‘I bet you mean Jed Rower,’ she heard Sam say. ‘I saw him at the show one year. You’m right, he’s a clever feller . . .’ The two men had continued their chatter, whilst Anna froze for a moment and then her heart began to pound. Her hands were trembling as she carried the next fleece to the table, her face flushing bright red. Biting her lip, she tried to concentrate on the wrapping, but she did it so badly that she was obliged to unfold it once more and begin again. No one seemed to notice and gradually her heartbeat returned to normal and she tried to squash the thoughts that mention of the name had evoked.
But now, in the stillness of the cottage, those thoughts refused to be ignored.
I must go, was all she could think of. I’m still not far enough away. Once the shearing’s finished, I must move on.
Seventeen
‘You coming with me into town?’ Eddie asked Anna as they stacked the rolled fleeces into the back of his trailer to take into Ludthorpe. She shook her head. ‘No – I – er – I’ve things to do.’
‘All right, then, lass. I’ll see you later. Anything you want bringing?’
Anna’s heart beat a little faster and her hands were clammy. She didn’t like deceiving Eddie, who had been so kind to her, but, as soon as he had left the farm heading towards the town, she intended to leave too, but in the opposite direction. She dared not tell him, dared not say goodbye, for she knew he would try to persuade her to stay. And he would probably succeed. She would leave via the village, Anna decided. She would call in to say her farewells to Pat and to leave a message for Eddie with her. She could even write him a note . . .
‘We’ll have to dip in about a fortnight’s time . . .’ Eddie was saying as he climbed up onto his tractor.
Startled from her own thoughts, Anna said, ‘What? What did you say?’
‘I said, we’ll have to dip all the sheep in about a fortnight.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I’ll need your help then all right, lass. Tony’s not strong enough to manage them when they struggle . . .’
Anna stared up at him. Oh no, it wasn’t possible. Quite unaware of her plans, Eddie had innocently presented her with yet another reason for her to stay longer.
‘Oh, er, right,’ she murmured and silently promised: Two more weeks, then. Just two more weeks and then we’ll go.
Anna stood at the top of the rise, watching the lorry taking a batch of the lambs to market manoeuvre its way out of the gate of Cackle Hill Farm. Beside her Maisie lay asleep in the depths of the black pram, blissfully unaware of her mother’s inner turmoil. The young woman smiled gently, though tears prickled her eyes. She couldn’t help it. It was not the way of a true farmer. Though never cruel to any animal, nevertheless proper farmers were unsentimental about the need to slaughter the livestock they had so carefully reared. But Anna had not been able to stop herself becoming fond of the woolly little creatures that gambolled and leapt about in their joy at just being alive.
Once she had known that kind of joy.
Her gaze roamed over the slopes of the surrounding fields, vibrant in their summer colours. Below her in the cottage garden splashes of colour vibrated against the darkness of the trees beyond, stately white foxgloves, purple lupins, and pink petunias and even a few early red roses. She wished she could plant more flowers in front of the cottage and there was room in the vegetable patch at the side to plant potatoes, carrots, beans – enough to provide for herself and Maisie for months. She could make it into a real home. She already had, really. She could be content here, almost happy. Anna bit her lip. But it was futile to make such plans.
She couldn’t stay here. They had to move on. It wasn’t safe. She must get as far away as possible. There were too many people now who knew she was living here. Pat Bishop, Joe Wainwright, the doctor and the registrar in the town and, more recently, the vet and then the men who had come to help with the shearing. And it had been then that she had realized she was still not far enough away. The list of those who now knew where she was was getting far too long, to say nothing of the gossips in the village who knew all about her presence in Eddie Appleyard’s shepherd’s cottage, even if they had never seen her. The more who knew, the more likely it was that word might get back . . .
And most dangerous of all was Bertha, whose malevolent gaze seemed to follow her everywhere.
It was time to go. The dipping was done, the lambs all gone. Now would be a good time to leave.
Her mind made up, Anna turned her back on the idyllic scene and determinedly pushed the pram down the rough track towards the cottage that had been her haven for the past few months. She would go, she resolved, and go now before she could change her mind.
