by Diane Allen
Betty grinned at her. ‘You know my lads, then? Where did you meet them, because you aren’t from this neck of the woods, else I’d have seen you before?’
‘I met them at a dance in Hawes. Can you tell them both I’ve been asking about them? The name’s Meg, and I’m from Appersett.’ She looked at the woman and could see a twinkle in her eye.
‘Aye, I’ll tell them. You won’t be the first, mind. They are popular, are my lads. But they are both mother’s boys at heart, although wild as mountain hares. It’ll be a fine lass that pins one of them two down.’ Betty turned and went back into her garden.
‘Thank you,’ Meg shouted after her, smiling as she walked back down by the gill edge. At least both Sam and Jack would know that she had been asking after them. All was not lost after all, she thought, as she leaned against the bridge and waited for her father to appear from the gloom of the shop; and she thought about Sam and Jack as she looked round her at the village they lived in.
Tom said very little on the first few miles of the drive back home, and Meg did the same as they sat together, thinking about the death of Mary.
‘I wondered whether to offer for you to stay the night with Harry, but then his neighbour came round and said she’d keep an eye on him.’ Tom looked across at his daughter as she sat quietly next to him. ‘He was impressed with the tidy-up you had given him in the shop. He said his heart hadn’t been in it lately.’
‘No, I could tell that. Aunt Mary always had the shop spotless when she was alive and well,’ Meg said quietly.
‘It’s been a bit of a month, with us losing the folk we love. I can’t get it into my head that I’ve lost my sister Anne. We were never really close, but she was my sister. I suppose you cannot remember her? She left the dale when you were just a baby. And now her lad’s with us; he’s not a bad soul, but he’s a townie, no matter what he does and says. He’s half his father, that’s his problem; and Bob was worth nowt to no man.’
‘I thought you were getting on with Dan, Father? He seems to follow your every move, and he’s always talking with you.’ Meg was surprised that her father was broaching the subject of Dan and his mother. She wondered whether to say honestly what she thought of Dan, but held her thoughts back.
‘I have to, lass – we are all Dan’s got, I owe it to his mother, and half of our home should really have been hers, if she hadn’t run off with that idiot husband of hers. But he’ll never replace you, so don’t you fret. You are our daughter, and although you are not the lad I’d set my heart on, you are our lass and will always be more precious than any cocky nephew from Liverpool.’
Tom smiled at his daughter. He’d noticed Dan pushing his way into the family and it had made him realize how lucky he was to have a daughter who knew what to do around the farm. Besides, Harry had asked him something that he didn’t know how to handle, until he’d asked Agnes that evening when they were by themselves. However, he didn’t know how both women in his life would take it, as it would mean changes in their lives and he didn’t want to bring heartache and upset to his relatively happy home.
Agnes lay in bed next to Tom, who was gazing up at the crack running along the bedroom ceiling. ‘Aye, I’m going to miss Mary. She’s always been there for me, and I hope I was for her. I don’t know how Harry will cope without her.’ Agnes sighed. ‘There’ll be another death yet, they always come in threes.’
‘Don’t say that, lass; we’ve had enough, don’t you think? Harry is a broken man. I nearly left Megan with him tonight to keep him company, he was in such a state.’ Tom turned his head and looked at Agnes.
‘You should have done. She’d have been alright for one night. We could have picked her up in the morning. I wouldn’t like to think of him on his own.’ Agnes looked at her husband, imagining what it would be like not to have anyone to talk to, if anything terrible happened to Tom.
‘Nay, his neighbour came and she said she’d keep an eye on him.’ Tom hesitated for a second. ‘But Harry did wonder if we could spare Meg to go and live with him, just for the next month or two until he gets back on his feet. He knows she would be a good help to him, as well as company of an evening. She’d have her own bedroom and time to herself, and you’d see her once a week when we take the butter over to him.’ Tom waited for Agnes’s reply, but knew it wasn’t going to be favourable.
