Storm Clouds Over Broombank

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘What about Rosemary? How does she feel about the idea?’

  ‘Haven’t told her yet. But she’d have no objection. She isn’t at all interested in the land, only her garden.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I could afford...’

  ‘Oh, there would be no charge. No rent or anything. In fact, quite the opposite. I’d pay you, my dear.’

  ‘Pay me?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure we could work something out that was beneficial to us both.’

  Meg smiled. ‘Without my losing face, you mean? Mr Ellis, you are a very kind man, but even if I agreed to work your land, and I’m not saying I could, I certainly would not accept wages for using your grass for my sheep. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘All right then. Rent-free grazing for your sheep and you keep us provided with lamb or mutton.’

  ‘We are only allowed to kill one lamb or sheep for ourselves each year. The government checks up, you know. The same would apply to you.’

  ‘I see, but if you take over the care of my sheep in lieu of payment for the use of the land, and provide me with some fresh food, whatever you can provide, then I’d be quite happy. Do we have a deal?’

  She’d be a fool to refuse. ‘It’s a deal.’

  Jeffrey Ellis grinned. ‘I also understand you’ve been trying to get a mortgage, so you can buy Broombank?’

  ‘I won’t borrow the money from you, so please don’t offer it.’

  ‘I am aware of your desire for independence and applaud it. I’ve been having a word with my bank manager. I have told him how much you have achieved here already in such a short time. He sees no reason why he shouldn’t be able to offer what you require.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Ellis!’

  ‘You would need to provide a deposit. Can you manage that?’

  Her eyes were alight. ‘I have it all saved up ready. Oh, but it’s in another bank.’

  Jeffrey Ellis smiled. ‘My manager will be happy to open a new account for you and offer you very favourable terms.’

  ‘I won’t need a guarantor?’

  ‘Not at all. You are your own woman. This is a business proposition between you and the bank. You must go and see him, of course, explain your plans for the future, impress him with your ability and creditworthiness, which I feel sure you can do. Is that not so?’

  Meg was grinning now. ‘Absolutely. Mr Ellis, you must be Santa Claus.’ She flung her arms about his neck and kissed him, making him blush scarlet.

  ‘No, Meg. I won’t have that,’ he protested, embarrassed by this show of affection. ‘It’s your own hard work that has brought this about. I feel it deserves recognition. I’ve only offered the right word in the right ear to help you on your way, that’s all.’

  ‘I do appreciate it.’

  They shook hands. Tea was poured and Lissa was brought down to climb upon Mr Ellis’s knee and demand a story that he had promised to tell her, if she was a good girl.

  Meg sat and watched them, sipped her tea and listened too, with pleasure and joy in her eyes.

  A day or two later she was working with Tam out on the fell when suddenly he turned to her with a defiant twist of his body and said, ‘I’m going to join up.’

  She stared at him, speechless with horror. ‘Join up? Why? When?’

  ‘You’re going to get your mortgage to buy Broombank. You have Mr Ellis’s land as well as your own and you can use POW labour. You can manage without me now.’

  ‘That’s a damn fool thing to say and you know it. I don’t want you to go. I need you here, with me.’

  He looked at her levelly. ‘You managed well enough before I came.’

  ‘That was different.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I didn’t know you then. As I know and need you now. In every sense.’ She took a step towards him, laid her hands flat against his chest. He smelled of sunshine and fresh earth and she drew in those scents to be a part of her, for ever. ‘You said you didn’t ever intend to join up. Didn’t need to fight.’

  ‘The Americans are seriously in the war now. Everyone is. I feel I ought to be too.’

  ‘But you are Irish, not American, and Ireland is still a neutral country.’

  Tam didn’t smile at her, or joke as he once might have done. He gently removed her hands, looking serious. Far too serious. ‘I still think I should go.’

  Meg became very still. ‘Because America is in? Are you saying that when the war is over you’ll go back there, to America?’ A pain was starting somewhere around the region of her heart. But he shook his head.

  ‘That’s up to you. I rather thought I might ask you to marry me. Probably should have asked you already.’ He attempted a smile. ‘Make an honest woman of you.’

