Songbird

by Josephine Cox

  The man called Brad fished out eight pounds and handed it over. “So, have you had any luck with my notice?” he asked.

  “Nope!” Spectacles Man made a grimace. “Seems to me how folks have lost the will to work. Either that, or there’s too much work to go round and they’re spoiled for choice. Would you like me to leave the notice in for another week?”

  Brad looked disappointed. “I’m surprised. I thought I might at least get one candidate,” he groaned.

  “Well, I’m not surprised. Like I told you, I don’t normally put notices up, but being as you’re a long-time friend, I made an exception. Folks who call in here don’t come looking for work, they come for fuel. It was a long shot, and I had hoped it might be of some use to you, but it looks like you’ll have to take out an ad in the local paper. Meantime, we can leave the notice there! You never know, there might be that one person who sees it and takes an interest.”

  “Okay, we’ll leave it for another week,” Brad decided, “and thanks for your help. I really do appreciate it.”

  He lowered his voice to an intimate level. “Since Tom and Joan moved to the coast, I’m absolutely desperate. I’ve got my hands full with the farming, there’s a new barn going up and pipes being laid right down to the spinney… the top fields flooded twice last year, and ruined the seedlings. And on top of that, I’ve had one man off sick for a week, and my desk is piled high to the rafters with urgent letters and bills.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Sometimes you wonder if it’s all worth it. Without Joan to keep on top of it, the house looks like a tip. So, yes, we’ll do what you said… we’ll leave the notice for another week. Meantime, I’ll contact the Bedfordshire Times and organize an advert.”

  “It’s worth a try. Trouble is, you never know what kind of person you’re getting. It’s always best if you can recruit locally. That way, there’s a chance you’ll already know their background.”

  “Right. Well, thanks anyway. So, we’ll leave it a week, and see how we go.” He was about to turn away when he suddenly remembered, “Oh! I forgot – I need to fill my can. They’re late delivering my diesel, and I’m getting low. I daren’t risk running out altogether.” Sorting through his loose change, he paid the extra amount.

  As he turned away, he almost bumped into Maddy. “Whoops!” he said with a sincere smile, before addressing the coach driver, to apologize for the wait.

  Moving forward to the counter, the coach driver acknowledged his apology with a nod of the head. He paid for his fuel, and treated Maddy to her newspaper, which he promptly handed to her. “You might as well go and find the cloakroom,” he suggested, “while I finish up here.”

  Stopping to look at the magazines on display near the door, Maddy overheard snatches of conversation between the driver and the man behind the counter. “There goes a worried man,” the latter stated. “As decent a bloke as you’ll ever meet.”

  Taking the driver’s money, he chatted on, “…Name’s Brad. He’s a vet who also runs Brighill Farm, a couple of miles down the lane. Got a young son. His wife was killed in a road acident, couple of years ago. God knows how he’s coping with everything he’s got on his plate.”

  “Oh, I know what that’s like. Sounds like your man’s got his troubles and no mistake,” the driver said kindly.

  “You’re right there – and now he’s left with a little lad to care for. Life’s a bitch as they say, and it’s given him a few kicks, poor devil. It’s been one bad thing after another. A hardworking, decent bloke like Brad? There’s no way he deserves that.”

  At this, Maddy left and hurried across the forecourt to where Brad was filling up the can. “I’m really sorry I delayed you in there,” he said. His smile was open and honest. “I had a bit of business to sort out, and I didn’t realize there was anyone waiting behind me.” He paused, then said a little desperately, “I don’t suppose you know anyone who’s looking for work and lodgings, do you?”

  Before she could answer, he said, “What’s wrong with me?” and smacked his forehead. “I take up your time in there, and then you can’t even walk across the forecourt without me accosting you. If I say sorry again, will you forgive me… please?” He had a mischievous look on his face.

  “Of course,” Maddy assured him. “And no, I don’t know anyone who might be looking for work and lodgings.” Apart from me, she thought, and the last thing I need is to take on more troubles than I’ve already got.