‘It’s that bloody nephew of yours – you always have wanted a lad, and now that you’ve got one, you are turning your back on our Meg. I know Harry will be lonely, but he’ll have to cope. An odd night or two with Meg for company I wouldn’t have minded, but months is another matter. Once winter sets in, nine times out of ten we can’t get over the Buttertubs pass, and then she’d be on her own,’ Agnes retorted.
‘It’s nowt to do with us having Dan stopping here. I’m worried about Harry; he’s taken Mary’s death badly and he’s exhausted. I’m not keen on leaving Meg there – how many times have we lectured her about not mixing with the lead-miners over there? But Harry needs her, to keep his sanity. He’d look after her; Harry’s a good man and he’d make sure she was kept safe and fed and warm.’ Tom knew what the response from his wife would be; that’s why he’d waited till everyone was in bed – including Dan, in his new bedroom at the other end of the long farmhouse; he didn’t want Dan to think he was king of the farmyard, cocky little devil.
‘No, Tom, she’s not going. I need Meg. Besides, folk would start talking – a nineteen-year-old lass living with a widower. No, it’s not going to happen!’ Agnes put her foot down.
‘It’s Harry we are talking about, not any old man. Besides, Mary told him to ask us, just before she died; she knew Harry wouldn’t cope on his own.’ Tom waited; the mention of Mary’s last wish might sway Agnes, but he also knew it would hurt his wife to lose Meg, albeit only for a month or two, until his old friend got back on his own two feet.
‘I’m off to sleep. We will talk about this in the morning. I’m not happy with this, Tom Oversby, not happy at all. Our Meg is still young, and I know the lad can’t help it, but I think since Dan walked into our lives, your head is on looking after him, not your own daughter!’ Agnes turned her back on her husband and pounded her pillow, trying to make herself comfortable to quell the worries he had presented to her.
Tom looked up at the ceiling again. No matter what he said, he probably wouldn’t win the argument tonight. Best to let Agnes sleep on it; she was upset and couldn’t see that he was only looking after their dearest friend in his loss.
9
Agnes looked across at Meg and wondered whether to mention what Tom had told her before he went to sleep. She’d not slept for thinking about it, her thoughts flitting between being loyal to her best friend’s dying wishes and to her own wish to keep her daughter at home. She’d be lost without Meg; besides being a help to her, Meg was female company, as she was growing up quickly and they both had a lot in common.
Agnes had sworn under her breath at Tom. If his nephew hadn’t turned up out of the blue, he’d never have thought of Meg leaving the family home, because he needed her to help him with the jobs around the farm. After all, it was Tom who had recently put his foot down about Meg seeing the lads from Swaledale that she had been dancing with, and now there he was, expecting her to go and live over there. Harry was a good man, but Agnes was still of a mind that her daughter should not be seen to be living with him alone. The more she thought about it, the more she was opposed to giving the idea the time of day.
‘Are you alright, Mum? You seem quiet this morning, and you look as if you haven’t slept.’ Meg looked up from the brass candlesticks that she was cleaning with Brasso and a soft cloth, her hands already black with dirt. ‘I expect you are feeling sad over losing Aunt Mary. I would be, if I’d lost my best friend.’
‘Aye, I’m broken-hearted over Mary’s death. We were, as you say, good friends – like you and Hattie Baines, although I don’t hear you mention her of late. You’ve not fallen out with one another, have you?’ Agnes looked
across at her daughter and thought how bonny she was, even when wearing one of her old pinnies to protect her from the dirty job she was doing.
‘No, we’ve not fallen out with one another. It’s just that Hattie is courting John Thwaite from Burtersett and she’s got a job in the dairy, so she hasn’t time for me. Besides, I don’t want to play the gooseberry and sit between them both and know they don’t want me there.’ Meg rubbed the candlestick hard and looked at the shine she had brought to it, before she moved on to the next one.
‘I’m surprised her mother is letting her court somebody a lot older than her. I remember Hattie being born. It was a really hot August that year and we hardly had any water; the well had dried up and I was worried that we were all going to die of thirst. And then it poured down and never stopped until Christmas. It’s funny how you remember things. It doesn’t seem five minutes ago really.’