  ‘I did rather wonder.’

  ‘I love you, Meg.’

  ‘And I love you, Tam.’

  ‘So what do you say? We could marry now. Before I go.’

  She met his gaze. Open, loving, with anxiety in it as if he were not quite sure of her.

  ‘You want me to marry you and then you intend to go off and fight in the war?’

  ‘I have to.’

  She swallowed, but it did nothing to ease the ache in her throat. She had longed for these words, now she hated them. ‘I can’t.’

  The silence was appalling. ‘Why can’t you?’

  ‘Because.’

  ‘Because of Jack?’

  ‘I still have his ring. I’m still engaged to him. Officially, that is. At least, I’ve never managed, never had the opportunity, to end it.’

  ‘Perhaps you didn’t try hard enough.’

  ‘Don’t be bitter, Tam.’ She put out a hand, wanting to say she would marry him, wanting to have him gather her in his arms, say he wouldn’t go. But he ignored it and the hand fell to her side, untouched.

  ‘He betrayed you. You owe him nothing.’

  ‘It was a youthful madness. It could happen to anyone. But until the war ends he needs me. I can’t just abandon him. You know that I was waiting for him to come home on leave. I didn’t want to go into all the recriminations by post. I never intended to fall in love again. Only I did. And then I couldn’t bring myself to send him a "Dear John" letter.’

  ‘Lots of other people manage it.’

  ‘Well, I’m not other people. I’m me, and I thought it best to wait till I saw him. Only, I never did. He went overseas and disappeared.’ As you might do, her heart said, and fear shot through her, hot and piercing. Oh, why did I ever let myself love again? she thought.

  ‘So the answer is still no?’

  She licked her lips. ‘It would seem so - so cruel for Jack to think he still had a girl at home and come back to find me married. Can’t we stay as we are, for now? Once the war is over I can tell him, explain about Lissa, decide what’s best for her. Then there’s Broombank, which I only accepted because I thought Jack and I…’ She ran out of words, a sob on her breath, but Tam was too hurt to respond to it.

  ‘Ah yes, of course, the land. It’s fine for me to work it so long as I don’t claim any rights to it. I’m just the hired man.’

  Meg flushed angrily. ‘That’s not what I said.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No.,

  ‘What’s best for the land. What’s best for Lissa. What’s best for Jack. What about what’s best for you? And me? My needs don’t count, is that it?’

  Meg searched desperately for the right words to explain how she felt. How by rights both Lissa and the land belonged to Jack and how she couldn’t bear to part with either of them. But she couldn’t say all of that without hurting Tam further. ‘I can’t do anything about Jack, not yet. Why won’t you understand?’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ he said and strode away.

  Just as she had always feared would one day happen, it was over. He packed his few belongings and that night as they lay in the great bed made no move to touch her until she whispered his name, a painful sob coming from deep in her soul.

  Then he reached for her
and loved her with such a sweet fierceness it was as if he could not get enough of her, as if it were the last time.

  When she woke the next morning, the bed was empty. Tam had gone.

  ‘I reckon that Lord Haw Haw chap should be horsewhipped, prating on every night.’

  ‘Yes, Dad. Write to the BBC and suggest it.’

  ‘It’s not the BBC who’s at fault, you daft woman, it’s that Hitler. I’ll not have no jumped-up little dictator telling me what’s what. "Jairmany calling. Jairmany calling." Makes my blood boil.’

  ‘Why do you listen to him then? Go to bed.’

  ‘No, I want thee to read me that news again. I want to understand what’s going on.’

  Sally Ann laid down the paper with a weary sigh. ‘Sorry, Dad, but I’m licked. Little Daniel will have me awake by five and I can’t take any more.’

  She came to stand by his chair and rested a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Don’t sit up too long. You’re tired too and it could be a long while before Dan gets home. You know he’s often late after a training exercise.’ She glanced about the muddled room, children’s toys and clothes scattered about. There hardly seemed a spare minute in the day to do all that had to be done. And she didn’t feel up to trying. This pregnancy seemed more wearisome than the last two, somehow.

  ‘I need more help,’ she said now, surprising herself by the suddenness of her request.

