Above the Bright Blue Sky

by Margaret Thornton

  Maisie and Luke, and Patience as well – although she did not know what Maisie had overheard that night – never spoke about the matter at all. She had heard grown-ups say, when something awful happened, that life had to go on. It seemed so heartless, though, to think like that when somebody had died. And so many people had died just recently…Audrey’s mum and dad, Timothy’s parents and his sister, Miss Mellodey’s boyfriend, and Priscilla… But Timothy and Audrey seemed happy again now, and Miss Mellodey was smiling more than she had at first. And Jennifer, Priscilla’s land girl friend, was now walking out, as the grown-ups would say, with Jeff, who had been Priscilla’s boyfriend. Yes…life was going on, and there was nothing to be gained on this lovely day by being miserable.

  Their walk took them along the path past Nixon’s farm, then through a little wood to a waterfall. Maisie had been as far as this before with Luke and Patience, and she had been enthralled then, as she was now, by the wonder and beauty of it all. It was not a gigantic waterfall – she had seen pictures of Niagara Falls in America, and she knew it was nothing like that – but a series of gentle cascades rippling over the rocks in frothy white waves, like soapy washing-up water. It was a part of the river that ran through the dale, and there were boulders along the bank where you could sit and watch the water and listen to the soothing gurgle and splash it made as it tumbled over the stones.

  They sat for a while and Bruce handed round a bottle of lemonade for them all to have a drink. ‘Don’t go too near,’ he warned the girls and especially Tim, who had ventured close to the water’s edge. ‘We don’t want any wet feet; it’s too cold for paddling anyway, at the moment. And we’ll cross the river by the bridge, not the stepping stones. It’s my job to look after you lot!’

  They had all been warned by the adults, before they set off, about the dangers of the water. But Patience and Luke, and Doris’s mum, knew they could trust Bruce to take care of the younger children. There was a path of stepping stones across a smooth flowing stretch of the river, where the more intrepid might cross. Prince was the only one to get his feet, and a good deal more of himself, wet. They all laughed as he stood on the bank shaking the silvery drops from his coat, barking and wagging his tail excitedly.

  They crossed the river by a single-arched stone bridge, and then the path led upwards over moorland where shaggy sheep were grazing. The fields were divided by greystone walls, and in the distance they could see lonely farmsteads, much more inaccessible than the one where Doris lived, down in the valley.

  Maisie thought to herself that it was rather like an outdoor history and geography lesson as she listened to Bruce telling them what he knew about the area. He certainly knew his stuff, and if he was showing off – just a tiny bit – then you could not blame him. He went to a posh school, and he had told Maisie that they had a different teacher for each subject, not just one for everything like they had at the school in Middlebeck (although she was sure his teachers couldn’t be any better than Miss Foster and Miss Mellodey).

  ‘The castle where we’re going is called Middleburgh Castle,’ said Bruce, speaking quite loudly so that they could all hear, if they wished to do so, ‘because Middlebeck is the nearest town; it was only a small village, though, when the castle was built. And that was in the fourteenth century – more than six hundred years ago. It’s a ruin now, but it was built to defend the dale against the Scots…’

  The girls listened more or less attentively – Maisie hanging on his every word – but Tim had switched off his ears and was lagging behind a little.

  ‘Audrey…’ he called. ‘Can we stop for a bit? Me leg’s hurting.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Bruce. ‘Yes, we’ll have a rest. We’ve not much further to go though now, Tim. And when we get to the top you’ll be able to look back and see how far we’ve come… I was telling you about the castle, wasn’t I? It was a very important one in the area, because it is said that Mary Queen of Scots was in prison here for several months. You’ve heard of her, have you?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Maisie, and the rest of them nodded dutifully. They were more interested in getting to the top and eating their sandwiches.

  ‘I’m OK now,’ said Tim, after a few minutes. ‘Me leg just gets a bit tired sometimes, that’s all, but it’ll be easier going downhill, won’t it, Bruce?’

  ‘It surely will. Come on; let’s have a sing-song; it’ll help us to walk a bit faster…. One man went to mow, went to mow a meadow…’ Bruce started to sing and the others followed suit.

