Red Sky in the Morning

by Margaret Dickinson

‘You don’t have to. There’s grants and things we can apply for. The careers teacher said so. And I do so want to be a teacher. The little ones, you know. At a village school like the one I went to here.’ She reached across and gripped her mother’s hands. ‘Please try to understand, Mam.’

  ‘We ought to go away. Get as far away as possible,’ Anna murmured. ‘We should have gone years ago, but . . .’

  ‘Why, Mam? What is it you’re so afraid of?’

  Anna pressed her lips together and shook her head. ‘I can’t tell you,’ she said huskily. ‘Please don’t ask me.’ Then hesitantly she said, ‘All right. If you do your best to keep your promise, you can go out now and again. But if you want to go to teacher-training college, you’ll have to work hard at school.’

  ‘That’s why I wanted to stay on and do A levels.’

  Maisie could have left school long before now, but Anna had agreed to her staying on into the sixth form.

  It had been her way of ensuring that Maisie was at home for another two years.

  As if reading her thoughts, Maisie said, ‘And even then I needn’t go very far away. There’s a very good teacher-training college at Lincoln—’

  Anna sprang to her feet. ‘No, no,’ she shouted. ‘You’ll not go there. Anywhere but there. Anywhere.’

  Maisie gaped at her. ‘All right, Mam. All right. There’s another year before I have to decide anyway—’

  ‘Get to bed. It’s very late. I’ll never be up in the morning.’

  Submissively, Maisie got up, kissed her mother’s cheek and then climbed the ladder to her room, still shocked by her mother’s reaction to the mention of the college in Lincoln.

  Maisie fell asleep almost at once, but in the other bedroom Anna lay awake until the first fingers of dawn crept in through the window.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘Sort of,’ Anna replied guardedly and then allowed herself a wry smile. ‘You?’

  ‘Bertha’s giving Tony a hard time. She hit him. First time I’ve ever seen her go for him.’ There was wonder in his tone.

  ‘Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry.’

  Eddie shrugged. ‘Not your fault, lass.’

  ‘No, but it is Maisie’s.’

  ‘Not really. It seems it was Tony who suggested the trip.’

  ‘Yes, but it was for Maisie, wasn’t it?’ Anna insisted.

  ‘Well, yes.’ Eddie was obliged to agree.

  ‘Has she hurt him?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Tony? Has Bertha hurt him?’

  Eddie laughed. ‘Oh that. No.’ He chuckled. ‘You should have seen it, lass. He’s a strong lad, you know, and whilst I’ve never stood up to her – ’ he wrinkled his brow and rubbed his nose – ‘never thought about it, really. But he just caught hold of her wrists and held her. She was screaming like a banshee, but she couldn’t move. And he held her like that till she calmed down. He told her, quite calmly, that he was a grown man and that he’d do what he liked and that it was nothing to do with her. I don’t reckon she’ll tangle with him again in a hurry.’

  Eddie said no more. He did not want to tell Anna about the rest of the row that had gone on in the farmhouse the previous night.

  ‘You’ll keep away from that little slut,’ Bertha had screamed at her son. ‘You’ll have the law on you, if you don’t. You could be put in prison.’

  ‘She’s sixteen. Old enough,’ Tony had goaded her.

  ‘Don’t you understand?’ Bertha had screeched. ‘She’s your sister.’

  ‘That’s what you say.’ He nodded across to where Eddie was standing in the corner of the room. ‘But me dad ses different. And he should know.’

  ‘He’d deny it. Course he would. I’m surprised that trollop over the hill hasn’t had a brood of his bastards by now. All men are the same.’

  ‘No, we’re not, Mam.’ Tony’s voice was gentle. Now he was older he understood more about his parents’ unhappy marriage, though there was nothing he could do about it. A few years earlier Eddie had explained to him about Bertha’s father, about his philandering and his lawless ways that had finally landed him in prison. ‘We’ve just got news that he’s died in there,’ Eddie had said, ‘but it won’t alter how ya mam feels about him and how it’s twisted her view of all men. It’s something you’ll have to cope with, lad, as you get older. You’re all she’s ever had to pour her love into and it’s going to be hard for you.’

  And now Tony was facing his mother’s warped reasoning. ‘We’re not all the same, mam. There’s nowt between me and Maisie, I promise you.’