  Joe glanced up at her, then at the homely clutter. ‘Aye,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Happen you do, since you’re carrying again. I’ll find a girl to help you, next time I go down town.’

  Impulsively she kissed him on the forehead. He had never returned her signs of affection but she knew they did not displease him. ‘I’m lucky to have you to keep me cheerful, do you know that?’ she gently teased. ‘Meg’s on her own again now that Tam has joined up. Apart from little Effie, that is. I feel for her.’

  ‘Perhaps she’ll see sense now then, and give up. Get yourself to bed,’ he said gruffly. ‘Thee needs rest. I’m all right for a bit.’

  Smiling, Sally Ann went wearily up the stairs. It had been a good day for her when she’d come to Ashlea to borrow money. She had no complaints, none at all. Dan had proved to be a good husband for all his insecurities and Joe wasn’t a bad old stick, once you got used to him. More bark than bite these days.

  Down in the kitchen Joe got up and turned off the wireless in disgust. He’d had enough of that propaganda rubbish. But he would wait up for his son and find out just what he was up to. Training exercise indeed! The last time Dan had come home late, there had been the unmistakable smell of beer on his breath, if Joe wasn’t mistaken. He meant to check it out tonight. If he was right, he’d have a few words to say on the subject.

  Despite his best efforts, Joe’s eyes soon began to droop. Jerking awake again, he went to brew a pot of tea to keep himself alert. When Dan crept quietly through the door at half-past midnight, his father was snoring gently by the ashes of a dead fire. Grinning to himself, he made sure not to disturb Joe as he lurched past the old carver chair towards the stairs.

  He might have made it too, had it not been for Nicky’s pile of wooden bricks. Dan put his foot on one and skidded from one to the other like a cat on marbles.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he yelled, crashing to the ground with such force that not only did he wake his father, but his wife and two sons as well. The baby’s screams burst forth like ack-ack fire.

  Joe was on his feet in a second. ‘I knew it. Drunk! And swearing too. What have we come to?’

  Dan groaned in agony. ‘I think I’ve broken my ankle.’

  ‘Get up and don’t talk soft. What have thee been up to, eh? No good, I’ll be bound.’

  Sally Ann came hurrying downstairs, dressing gown pulled hastily about her swollen stomach, eyes blinking with sleep. ‘What is it? What’s going on?’

  ‘This lout is drunk,’ Joe announced. ‘Just look at him, great lump that he is.’

  ‘Don’t call me a lump.’ Dan had had enough of being reviled and criticised. All his life his father had told him how useless he was. Charlie and Meg had been petted by his mother, but nobody had given a toss about him. He’d had enough. Pulling back his arm, he swung his fist with all the power of his awesome muscle.

  Had it not been for the several pints he had consumed with his mates earlier that evening, some of it home brewed at Mike Lanyon’s house, he might well have done considerable damage. As it was, the very act of swinging the arm sent him clean off balance and before he could stop himself he’d banged his head against the kitchen cupboard, tipped sideways, and landed with one foot in the coal scuttle, a look of comical surprise upon his face.

  ‘Huh,’ scoffed Joe, a curl of contempt at the corner of his mouth. ‘Can’t even get that right. I’m off to bed.’

  Dan shook a fist at him, determined to prove his point. ‘If I want a drink, I shall have one. I’m near thirty years old and I’ll please meself.’

  ‘Thee’ll do as I say while you live in my house.’

  Flushed with fury, Dan shook off the clinging coal scuttle, fortunately empty of coal since it was so hard to come by, and lurched to his feet. ‘You’re a flaming bully, that’s what you are!’

  ‘Dan, don’t.’ Sally Ann stepped hastily forward. She’d never seen him like this before, never. She feared what he might say or do next. ‘Come to bed, love. It’s the drink talking, Father, take no notice.’

  Dan shook her arm impatiently away. With the skill peculiar only to the very drunk, he steadied himself and faced his father with narrowed eyes. ‘You told me she wouldn’t stick at it. You told me Meg would give up as soon as things got tough. You promised me that I could have Broombank, for me own.’

