Half a Sixpence

by Evie Grace

  ‘I’ll call another time,’ Catherine promised. She wished her goodbye and returned to the farm, glad to be away from the oppressive confines of the cottage.

  One afternoon soon after Stephen and Emily were married, Catherine was in the village with Matty when they saw the cart taking them and their few possessions to Faversham.

  ‘I’m surprised they didn’t have a big send-off,’ she said.

  ‘We said our goodbyes last night. Ma was very upset,’ Matty said, waving after them. ‘You’re very quiet today. A penny for your thoughts, my love.’

  ‘I’m sad about what happened between me and Emily. She’ll never forgive me.’

  ‘I told you to give it time. We’ll hear news of her at least because Stephen has promised to visit Ma as often as he can.’ He stopped and took both her hands in his. ‘I’ve been thinking about us.’

  Her heart began to beat faster as he continued, ‘Would it make you happy if I spoke with your father?’

  ‘Oh, Matty, is that a proposal?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, of sorts. To be honest, I’ve been holding back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I suppose I’ve bin scared that the strength of your feelings for me might not match mine for you.’

  ‘You should have no worries on that account,’ she said softly.

  A smile spread across his face.

  ‘So you’ll do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  ‘Of course. As long as Pa approves, which he will because I won’t let him say otherwise.’ She squeezed his hand, her heart bursting with joy. It wasn’t the great romantic gesture she had dreamed of, but it didn’t matter because it was real. When they walked on through the woods with the autumn leaves scrunching underfoot, they talked of their plans: where they would live; how many children they would have.

  In the days that followed, she was on tenterhooks, waiting for him to speak to Pa, the person who held their future happiness in his hands.

  On a cold November morning, she was bringing some turnips in from the clamp. Her nose was frozen and her chilblains were itchy and sore. She paused on her way back to the house to watch George and one of the other farmhands who were repairing the roof of the barn to make it watertight. John stood counting the new tiles in the pile on the ground. ‘One, two, three, five,’ over and over again. George asked him to hand one up. John chose one, but the morning dew had made it glincey and it slipped from his grasp and shattered across the stones.

  ‘Never mind,’ George said.

  ‘Never mind,’ John echoed.

  ‘What’s John doing out here? He’ll catch a chill,’ Ma exclaimed as she emerged from the house dressed in her best clothes and carrying a basket. ‘Catherine, bring him indoors.’

  ‘All right,’ she called back, reluctant to leave the men’s company. It had been quiet in the house since Drusilla had gone and there was no sign that Ma was ever going to find a replacement she could trust. In four years, they’d had three girls start. One had left under mysterious circumstances – Ma said that she’d had her eye on John. The other two hadn’t lived up to Ma’s high standards – one had burned a side of bacon rendering it inedible while the other had damaged her favourite porcelain figurine while dusting.

  With all the other work that had to be done, the farmhouse had begun to appear neglected. The window frames had started to peel and crack, and a pane of glass had fallen from the upper floor and been left to gradually disappear into a mound of stinging nettles.

  Catherine blew on her fingers as she struggled to open the door while holding on to an apronful of turnips at the same time. The sound of horses’ hooves caught her attention, making her hesitate. She looked back past the pump to see Squire Temple and his bailiff tying their horses outside the stables which had been rebuilt a few months after the fire at a cost that Pa could ill afford.

  She took a couple of steps closer so she could hear what they wanted.

  The squire greeted Pa with a handshake and expressed his wish that the meeting would go smoothly.

  ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Mr Francis over at Boughton has taken up a most peculiar charitable cause. He has only been persuaded to take in Sir William Courtenay to his home at Fairbrook.’

  ‘I’ve heard of that fellow,’ Pa said.

  ‘It is said that Francis – or rather his wife and daughter – are under his spell,’ the bailiff joined in. ‘He is reputed to be a Knight of Malta, whatever that is, and a great leader of men.’

