‘Of course all this will have to be gutted out,’ Natalie said. ‘It will give more space if we knock down the larder wall too.’
‘I can’t do that!’ he exclaimed. ‘There’s a list of conditions in the lease. They even have a note of the number of coat pegs and they must be replaced if a tenant removes any of them.’
‘You must remember Nats, Steven is only renting the place. He can’t knock it to bits, even if he wanted to,’ Mr Turner said. Steven wandered across the small hallway and pushed open the door of a sitting room. It faced south to the garden and he thought it would be pleasant in summer. Natalie followed.
‘This room might be all right with some thick velvet curtains and some pretty wall paper. The polished floor surround is not so bad but that grate will have to go. You’ll need a three piece suite in here, Steven. I’ve seen lovely uncut moquette suites for thirty nine guineas.’
‘Thirty nine guineas?’ Steven almost choked.
‘Yes, and you’ll need a carpet of course. The bathroom is downstairs. That’s not very convenient but there’s a box room upstairs so you could make another one in there. The water has been turned off so we can’t use the toilet. There’s no wash basin either. It’s so tiny.
‘At least it’s indoors,’ John Oliphant chuckled. ‘When we were married we had to go down the garden and the bath was a zinc tub in front of the fire.’
Natalie gave him a scathing glance. She had never lived anywhere else but Martinwold with its upstairs bathroom and a downstairs toilet. She was unaware that two of her father’s cottages still had no bathroom and considered themselves lucky to have an indoor water closet.
‘The stairs are a bit steep,’ she said. ‘The last tenants left the stair carpet but it’s a horrible colour. You’ll need to change that.’ Steven turned away, caught John Oliphant’s bemused glance and rolled his eyes heavenward.
‘I can’t afford to spend any money on the house,’ he said firmly.
‘Oh come up stairs and don’t be an old misery,’ Natalie said. They all trooped upstairs to the small square landing. There were two big bedrooms, each with an Adam style fireplace. Someone had left a huge wardrobe in one. Although Natalie referred to the little room as a box room it had a small iron grate and it was big enough for a single bed and a chest of drawers. Again, she started listing the things he would require, including new carpets and a bedroom suite in figured walnut that she had seen for forty-nine guineas. Steven gaped at her.
‘I’m bringing my bed from home,’ he said brusquely, ‘and there’s linoleum on the floor; that will have to do.’
‘Don’t be such a meanie. Daddy will loan you the money if you haven’t enough, won’t you, Daddy?
‘No!’ Steven said emphatically. ‘I don’t want to borrow any money if I can help it. If ever I do it would have to be for something essential for the farm. My first priority will be a horse. I saw an old cart in the shed. I believe I could patch it up to make do for a year or two. The last tenants have left a wheelbarrow as well, and a shovel and some small tools.’
‘I expect the widow had no one to help her clear out or muck the sheds if she had no family,’ John Oliphant said. ‘I noticed an old chicken brooder. I’m sure Chrissie could fix it up with some felt curtains. You’d only need a new oil heater for it.’
‘I saw that.’ Steven nodded. ‘I’ll pay for the material if you think Mrs Oliphant would fix it?’
‘Bring it up in the van the next time you come,’ John Oliphant suggested. ‘It would be easier for her if she has it near at hand.’
‘But Steven,’ Natalie protested, tugging at his arm and reclaiming his attention, ‘you have to consider the kitchen at least.’
‘It looks fine to me, except it needs a good clean and a coat of distemper.’
‘Oh don’t tease. You know you will need an electric cooker and you may as well get one of the new electric washing machines. You should get one of those with electric ringers then you don’t have to turn the mangle.’ Steven stared at her. He hadn’t thought about washing. His heart sank. Come to that he didn’t know much about cooking either. His earlier elation was draining away as he listened to Natalie’s critical comments and expensive ideas. It would take him years before he could afford all the things a wife apparently expected. ‘Don’t look like that,’ Natalie shook his arm impatiently. ‘You can get a brand new cooker with four rings for forty pounds and I know Mother paid about that for her new washing machine.’
