For a Father's Pride

by Diane Allen

  ‘But what about us? The old bugger’s left us nothing, except some worm-eaten furniture.’ Clifford was furious, while Kitty just wept. She knew she had never been the favourite – her father had been quite blunt about that.

  ‘You may not even receive that, if Daisy is not in agreement, may I remind you.’ Henry reached yet again into Tom Fraser’s file. ‘I was also instructed to give you this, Daisy, on your father’s death – to be opened when you felt the time was right.’ He passed over a folded note, sealed to keep it private.

  Daisy held it in her hand, looking at her father’s handwriting on the letter. Her eyes filled with tears. She’d got her home back, and yet she’d never dreamed of having anything left to her by him.

  ‘Go on – what are you waiting for? Open the letter. Perhaps he tells you where there’s some money.’ It was Kitty this time, still not believing that she had been left nothing but some furniture.

  Clifford, on the other hand, said nothing. The contents of the letter could bring his life crashing down around him, if he’d been named and shamed.

  Daisy looked at the letter and then at the solicitor. ‘Don’t feel pressured, my dear,’ he said. ‘Open it in your own time.’

  She sniffed and then, with shaking hands, broke the seal and read the message:

  Things will take a turn, my Daisy.

  I’m sorry. Forgive me.

  She held it in her shaking hands, her heart breaking. Her father had said he was sorry. That was all she had ever wanted to hear from her parents. All the years of heartache flooded out of her, as the realization that she possessed her own property and had gained her father’s forgiveness sank in.

  The letter dropped to the ground and Clifford snatched it up. He read it quickly and then passed it to Kitty, shaking his head as he handed it to her.

  ‘Sorry! He’s not half as bloody sorry as we are.’ Clifford grabbed hold of Kitty’s arm and pulled her out of the door and out of the building, leaving Daisy alone in the solicitor’s room.

  Henry smacked his lips together. ‘Your father loved you, Daisy. He wanted to do right by you, for a past wrong. Leave Grouse Hall – your brother-in-law will never change his ways; even his own father was ashamed at the end of his days of the son he had bred. And, Daisy, think about what your father has left Kitty: the oak dresser and its contents. He was sure you’d remember what he was referring to.’

  Daisy sniffed and rose from her chair. She felt uncomfortable, for she’d obviously been discussed and she was still ashamed of her past.

  ‘Good luck, and if I can ever be of service, you know where I am. These, by the way, are yours. They are the deeds to your family home, which I believe is called Mill Race.’ He handed her a square walnut box that had always been kept in her father’s oak desk. Until then, Daisy had always admired the precious box in her father’s desk, but had never known what was locked inside it.

  ‘Thank you. I don’t know what to say.’ Daisy smiled a weak smile and clutched the box to her.

  ‘Go and be happy. That was what your father wanted.’ Henry Winterskill shook her hand and showed her to the door. He felt warm inside – sometimes his job was worth doing.

  Daisy lay in her bed. She listened to Tobias sleeping soundly on the mattress she’d placed for him in her room. He’d slept in her room ever since the barn had caught fire. She knew he was safe there, out of the clutches of Oversby, if not the insults of Clifford throughout the day. If she was to move into Mill Race, what would become of Tobias? He’d probably be treated like a dog again. But she couldn’t take the lad with her, for he belonged with his father, no matter how badly Tobias would be treated by him.

  The silence between Clifford and Kitty as she had climbed into the cart had been unbearable. She knew they had expected to receive money. In fact, the more she thought about the money her father had left, the more confused she was. He had always had a good head for figures and was never short of money, so leaving just ten guineas to his name made no sense. She tossed and turned, pulling the covers over her one way and then the other. Why had her father left her a house and her sister nothing, except the dresser and the clock? She remembered Henry Winterskill looking at her as he talked about the dresser and its contents, making sure she was aware of the contents in particular. But the dresser only held flour and spices – she’d seen her father at it nearly every day of his life, for it was an essential part of the family home. The furniture would be worthless now, with the length of time the house had been empty, and would be no good to anyone.