  ‘I don’t believe that he’s any such thing,’ Pa said. ‘I saw him a few years back when he was staying at the Rose Inn in Canterbury.’

  ‘Are you sure we’re talking about the same gentleman?’ the squire asked.

  ‘The personage I’m thinking of is quite bizarre,’ Pa said. ‘He is tall and imposing, and has a long black beard. He has a habit of stroking his bushy locks and ample mustachios, and placing them between his teeth, and as for his clothes, well, when he was put up for election to Parliament, he wore a tunic embroidered with gold and carried a sword that he called Excalibur.’

  ‘He didn’t get elected,’ the squire said, ‘and he gained but three votes when he tried again in East Kent. There is some secret about what happened to him after that because no one saw hide nor hair of him for a while. Some say he went to his family seat in Devon, others that he got into trouble with the law and was committed to the lunatic asylum at Barming after being found guilty of perjury. I believe the case involved the smuggling of liquor, which makes it all the more surprising that Mr Francis would take him in. Who would willingly welcome a lawbreaker into their home?’

  ‘I don’t think that Sir William is a bad man at heart. When he was at the inn, I saw him give out pints to the people, and peppermints to the children,’ Pa said.

  ‘But he is against the natural order in that he would make the poor wealthy and the rich poor,’ the bailiff said, frowning. ‘I worry that, whoever he is, he’ll stir up trouble around here, just as the rioters did in the time of Captain Swing. We don’t want that again.’

  ‘It won’t happen. People remember the last time. Their antics did them no good.’ The squire turned to Pa. ‘Now, Mr Rook. Where can we talk in private?’

  Catherine saw her father’s face turn grey. He wiped his palms on his coat and invited the squire and the bailiff into the house to his office. She watched them go inside, then returned to her chores, pumping water from the well to take into the kitchen. As she stepped back to avoid the water pouring into her boots, she heard Matty’s whistle.

  She looked up to find he was almost upon her, striding along with his hands in his pockets, and dressed in his Sunday best. His neck was rubbed almost raw by the starched collar and his hair was so clean that it stood on end from his head. Her heart leapt because she knew why he was here.

  ‘You look smart.’ She reached out to straighten his cravat.

  ‘I have a meeting with your father.’ His face was pink and shining.

  ‘You’ll have to wait for a while. He’s with the squire at present.’

  ‘How long do you think they’ll be?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She hoped Pa hadn’t forgotten about his arrangement with Matty, but it wasn’t long before the squire and his bailiff emerged to collect their horses.

  Matty helped Catherine with the bucket, carrying it indoors to the scullery, where they exchanged kisses before heading through the house to find Ma in the hall, waiting for Pa to come out of his room.

  He appeared in the doorway, his head down and shoulders stooped as if he was carrying all the cares of the world.

  ‘Well?’ Ma demanded. ‘What did they want?’

  ‘The squire came to give us notice,’ Pa said quietly.

  ‘How can that be? Haven’t we always paid our rent on time?’

  Pa didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence was more telling than words.

  ‘Oh, Thomas.’ Ma reached out to the clock for support. It swayed, the weights inside bashin
g against the case. ‘You’ve given me a fair old shock.’

  Catherine fetched her a chair from the parlour. She glanced towards Matty, who frowned. How could Pa contemplate the question of their marriage when the Rooks were on the verge of losing the farm, and everyone who worked for them was at risk of losing their homes and livelihoods? How would they all survive?

  ‘I’ve been paying what I can since we fell on hard times,’ Pa confessed. ‘It all started with that machine – it’s brought us seven years of bad luck. We’ve been one man down since John had his accident – more than that because someone has to look after him. The harvest has been the worst in living memory. This situation is entirely of my own making.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ Catherine said tearfully. Her heart went out to him. He had tried so hard to make a success of the farm, for the family, for the farmhands and for the benefit of mankind, yet somehow he had failed. ‘We can’t stand here with the minnies crying over spilt milk. We have to do something.’

  ‘I told him – I begged him – to give me time, and he agreed on one calendar year. I have a twelvemonth to turn our fortunes around.’