  He had not added that he wished with all his heart that there could be. But always there was the spectre of their relationship hanging over him. Just which of his parents was telling him the truth?

  He wanted to believe Eddie, but dare he?

  ‘Well, I’m truly sorry,’ Anna said now, dragging Eddie’s thoughts back from the previous night.

  ‘No harm done, lass,’ Eddie said, managing to lie cheerfully and convincingly. ‘No harm done.’

  That evening, thirty miles away in a terraced house in Lincoln, the big man dressed like Max Miller sat staring at a picture in the local paper. ‘Damn,’ he muttered. ‘They haven’t printed the picture I hoped they would. They’ve put one in of the audience arriving.’

  ‘What are you on about, Dad?’ The younger man stood in front of the mirror over the fireplace, combing his hair into an Elvis Presley look-alike style.

  The older man smiled. ‘Good job I thought to call at the Echo offices and get the originals of all the photos taken that night, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Whatever do you want them for?’

  ‘I’ll show you,’ the man answered as he pulled several black and white photographs from an envelope and sorted though them. ‘Come and look at this.’

  ‘I’m off out. Can’t it wait? I’m meeting someone.’ He was dressed in a bright pink Teddy boy suit with a bootlace tie and crepe-soled shoes.

  His father glanced at him. ‘Bit old for dressing like that now, aren’t you?’

  ‘Huh,’ the other laughed. ‘You’re a fine one to talk. Always dressed like something from an old music hall bill.’

  ‘Well, that’s me job, son. Got to look the part of the theatre promoter, now ain’t I?’

  ‘All right. What is it?’

  ‘Here, look at that. Remind you of anyone?’ He jabbed at one of the pictures with his forefinger. ‘Her. That girl there.’

  His son stared at the photograph. He glanced at his father and then his gaze went to a faded photograph on the mantelpiece of himself as a child of about twelve. He looked again at the newspaper picture as the older man said softly, ‘She’s got bright red hair, an’ all. Just like you.’

  They stared at each other. ‘Could it be?’ the son asked.

  ‘It’s possible.’ He pointed again at the paper. ‘And do you see what her name is? Maisie. Now that’s a bit like May, isn’t it?’

  The younger man nodded. ‘What are you going to do?’

  The big man heaved himself out of his chair. ‘A bit of detective work first. Then we’ll see. Oh yes, we’ll see all right then.’

  The two men grinned at each other.

  If Anna had known what was happening in that terraced house in the city, she would have packed their things immediately and fled for her life.

  Thirty

  Two men in a red sports car drove into the yard at Cackle Hill Farm, scattering hens and sending up a spray of slurry. The big man unwound himself from the seat and the younger man jumped out agilely. They looked around them.

  ‘Hello there,’ the big man’s voice boomed. ‘Anyone at home?’

  The yard was deserted, except for the hens and three geese that waddled away quickly. ‘Knock on the door,’ the older man suggested and his son strode towards the back door of the house and rapped sharply.

  A moment passed and then the door opened framing the ample figure of the farmer’s wife. Visitors to the farm were rare and Be
rtha eyed them with suspicion. ‘What d’you want?’

  The older man moved closer and doffed his trilby with an exaggerated show of courtesy. He fingered his moustache. ‘Good day to you, ma’am.’

  The younger man too made a little bow towards her, though shrewdly Bertha felt it was all an act. An act to charm her. Well, there was no man living who could charm Bertha Appleyard.

  She began to close the door. ‘Not today, thank you.’

  ‘Oh now, wait a minute, love,’ the older of the two began and even had the temerity to put his foot in the door. Bertha glared at him and opened the door wider, intending to slam it against his foot. Guessing her intention, he withdrew his foot hastily. Instead, he put up his hand, palm outwards as if to defend himself. ‘Wait minute, Missis. Not so hasty. We only want to ask you a few questions. We reckon you can help us.’

  Intrigued in spite of herself, Bertha wavered. ‘Go on.’

  ‘We’re looking for someone. A girl. Well’ – he glanced sideways at his companion – ‘she’d be a young woman now. And she’d probably have a youngster. Anna. That’s her name. Anna Milton. Do you know anyone living hereabouts with that name?’