  After breakfast she’d walk to Mill Race, confront her demons and visit the apple tree beneath which her child lay. That, she presumed, was why her father had left her the family home. While her mother and father had had Christian burials, her son lay unchristened and unwelcome in heaven, under the apple tree at Grisedale. It was over now – she had to forget it all. It was time to make a fresh start. She had a home, a good man on her arm, and perhaps she could make a living by supplying Luke Allen with preserves and baking, if she talked to Sam about it. But what would she do about Tobias? She’d grown fond of the boy, and he of her. It would break his heart to see her leave.

  20

  ‘Where’s Clifford?’ Daisy asked Kitty, who was giving her the cold shoulder as she cleared the breakfast pots away.

  ‘He’s gone to look at a lambing ewe up in the top pasture. He’ll have to look after them, now that we are to live like paupers, with no inheritance.’ Kitty glared at her sister as Daisy caught her arm.

  ‘Kitty, it isn’t my fault. It was our father’s will. I didn’t know about it.’

  ‘What was he “sorry” for, and what “things will take a turn”? It was you who should have been sorry – jiggering off without a by-your-leave.’ Kitty scowled at her sister.

  ‘You’ve no idea what went on, Kitty, and I’m not about to tell you. I’m sorry you’ve had a hard life with Clifford, but that’s not my fault. Father was as much to blame for your unhappiness as he was for mine. Parents shouldn’t plot their children’s lives. Anyway, you were as happy as could be on your wedding day.’

  ‘That’s what you thought. I felt like I’d been sold off to the highest bidder.’ Kitty slammed the clean pots down.

  ‘Where’s Tobias? I thought I’d take him with me to Grisedale and wander down the dale to see what the house is like now.’ Daisy cut herself two slices of bread and put them in her pocket.

  ‘That’s it – rub my nose in it. The little bastard is with those fox cubs, probably getting covered with fleas.’

  ‘Oh, Kitty, shut up! I can’t help what’s been done. I’ll make sure your dresser and clock are still there.’ Daisy walked out into the bright sunshine and around the back of the barn. She stood and watched the young lad playing with the fox cubs as if they were puppies. He’d be broken-hearted if the hunt group took them and the hounds tore them apart in the name of sport. Clifford Middleton was nothing more than a bastard himself, letting the boy get attached to the cubs.

  Tobias suddenly cried out.

  ‘Aye, watch your fingers! Their teeth are like razors. They are wild animals, you know.’

  ‘Look at this one, Daisy. He likes his stomach being rubbed. Look at his feet kicking me.’ Tobias giggled as he rubbed the cub’s stomach.

  ‘Put them back in the cage, Tobias. You mustn’t get too attached – they’re not ours. Feed them and then leave them,’ said Daisy. ‘Come with me, and we’ll have a day away from here. Come and walk up the dale to where I was born. I’ve got dinner in my pocket.’

  Tobias picked up the fox cub and slammed the cage door shut.

  ‘Are we going to be away all day? What will Clifford say?’ Tobias nodded his head at the house.

  ‘Don’t worry about him – he’s all words. And you are with me. Come on, Tobias, race you down to the road.’

  Daisy picked up her skirts and started to run, glancing around at Tobias, who was hot on her heels and soon overtook her. She laughed as her dress caught around her
legs. She couldn’t keep up with the young lad, and she knew it. She doubled up at the bottom of the field, out of breath and aching.

  ‘You win. I’m too old to chase your young legs.’ She held out her hand to Tobias, who took it quickly. ‘Come on, we’ve to walk along the road for a little way up Garsdale, and then we’ll walk up the lane to Grisedale and my old home of Mill Race.’

  Tobias held her hand tightly. Since she’d come to Grouse Hall, Daisy had turned his life around, and he knew it. Her feelings were strong for the little lad, and she was growing fonder of him every day. He was such a loving little soul, when given the chance.

  ‘It’s a lovely day, Tobias – just feel that sunshine.’ Daisy lifted her face up to the sun. ‘Do you know your flower names? I was taught them as soon as I could walk.’ She ran her hand through the hedgerow plants, stopping to smell the bluebells and primroses that filled the hedgerow along the roadside.

  ‘Flowers have names? Don’t be silly.’ Tobias laughed.