Back at the cottage, she began to gather her belongings together, her own and Maisie’s clothes and food for the journey, piling them all beside the pram. Then she stood looking down at the heap. There was far too much to fit on the pram. Its already sagging springs would never take the extra weight. And there was too much for her to carry. Maybe if she put some in the pram and made up a kind of bundle she could carry on her back . . .
From outside, the sound of Eddie’s tractor came closer.
‘Oh no!’ Anna breathed and hurried outside to forestall him coming into the cottage. He was back earlier than she had thought. She had taken too long to get ready.
He drew to a halt and switched off the engine. Climbing down, he came towards her, smiling. ‘Well, lass, that’s another lot gone and I got a good price.’ His grin widened. ‘I’ll be able to give you a bonus on your wages.’
Anna smiled tremulously and walked away from the door, trying to keep a distance between him and her home. But her ruse was not working.
‘Where’s Maisie?’ He moved towards the back door.
‘She – she’s asleep,’ Anna said desperately. ‘Don’t wake her. She’s teething and – and she’s not sleeping very well.’
This was not strictly true. The child was indeed teething, but she seemed to be having little trouble.
‘She’s very lucky,’ Pat had told Anna on her last visit, adding with a laugh, ‘and so are you. Most kiddies have an awful time and so do their mothers. Being kept awake half the night isn’t any fun for baby or mother.’
‘Oh.’ Eddie stopped at once. ‘Poor little mite,’ he said sympathetically. ‘I remember Tony crying a lot when he was teething. I used to rub a little whisky onto his gums.’ He grinned. ‘But don’t tell Pat I told you that, will ya?’
Anna tried to smile, but it was a nervous, halfhearted effort. Eddie didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was roving over the outside walls of the cottage. ‘You know, this could do with a lick of lime wash—’
At that moment, much to Anna’s chagrin, they heard Maisie wail.
Eddie’s face brightened. ‘She’s awake. Now I can see her.’ He was in through the back door before Anna could stop him.
She sighed and followed him. He was standing quite still, staring down at the pile of their belongings beside the pram. Slowly he turned to look at Anna, disappointment and concern on his face.
‘What’s this? You – you’re not thinking of leaving, love, are you?’
Silently, Anna nodded.
‘Aw, lass, why? What’s wrong? Is there something you need? What is it? Tell me and I’ll get it.’
Anna shook her head. ‘It – it’s not that, Eddie. You’ve been wonderful, so good. Too good—’
He stared at her for a moment and then closed his eyes and groaned. ‘Aw, lass, you’re not thinking I’m going to want summat in return. Aw, lass, don’t ever think that. Not of me.’
‘No, no, Eddie,’ she reassured him swiftly. ‘It’s not that. Truly. That – that never entered my head.’
He eyed her sceptically. ‘Didn’t it?’ he asked gently. ‘’Cos it has into other folks’ nasty minds.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Even me own wife’s.’
‘Well, maybe at first,’ Anna admitted. ‘But not now. Not since I’ve got to know you. You’re just a very kind man, Eddie Appleyard.’
For a moment there was silence between them as they gazed at each other. At last Eddie cleared his throat, but his voice was still husky with emotion as he asked, ‘Then why, lass?’
Maisie’s wailing grew louder and before she answered him, Anna moved to the pram and picked up the child. Resting her baby against her shoulder, Anna patted her back soothingly. Maisie’s cries subsided to gentle hiccuping.
‘I have to move on. I have to get further away.’
‘Why? What is it you’re afraid of? Who are you afraid of? You’ve been here months now and no one’s come looking for you. Or has summat happened I don’t know about?’
Anna lowered her eyes, not daring to meet his steady gaze. Hating herself for lying, she shook her head.
‘Then why, lass? You’re safe here.’ When she did not answer, he added, ‘Aren’t you?’
Anna closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. Flatly, she said, ‘I don’t know. I – I just feel that the further away the better.’
‘Further away from where exactly?’ Again there was no reply from her, so he prompted gently. ‘Won’t you trust me enough to tell me that at least?’
