Storm Clouds Over Broombank

by Freda Lightfoot

  Only last week he’d offered to deal with the buying for her when she’d gone looking for some new gimmer lambs to replace her lost Swaledales, but she’d only laughed and told him to stay at home.

  He’d insisted on coming to today’s auction. He wanted to see what she was up to. So here he was watching his own daughter come into the ring with her own sheep. Broombank sheep.

  ‘Why do you still call them that?’ Joe had wanted to know. ‘Broombank has gone.’

  ‘Because that’s what they are, and always will be. Only the house has been damaged, not the land, nor the sheep. I know I owe you money for paying my mortgage all those months, for which I am truly grateful, but it’s still mine.’

  Joe had thought for a moment that she was going to embarrass him by kissing him before all his colleagues, but she’d contented herself with a smile. ‘I’ll pay you back. You’ll get every penny, don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m not,’ he told her.

  ‘And we’ll get the interest agreed in writing, shall we? So there’s no doubt what the final sum will be.’

  ‘Right enough,’ he’d said, too bemused to argue. What else could he do? She’d rumbled him. Joe looked thoughtful now as he listened to the auctioneer singing the praises of her stock. She’d learned a thing or two, this lass of his.

  ‘You couldn’t find a finer bunch of Swaledales anywhere in the district,’ chanted the auctioneer, and Joe listened to the rapid bidding in open astonishment.

  When Meg returned she was exultant, unable to keep the pride from her voice. ‘They’re fine sheep, aren’t they? See that speckled faced one? She’s had twins two years running. And the greyer one beside her is so greedy you hardly need a dog to fetch her in. Rattle a bucket and she’ll follow you right into your own kitchen.’ Meg chuckled, not noticing how Joe stared at her, wide-eyed.

  ‘You sound as if you know them all?’

  She looked at him then, a smile of embarrassment on her lovely lips that showed she was a woman still. ‘Wicked, isn’t it? Don’t be sentimental, that’s what you told me, so I’ve tried not to be. I was sad to see the Herdwicks go but the Swales have a broader frame, and bigger lambs. Make more money in the long run. Don’t you agree?’

  Joe had never considered anything so risky as a radical change of stock in all his life, but he didn’t say so. He was too bemused by what was happening before his eyes. He could not deny what he had seen. Meg had done it, for all she was a girl. Broombank sheep had sold for a good price, the top price achieved at this auction mart all day. Should have won a prize, the auctioneer said. Perhaps Miss Turner had best try entering her stock for the County Show next time it was on.

  Flushed with pleasure at her achievement, Meg went home that day with a fat pocket. And Joe with a pocketful of thoughts.

  That night was the longest of Kath’s life. She had ample time to wish many things were different. To wish she had never played dangerous games with Jack. It had seemed so unimportant at the time, a way of proving how close they were, that they could get away with the fun of sex without worrying about the love that should go with it.

  And it was time to question her own motives at abandoning Melissa. How young she had been, how selfish. So wrapped up in her own needs she hadn’t given a thought to the child. Then there had been the awful feeling of inadequacy. Greenlawns had been good at nourishing that feeling in everyone. They hadn’t even let her hold her own baby at birth. No wonder she had felt nothing for her.

  Now that she had found love it looked as if she might lose it. Was that to be her punishment?

  Oh, dear God, let Wade come back this night, then I can spend my life loving him. If he still wants me, that is, when he learns what a cold-hearted, selfish young woman I really am.

  Oh, Melissa. Can you ever forgive me? Is it too late for us to try again?

  Kath and Bella sat with the other girls not on duty by the window, waiting for dawn, for the sound of six aircraft overhead.

  ‘How could they take off when visibility was practically nil? And to carry a bomb of that size slung underneath the fuselage has got to be some madman’s idea of a joke.’ Kath’s mind had relayed every possible catastrophe. The tiny Mosquitoes had been shot out of the sky a dozen times in her dreams as she struggled to sleep. Now that she was awake the pictures in her head were even more dramatic. ‘And if anyone says there’s a war on, I’ll hit them.’