  Catherine handed the smelling salts to her mother who was having an attack of the vapours, panting and rolling her eyes in her head.

  ‘Calm down, Ma.’

  ‘We are ruined,’ she moaned. ‘What did I ever see in you, Thomas Rook?’

  ‘All is not lost, not yet. I recall that I have an appointment with young Matty this morning.’ Pa turned to him.

  ‘Oh no.’ Ma pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. ‘How can you entertain such an idea at a time like this? You’ll send him away with a flea in his ear.’

  Pa turned to Matty and Catherine.

  ‘I assume that you’ve come here dressed up for one purpose,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir, to ask for your daughter’s hand,’ Matty said. ‘I know I haven’t always bin—’

  Pa cut him short. ‘There’s no need for any flattery or flannel. I give you my blessing.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Rook,’ Matty said. ‘I promise I’ll—’

  ‘I know you will.’ Pa gave him a brief handshake and raised his eyes towards the ceiling as though giving thanks to God.

  ‘Thank you,’ Catherine echoed, her heart filled with joy at her father’s decision.

  ‘You would have our daughter ruined, Thomas,’ Ma interrupted.

  ‘This marriage could be our salvation. Not only will husband and wife take care of John long after we’ve gone, but who better to take on the farm than Catherine whom we’ve brought up to be a farmer’s wife, and Matty who’s grown up on the land with her? Trust me,’ he said. ‘This is the answer to all our prayers.’

  Catherine felt sick. Pa sounded far more concerned about the fate of the tenancy than for her and Matty’s happiness. And as for John, as much as she loved her brother, she hadn’t anticipated him being part of the deal. Her engagement felt like a business arrangement, not the romantic gesture and celebration she’d imagined it would be.

  ‘Think about it, Margaret,’ Pa went on.

  ‘If you think this match should be encouraged and will find favour with the squire, I suppose I’ll have to go along with it,’ she said eventually.

  Pa stepped to one side and showed Matty into his room.

  ‘Come this way,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk.’

  Catherine watched the door closing behind them.

  ‘That’s that then,’ Ma said.

  ‘It’s what I want,’ Catherine said. ‘I love him and I intend to spend the rest of my life with him.’

  Ma stared at her, her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Even though you aren’t my daughter, I wanted better for you, but you’ve made your choice: now you have to live with it.’

  Chapter Nine

  Shooting at the Stars

  Matty called at the farm on a Sunday afternoon three weeks after he’d spoken to Mr Rook.

  Catherine was waiting for him, dressed in her woollen coat, stockings and boots.

  ‘I’ve bin ready for ages,’ she said, smiling as he held out his arm. She took it and stepped outside the house. ‘Hurry up, John. We’re going out.’

  ‘John? Is he coming with us?’ Matty whispered.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Ma has retired to bed and Pa has shut himself away in his room, so there’s no one to keep an eye on him.’

  ‘One’s too few, three’s too many.’

  John emerged from the house, his eyes lighting up when he saw Matty.

  ‘Come on, John,’ he said with a sigh.

  ‘Are we going to mend the gate today?’ John asked.

  ‘We finished that little job yesterday,’ Matty said.

  ‘What about the sheep?’

  ‘They’re fine. We checked on them this morning,’ Catherine said. ‘We’re going for a walk in the woods.’

  John smiled his lopsided smile and they set off along the track. Catherine walked with Matty’s arm around her back, aware of her brother a few steps behind, dragging his useless foot through the fallen leaves.

  ‘You’re quiet today,’ Matty observed. ‘Is it John?’

  ‘No. I’m used to having him around. I was just wondering when we shall be married.’

  They reached the fallen tree in the clearing in the wood and sat down side by side.

  ‘John,’ Matty called. ‘Come and sit here for a while. You can practise counting. How many trees can you see?’

  John raised his good hand and pointed at each tree in turn.

  ‘One, two, three, five,’ he said. ‘Seven, seven. One, two, three …’ he repeated.