  In about ten minutes they were at the top, a little breathless, but filled with a great sense of achievement. Bruce lifted Timothy on to a ruined wall. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Now you’re the King of the Castle.’

  ‘I’m the King of the Castle,’ chanted the little boy in glee, his tiredness and his aching leg forgotten. ‘Gosh! Look, Audrey…I can see for miles and miles.’

  They all wandered around the ruins, gazing down into the valley where they could make out the distant roofs of Middlebeck, the church tower and the village green.

  ‘And there’s our farmhouse,’ said Doris, ‘and look, Bruce, that’s your house, a bit to the right.’

  ‘I’m hungry though, now,’ said Tim. ‘Can we have our picnic?’

  They sat on the prickly grass with their backs against a stone wall and opened their packets of sandwiches. It was amazing how much better everything tasted out of doors; the various sandwiches – salmon paste, corned beef and cheese and onion – which they shared amongst them, the sausage rolls that Patience had provided, Lily’s buns and ginger cake, and crisp apples, all washed down with a drink of bright orange Tizer.

  Doris had been quiet all morning, not joining in the conversations very much. When they had finished eating she suddenly said, ‘I’ve got summat to tell you… Me mum’s real upset this morning, an’ I’m feeling a bit sad an’ all.’

  They all looked at her, and Maisie felt a tremor of fear run through her. Whatever was it? Surely Doris’s dad hadn’t told them what he had done?

  ‘It’s me dad…’ she said. There was a pause, during which Maisie held her breath. ‘He’s joining the army,’ Doris continued. ‘He told me mum last night, and she’s right upset. He’s been and enlisted, an’ now he’s just waiting for them to send for him.’

  ‘Well…I think that’s jolly brave of him,’ said Bruce. ‘You should be proud of him, Doris.’

  ‘Yeah…I suppose I am, but he doesn’t really need to go, y’see, that’s what me mum’s upset about. Farmers don’t have to join up, ’cause they’re doing important work. It’s called a reserved occupation, or summat like that. And me brother’s already joined the RAF so that makes it worse. That’s why…we’re feeling a bit upset, like…’ Her voice petered out and she gave a loud sniff. ‘Me dad’s quite old an’ all. He’s turned forty, and me mum says he’s being ridiculous. They had a row about it, but he won’t take no notice of her. He says he wants to go and do his bit, like the rest of the men.’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Maisie, not knowing what else to say. ‘P’raps the war won’t go on very much longer. Then they’ll all come home again.’

  ‘If it lasts for two more years, though, I’ll be able to join up,’ said Bruce. ‘That’s what I want to do when I’m eighteen; train to be a pilot.’

  ‘You sound as though you want the war to go on,’ retorted Doris. ‘I think that’s dead mean of you, Bruce. You wouldn’t say that if your father had joined the army, or your brother.’

  ‘I don’t have any brothers; you know that. I have two brothers-in-law though; one is in the army and the other’s in the RAF… I’m sorry, Doris. Of course I don’t mean that I want the war to continue. We all want peace…but there’s nothing to stop me being a pilot even if there is no longer a war going on. There is civil aviation as well as the Royal Airforce.’

  ‘Your dad won’t have to go overseas, though, will he, Doris?’ said Audrey. ‘All the soldiers came back, didn’t they, after that Dunkirk thing? And most o
f them are in camps in England now, aren’t they?’ She addressed her questions to Bruce who seemed to know more about the progress of the war than the rest of them did.

  ‘You’re partly right, Audrey,’ he answered. ‘But a lot of our soldiers have gone to the Far East, and we’re fighting the Italians in the African Desert as well. As a matter of fact, one of my brothers-in-law is over there; they call them the Desert Rats.’ He turned to Doris. ‘But I should think your father will be posted somewhere in England, Doris. It’s mainly the young and fit ones that are sent overseas.’

  ‘Me dad’s as fit as anybody,’ argued Doris, ‘an’ if I know me dad he’ll want to do his share of fighting, like the young ones. He’s not a coward, an’ I know he’ll volunteer to go if he can.’

  ‘You’ll just have to wait and see then,’ said Bruce. ‘But he’ll be in this country for several months I’m sure. He’ll be able to come home on leave to see you. And tell your mother, Doris, that we all think he is a very brave man,’ he added.