  “Ah, well. Thank you anyway.”

  “I hope you find someone,” she said sympathetically.

  “I’m sure I will.” He laughed. “It’s either that, or I throw myself off a bridge.”

  “That’s not a clever thing to say,” Maddy chided. “I understand you have a young son?”

  He appeared shocked. “How did you know that? Oh, I see…” He glanced toward the garage. “Sam’s a fine friend, but he does like to tittle-tattle.” He gave her a sheepish look. “But you’re right, that was not a clever thing for me to say, and I take it back. Is that all right?”

  Maddy gave him a smile, which Brad thought was enchanting. “Like I say, I hope you find someone,” she said, and with that, she left him filling up his can, and made her way to the coach.

  The driver was right behind her. “Saw you chatting to the man,” he said casually.

  “No, he was chatting to me,” she said. “He seems desperate to find help.”

  “So now you’re thinking you should not set your heart on Bedford, because here you have a home and work, all rolled into one. Mind you, if he’s a man on his own, you need to be very careful.”

  He started the engine and began pulling out.

  Maddy took a sideways glance at the man called Brad, who had replaced the cap on the can and was wiping his hands on an old rag. He then threw the rag back into the bucket, collected the can and started his way back to the Land Rover.

  “STOP!” Grabbing her bag from the overhead shelf, she frantically yelled for the driver to pull over.

  “Hey!” Drawing the coach to a halt, the man was astonished to see Maddy brush past him and start down the steps. “What the devil are you playing at?”

  “You made me think,” she told him. “And you’re right. That poor man needs someone to work for him, and I need the work and lodgings. It’s ideal.”

  “Don’t be rash, love. You don’t know anything about him.”

  “And he doesn’t know anything about me. I heard the man in the garage say he’s a decent bloke, and he knows him, so I’m happy with that.” She told herself that no man could be as evil as the one from whom she was fleeing, an evil man who would take delight in doing away with her, and their son.

  “If you were my daughter, there’s no way I’d let you off this coach! And I thought you were going to stay with a friend?”

  “But I’m not your daughter – I’m not anyone’s daughter. Besides, I’m old enough to know how to take care of myself.” He opened the door and she clambered to the ground.

  “What about Bedford?”

  “There’s time enough for that,” she said. “And like you say, if this doesn’t work out, Bedford is only a spit and a throw away. Thanks for all your kindness. And now I’m sorry, but I’ve got to dash. Bye-ee!”

  Running across the forecourt, she called out to Brad. “Hang on a minute!”

  Turning round, he was astonished to see the pretty girl running toward him. Putting the can on the ground, he waited. “Okay, what have I done now?” he asked.

  “It seems you have what I’m looking for.”

  “Dear me! And what might that be then?”

  “I need work and lodgings, and you appear to have both.”

  He studied her for a brief moment. “Are you telling me you want to come and work at Brighill Farm?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “But it’s heavy stuff. It’s a man I need more than anything.” He paused. “You wouldn’t happen to be a trained nursemaid, by any chance?” he inquired hopefully. “I’ve got a
young son – Robin. He’s nearly eight.”

  “No, but I’m used to children – with my smaller brothers and sisters, and all that.” She could feel herself blushing at the lie. “And I can turn my hand to hard work if needs be. But I can’t claim to do heavy labor. Like you rightly say, you need a man for that. But I’m keen, and I’m a quick learner, and I know my way round babies.” Her own darling son loomed large in her mind, making her heart dip. She prayed for the day when she could openly have him with her, “Look here, Mr…”

  “Brad… call me Brad, everyone does.”

  “Well, Brad – and you can call me Sheelagh – Sheelagh Parson.” It was a combination of her middle name and her late mother’s maiden name, so it wasn’t too much of a lie, Maddy thought quickly. “The truth is, I really need the work. Why don’t you give me a trial, and if I’m not up to scratch, what have you got to lose?”

  The man took another moment to study her; the long dark hair and slim figure, and that steely look in her chestnut-colored eyes, then, “Do you have references, Sheelagh?”