  ‘Yes, they do, just like you and me. This is a bluebell – that one’s easy, because it’s blue and shaped like a bell; this little yellow one is a primrose; and this little one . . .’ Daisy lifted the delicate little flower head. ‘It’s called a soldier’s button, because – look, when you lift its head, it’s like a soldier’s button on his uniform. We’ll play a game. It’ll make the walk seem not as long. I’ll ask you to find me a flower, and then you’ve to tell me its name.’ Daisy smiled. This was how she’d learned the flower names, and it hadn’t felt like learning when she’d done it with her mother.

  Tobias kept running back and forward with different flowers. He was a quick learner and Daisy enjoyed teaching him. The walk felt like freedom, and she relished every moment. The day felt like a new start in her life, now that she had a home waiting for her.

  After a while the flower game started to wear thin on Tobias.

  ‘Come on, we’ll play ducks and drakes down in the river, and then we’ll get a move on.’ Daisy scrambled down to the river bank with Tobias following her. ‘What you need is a thin, flat stone that’s really smooth. Then you hold it curled between your finger and thumb and throw it, so that it skims the water and bounces along the surface.’ Daisy demonstrated, laughing as she counted the times the stone bounced along the river. Then Tobias tried, getting frustrated after the first time or two, and finally beaming when he managed to throw the stone successfully.

  Daisy sat down by the bank, watching the little soul doing what a boy his age should be doing. She felt guilty about leaving him at Grouse Hall, but he wasn’t her concern. She hadn’t known he existed until she went to live there. The trouble was that he’d grown on her, and she felt responsible for him now. She looked around her. The new green leaves of late spring rustled in the wind, and their shadows played on the steady ripple of the River Clough. A dragonfly darted above the river and a trout jumped lazily, trying to catch its dinner, but missing.

  ‘That was a three-er. Did you see that, Daisy?’ Tobias ran across the riverside shingle.

  ‘I did – you’re getting good at this. If we’ve time on the way back we’ll stop here again. Come on, let’s go and see my new home.’ Daisy patted down her skirts. They were damp from sitting on the mossy bank.

  ‘Your new home,’ said Tobias, sounding upset. ‘You can’t leave me. I don’t want to be on my own again.’ He pulled on her skirts with tears in his eyes.

  ‘I haven’t gone yet, my love. Besides, I’ll make sure they treat you right after I’ve left. Now that you know where I live, you can always escape and come and see me.’ Daisy bent down and wiped his tears away from his dark eyes. ‘I promise you, Tobias, I’ll not let them treat you like a dog again.’ She didn’t know how she was going to protect him, but she would. She could never live with herself if Tobias had to go back to the way he lived before.

  The track up to the little dale of Grisedale was steep and windswept. The rough moorland grasses and sedges stung the legs of Tobias and Daisy, as she took them through the fields to her old home. Her heart beat faster with every bend they took, until down in the bottom of the valley she caught sight of the family home. She stood looking around her. She knew these fells like the back of her hand. She knew where the white heather for luck grew, where the curlew always nested, and where bilberries were to be found in autumn. This was home, whether she liked it or not. It pulled on her heartstrings and made her feel sick with sheer love for the place. And down there, in the bottom by the stream, was where she was born and raised to be a happy young woman, until that fateful day. She sighed and brushed a stray strand of her long brown hair from her eye, holding Tobias close to her by his shoulder.

  ‘This is Mill Race, Tobias. This is my home.’ Daisy held his hand tightly and strode down the fellside to it. She stood by the garden wall. Brambles and briars had taken over the square walled piece of land that used to be planted with cabbages, potatoes, carrots and whatever other vegetables were needed to see them through the winter months. The gate was still standing, but the paint was cracked and dry, and it groaned as Daisy opened it. The path was lost under weeds, as Daisy and Tobias made for the front door. Light-blue paint was flaking from it, as Daisy pulled the large iron key from her pocket and turned it in the lock. She closed her eyes and pushed the door open, imagining that she was opening Pandora’s box and that all the evils of the world would be released as she walked into the small, dark front room of Mill Race. A mouse scurried into the corner of the room, disturbed by Daisy and Tobias’s entrance, and Daisy looked around her at what used to be her home. Everything was just as it had been, but covered with dust and cobwebs, and the mice had obviously made the horse-hair settee their home, with tufts of the filling strewn over the floor.