  Maisie felt rather uncomfortable with them all talking about Doris’s dad and saying how brave he was. He hadn’t shown much courage when he had killed Priscilla; he hadn’t owned up to what he had done. But then she didn’t know the whole truth, and it might well be that he was innocent after all. At all events, she knew she would feel easier when Mr Nixon had gone and joined the army, and then she would no longer have to look at him, and worry and wonder.

  They arrived back in Middlebeck in the mid-afternoon, tired, but only comfortably so, having enjoyed their day in the sunshine and the fresh springtime air. It had been a happy day, apart from Doris’s momentary sadness when she had told them about her dad. But she had seemed to cheer up on the way back, heartened by hearing her friends say that he was a brave man. She had already known herself that he was brave. She had seen him catching rats in the barn and fearlessly breaking their necks, although she guessed that fighting armed men might require a different kind of bravery.

  Doris also knew, which she had not confided to the others, that her father had been quite odd and jumpy, and more than usually irritable, too, since Priscilla had been murdered. It was only natural that he should be upset – they all were, and her mother had cried a lot – but Doris suspected that her dad had liked Priscilla rather more than he should have done. She had seen him looking at her, and certainly not in the way he looked at her mother or at her, Doris. She hadn’t told her mother, of course, but there had been times when Mum had seemed unhappy, even before Priscilla had died. So maybe, she told herself, her father was joining the army to help him to get over losing Priscilla. And perhaps he would realise when he was away from her, that he really loved his wife. There was a proverb that Miss Mellodey had told them at school; absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  Patience had prepared a special tea as she knew they would be hungry when they arrived home. They all tucked into the sausages cooked in batter – Aunty Patience called it toad-in-the-hole – with fluffy mashed potatoes and carrots, followed by rhubarb crumble and custard.

  Tim’s usually pale cheeks glowed with health and his blue eyes, behind the round lenses of his spectacles, shone with delight. He was no longer the odd little chap he had seemed when he first came to Middlebeck at the start of the war, or when he returned after the death of his family. His spindly legs and arms had filled out, he had grown a few inches, and Patience had brushed his pale golden hair so that it lay flat and he no longer resembled a frightened hedgehog. He had thoroughly enjoyed his day out and he chattered more than anyone whilst they ate their meal.

  He had discovered that he had another friend that day. He had not known Bruce Tremaine very well before, but now his conversation was scattered with pearls of wisdom that had fallen from the lips of the older boy.

  ‘Bruce says that castle we’ve been to is more than six hundred years old…’ and, ‘Bruce says there are lots of castles up here, ’cause we’re quite near to Scotland, and the Scots used to come down and invade the English… And now the Germans might come and invade us, mightn’t they, Uncle Luke?’

  ‘Well, we hope not, Tim,’ replied Luke, a little anxiously. ‘Bruce didn’t tell you that, did he?’

  ‘Oh no; he didn’t say that. But I know we’re still fighting the Germans, aren’t we? Bruce says there’s a war going on in the desert somewhere, and I thought the Germans might come and invade us. Like William the Conqueror did; we learned about him at school.’

  ‘Well, it was a very long time ago,’ said Luke, ‘and that was the last time our island was invaded, Tim. We just have to go on hoping and praying that we will be safe. Try not to worry about it.’ Poor little lad, thought Luke. It was only natural that he should be fearful of the enemy, having lost all his family in that dreadful air raid.

  ‘I’m not worried,’ said Tim, ‘’cause we’re safe from bombs up here, aren’t we Uncle Luke?’ He was using the name confidently now, but he preferred the honorary ‘uncle’ title rather than just Luke. Audrey, also, sometimes addressed him as Uncle Luke now, but Maisie did so rather less often. It was as though she was aware that she was not quite one of the rectory family.

  It was Maisie who spoke now, quietly, and not really looking at either Luke or Patience. ‘Did you know that Doris’s dad is joining the army?’ she said.

  There was a few seconds’ silence, then Luke said, ‘No…I didn’t know that, Maisie. Doris told you, did she?’