  Joe regarded his son with something very close to pity. What a clod hopper he was. When things didn’t quite go his way he got peevish, or turned to drink. Why had he ever imagined that this son might make a good farmer? But he was his eldest and the other one wasn’t shaping to it at all, so he had to make the best of it.

  For the first time in his life, Joe wished that Dan had some of Meg’s skill and half her spunk and common sense. It was true, she was doing well at Broombank, he had to admit that. Despite his better judgement Joe felt a grudging admiration for his daughter. Why had the wrong one been born a boy?

  ‘Happen thee will have it, one day. It’s just taking longer than I thought.’

  ‘It won’t ever happen. She won’t give up and you know it. Meg’s as stubborn as you. She’ll never let me have Broombank, and you won’t let me run Ashlea. All I am is a bloody labourer. You’re too damn mean to pay me a living wage, and I can’t even afford to keep me own wife and children, not without food from your table.’

  Sally Ann was crying now. ‘Stop it, Dan. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Aye, it does matter. It matters to me. I’ve had enough. I’m a man, aren’t I?’

  The bloodshot eyes focused with surprising clarity and terrible ferocity upon Joe. ‘I have my pride.’ He took a step forward and laughed out loud when he saw his father flinch. ‘Aye, you might well look nervous. Things are going to change round here. I’m taking no more orders from you.’ He jabbed a wavering finger in his father’s face. ‘I’m going to see our Meg in t’morning, and tip her out of that cosy nook she has, once and for all. I want a place of me own, and mean to get it, one way or another. I’m not ending up bitter and dried up like you.’ Swinging to Sally Ann, he clutched her about the shoulders, pulling her to him, turning maudlin now. ‘You’re a grand lass, Sal. I’ll see you don’t become his skivvy, like our Meg did. I won’t have it, d’you hear?’

  ‘I’m not. I won’t,’ she protested but Dan shook his head.

  ‘Oh, aye, that’s what he does to people, turns them into skivvies and labourers to do his bidding. It don’t matter to him what you want, only what he wants.’ Dan wiped the spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. His mind was starting to fog over again and he’d lost track of his thoughts. ‘I’ve had en
ough,’ he said, and slid senseless to the floor.

  Which gave Joe the opportunity for the last word, as usual. ‘You can both be out first thing in t’morning, if that’s the way you feel about it.’ Then turning his back in disgust, he went upstairs to bed.

  Sally Ann, crying bitter tears, not knowing whether to berate Dan for his folly in losing them a comfortable home, or admire him for finally standing up to his father, pulled off her husband’s boots and covered him with the rug from the settle. There was no way she could get him upstairs, so she left him where he was and went to bed.

  Meg could scarce believe the pain she felt. A great gaping hole was left where once joy had been. She lay sleepless at night, tossing and turning in the great empty bed, her mind and her body crying out for Tam. She thought she would never get over the pain of losing him.

  Nothing she had ever felt before could possibly have prepared her for this. It was as if a part of her were missing.

  She wrote to him every day and lived for his letters, which were never often enough for her liking. She tried to fill her days with work but she seemed to have lost interest and became listless, without her usual energy. Every morning she had to drag herself downstairs and couldn’t face the breakfast Effie tried to make her eat.

  ‘It’ll be all right in the end,’ Effie consoled her. ‘He feels he has to do his bit, that’s all. As you have to do yours. When this topsy-turvy world rights itself again, he’ll be back.’

  Meg’s grey eyes turned upon her friend, begging for it to be true. ‘I can’t cope without him, Effie. There seems no point in anything any more without Tam here beside me. Was I wrong? Should I have married him, even though I couldn’t end it properly with Jack?’

  Effie’s face turned blank. ‘Don’t get me into that one. I’m a kid, remember. Anyroad, that’s your decision. No one else’s.’

  ‘I was afraid too, Effie. Afraid that if I married Tam, committed myself to him, it would hurt more if he ever left and didn’t come back.’ She gave a hard little laugh with no humour in it. ‘I can see now that can’t be true. With or without a piece of paper, I’m committed. I couldn’t possibly hurt more than I do at this moment.’