  Bertha opened the door wider and smiled. Like a spider inviting a fly into its web, she said, ‘Come in, why don’t you?’

  Out on the hillside, Anna wandered amongst the sheep checking them. From time to time she paused and looked back to watch Buster trailing after her, valiantly trying to keep up.

  ‘Poor old feller,’ she murmured, bending down to stroke him. ‘You’re so weary now, aren’t you?’

  The dog, who had been their faithful companion since just before Maisie’s birth, was old and worn out. Both Anna and Maisie knew he could not last many more years. Maybe he had only months.

  ‘If he starts to suffer,’ Anna had explained carefully to Maisie, ‘we’ll have to let him be put down. It’s the kindest.’

  With tears in her eyes, Maisie had nodded and buried her face in the dog’s coat.

  Today Buster seemed slower than ever, but his heart was ‘as big as a bucket’, as Eddie said, and the dog was still trying to do his job.

  ‘Come on,’ Anna said, ‘let’s get you back inside near the fire and you can rest.’

  As they made their way steadily back towards the cottage, Anna saw two men crest the top of the hill and begin to walk down the slope towards them. She shaded her eyes watching them.

  Suddenly, her heart began to pound. No, it wasn’t possible. No, no, no!

  She began to run towards the cottage. If she could just get inside before they reached her . . .

  ‘Come on, Buster. Come on!’ But the dog was too weak. His running days were over. She stopped and picked him up. Despite his frailty, he was still heavy. Clutching him tightly, she struggled and stumbled towards the cottage, desperate to reach its safety. She was almost there, a few yards more and . . .

  But the younger of the two men had broken into a run. He was gaining on her. She wasn’t going to reach the door. If she had dropped the dog to the ground and run, she could have made it. But, remembering that other time, she held onto him. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – let the same thing happen to this Buster.

  ‘Now, now, Anna. What’s all this? Aren’t you pleased to see us?’

  He had reached her and was standing between her and her haven. And now the older man was near and he was barring her escape to the side door.

  Anna lay Buster on the ground and stood up to face the two men. ‘Leave me alone,’ she spat at them.

  ‘That’s no way to greet us, Anna,’ the older man said, ‘after all this time. We’ve been worried about you. Running off like that.’

  Anna’s eyes narrowed with hatred. The younger man moved towards the dog, lying panting on the ground. He touched it with his foot and Buster growled.

  ‘Still got your brave little protector, eh, Anna?’ he sneered. He drew his foot back and aimed a vicious kick at the defenceless animal. Buster’s yelp galvanized Anna. She flung herself at the man and began to pummel him.

  ‘Get away. Leave me alone. I hate you. I hate you.’

  He was strong and stocky and, whilst Anna was no weakling, she was no match for his strength. He held her by the wrists quite easily. She kicked his shins, but he only laughed. That awful, cruel laugh she remembered so vividly in all her dreams.

  Anna began to scream, but he only laughed louder. ‘There’s no one to hear you, Anna.’

  And all the time his father just stood watching.

  At the moment when Anna almost gave up the struggle, she heard a shout from the top of the hill and saw Eddie and Maisie running towards her. The man, still holding Anna, turned.

  ‘You get the girl,’ he muttered to his father. ‘I’ll take care of him.’

  He turned back and, raising his hand, dealt Anna a vicious blow on the side of her face, knocking her down. The blow had not quite knocked her out, but when she tried to rise she found she was so dizzy that she sank back to the ground.

  ‘Mam!’ Through the mists she heard Maisie’s cry, but the girl never reached her. She was caught and held fast. ‘Now, now, lass. We only want to talk to your mam and you.’

  Dimly, Anna was aware that the younger of the two men and Eddie were facing each other like two fighting cocks, circling warily around each other.

  The man reached into his pocket and flicked open a knife. ‘No!’ Maisie cried and struggled, but the big man held her fast. ‘Mr Eddie, he’s got a knife.’

  Dully, her words registered with Anna and she tried to drag herself up. ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘No. Please, no more.’ She stumbled towards the one holding Maisie and clung to his arm. ‘I’ll do whatever you want. I swear it, but make them stop. Don’t – don’t let him hurt Eddie.’