  Maisie nodded. ‘Mmm… He’s going soon; he’s just waiting for them to send for him. I just thought you should know…’ She stared down at her pudding plate, busily spooning up the last scrap of creamy custard and buttery crumbs.

  ‘Walter’s not been the same since…well, since Priscilla…’ said Patience; then she stopped herself from saying any more. It had been a happy day for the children and she didn’t want anything to spoil it. She and Luke had decided that they would tell them the news about the baby when they had finished their meal. ‘Perhaps it will be good for him to be in the army,’ she added. ‘I expect he feels he wants to do his bit.’

  ‘It’s certainly a surprise,’ said Luke thoughtfully, ‘although – I don’t know – perhaps it’s the best thing for him…’ He and Patience glanced at one another. He had not told his wife about Walter’s terrible secret, although he sometimes wondered if she had guessed that he, Luke, knew a good deal more than he had disclosed. ‘I think that’s quite enough talk about the war, though, isn’t it, my dear?’ he said.

  They exchanged a private little smile, then Patience said, ‘We have something to tell you all. It’s been a secret between Luke and me until now, but we would like you to share it with us…’ Three pairs of eyes, two blue and one brown stared back at her. ‘There is going to be another little person in our family before very long…Luke and I…we’re going to have a baby!’

  ‘A baby?’ said Maisie. ‘You mean…a proper tiny little baby?’

  Patience smiled. ‘Yes, that’s what I mean.’

  ‘Ohh…!’ breathed Audrey. She looked too overcome to say anything else.

  Tim looked puzzled. ‘Aunty Patience…’ he said, wrinkling his forehead in a frown. ‘D’you mean you’re going to ’dopt a baby, like you did with Audrey and me? Only we weren’t babies, were we? Can we have a boy, please?’

  Patience and Luke both laughed. ‘It isn’t as simple as all that, Tim,’ said Luke. ‘We can’t choose, you see…’

  ‘You mean… It’s one of your own, isn’t it?’ said Maisie. ‘You…and Uncle Luke, you’re going to have a baby of your very own, aren’t you, Aunty Patience?’

  ‘That’s right, dear,’ said Patience. ‘Isn’t it exciting news?’

  ‘Oh…how lovely,’ exclaimed Audrey. Then she asked, rather shyly, ‘When…when is it going to be born?’

  ‘In September,’ said Patience. ‘I know it seems quite a while away yet, but we thought you ought to know.’

  ‘’Cause we’d notice, wouldn’t we, Aunty Patience, when you got bigger?’ said Maisie. ‘I remem
ber when me mum had our Joanie and Jimmy.’ Patience nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed. It was all so new to her, and Maisie was such a knowing little girl.

  ‘I still hope it’ll be a boy,’ said Tim. ‘I’d like to have a little brother.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ said Audrey, ‘whether it’s a boy or a girl, and you mustn’t mind either, Tim. You won’t have to be disappointed if it’s a girl, ’cause Aunty Patience and Uncle Luke’ll be pleased whatever it is. Won’t you?’ she asked them.

  ‘Yes; we both know we’re very lucky,’ said Luke. ‘Well…blessed is the word really, not lucky, after all this time.’

  ‘I’ve already got a little brother, and a little sister as well haven’t I, Aunty Patience?’ said Maisie, sounding just a trifle envious.

  ‘Of course you have, dear,’ said Patience. ‘Your Joanie and Jimmy. And what a lovely little boy and girl they are, too. You and your mum must be very proud of them.’

  Patience recalled the horror stories she had heard from Maisie about the ‘little ’uns’ before they had come to live in Middlebeck; and she thought how well Lily had coped with them since she had brought them to the countryside, away from the traumas of their home life in Armley.

  ‘Aunty Patience…’ said Maisie thoughtfully, ‘when you have this new baby, you’ll let me have a share of it, won’t you, same as Audrey and Tim? I know it won’t really be my little brother or sister, but…you know…’ She shrugged and shook her head, looking very perplexed.

  ‘Maisie, of course you can share our baby with us, dear, and with Audrey and Tim,’ replied Patience. ‘You are a member of our family while you are living here, just as much as anyone else. And you’ve got your other family as well at Tremaine House, haven’t you? There are lots of people who love you.’