‘Well, there’s talk of her getting married next year, it’s that serious.’ Meg didn’t look up at her mum.
‘Your father was right, telling you not to go with either of them lads from Swaledale. There’s plenty of time for courting.’ Agnes looked across at Meg and smiled. ‘I suppose we will all have to attend the funeral next week. I can’t say I’m looking forward to that.’ She decided to mention the fact that Harry had asked for Meg to stay with him, and see her daughter’s reaction to his request. ‘Your father said Harry was in a bit of a state; he even asked if you could go and stay with him for a while, until he sorts himself out. I think he appreciated your help in tidying the shop.’ Agnes looked at Meg and noticed that she didn’t even bother to stop cleaning the brass as she listened to her.
‘Oh, I’m not interested in any lads. And, like my father says, the lead-miners over there are worth nowt. It is better that I wait for the right one to come along – a farmer, perhaps. That would suit my father, and give clever Dan something to think about.’ Meg tried to keep her heart from beating fast. She had to conceal any hint of affection for Swaledale and its inhabitants, else her mum would never let her out of her sight.
‘Dan is a clever devil, on that you are right. He tries too hard to impress your father and, like a fool, I think Tom falls for it.’ Agnes grinned. ‘Would you be happy going and helping Harry out? I don’t want you to go, but I think Mary suggested it to him before she died.’ She waited for an answer from Meg.
‘I don’t know, Mum. I’ve never been away from home before, and although I know Uncle Harry well, it would feel strange living there on my own with him. How long would he want me to be there? I’d want to be home for Christmas.’ Meg put on a worried face as she pretended to be unsure of her decision.
‘I don’t know – until he feels more like running the shop, I presume. I’ll be honest with you, Meg, I don’t want you to go, but I rather think your father got pressurized into saying you would stay. He felt obliged, because of Mary dying. He’d never even have dreamed of agreeing to it once upon a time.’ Agnes sighed.
‘But he would now – now that he’s got Dan staying with us, to give him a hand with all the jobs. Let’s face it, I’m surplus to requirements when it comes to the farm.’ Meg looked across at her mum and tried to hide the excitement that was building inside her at the thought of going to live in Swaledale and being near the Alderson brothers.
‘No, it’s not like that. You’d just be giving a close family friend comfort when he needs it most. You’d be back before you knew it.’ Agnes hung her head and held back the tears. She didn’t want Meg to feel unloved, and she would much rather keep her at home.
‘Then if Aunt Mary asked it of me, I really should go. We’ve got to respect her last wishes, after all. Can I have a few days to think about it? I’ll let you know before the funeral, and then perhaps you can leave me with Harry, if I decide to stay?’ Meg smiled at her mum, hoping she could not read her true feelings.
‘Of course you can. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. If you go, I’ll be lost without you.’ Agnes looked across at her daughter and realized how Meg had grown up in the last few months; she was no longer the young girl she had protected all her life. Perhaps it would be good for Meg to spread her wings, and a month or two away from the family nest might make her realize that home comforts were the best.
Meg didn’t reply. She loved her mum, but the thought of perhaps being able to see Sam every day made her heart skip with excitement, and it offered an escape from Dan and his ways.
‘Well, that’s Mary buried.’ Tom stood back from the graveside and put his arm round Agnes as she sobbed into her handkerchief. Meg looked around the small graveyard on the outskirts of Gunnerside. She could hear the water rushing and gurgling in the nearby beck and looked up at the high fells above her. It was a remote place but beautiful, with the square-built Methodist chapel in its grounds. If a soul was to be buried anywhere, this was as good as you could wish for.
‘I’ll miss her. We’d been friends for a long time, and she was more like a sister than a friend,’ Agnes sobbed, and then looked at Meg. ‘You sure you want to stay over here, Meg? You can always come back with us. Harry would understand.’ Her tears were not only for Mary, but also for the temporary loss of her beloved daughter, although she was trying hard for Meg not to see them.