‘There’s a copper boiler and a tub in the wash house and I’m hoping that old stove will do any cooking I’ll be doing,’ he said dully. ‘Now I want another quick look outside then we must get back or it will be time for Mr Oliphant to start the milking.’ Steven avoided Natalie’s pouting face, but he caught her father’s eyes on him as they trooped outside.
‘The place needs a lot of hard work,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘but it’s better than I expected.’
‘Oh Daddy! Better than you expected? It’s nothing but a dump!’
‘The buildings are in good structural repair. All they need is cleaning out and a good coat of lime-wash, and a lick of paint on the doors and windows,’ her father said firmly. ‘It will take time but I know you never shied away from hard work, Steven. We’ll talk again when you’ve had a walk over the land. I may be able to let you have one or two implements for the horse now that we’ve moved on to tractors. It would be a big benefit if you had a milking machine. You’ll have everything to do yourself.’
‘I need to buy some cows to milk first,’ Steven said. ‘I have to crawl before I can walk.’
‘Well at least you’ve got your head screwed on the right way,’ Mr Turner approved.
‘Oh Father!’ Natalie exclaimed irritably.
‘You’d have the poor lad bankrupt before he got started if he listened to you, Nats. You’ll have to learn to budget before you think of getting married,’ he added sternly, but Natalie only pulled a face at him. Steven guessed she’d never gone without anything she fancied, in spite of the rationing and clothing coupons and all the shortages other people had had to suffer, and were still enduring.
Back at Martinwold, the road forked as they approached the farm with one drive to the Turners’ house and the other to the farm.
‘You can drop us here,’ John Oliphant said. ‘It will save you turning in the yard.’
‘Very well,’ Mr Turner nodded. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, Steven, and good luck.’
John Oliphant and Steven walked together towards his van.
‘You’ll come in for some tea, laddie, before you leave?’
‘No thanks.’ Steven said flatly. ‘I’d better be getting home. Mother will be waiting to hear the details.’
‘You sound a bit down. Were you disappointed? Or is there something else bothering you?’
‘No, not really,’ he sighed. ‘It’s just that Natalie pointed out all the faults. I don’t care about the house so long as I’ve a place to sleep, but she made me realise it could be years before I can afford to make it a comfortable home. Are all women so demanding?’
‘They like a bit of comfort, but we’ve never bought any new furniture yet and I reckon we’re happy enough. Never heed what Natalie says. She’s a spoiled brat. She must spend half her time window-shopping in Carlisle when she’s supposed to be at work. She fancies you, Steven. That’s why she’s letting you know what the house will need.’
‘Natalie Turner fancies me?’ Steven laughed in disbelief. The idea was crazy, but he saw John Oliphant was serious. ‘There’s no fear of that,’ he added soberly.
‘Don’t be so sure. You’re a good looking fellow and you’ve done well in the army. She’s not used to being overlooked. You’ll have to pay her more attention. When she thinks she’s got you where she wants you she’ll probably lose interest. The Natalies of this world crave attention and she has enough of her father in her to relish a challenge.’ John Oliphant grinned.
‘It will be years bef
ore I can afford a wife. Anyway I don’t want to offend Mr Turner and he wouldn’t thank me for flirting with his only daughter, even if I wanted to. I’ll get away home now. Thanks for coming.’
‘Eh laddie, I was pleased you asked me.’ John Oliphant’s eyes grew shadowed. ‘Sam would have been really pleased for ye,’ he said gruffly. ‘If ever we can help, you’ve only to ask.’
‘Thanks,’ Steven said simply. He slid into the van and drove away, his mind going over the day’s events.
***
Megan was bitterly disappointed when Steven didn’t come in for afternoon tea with her father. She had washed her face, put on a clean skirt and jumper, and brushed her hair until it shone. It was the first day she had felt like doing anything with her appearance since she’d had the influenza. She listened eagerly to her father describing the little farm that would soon be Steven’s home. She longed to see it but when her father mentioned Natalie Turner had been there her heart sank.
‘Natalie went with you?’ She couldn’t hide her dismay.