  Looking him in the eye, she shook her head. “No. Do you, Brad?”

  She saw the smile growing on his face and when he laughed out loud, she laughed with him. “You’ll do,” he said. “I’ll give you a month’s trial, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  As she clambered into his Land Rover, Maddy was knocked breathless by a huge hairy dog that leaped on her from behind.

  “Down!” Brad gave the order and it leaped back into the boot. Then: “Stay!” which it did.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Maddy. She told him how she’d been taken by surprise, but that she wasn’t hurt.

  Brad apologized yet again, this time on behalf of the dog. “His name’s Donald. He’s my sheepdog, and my best friend.”

  Maddy was curious. “Donald? That’s a strange name for a dog.”

  “It was either that or Duck,” he said wrily. “When I first started training him to be a sheepdog, the daft capers he cut were nothing short of hilarious. They reminded me of Donald Duck. Hence the name.”

  “He’s beautiful.” Looking round, she observed his big black eyes and peculiar sticky-up ears, one white, one black.

  “He’s very special. Knows me better than I know myself,” Brad admitted. “I expect you heard a snippet or two back there. These past two years, things have been pretty difficult.” He jerked a thumb at the dog. “If it hadn’t been for this fellow, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

  “It’s good to have a friend through bad times,” Maddy said quietly.

  “You sound as if you know a bit about it.” Something in her tone reflected a sense of hurt.

  Maddy gave no response. Least said, least repeated, she thought. As for the man in the garage, she would not be too happy if a friend of hers was to break a confidence like that.

  “Okay.” Brad understood. “As long as you do your work, earn your keep and don’t steal the family jewels, I’m happy to mind my own business.”

  He gave a sigh, muttering under his breath, “Roofs leaking, trenches to be dug out, acres of land that need turning over. Barns going up.” He started the engine, put his Land Rover into first gear and rolled his eyes in frustration. “I need ten men to do the work, and here I am, taking on a slip of a girl who’s got fewer muscles than my daft dog.”

  “I heard that!” Maddy was trying not to laugh.

  “You were meant to.”

  “So, you don’t want me after all?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “No.”

  “The plan is, me and young Robin and Donald will give you a try, then if you’re no good, you’re out.” He glanced at the dog. “Isn’t that right, Don?”

  Hearing his name, the dog sat up, cocked an ear, licked his master’s face, slobbered on Maddy, then spreading himself flat on the floor, he dropped off to sleep.

  Wiping off the slobber with the grubby rag Brad handed to her, Maddy giggled. “You’re right,” she said lightheartedly. “Donald does suit him.”

  As they drove away, the coach driver watched, “Women! They never listen,” he grumbled. “Still, that Brad seems a regular sort of a bloke. All we can do is hope she’s made the right decision.”

  After meandering past isolated farmhouses and lanes that were so narrow the sides of the vehicle sheared away the hedges, they arrived at what Maddy could only describe as something out of a painting. “Wow! Is this your house?” At the end of a long untidy drive, the rambling cottage was immensely pretty, with its thatched roof and tiny windows. The porch was a smaller masterpiece, with stout wooden struts holding up the quaint little roof. Brad had left the lights on, and they lit up the surrounding dark, chilly landscape like a beacon.

  “Like it, do you?” Brad was proud of his home, especially as he and his late wife Penny had lovingly brought it back from years of being derelict.

  “It’s adorable.” Maddy’s enthusiasm was akin to his own.

  “Well, thank you. But you wouldn’t have said that if you’d seen it some ten years back. It was just a heap of rubble and rotting timber, with the roof sagging into the downstairs rooms, and crumbling walls where the rain poured in.”

  He described how hard it had been, bringing it back to its former glory. “When we first saw it, Penny wasn’t sure if she could live in it. But I fell in love with it straight off, so we went to the auction, and got it for a song. The surrounding forty acres of land were auctioned separately, and as my lifelong dream had been to start a veterinary farm, where animals might convalesce, I bought the lot.”

