Redwood for the celebrations. ‘We have one of the largest barns round here,’ Daniel had told her before her first harvest supper, ‘but everyone brings their share and more.’
Betsy had been baking for days, as had the other farmers’ wives in the area, and the dairymaid Hannah had been helping. By that evening the trestle-tables set out in the big barn were groaning with food.
Coming down the lane, many carrying yet more food, were several neighbours and their workers, led by the parson and the fiddler. She had heard that the parson allowed his church to be used as a store for the smugglers who operated around the Kent and Sussex coasts. Most of it was taken on from the church crypt to London and other parts of the country, but some found its way to the rich houses outside the village. The parson was a round-faced, cheery man who preached his sermons each Sunday in a booming voice which dared anyone to go to sleep. ‘He is a good man,’ Daniel said when they had talked of it one evening while they were sitting comfortably together in the soft glow of the candlelight. ‘He would harm no man or beast and he is trusted by all.’ Betsy smiled as she remembered again Mrs Wallasey’s words to her: There is always a way, Betsy, always a way.
It was a jolly procession that wended its way over the fields to Redwood and if it had not been for the prospect that Tom Shooter would be present Betsy would have looked forward to the evening. As it was she wished only for it to be over and for Tom to leave the area for good. Daniel had told her before they went that the farm worker would be off tomorrow morning.
‘He can have his share of the fruits of his labour tonight at the supper. I would not send a man away hungry,’ he said, ‘but he will not be working here again ever.’
He had not yet told the lad but at the harvest supper that evening Daniel said quietly, ‘Tom, I won’t be taking on anyone else just now. I thought about it when I talked to you, but—’
‘Not taking …’ Thomas Shooter’s eyes narrowed and he moved closer to the farmer. ‘You talked it over with her, didn’t you?’ His voice lost the friendly note it usually had when talking to his employer. ‘I’m surprised a man would even mention it to his woman. But then of course she isn’t only yours, is she?’
‘What do you mean?’ They were standing outside the barn, a little away from the merriment going on inside.
Tom shrugged, ‘She likes a bit of rough and tumble. You can’t watch her all the time. I suppose she thinks you’d find out what we were up to if I was here for more than a few weeks.’
He didn’t see the blow coming as Daniel’s fist hit him, and when he staggered away to his bed a short while afterwards, nursing his bruises, he vowed he would get even with her. ‘Vile bitch,’ he muttered, holding his jaw. ‘You’ll really pay for it this time, you’ll see.’
The following morning he collected his wages and left the farm.
At first Daniel didn’t believe Tom Shooter’s accusations about Betsy but as he worked in the fields and among the animals he knew the opportunities had been there. He remembered when Tom was ill last year and he had sent him to rest. Had he not gone to the stable but to Betsy. Or had she gone to the loft to be with him?
An image of the lad, tall, lithe and athletic, refused to go away. He never doubted that it would have been Tom who made the first move, but if she had been tempted and succumbed, even just once, then that would explain her fright that it could happen again if Tom stayed. In despair Daniel let the thoughts chase each other round in his head until he knew he must talk to her about it again. He did so that evening. They were sitting opposite each other in the two armchairs and she was fondling Dumbo who, as usual was lying at her feet.
‘When Tom Shooter tried to kiss you, Betsy,’ he said hesitantly, ‘why didn’t you scream and make a fuss and – and tell me.’
She stopped stroking the cat and sat upright and very still in the chair.
‘You were too far away to hear a scream and I thought I could handle him.’
‘How many times did this happen?’ He too was still now, but it was a stillness on the verge of eruption. His question surprised her and, seeing the pained expression in his eyes she diluted the truth. ‘Only once, Daniel.’
‘And you – you didn’t …’ He stopped and she looked across the short distance between the armchairs and stared into his face.
‘How could you even think … Of course I didn’t. Don’t you believe me?’ Her voice shook with anger and
emotion.
He went across to her and took her hands in his. ‘You didn’t want him here from the start this season but I thought it would make it easier for you and I played into his hands. If only I’d known.’ His grip tightened and she leant forward and kissed him.
There was wonder in his eyes too, now. ‘Forgive me Betsy. I’m not blaming you. I love you so much and I’m jealous.’ That night she lay awake long after Daniel was asleep and snoring. It was over; Tom Shooter had gone for good this time. He wouldn’t ever seek work here again after the pounding Daniel had given him.
She took no pleasure in men fighting over her and she tried to put the ordeal of the last few weeks out of her mind but sleep wouldn’t come. In the morning she was bleary-eyed and irritable.
Daniel stamped off to work, saying, ‘Whatever’s got into you, I want it out by the time I return. You may be beautiful but you’re bad-tempered too.’ He looked up at the straw halter as he went by, or it seemed to her he did. When he had gone she burst into tears. Even Dumbo wasn’t around to comfort her, and eventually she stood up and began clearing the breakfast-table.
Half-way through the morning, just when she had put some pies in the kitchen range, there was a tap at the back door. She opened it to find a gypsy woman standing there.
‘You buy some lucky heather?’ She thrust a tiny posy of white heather at Betsy. ‘My, you’re a very unhappy lady,’ the gypsy said, ‘you have big trouble.’
Betsy bought the heather, six bunches of it, and the gypsy said, ‘I see great happiness for you but trouble first.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
Wise old eyes gazed at her solemnly. ‘With a man. Be careful.’ More than that she would not – or maybe could not – say.
Perhaps she was ‘seeing’ what had already happened, Betsy thought when she returned to her cooking. But now that Tom Shooter had gone surely things would come right with Daniel. Unless there was another man in the future who would seek to come between them. All she could think of was Daniel’s brother, Joseph. But even Daniel made sure he was never left alone with her.
The Straw Halter Page 9
