‘Yes, I agree,’ said Anne. ‘It will help them all to make friends…’ And then, unable to help herself, she gave a tremendous yawn. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. How rude of me!’
‘Not at all, Anne,’ laughed her companion. ‘That is just how I feel myself. I’ll go and make us a nice cup of cocoa… No, you stay where you are,’ she added, as Anne made to rise to her feet. ‘And I think it might be a good idea for us to take it up to bed with us. It has been a long and tiring day…and an eventful one too. It will help us to sleep, and we must be bright and fresh for tomorrow…’
And for all the tomorrows, thought Anne. Yes, September the third, 1939, had been a day that no one would ever forget.
Chapter Nine
‘Now Maisie,’ said Patience on Monday morning. ‘You have two whole days before you start school. I think it would be a good idea for you to have a little wander round and about; explore the countryside and get to know the place. You won’t get lost if you don’t go too far. And if you keep your eye on the church tower and the flag you will know where to head back to. What do you think? Would you like to do that?’
Maisie nodded. ‘Yeah, that’d be great. I don’t want to go on my own though. What about Audrey? D’you think that Miss Thomson ’ud let her go with me?’
‘I was just about to suggest that,’ said Patience. ‘When you’re ready you can go and knock on the door and ask if Audrey might come out for a little while. I shall want you back for your lunch anyway, at half-past twelve. I’ll lend you an old watch of Luke’s in case you can’t see the church clock.’
Maisie hesitated. ‘I don’t like to go and knock over there. That Miss Thomson – I don’t think she likes me very much. She’ll happen tell me to go away.’
‘Of course she won’t,’ said Patience. ‘How about if I come with you? She won’t tell me to go away, will she?’ She smiled mischieviously and Maisie grinned back.
‘No, I s’pose not. Actually, it might be that maid, Daisy, what comes to the door, mightn’t it? And she’s real nice. Audrey said so at Sunday School. Anyway, it’s Daisy what’s looking after Audrey, not Miss Thomson, so p’raps I wouldn’t see her at all… I don’t really want you to go with me, Aunty Patience, ’cause that’d be babyish, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes, perhaps so, dear,’ Patience answered a little vaguely. It was the previous remark that she had latched on to. ‘Did you say that Daisy was looking after your friend? Not…all the time surely? What did Audrey say?’
‘Well, she said, like, that she had her breakfast and her dinner with Daisy, in the kitchen. They had a meal in the proper dining room when Audrey first got there, but Miss Thomson said that was a special occasion. But Audrey’s all right, Aunty Patience, better’n I thought she would be. She likes Daisy and she has a little bedroom up at the top of the house, under the roof, like what Daisy has. And she can see our house from there.’
Patience smiled to herself at Maisie’s use of the possessive pronoun. It was clear that already she was beginning to feel at home. But she did not like the sound of what was happening across the square. It seemed as though Miss Thomson might well be dodging her responsibilities to the girl to whom she had offered to give a home. Still, Daisy was a sensible young woman and maybe the child would feel more at ease with her. Maybe that was Miss Thomson’s idea, to help the little girl to feel more at home with someone who was so much nearer to her own age. Patience was always anxious to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But an attic bedroom, when there were rooms unoccupied on the first floor? She, Patience, had always thought it was bad enough for Daisy to be shoved away up there when, after all, she ran the house single-handedly. But Audrey as well?
However, she smiled at Maisie. ‘I’m glad your friend is settling down. She was a bit upset, wasn’t she, when you first arrived? And you were such a good sensible girl looking after her the way you did. Now, put your coat on; I don’t think you will need your pixie hood or your beret this morning. The sun is shining and it doesn’t look like rain.’
‘Where shall we go then, me and Audrey? D’you mean behind the church and up to that castle on the hill?’
Patience laughed. ‘Don’t try to go so far this morning; it’s quite a long way, much further than it looks. Luke and I will take you there another time. If you go through the churchyard and out of the gate at the back there’s a little lane that leads to the farm. It’s the one where Doris lives; you met Doris Nixon at Sunday School yesterday, didn’t you? There are fields and woods and a little stream. You’ll enjoy it and you will be quite safe if you don’t wander too far.’