‘Aye she did.’ He frowned ‘It would take a richer man than Steven to keep up with her ideas.’
‘What has it to do with her?’ Megan asked, but she didn’t need an answer. She knew already that Natalie was attracted to Steven. The Turners would probably want someone richer for their only daughter but Steven was intelligent and ambitious, and he was a fine looking man, even if she was prejudiced. If Natalie had set her heart on having him for her husband Mr Turner would do a great deal to help him on his way, if only for Natalie’s sake. Some day Martinwold would belong to Natalie and her husband. It was a prize worth winning.
Megan felt tired and depressed. She knew it was not all due to her recent illness. She had waited eagerly for Steven’s return, longing to hear his ideas for the farm but he had discussed them with Natalie and her father instead. No wonder he hadn’t bothered coming in for tea. She sighed, remembering how foolishly she had allowed herself to dream. Except for his kiss at the station he still seemed to regard her as Sam’s wee sister. He hadn’t been home five minutes and already Natalie Turner was claiming his attention.
***
The following morning, Steven waited to drive his mother to Schoirhead but his initial enthusiasm had been dampened by Natalie’s criticism yesterday. It was not that he cared about her opinion except that she was a woman so presumably she knew what most women would expect. Even so he wished she had never seen Schoirhead. He was prepared for hard work and a struggle to get himself established but she had left him in no doubt of how little he had to offer in the eyes of a woman. Would Megan have considered the house a dump, he wondered?
‘Put these in the van, will you, Steven?’ His mother interrupted his thoughts. He looked at the large cardboard box in surprise.
‘What’s all this?’ he asked, taking it from her, as well as the bucket swinging from her arm. There was an assortment of brushes, cloths, scouring powder, a packet of soda and various other cleaning materials. ‘I haven’t signed on the dotted line yet,’ he protested. ‘I’m waiting for your verdict.’
‘I know,’ Hannah chuckled, ‘and much notice you’d take of my opinion. This is your chance laddie and I know you’ll seize it. I’ll do a wee bit of cleaning while you’re looking round the fields. The minute you get permission officially you’ll be moving in if I know you. So you’ll need a clean kitchen and a bedroom to sleep in. There’s another couple o’ boxes in the kitchen if ye’ll carry them out for me? We’ll kindle a fire to boil a kettle for a cup of tea.’
They were almost ready to leave when Eddy Caraford came round the corner from the stack-yard.
‘If you can hang on a minute, Steven, I’d like to come with you.’
‘You would?’ Steven couldn’t hide his delight. His father was interested in his future after all. ‘We’ll hang on as long as it takes, Dad. I’m glad you want to come.’ His enthusiasm returned.
‘I’ll have a quick shave and change my collar then,’ his father said and disappeared into the house.
‘I will ride in the back of the van, Mother, if you will drive?’ It occurred to him how well she had adapted to changes during the war. He remembered when she had driven him and Fred to the village in the pony and cart but she was the one who had saved up and bought the second hand van and learned to drive. His father seemed wary of anything mechanical, but he would always be one of the best stockmen in the area. Neighbours often came for his advice over a sick calf or a difficult calving.
‘I’m glad your father is coming. He’s worried about you Steven.’
‘Mmm. I’m glad too. You drive as far as Gretna, then I’ll take over. Schoirhead and the other holdings are on a narrow back road.’
‘Schoirhead must be getting near the water then? Are the fields wet?’
‘One of them floods occasionally. The land officer said it was all fertile loam so it should grow good grass. Mr Turner offered to lend me one of his tractors and a trailer but I don’t want to start borrowing things unless I have to. Anyway a well schooled horse would walk on while I throw the manure off the back of the cart. A tractor can’t do that. I’d need to get on and off every few yards.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ his mother mused. ‘Fred uses the tractor for everything these days, but he never did like the horses and he always has Edna running after him so he doesn’t do any jumping on and off. I’ve packed some sandwiches. I think there’ll be enough for your father too.’
When they arrived at Schoirhead, Steven looked at his mother.