  Not a soul spoke. Everyone knew that these kind of missions were common. They took place nightly, nearly always in less than ideal weather conditions, and to undisclosed destinations. What made it different was the fact that Kath knew one of the pilots intimately. There wasn’t a girl present who hadn’t gone through the same torment.

  And then they heard them.

  ‘There’s one,’ Bella said, jumping up. ‘And another, and another.’ They counted them in, an achingly long pause before the last. ‘They’re all there!’ Whoops of joy and hugs and kisses all round.

  Kath didn’t hesitate, not even to grab her heavy coat. She sped out of the door and headed for the spot she knew Wade must pass when he returned to his quarters.

  Waiting for him seemed to take an age. Oh, do come, my darling. I have so much to tell you. That I love you for one thing.

  Then she saw the flames on the airfield, flaring up into the sky, offering a beacon of light for any enemy aircraft to follow. She started to run towards it. Hands held her back and she was screaming his name. ‘Don’t let it be Wade. Please don’t let it him.’

  ‘We don’t want it to be anyone,’ a hard voice said, and Kath sank to her knees in shame, for it was true. Why should anyone else have to die in this terrible war? Hadn’t the fates had enough? She fastened her hand to her mouth to stop the sobs, watching as dark figures ran, calling instructions, desperately trying to put out the blaze as one Mosquito burned to the ground.

  ‘Hey, what’s this?’ He was there. Unbelievably, beside her, holding out his arms for her to run into them.

  ‘Oh, my darling, darling Wade. I do love you, I do. And I will marry you. There’s so much I want to tell you.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  1945

  Lissa wriggled her hand free from Meg’s as they walked across the school yard. She did not wish to look like a baby. Her new shoes clip-clopped very satisfactorily and over her coat she carried a Dorothy bag with two wrapped biscuits inside, for her morning break. Hetty had knitted the bag for her out of some old blue wool.

  It was a new year, she would be five less than three months from now, and this was to be her first day at school. Deep in her tummy was a knot of excitement. Apprehension too, had Lissa been able to put a name to such an emotion, but not for a moment would she show it.

  ‘I’ll be all right now,’ she told Meg as they both watched Miss Shaw come out into the playground and clang the school bell.

  ‘I think I’m more nervous than you, sweetheart,’ Meg said, bending down to kiss her. ‘How will I get through the day without you? How will I manage all the chores?’

  Lissa giggled, secure in her knowledge of being loved, she could afford to be generous. ‘I can help you after I finish this afternoon. You will come to fetch me, won’t you, Meg?’

  Meg nodded, very seriously. ‘I will be here on the dot of three-thirty. Now you be a good girl and do what the teacher tells you.’

  Miss Shaw came up. ‘Hello, Melissa. Are you ready to come in?’

  Lissa agreed that she was. ‘You’re, not going to call me by that silly name, are you?’ she asked, liking things to be straight from the start.

  Miss Shaw hid a smile. ‘Lissa then, if you prefer it. Say bye-bye to Meg. Then we’ll go inside and sing some songs, shall we?’

  Lissa was given a peg with the picture of a cat above it, but she could already read her name so she thought that a bit babyish. Someone, she couldn’t quite remember who, had told her that it was very important to know such things before you started school, so she’d made a point of learning it. Lissa didn’t like
surprises. Or big bangs. And she was glad it was a cat on her hook, and not an aeroplane. She didn’t like aeroplanes either.

  She needed no help to unlace her shoes and put on her plimsolls. Meg had taught her how to do that, and made her a pretty bag with her name in daisy stitch to keep them in. She was ready for school and meant to enjoy it. She smiled at everyone, brisk with a new importance as she went into the warm classroom, secure in the knowledge that she was welcome here. Half the children present were already her friends from Sunday School. If they liked school and could do the work, then so could she.

  How different from dear Effie’s first day. Just a skinny little evacuee feeling as if she didn’t belong, poor Effie had been wracked with nerves, not even able to read her own name. Meg couldn’t help but remember that day as she walked back down the lane. The thorn hedges were heavy with snow and beneath a stand of beech a small flock of bramblings were foraging. She took little notice of their antics this morning but thrust her hands deep in her pockets and walked on, printing fresh tracks in the snow as her mind turned inwards. If Lissa was more ready for school than Effie had been, then the thanks, in no small part, were due to Effie herself.