It was with a slight feeling of apprehension, though, that Patience watched the girl run off across the green to the house on the opposite side. She guessed that Maisie was quite used to fending for herself and finding her own way around in Armley, and she knew that she had already experienced far more of the darker side of life than a child of her age should have to. But here she was in strange surroundings, so different from what she had known in the city. A safe environment, though, Patience told herself. Middlebeck was a peaceful little town where, by and large, the inhabitants looked out for one another, and there was scarcely any crime, certainly not of a violent nature. And it was better, Patience was sure, for the newcomers to find their own feet; to get their bearings in the unfamiliar territory and to make new friends, knowing that they had a safe haven to return to at the end of each day. She only hoped that all the children had settled down as well as Maisie appeared to have done.
She watched surreptitiously from behind the curtains as Maisie knocked at Miss Thomson’s front door. As she had anticipated, it was opened by Daisy. After a few moments, during which Maisie was left standing outside, Audrey joined her. She was dressed, not in her best maroon coat, but in a gaberdine raincoat similar to Maisie’s, but much neater and smarter. They both waved to Daisy – Miss Thomson was nowhere in sight – then they strolled across, arm in arm, like a couple of middle-aged friends, to the church gate.
Patience moved away from the window. She was due to go to a WVS meeting in a short while to discuss any problems which might have arisen concerning the evacuees, although it was early days as yet. She knew there was a stock of clothing there, donated by the villagers whose children had outgrown their various garments. She would see if there was a good warm coat that would fit her little girl, and possibly another jumper and skirt and some underclothes, and the child really needed another pair of shoes. The ones she was wearing were very scuffed and down at heel…and what she could not find in the parish collection she decided she would buy or make herself. Patience felt a warm glow inside her at the thought of having a child in the home for whom she could buy a nice shiny pair of shoes, or knit a bright red jumper.
The sun was shining brightly, but it was quite low in the sky. The gravestones cast long shadows across the grass and the path through the middle of the churchyard.
‘It was OK for you to come with me, was it?’ asked Maisie. ‘Miss Thomson didn’t make a fuss about it?’
‘I haven’t seen her this morning,’ said Audrey. ‘She’s not got up yet. Daisy says she’s caught a chill or something, so she’s staying in bed. Daisy wants me to go back at twelve o’ clock though, to help her with the dinner. She’s showing me how to peel potatoes. I haven’t ever done it before.’
Maisie stared at her in surprise. ‘Haven’t yer? I used to do it all the time at home, I mean, ever since me mum married ’im, Sid, and she had the little ’uns. Still…I s’pose you wouldn’t have to do the spuds, would you?’ She remembered now how she had always thought Audrey was a posh, spoiled kid, until she had got to know her.
‘Daisy calls them spuds,’ Audrey said now, giggling a little, ‘but Miss Thomson says she has to say potatoes.’
‘And don’t you mind helping, like?’ asked Maisie.
‘No; it’s quite good fun,’ said Audrey. ‘Daisy says I have to think of her as a big sister, sort of.’
Maisie was quiet for a while. It was
rather odd, she thought, that Audrey, the one from the posh home should be helping out with the jobs in the kitchen, whereas she, Maisie, was doing no such thing. She had helped to clear the table that morning, but then, she remembered with a stab of guilt, she had sat reading her Sunny Stories whilst Aunty Patience did the washing-up. Patience, in fact, had shooed her out of the kitchen because she wanted to get on with some jobs. But she had made her own bed, as she always did, of course…
They went through a little iron gate behind the churchyard, which led into a leafy lane. There were cart tracks along the lane, but it was quite dry as there had been no rain for some considerable time. There were berries in the hedges, big fat orangey-red ones, and some smaller darker red ones that Maisie did not know the names of – neither did Audrey – but they both recognised the purple glistening blackberries.
‘Shall we pick some?’ said Maisie.