In a husky, reluctant whisper she said, ‘Lincoln.’
‘Lincoln?’ Eddie almost laughed. ‘Why, that’s miles away. No one’s going to find you here. To folks from the city, this is the back of beyond.’
Anna smiled thinly but said nothing.
‘So will you stay, lass? At least a little longer? It’ll be haymaking afore we know it and then harvest . . .’
‘And then it’ll be winter and I won’t be able to go,’ she said.
Eddie grinned ruefully. ‘Aye, so it will, lass. So it will. You see right through me, don’t ya?’ They smiled, understanding one another. ‘So, will you stay, love? Please say you will.’
With a jolt Anna saw that there were tears in his eyes. A lump grew in her own throat so that she could not answer. Instead, slowly, she nodded.
Anna and her daughter were still there through haymaking and into the harvest in the heat of August. It seemed as if half the village turned out to help the local farmers get in the harvest.
‘It’s always happened round here. It’s a sort of custom, but more so in the war,’ Pat told her. ‘With a lot of the fellers away, we had Land Army girls here and the local women helped an’ all.’ She laughed. ‘I reckon we all got to enjoy it.’
‘Did – did Eddie have Land Army girls here?’ Anna asked.
‘Oh yes,’ Pat said. ‘Most of the farmers did. Some of the girls even stayed on. One girl married a local lad and stayed.’ She nodded towards a pretty, fair-haired girl. ‘That’s her. That’s Phyllis. Nice lass, she is. You’d like her. Why don’t you let me introduce—’
‘No,’ Anna said swiftly. ‘No, thanks.’
Puzzled, Pat glanced at Anna but said no more. Anna was staring across at Phyllis, almost as if she recognized her and yet she had refused to meet her. In fact, she refused to meet anyone, refused even to try to make friends. Pat sighed. Anna was a funny lass and no mistake.
As Eddie towed the last of the wagons behind the tractor to his stack yard, Pat said, ‘There, that’s Eddie’s all safely gathered in. We’ve just Ted Bucknall’s to do now and that’s the harvest home. There’ll be a harvest supper in the village hall then. You’ll come, won’t you?’
Anna shook her head.
‘But everyone will be there—’
‘No!’ Anna was adamant. ‘I – I can’t.’
Pat sighed as they walked together back towards the farm. ‘You will have to mix with folk sometime, love. You can’t keep yourself a recluse.’ She laughed and nudged Anna’s arm. ‘They’ll be calling you a witch soon.’
Anna smiled wanly.
‘And what about Maisie? She needs to play—’
‘I play with her.’
‘But she needs to be with kiddies of her own age. She needs—’
Anna stopped and turned to face Pat. ‘I know you mean it kindly, and I’m grateful, really I am, but I can’t mix with folk. And – and I can’t let Maisie either.’
‘She’ll have to when she gets to five years old and has to go to school,’ Pat said bluntly. ‘You’ve got to face that, Anna, because it’s a fact and you can’t get away from it.’
Now Anna smiled. ‘I know that, but we’ll be miles away from here by then.’
On the evening of the harvest supper, Anna sat alone on the grass outside the little white cottage, watching the sunset. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. It was so quiet, so still, so peaceful . . .
As the sun dropped lower, emblazoning the western sky with red and gold, Anna dared to feel happy for the first time. The feeling of contentment came stealthily, unbidden, and yet she hardly dared to acknowledge it, to believe that she could ever feel secure and . . .
She heard a movement and jumped, glancing round to see Eddie standing only a few feet from her.
‘Sorry, lass,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
He came across the grass and sat down beside her. ‘Lovely sight, ain’t it? A Lincolnshire sunset. Nowt to beat it. “Red sky at night, shepherds’ delight”.’
They sat in companionable silence. For a while, it seemed as if there was no one in the world but them. Then, quietly, Eddie began to talk. ‘You must wonder why me an’ Bertha ever came to get married.’
‘It’s not my business, Eddie,’ Anna said, not sure she wanted to be the keeper of his confidence. It bound them even closer.