  ‘I should have taken her right to the door that day,’ Meg said aloud, her words echoing in what seemed now to be a very empty world. ‘Instead of being so concerned with the land and the sheep.’

  She’d been so determined to prove to her father that she was capable of running a farm of her own that for a time nothing else had mattered. People had seemed unimportant besides the overpowering nature of her obsession, and the enormous challenges she faced. Some had even represented a threat. Her father for one, and Dan. After the betrayal of her two best friends, she hadn’t been able to trust or care about anyone for a quite a while.

  As a result she had almost lost Lissa’s love.

  Now she knew different. Now she understood that people were every bit as important as her ambitions. More so. People mattered most in life. Tam and Lissa were her life. What use was Broombank without them?

  Meg felt a huge pride in her heart taking Lissa to school today, and an odd sort of loneliness. She supposed every mother must feel the same way on her child’s first day at school. The day that stretched ahead of her seemed suddenly empty, although there was plenty of work to be done. Most mothers, of course, were real mothers, and often had other children at home. Meg wondered if she would ever have a child of her own, one who didn’t actually belong to someone else. The question had never troubled her before. Now, for some reason, it did. She wanted a child, Tam’s child, so badly in that moment, it was a physical pain.

  Everything I have is borrowed. The land, which I can only guard for future generations. Broombank, which was destroyed before it became truly mine to keep. And Lissa. Even Tam is only a lover and not a husband, so might still leave.

  But thanks to Lanky’s Luckpenny, most of her sheep were safe. She should be grateful for that.

  Meg told herself that she mustn’t grow morbid, just because the war still rumbled on. It was a crisp, January day. The sun was shining on lavender pale mountains and the snow squeaked cleanly beneath her booted feet. The kind of day that made you feel good to be alive. And she wasn’t the naive young girl she had once been. She was a woman, strong and independent. She could cope with anything now. Almost.

  Best of all, Tam was home on leave. She could at least be glad of that. She’d left him deep in conversation at the breakfast table with Joe. It was odd that those two talked so much these days. They even once took a walk together up to Brockbarrow wood. Could Joe be softening in his old age? He still missed Dan, perhaps that was it. He was enjoying having another man around.

  ‘Whatever is it you talk about so keenly?’ Meg asked Tam as they lay together in the big bed that night.

  ‘He’s worried over Ashlea. Can’t persuade Mr Ellis to sell it to him at a fair price. Joe wants it for the two youngsters one day and Jeffrey Ellis seems to have plans of his own.’

  ‘Lissa?’

  ‘That’s what I’m thinking too.’

  ‘Oh, dear God. You haven’t told Father you suspect that, have you?’

  ‘Is it daft I am? Do you want me to ruin the child’s life? No, indeed. But I wish Jeffrey wouldn’t do it. It will only cause trouble in the future.’

  Meg snuggled down beside him. ‘Then let’s leave it till the future to worry over it. Who knows what might happen by then?’ Whatever her differences with her father in the past, it was good to see him making such a good recovery. He still walked with a stick and slurred his words a little but he got out and about most days, visiting friends or the auction mart. He’d even taken up his money-lending business again. Almost like old times. Except that he wasn’t permitted yet to work on the farm.

  She had to hand it to Connie for achieving such miracles. He’d even made no protest when Sally Ann started inviting the POWs into the kitchen to eat. It was a changing world, that was certain. But then they’d all been moved by the upsetting stories of lines of refugees seen moving through France and Italy this winter. Perhaps even Joe had seen the cruelty in objecting to the presence of a pair of young men whose own war was over.

  ‘The war will end soon,’ they all kept saying. But even if the Germans were being pushed back, there was still the war in the east, still that awful uncertainty, for all it only seemed a matter of time.

  Joe cheered when they heard of Hitler’s suicide at the end of April and finally, on 8 May, came the announcement they had been waiting for. Victory in Europe at last. VE Day, as it came to be known.