‘D’you think we ought to? They might belong to somebody. We might get into trouble. Anyway, we’ve nowhere to put them, have we?’
‘No; ’course we haven’t. Silly me! I tell you what, Audrey. Aunty Patience says this lane leads to a farm, the one where Doris lives. You remember Doris at Sunday School. She was dead nice to us. We might see her. And we can ask her if we can pick them berries.’
‘But we still won’t have anywhere to put them…’
‘Oh no… Well, never mind, eh?’
They climbed over a stile, and there, ahead of them, they could see a farmhouse. It was built of yellowish-grey stones and had a grey tiled roof and tiny windows, and in the cobbled yard at the front they could see brown hens running around and pecking at the ground. As they drew nearer they could hear them clucking, and there was their friend, Doris, from the previous day, waving to them and running towards the big gate which separated the farmyard from the lane.
‘Hello you two,’ she said, climbing on to the five-barred gate. ‘Are you going exploring? Shall I come with you, or else you might get lost.’
‘I don’t think we would,’ said Maisie decidedly. ‘But you can come with us, if you like… Yeah, that’d be great, Doris,’ she added, more enthusiastically.
‘Can we pick those blackberries?’ asked Audrey.
‘Yeah – them berries over there. Can anybody have ’em, or do they belong to you?’
‘Of course they don’t,’ said Doris. ‘If they grow in the lane, then they’re for everyone. Part of God’s bounty, that’s what me dad says. Hang on; I’ll go and get some bowls and then we can go blackberrying. My mum was saying she wanted some to make a blackberry and apple pie. And happen your ladies ’ud like some an’ all.’
She didn’t invite them into the farmhouse, not that time, but she opened the gate and they stepped into the farmyard. Audrey looked warily at the hens, as she tried to dodge out of their way.
‘They won’t peck at yer, don’t worry,’ said Doris laughing. ‘You have to be careful of the geese sometimes. They’re a bit fierce, but they’re not here at the minute. Just wait here. I won’t be long…’
She came out of the farmhouse a few moments later carrying three enamel bowls. She gave one each to Maisie and Audrey. ‘There y’are. Me mum says you can bring ’em back another time.’
A smallish lady was standing at the door. She had dark brown hair in a roll around her head, a style popular with a lot of the women of her age, and she wore a snowy-white apron over her black dress.
‘That’s me mum,’ said Doris, waving to her as they went through the gate, so Maisie and Audrey waved as well. Doris’s mum smiled and waved more vigorously. ‘She’s busy making cheese,’ Doris went on, ‘or else I would have asked you in. You can come another time. Me mum said she was glad I had made friends with you.’
‘Didn’t you have to take any evacuees?’ asked Maisie.
‘No, ’cause we haven’t got very much room. I’ve got two big brothers, y’see, who work on the farm. Joe and Ted they’re called. Joe’s fifteen and Ted’s fourteen; he’s not long been left school, our Ted. Me mum’s glad they won’t have to join the army, ’cause they’re too young.’
‘And what about yer dad?’ asked Maisie.
‘What about him? What d’yer mean?’
‘Well, might he have to go and join the army?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t think farmers have to go. I heard me mum and dad talking about it. Anyway, he’s nearly forty and that’s quite old.’
Maisie’s thoughts returned, momentarily, to Armley. How old was Sid, she wondered? She was not sure, but probably he was older than Doris’s dad. She was hoping he might be called up, then her mother would have a bit of peace, although that would mean she was left on her own with Percy, and that might be even worse…
‘Come on,’ said Doris, breaking into her thoughts. ‘We’ll go along this lane an’ I’ll show you round our farm.’
‘What about the blackberries?’ asked Audrey.
‘Oh, there’s loads more up here. There’ll be plenty for all of us.’
There were three horses, two brown and a dapple-grey one, grazing in a field, and in the next field there was a herd of cattle.
‘Look at all them cows,’ exclaimed Maisie, standing still and gazing over the hedge.
‘You’ve seen cows before, haven’t you?’ said Audrey. ‘You must’ve done.’