  The grandfather clock that was to be Kitty’s stood next to the doorway to the kitchen, and Daisy walked across the dusty floor to the kitchen and bakehouse. Memories flooded back to the morning when she had told her mother that she was pregnant, and she remembered the look Martha had given her, in disgust and panic, as she raced to get the baked bread out of the huge black Yorkshire range. She could hear her mother’s voice nearly screaming at her, as it dawned on her that Daisy was with child.

  She looked across at the long oak dresser along the kitchen wall. That was to be Kitty’s as well, along with the contents. They were worth nothing, she realized, as she opened the top cupboard, blowing away the dust and cobwebs. All that was left now were mouse-droppings and chewed paper bags, with spiders hiding in the darkness. She pulled out one of the long middle drawers that ran down the centre of the ancient dresser. She hadn’t appreciated how deep and wide the drawers were, and how heavy. Then she accidentally pulled out the drawer to its full length, making it fall onto the dusty floor. In the dim light of the kitchen she looked at the drawer – the last third of it was closed off with a wooden lid. She’d never noticed that before; she’d never pulled the drawers that far out, for the spices and other ingredients had always been at the front.

  Tobias watched Daisy as she tried to lift the lid, but realized it was locked. But wait: she had a small key, along with the large iron house-keys in her pocket. She quickly pulled the key out and tried it in the lock. It fitted, and her heart beat fast as she turned it in the lock and pulled open the secret compartment. It was full to the brim with bank notes of all values. This was what her father had left Kitty – it wasn’t the dresser that was of value; it was the contents. Daisy opened all four drawers and they all revealed the same secret compartment, with enough money to make her sister quite a wealthy woman. So, her father had done right by both his daughters: she had the house and Kitty had the money, but he’d left it in such a way that Clifford didn’t need to know.

  ‘Tobias, you’ve never seen all this money, do you understand? We’ve never found it, and we know nothing about it.’ Daisy looked at the young boy’s face as every drawer revealed a small fortune.

  Tobias nodded his head. He’d do anything Daisy said.

&nbs
p; ‘Come on, let’s open this back door and let some light in.’ She unbolted the back door and threw it open, to let the light spill into the kitchen. The honeysuckle that grew around the doorway bullied its way into the kitchen.

  ‘Well, that’s going to have to be cut back, Tobias. I think you’ve got me at Grouse Hall for a long time yet – until I’ve tidied here up, anyway.’ Daisy smiled. The next step was going to be hard, she thought, as she climbed up the back garden stairs into the sunshine and the orchard. The grass was knee-high as she stood quietly under the apple tree that had been growing there for decades. Under the soil lay her baby, buried and forgotten, rotted back to nature, without a mother’s love. She brushed back a tear. She had to come back and live here to make sure that her bairn was not disturbed – her father had known that.

  She watched as Tobias swung on one of the branches of the apple tree. Her baby lay dead under the soil, and another woman’s baby was swinging in the tree, unloved and unwanted. How many other bastard children did Clifford Middleton have? And how ironic that his wife – her sister Kitty – couldn’t bear him children? Nature had a funny way of getting even with folk.

  Daisy’s mind was racing as she lay in her bed that night. Her sister obviously didn’t know that the dresser drawers contained money and thought she’d been left nothing.

  What if she drip-fed it to Kitty, making her promise to keep Tobias out of harm’s way, once she left Grouse Hall? That way Clifford wouldn’t get his hands on it. It was quite obvious that her father hadn’t wanted him to have the money. It would at least serve a good purpose then, and Clifford wouldn’t get the chance to squander it all. Sisters should be closer than they had been, and as long as Kitty kept receiving her father’s money, Daisy was fulfilling his wishes. That’s what she’d do, then her conscience about the young lad would be clear.

  ‘Some bloody father you had! You looked after your mother when she was ill, and all you get is a dresser that’s got woodworm and a grandfather clock.’ Clifford pushed the dresser onto the cart, swearing at the weight of it. ‘Daisy got bloody everything, yet she’s done nowt for it. And I hear she’s worming her way into Luke Allen’s family.’ He leaned on the wheel of the cart and moaned to Kitty, as he watched Daisy lock the door of Mill Race behind her.