‘If you go next door to ask for the key you’ll meet my neighbours, Mr and Mrs McGuire,’ he said. ‘She looked very stern and disapproving when I returned the key yesterday.’
Hannah hurried away. It would be such a relief if this venture worked out well for Steven. In her heart she had known for a long time that he and Fred would never be able to work together at Willowburn. Steven unloaded the van while his father walked along the row of sheds, peering over the half doors in the triangular yard. It was an unusual shape for a farmyard but he guessed it was the only way to divide the original yard. The dairy washroom, with the steam chest and tubs, was almost an extension to the house. Next to it was the dairy where the milk was cooled and filled into churns for taking away to the creamery, and beyond it was a byre with stalls for eight cows with a feed passage in front and the usual channel and walk way behind. At the end of the byre there was a taller building with stabling for two cart horses and a pony, with a hay loft above. Then came the midden piled high with manure and an upside down wheelbarrow as though someone had used the last of his energy to empty it and left it there.
‘At least the midden has a wall all round or the manure would be spread all over the yard by now,’ he said wryly as he joined his father.
‘Aye,’ Eddy Caraford agreed, ‘but ye’ll have plenty of work to get it all spread, and didn’t you say there’s two fields to be ploughed, Steven?’
‘Yes. One is three acres and the other is nearer five I think. It’s compulsory to sow them with cereals for one more year, after that I can sow them with grass again so long as I plough up an equivalent acreage. It will suit me until I get enough stock to graze them all and it’s a chance to reseed with some of the newer varieties of grass. I reckon I’ve enough money to buy a sow and four milk cows or in calf heifers so long as I don’t need to pay more than forty five to fifty guineas each. There’s an old cart in one of the sheds. I think I can mend it well enough to do for this year.’
‘Mmm,’ his father nodded thoughtfully.
A gate next to the midden opened into a small stack yard with half of a rick of hay and a small straw stack. Beyond that a track led to the fields. Along the other side of the triangular yard there were three sheds for carts and implements but two had been used as housing for animals and the manure was three feet deep or more in them. Next came three pig sties with a low loft above. A gate into a small orchard separated the sties from the high stone wall which divided the garde
n and the adjoining holding. Steven wondered what it would be like having a neighbour so near.
‘Here we are,’ Hannah said as she came hurrying through the garden with the key to the house. ‘Your new neighbour seems pleasant enough Steven but she’s a lot older than I expected and her husband looks crippled with arthritis.’
‘He is,’ Steven agreed. ‘Come and see the house.’
‘The kitchen is a good size, and it’s light and airy,’ Hannah said as she looked around. ‘That’s a grand solid table and dresser somebody has left. A good scrub will make all the difference.’ Steven felt a wave of relief at his mother’s sound common sense. Natalie’s criticism still niggled more than he cared to admit. He wished they could have brought Megan with them. She was young but she was down to earth like his mother. Hannah shooed them away to inspect the fields while she unpacked the boxes she had brought.
Steven enjoyed his father’s company as much as he had when he was thirteen and learning to plough. They went round each field in turn, inspecting the fences and looking over at the neighbouring fields too.
‘The conditions for maintaining fences and ditches are written into the tenancy agreement. We can use timber if we need it but we can’t sell any of it, and same with stones. The mineral rights and everything else belongs to the landlord.’
‘Willowburn lease is similar,’ his father nodded, ‘Fred wanted to chop down the trees in the wee copse but I told him he’d get us put out.’
‘Why would he want to do that?’ Steven asked puzzled.
‘He intended to saw them up and sell them for firewood to make himself some spending money, with coal being rationed you see. The previous tenant has kept the fences better than he’s kept the sheds,’ he said changing the subject.
‘I think he would be too ill for any heavy work by the end. Anyway the manure is part of the tenant’s valuation so it will not cost me as much to take over if I do the spreading myself.’
‘You always did look on the bright side of things, Stevie,’ his father said. ‘I reckon you’ll do all right. I’ve been thinking… how would you like to have Daisy? She’s getting old but she’s a steady worker and she always worked well for you when you were at home.’
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