  Sally Ann and Meg went wild, cheering so much that Rust started barking and couldn’t stop, the two older children looked bewildered, and little Daniel burst into tears.

  That evening they left the children with Joe and Connie and went down into Kendal with Hetty and Will Davies to join in with the celebrations. The streets were crowded with people, flags and bunting hung from every building, and with no blackout, lights blazed from every window.

  ‘It’s like Christmas and birthdays and Fair days all rolled into one. Isn’t it marvellous?’ Meg cried.

  There was dancing in the Abbot Hall Park and at midnight hordes of people collected outside Kendal Town Hall, laughing and singing. The celebrations were somewhat quiet and orderly, tempered by the knowledge of those who had died and weren’t here to share in the victory.

  It was well into the early hours by the time they arrived back at Ashlea but Sally Ann had made a decision. ‘Tomorrow we shall declare a holiday and have the best party ever. We’ll invite our dearest friends and neighbours, empty our cupboards and eat till we burst.’

  Hetty and Will Davies came, always delighted to fuss over the children, particularly Lissa.

  ‘I’ve bought her a clockwork clown that bangs a drum. I hope you don’t mind? Only, she’s the grandchild I never had,’ Hetty whispered, flushing brightly with embarrassment.

  Meg hugged her. ‘And you are the grandmother she loves as her own. I don’t know how I would have managed to bring her up without you.’

  Jeffrey and Rosemary Ellis came too, because they were invited and Mr Ellis would not permit his wife to be so rude as to decline. Not on this special day.

  ‘We’ve only popped in for a moment,’ said Rosemary, tartly. ‘We can’t stop long as we are due at the Taylors for dinner at eight.’

  They sat and sipped tea on the sofa and Rosemary studiously refused to glance in Lissa’s direction.

  ‘Uncle Jeffrey,’ the little girl cried, climbing up on to his knee and almost knocking the china cup out of his hands in her demand for attention. ‘See what Hetty has brought me.’

  ‘You are a very spoiled little girl,’ said Rosemary in her most starchy voice.

  ‘I seem to remember another little girl, equally spoiled,’ said Jeffrey dryly.

  Meg withdrew to the kitchen, not wishing to be involved in this little drama. If Rosemary wasn’t interested in Lissa, it didn’t matter one bit. Lissa had more
than enough people to love and care for her.

  ‘Oh, but it is lovely to think the war is over,’ she burst out, seeing Sally Ann recklessly slicing carrot cake and doling out tinned peaches she’d hoarded for over six long years. Would they be fit to eat? Meg wondered, and didn’t care, she’d eat them anyway. Rust sat and watched the operation, just in case she should make a mess of it and drop a piece inadvertently on the floor.

  ‘I shall be glad when we find some currants again. I’m sick of carrot cake. You pour the punch,’ Sally Ann instructed. ‘It’s homemade and pretty tame stuff but all we have.’

  Meg grinned. ‘It can’t be nearly so bad as Effie’s beetroot wine. Do you remember that? And Charlie’s first leave when we all sang songs and got very drunk?’ Tears sprang to her eyes. Effie. If only she had lived to share this precious day with them. But that was the way of war. It took no note of its victims. At least I had the privilege of knowing you, Effie love.

  ‘We can start planning our future now,’ Sally Ann said gently. ‘Where will we all be a year from now, do you think? Five years.’

  In Meg’s skirt pocket was a letter. It had come that morning. She could tell from the handwriting that it was from Kath, and it didn’t take a genius to guess it would concern Lissa. This was the first news she’d had of her since Charlie’s letter two years back. She remembered telling Mr and Mrs Ellis about it at the time, seeing the light of excitement in Jeffrey’s eyes, the tightening of Rosemary’s lips.

  ‘We might hear from her soon then?’ Jeffrey had said. But they hadn’t. Until now.

  Where would Lissa be a year from now? Meg thought. Five years? Her heart shrivelled a little inside. Before the day was over she had to find the courage to open the letter. To read Kath’s decision.

  ‘Some of us have planned our futures already,’ Joe announced, puffing out his chest. And then to Meg’s great astonishment, he turned and winked outrageously at Connie, who stood patiently by his side.