‘You might have guessed’ – he smiled ruefully – ‘that once upon a time I carried a torch for Pat Anderson. Sorry, Jessop she is now.’
‘I could see there was a closeness between you,’ Anna murmured.
Eddie sighed. ‘But she left the village. Went to be a nurse in Ludthorpe and met this handsome young feller at the hospital.’ There was no bitterness or jealousy in Eddie’s tone, just sadness. ‘Couldn’t blame her, I suppose. He was a really nice feller.’
‘And you started seeing Bertha?’
Eddie gave a short laugh. ‘Sort of. She came to work here at the farm. My mam and dad were still alive then, but getting on a bit. Mam needed help in the house and with the dairy work. She was a kindly old dear, my mam.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Anna said, before she could stop herself.
His eyebrows raised in question, Eddie glanced at her. Anna laughed softly. ‘You must take after her, Eddie.’
He smiled and gave a little nod. ‘I’d like to think so.’ He paused as if lost in thought for a moment. ‘Anyway, me mam felt sorry for the Tinker family, specially the youngsters, and when Bertha left school she offered her a job here. And, of course,’ he added pointedly as if it explained everything, ‘she lived in.’
Anna could imagine how it must have been. A young man, disappointed in love, and a young girl thrown together. Maybe, then, Bertha had been prettier than she was now. Maybe she had fallen in love with Eddie . . .
But Eddie had no such illusions. His next words dispelled Anna’s romantic hopes. ‘The Tinkers always had an eye for the main chance and my dear wife was no exception. She set her cap at me and I, like a fool, fell for it.’ He sighed heavily. ‘It wasn’t so bad in the early days, I have to admit. She was good to me mam and dad, nursing them in their final illnesses. I’ll give her that. But then, after Tony was born, it was as if she gave all the love she had to give to him. So’ – he turned to look at her gravely – ‘don’t ever think, lass, that it’s you who’s caused trouble between us, ’cos it ain’t.’
‘I’m very sorry, Eddie,’ Anna said huskily. ‘There’s no happy endings in real life are there? That only happens in books.’
‘Don’t say that, lass. Mebbe there’s not one for me, but for you—’
Anna pursed her mouth and shook her head emphatically. ‘No. Not for me either.’
There was a long silence until Eddie said, ‘Then I’m sorry too, love. Ve
ry sorry.’ He paused again before asking tentatively, ‘Won’t you tell me what happened to you?’
Anna’s head dropped forward and she pulled at the grass with agitated fingers. ‘I can’t. It’s – it’s too painful.’
‘All right, love. But if you ever feel the need to talk, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.’
As if pulled by an invisible string, they turned to look at each other. Hesitantly, Eddie reached out. For a moment, Anna drew in a breath and almost jerked away, but then, seeing the tenderness in his eyes, she allowed him to touch her. He traced the line of her cheek with his roughened forefinger, yet his touch was surprisingly gentle.
‘Ya won’t leave, lass, will ya?’ he pleaded softly. ‘Ya’ll stay here. With me.’
His face was soft in the golden glow of the sunset, his eyes dark unreadable depths, but she could hear the longing in his voice. Anna trembled. By going, she would hurt this lovely man. This man who had given her everything, yet asked nothing in return. But by staying she risked the safety of herself and her child too.
‘Till spring, Eddie,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all I can promise. Till spring.’
Eighteen
Anna did not leave the following spring. Maisie learned to walk on the soft grass of Eddie’s meadows on the hillside outside the cottage, whilst Anna helped again with the birthing and rearing of the lambs. Anna planted vegetables in the garden at the back of their home and Eddie renovated the upstairs rooms.
‘Maisie needs a room of her own, now she’s getting such a big girl,’ he said, smiling down at the little girl, who followed him whenever she could, clinging to his legs and gazing up at him. He ruffled her coppery curls and tickled her cheek.
‘Tony?’ Maisie would ask day after day and Eddie would laugh. ‘He’s at school, lovey. You’ll have to make do with old Eddie today. I know, you can come and watch me do the milking.’
Red Sky in the Morning Page 13