  ‘That will keep him occupied while we talk about our wedding.’ Catherine breathed in the aroma of damp and toadstools which mingled with Matty’s musky scent as she waited for his answer. ‘How about next week? Or next month? It’s a quiet time of year on the farm.’

  ‘Your pa suggested after the lambing.’

  ‘He’s being cautious, surely? I don’t want to wait that long.’ She was disappointed. She would be more than happy to set the date for tomorrow, although that would be impossible because there were preparations to be made.

  ‘I would marry you today if I could, but I have to be guided by your father’s wishes.’

  ‘I’m surprised he’s thinking of a long engagement, considering he’s depending on our marriage to secure the tenancy.’

  ‘The squire has given him a year, so there’s plenty of time,’ Matty said, embracing her as the chill of the late November afternoon seeped through her clothes. ‘Don’t worry, my love. It will happen.’

  ‘I have something for you,’ she said, reassured. She put her hand in her pocket, pulled out the sixpence and placed it in his palm. ‘Emily gave it to me as a token of friendship, but as she’s no longer part of my life, I’d like you to take this as a symbol of my love for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice husky with emotion. ‘No one has given me anything like this before. I don’t know what I can give you in return. Ah, I know …’ He pulled a knife from his bag, twisted some of his hair around his fingers and hacked it off. ‘May I?’ he said, gesturing towards her head.

  Catherine nodded, her skin tingling in response to the touch of his fingers against the nape of her neck as he selected a lock of her hair and sliced it through. He placed both sets of hair on his knee – the one dark, the other a lighter brown. He divided each set and plaited a section of each together to make two rings.

  He picked one up and slipped it onto her finger.

  ‘I promise to look after you until the end of time, my darling,’ he whispered.

  She picked up the second ring and pushed it over the knuckles of the third finger of his left hand.

  ‘And I swear that I will be at your side for ever,’ she said, overflowing with happiness. She leaned up to kiss him. He responded passionately, sliding his hands inside her cloak.

  ‘No, Matty,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that y
ou’re so beautiful,’ he breathed. ‘I can hardly resist. If John wasn’t here …’

  ‘We must wait until we’re married.’ She remembered Ivy’s words of warning. She had experienced the consequences of bringing a child into the world out of wedlock and she wasn’t prepared for it to happen to another poor innocent soul.

  A shadow of regret crossed his eyes.

  ‘We won’t have to wait for long,’ she said quickly. ‘I shall speak with Pa. I’ll persuade him to change his mind.’

  But when she talked to him later, his mind was made up. There was a cottage on the farm that was rented out until the spring, when Matty and Catherine could take it over and do it up. He thought it was important that they didn’t have to spend the first few months of married life sharing the farmhouse. Ma wouldn’t like it, so after lambing it had to be.

  Life on the farm went on much the same until the following year. When the cottage became available, Matty repaired the roof and Catherine whitewashed the walls. Matty blacked the stove and fireplace, and Pa had a bed made for them.

  The seedlings began to come up in the field as the earth warmed, and the hop bines began to furl their stems around the poles. George and the other labourers spent many hours nidgeting on the land to get rid of the weeds. One of the mares gave birth to a healthy colt foal and two of the hens went broody and hatched chicks. Ma continued her mission to feather her nest in heaven while John and Matty prepared for lambing, driving the ewes to the orchard near the house in anticipation of the new arrivals.

  There was room for optimism over the future of Wanstall Farm. The squire had even intimated that he would consider the renewal of the tenancy in a favourable light.

  Catherine was in the yard beating the life out of a couple of rugs one morning, wondering why Matty hadn’t dropped by to steal a kiss as he’d done before work every day since their engagement. Perhaps he’d gone straight to the orchard to help one of the ewes, but it was mid-March and the lambs weren’t due for a couple of weeks. It wasn’t like him to be late, and he was never ill. She paused on hearing voices. Pa rounded the corner of the granary with George and John.