‘No, I can’t do that. Look at him, he’s absolutely heartbroken; he needs me. Besides, it’s only for a few weeks, until he gets back on his feet.’ Meg looked across at Harry, who was beside himself with grief as he thanked the minister for giving his wife a good send-off.
‘She’ll be alright, Agnes. You’ll see her once a week when we come over with the butter. She’s not going hundreds of miles away; and she’s with Harry, he’ll keep a good eye on her.’ Tom smiled at his wife; he knew it was a big step for her, as well as him, letting their daughter be independent for the first time in her life.
‘I don’t know if he will. I think it’s going to be the other way round. Harry hasn’t even bothered to organize a funeral tea for poor Mary, he’s in such a state.’ Agnes glanced across at Harry and went quiet, as she saw him finish his thanks to the minister and walk towards them.
Harry looked at his closest friends and wiped away the tears that kept falling. ‘You don’t know how grateful I am that Meg here is going to come home with me, and keep me company and the shop running. I couldn’t have walked back into my home by myself.’
‘You’ve no need to do that, Harry. We will come back home with you and settle our Meg into her new temporary home. And Agnes will make sure you have a cup of tea and something to eat before we return home.’ Tom patted his old mate on the back. ‘Didn’t you think of putting on a funeral tea? Folk usually expect something to eat, and a chance to give their condolences to you.’ Tom looked round at the mourners standing in groups, left with nothing to do other than talk between themselves before making their way home.
‘I didn’t want anything afterwards. I couldn’t face folk and their sympathies. Best we get home, like you say.’ Harry lowered his head and started to walk down the path of the churchyard.
Agnes looked round the living quarters of the shop and shook her head. ‘What have you been doing, Harry? There’s not a clean spot in the house, and you’ve not had a tidy-up since she died, by the look of things. No wonder Mary asked for our Meg to come and keep you straight.’
‘I can’t be bothered. What’s the point? Mary was everything to me.’ Harry sat next to the fire and held his head in his hands. ‘We should have had some bairns; they’d be here now to look after me, instead of your lass. But we were never blessed. Meg’s room is tidy. Mary made me get it ready before she died, in case you did agree to Meg staying with me, so you needn’t worry on that score.’
‘That’s just as well, because I’ll be honest, I’m in two minds about leaving her here with you. You are going to have to learn to deal with Mary’s loss. Look to the future, and run that shop well, like you used to do. It must have made you a pretty penny or two over the years, and Mary was so proud of i
t.’ Agnes started to pick up the clutter that had mounted over the last few days, as Harry had wallowed in self-pity.
‘Give him a chance, Agnes. You can see he’s in no way to be lectured by you. Meg will soon get him straight, won’t you, lass?’ Tom looked across at Meg as she watched the sorrowful man she was going to have to live with and finally realized that this was her home for the next few months; and that perhaps living in the same village as Sam and Jack was not going to be recompense enough for what she would have to endure.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll soon get everything straight, and tidy the shop. It won’t take long. Do you mind if I take a look at my bedroom, Uncle Harry? Mum, do you want to come too, and then you know where I’m living?’ Meg picked up her carpet bag, filled with the clothes and other necessary items for a short stay, and made for the staircase.
‘Aye, make yourself at home. You can do what you want and go anywhere you wish, just as long as I have you to keep me tidy and fed; and a bit of your company of an evening would be welcome.’
Harry looked up at the young lass, whom he had promised Tom to look after while she was with him. He had been in two minds about carrying out Mary’s wishes, but now he realized that, after coping with her illness for so long, he was exhausted and at a loss with himself. But would Meg be able to keep his secret, which he had tried to keep to himself for so long? However, right now he needed some care, in order to get back on his feet.
‘Your room’s right at the top, under the rafters. I thought you’d prefer a floor to yourself, and Mary thought it best. She said you’d appreciate your privacy.’
Meg turned and looked at her mum as she went up the stairs. ‘He’s in a bit of a state. What do I do if he gets any worse?’ she whispered as they climbed the second lot of stairs to the attic bedroom.