‘’Course I have,’ retorted Maisie a little crossly. ‘Loads of times. But not as close to as this.’
Doris laughed. ‘They’re not cows,’ she said. They’re bulls. Actually, they’re bullocks; that means young bulls. Don’t you know the difference between cows and bulls?’ Doris was not mocking her; her question was quite sincere. But Maisie was not one who liked to admit defeat.
‘’Course I do,’ she replied. ‘But…there’s not all that much difference, is there?’
‘Well, the cows give us milk,’ explained Doris, ‘so they have udders at the back, underneath their tails. You have to pull ’em to squeeze the milk out. But me dad’s just got some new milking machines so they won’t have to do it all by hand.’ Maisie was looking puzzled, but she nodded as though she understood perfectly. Doris pointed over the hedge. ‘If you look at them bullocks you can tell that they’re different from cows. ’Cause they’re males, see.’
Maisie looked, feeling rather silly. She had known, of course, that milk came from cows and she had a vague idea about the milking. But she could see now that the bulls were different. They didn’t have udders; there, at the back, they had something else, because, as Doris had said, they were males.
‘Yes…I know,’ she replied quietly, then, to change the subject. ‘What else does yer dad have, besides cows and bulls?’
‘Sheep, over there on the hills.’ Doris waved her arm casually. ‘And hens – you’ve seen them – and geese and turkeys. And he does a bit of arable farming an’ all… Growing crops,’ she explained as the girl’s faces were rather blank. ‘Potatoes and beetroot and brussel sprouts.’
‘And have you got pigs as well?’ asked Audrey.
‘Mr Tremaine looks after the pigs mostly,’ replied Doris. ‘He’s the squire.’
‘What’s that mean – the squire?’ asked Maisie.
‘Well, he owns the land, does Mr Tremaine. I think that’s what being the squire means. Me dad works for him. He’s what they call a tenant farmer.’
‘So your farm…it belongs to this chap you call the squire?’
‘Yeah, that’s right; Mr Tremaine. But me mam and dad call him Archie. He doesn’t mind; he’s real nice and friendly. He rears the pigs and he farms some of his own land around his house. I’ll show you if you like; he won’t mind.’
Doris opened another gate, a small one for pedestrians at the side of a big iron gate beyond which stretched a long driveway. At the end of the drive was a large greystone house, much bigger than the farmhouse where Doris lived. It had a centre doorway and on each side were six windows, three upstairs and three downstairs, perfectly balanced, like a drawing in a story book. There was
a neat lawn at the front with a flower bed all round it, but Doris led the way to the back of the house where there was a garden which was on two levels; she called it the terrace garden. Beyond that there was a tennis court, and an orchard with apple, pear and plum trees.
There were two young men gathering the crop of ripening reddish-brown apples and one of them shouted out to Doris as they were going by. ‘Hi there, little Doris. D’you want an apple?’ He threw one down to her which she caught deftly. ‘An’ here’s another couple for yer mates.’
‘Ta very much, Andy,’ she called, picking them up from the grassy floor and handing one each to Maisie and Audrey.
‘Don’t get into mischief now,’ shouted Andy. ‘And watch them wopsies. They’re a dratted nuisance just now.’ He flapped his hand at the insects buzzing round him. ‘Cheerio then. See yer…’
‘Bye, Andy… He means wasps,’ she told her friends. ‘It’s just his little joke, like he always calls me little Doris. I wish he wouldn’t, but he’s known me ever since I was a little kid.’
‘Does he work for your father or for the squire?’ asked Audrey.
‘He works for Mr Tremaine, him and the other one, Bert. But I ’spect they might soon be called up, then Daisy Kitson’ll be real upset. She’s going with Andy. I’ve seen ’em sometimes, kissing an’ that, behind the hedge, but I don’t let on.’
‘Daisy?’ queried Audrey. ‘D’you mean…Miss Thomson’s maid?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. Oh, I forgot; you live there, don’t you? Hasn’t Daisy said anything, like, about her boyfriend?’
Above the Bright Blue Sky Page 14