  He looked down at her upturned face, the bruise on her cheek swelling already. His lip curled sarcastically. ‘Oh, so the woman was right, was she? You are his fancy piece.’

  Anna shook her head, then winced as the pain stabbed. ‘No – no, you’ve got it wrong. I—’

  Her words were cut short by a terrifying yell from behind her as the younger man leapt forward, stabbing with the knife.

  ‘No!’ The cry came from both Anna’s and Maisie’s lips at once.

  But his blood was up. There was murder in his eyes. Even Eddie, quiet, gentle Eddie Appleyard’s face was thunderous. ‘I don’t know who you are, but you’re not going to come here and treat her like that—’

  Sudden realization was filtering through Eddie’s mind, even in this moment of danger. This, then, was what Anna had been afraid of. One glance at the face and red hair of the man facing him told Eddie all he needed to know. This was the man Anna had run from and, by the look of it, she had had good reason.

  There was no denying the likeness. The man threatening him with a knife was undoubtedly Maisie’s father.

  ‘Put the knife away, lad, and let’s talk this through,’ Eddie said, trying desperately to instil calm into his tone, though he would dearly have liked to knock this feller into the middle of next week.

  ‘Talk?’ was the scathing answer. ‘Talk? What she needs is a damn good hiding. Show her who’s boss. By, I’ve waited years to catch up with that little madam. And now I’ve found her. Well, she won’t escape me again.’

  Suddenly he lunged forward, his knife thrusting towards Eddie. It found its mark, entering deep into Eddie’s body just below the ribs. Eddie gave a low grunt and his eyes stared in shocked surprise before he crumpled to the ground.

  Anna and Maisie cried out together and even the big man shouted, ‘No,’ as the knife went home. They heard him mutter, ‘You damned fool. What do you want to go and do that for?’

  His attacker was standing over the still figure, holding the knife covered in blood. Anna and Maisie tore themselves free and flung themselves down beside Eddie. Maisie cradled Eddie’s head in her arms, whilst Anna tore open his clothing to see how bad the wound was. Blood spilled out drenching his clothes and hers.


  ‘Oh Eddie, Eddie,’ Anna moaned and closed her eyes.

  Dimly, she heard one of them say, ‘Come on, we’d better get out of here. You’re a fool. You’ve wrecked everything.’

  ‘He was coming for me. It was self-defence.’

  ‘Don’t talk daft. He was unarmed.’ He nodded towards Anna. ‘She’ll tell ’em that. And the girl. Come on. Let’s get out of here.’

  They ran up the hill and down into the farmyard and scrambled into the car. Bertha came out of the back door. ‘Find her, did you? I hope you’ve come to take the little trollop away—’

  ‘Sorry, Missis. Can’t stay.’

  The engine burst into life. The older man reversed the car erratically and, turning it, drove at speed towards the gate. Driving out into the lane without stopping to see if the way was clear, the car clipped Tony returning on his motorbike, knocking him off balance. As the sports car roared off up the lane, Tony was thrown off his bike and onto the grass verge. His landing was soft and he was unhurt but very angry. Swearing, he gained his feet in time to memorize the number plate.

  ‘Road hog,’ Tony shouted as he stood in the lane, shaking his fist after the disappearing vehicle.

  Whilst over the hill, now cradled in Anna’s arms, Eddie Appleyard fought for his life.

  1939

  Thirty-One

  ‘Higher, Daddy, push me higher.’

  The child on the swing, petticoats flying, swooped through the air.

  Her father laughed. ‘You’re quite big enough to work it yourself now, Anna.’ But the ten-year-old smiled winningly and the man capitulated. ‘Hold tight, then.’

  ‘Oh, Ken, do be careful,’ May called anxiously, nibbling agitatedly at her thumbnail. ‘What if the branch breaks?’

  Ken laughed. His tall frame was a little stooped, giving the deceptive appearance of frailty. His long face was thin, with hollowed cheeks, but his grey eyes were kind and gentle. He worked in an office in the city of Lincoln and perhaps that was why his skin had a sallow look. Ken stepped back from the swing, letting it slow down of its own accord.

  ‘Daddy?’ Anna cried plaintively, but her father only laughed. ‘Enough now, love. Your gran will have tea ready and then we must catch the bus back home.’