  “And have you ever regretted it?” Maddy was thinking of the way his wife had given him a son, and then was sadly taken. In her deepest heart she was riddled with guilt at leaving her own son. She couldn’t help but compare herself with his wife. But then, she told herself, there was a difference. His wife had no choice in it, while she had deliberately left Michael because her very presence had placed him in great danger. For that very reason, she must not regret leaving; only regret that she had ever set eyes on his father.

  Brad answered her direct question. “I could never regret living here,” he said. “From the day they raised the roof and we were able to step inside, the cottage seemed to wrap itself around us, like a pair of loving arms.”

  He gave a half-smile. “It started out so well. Life was good.” Pausing, he went on, “Then it was not so good. But the house was still there, constant, warm and comfortable.”

  The smile broadened to fullness as he reached out backward to ruffle the dog’s shaggy coat. “This scruffy fella might be daft as a brush, and at times he drives me mad with his scatty ways and bad manners. But he will never know how much I owe him.”

  Maddy knew though.

  She heard the tremor in Brad’s voice and saw the love in his eyes, and she imagined how, after his wife got killed, the dog remained loyal; an ear to confide in, a constant and protective friend who gave his all, and asked nothing in return.

  On arriving outside the cottage, Brad opened the rear door and Donald jumped out. Running straight to the water bowl, he lapped up the contents and promptly shook his head and spattered them all over.

  He then sat on his haunches, wagging his tail and looking up at his master with a hopeful gleam in his eye. “No, Donald.” Brad was firm. “It’s not your dinnertime. You can wait, like the rest of us.” Making a wide sweep of his arm, he told the dog, “Get off and do your work. Check whether them damned foxes have had any of the sheep away. Go on! Get off with you!”

  Ushering Maddy inside, Brad took her on a tour of the house.

  As they went from room to room, Maddy thought she had never seen anything so delightful. Every room was different; Robin’s bedroom had airplane curtains and the carpet was covered with Action Men, Lego and vehicles of all descriptions. Maddy nearly trod on a London bus as she backed out of the room, thinking it could do with a good clean.

  “The lad’s staying at his friend Dave’s tonight,” said B
rad, taking her back downstairs and into the office. This room was small and compact, fitted with shelves and cupboards and strewn with all manner of papers and files, and there was even a pile marked URGENT lying on the floor.

  “As you can see, I’m in a complete mess,” Brad grinned. “But I do have a system. I mark everything. Very Urgent. Urgent, Can Wait or Dispose Of.”

  “And does it work?”

  “No.” He spread out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t get round to it, the piles get bigger, and then they send me threatening letters.”

  “That’s worrying, isn’t it?”

  “I know.” He chuckled. “But in the end, it might work out in my favor.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, if I don’t pay they lock me up. And if I’m locked up, I can’t work, and if I can’t work I can’t pay. So it’ll be them that does the worrying. Not me.”

  Maddy laughed out loud; she liked him. What with his wife dying and leaving him with a small child to care for, and then losing his loyal staff and trying to run a working farm and a vet business, he had taken a series of hard blows. Yet in the wake of all that, he could still smile and see the funny side of things.

  “Right.” He led her through to the sitting room. “This is where me and my scruffy dog put the world to rights,” he said. “We have our dinner, cooked and ruined by me, then we flop down and moan at each other. Afterward, we fall asleep and on the stroke of midnight, he slinks off to his bed in the kitchen, and I stagger upstairs.” His grin was infectious. “Sad, isn’t it?”

  Maddy thought it was wonderful, and said so.

  The central heating was on full blast. Every room in the house was warm, bright and inviting. Brad told her how all three bedrooms had panoramic views over the countryside, not that she could see them now, as it was pitch dark – while from the kitchen window, apparently, the long, meandering brook was clearly visible, dancing its way through the valley.

  “It’s the most beautiful place!” Maddy exclaimed. “I’m not a country girl born and bred, but I can understand how you fell in love with it all.”