by Diane Allen
A tear welled up in her eye, but she wouldn’t let it fall. She knew the truth. Matt had never even kissed her, let alone tried to do anything else. She wiped her face, and walked away for what she deemed to be the last time from the Sunters’ house. She didn’t need friends like Maggie. And besides, she had Matt now and, what’s more, Maggie didn’t.
‘What’s up, Polly?’ Beattie had watched her protégée struggle at work all day. The butter had nearly been slapped to death with the Scotch hands and the customers hadn’t had a smile all day. ‘It’s nearly home-time now. I hope you come back in a better mood with yourself tomorrow.’ Beattie covered the cut cheese and placed it under the glass counter, ready for the next day.
‘I will, Miss Swaine. It’s just that Maggie . . . ’ Polly started to explain her mood.
‘Don’t mention that lass to me. Anything she says or does is always too outrageous for me to think about. If you’ve fallen out with her, forget about her. She’s nothing but trouble, like I keep telling you.’
‘I know, but she’s told her mother and father I’ve done all sorts that I wouldn’t even dream of, let alone do.’ Polly untied her apron and hung it up behind the door. ‘If folk believe it, they’ll think I’m terrible.’
‘If you haven’t done owt, you’ve nothing to bother about. Let folk think what they want. And her father knows Maggie. He’ll have taken with a pinch of salt all that his flighty wife and that spoilt Maggie say. He’s not a bad man, is Bill Sunter, so give over fretting and get yourself back home. It’ll be Tuesday in the morning and the shop will be heaving, so let’s have a smile back on your face.’ Beattie watched as Polly pulled on her shawl and picked up her bag, which she’d collected from the Sunters’.
‘I’ll be fine tomorrow. I just don’t appreciate so-called friends that lie.’ Polly smiled.
‘No, lass, I don’t either, so she’s a fight on with two of us. I hear that Matt, out of the yard, is taking you home tonight, so get yourself home with him. And you just take care with him. A young lad’s fancy sometimes gets the better of him.’ Beattie watched as Polly blushed and pulled the door behind her.
Beattie had heard the gossip that Maggie had spitefully spread, but she knew it was wrong. It was Maggie who had wanted Matt in her bed, and instead he’d made eyes at Polly. She was a spiteful bit of stuff, that one; and she’d told Bill Sunter that, when he’d asked about Polly’s moral values. She’d told him to look at his own lass, before preaching about others. Polly was worth two of Maggie, and well he knew it. Still, there must be a bit of something between her and Matt, as Oliver Simms had made it common knowledge that Matt was taking her home tonight. She smiled. They’d make a lovely couple. She hoped they’d be happy together, and that life would treat them kindly. Sometimes it was hard being a dried-up old spinster. Perhaps, if she had her life over again, there would be a Matt for her somewhere. Instead, it was home for her, supper for one and a saucer of milk for the cat. She closed the door and pulled her shawl on. The dairy was still at work, but her day was done.
Polly climbed up onto the milk cart next to Matt, who offered his hand in help. She smiled at him as she wrapped her shawl around her and he jolted the horses into action, without a word said between them until they left the prying ears of the dairy. All the way down the dale they talked of their day, and of how much they had enjoyed one another’s company; of how upset Polly had been with Maggie, and how Beattie had stuck up for her. The sun shone on the young couple, and the buzz of bees and dragonflies from the nearby stream filled the air as a gentle summer wind blew on their fair faces. They were a couple who were quickly falling in love with one another, and they both knew it.
Their arrival at the bridge came all too soon, as Matt brought the horses and cart to a halt.
‘Right, here we are, Pol. I’ll drop you off here, as Oliver does, and then your parents will think it’s him that brought you back.’ Matt jumped down from the cart and held out his hand for Polly to alight.
‘I wish we could have carried on to Sedbergh, just you and me. This last half-hour’s gone so fast, and there’s so much I still want to tell you.’ Polly lingered on Matt’s outstretched hand and then realized that the people behind the twitching curtained windows of the small row of houses called The Street could see their every move. No doubt they would be reported to her father, especially by Len, who didn’t seem to miss a thing, and added on what he didn’t know.
‘Aye, it’s been a grand ride out. I don’t call this work at all: picking up and delivering kits with a bonny lass by my side.’ Matt ran his hand through Polly’s hair and smiled.
‘Don’t! One of my father’s mates lives over there, and what he doesn’t know he invents.’ Polly stopped Matt’s hand and held it tightly in hers.
‘Well – here, I’ll give him something to really talk about.’ Matt dropped her hand and put his arm tightly around her waist and kissed her passionately on the lips.
Polly felt like she was going to faint, but she wanted him to kiss her again and again. It was the first time anybody had kissed her in that way, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. She stood back and looked at her Matt.
‘I meant to do that on Saturday night, but there were too many people about, and I didn’t know how you’d take it.’ He smiled, seeing the look of astonishment on Polly’s face. ‘You didn’t mind, did you? I mean, you didn’t put up much of a fight.’ He looked worried for a minute, thinking he’d perhaps gone too far and too fast for Polly.
‘No, no. I just wasn’t expecting it, and I can’t believe you’d want to kiss me. I’m just Polly from Paradise, as my mother calls me – a plain farm lass – and you could do so much better than me.’ Polly looked at the row of houses over the bridge, worried that they were being watched.
‘Aye, I think you have come from Paradise, and you are more than a plain farm lass to me. You’re the lass with the sparkling eyes and the jet-black hair; the one I can’t wait to see of a morning; and the one I think of as I go to sleep on a night. I know we haven’t known one another long, Polly, but it’s as if I’ve known you all my life.’ Matt held her hand tight and watched as she blushed deeply in front of him. The colour in her cheeks made her beauty even greater to him.
‘Matt, stop it. I feel the same about you, but I’m frightened. I’ve never felt like this before.’ Polly looked into his blue eyes, but at the same time her mind raced to the gentlemanly Tobias, whose dark, mysterious side attracted her with a fascination she couldn’t understand.
‘I’ll take it slowly, Pol. Let’s see how we feel over this summer. I’ll keep bringing you home of an evening, and if it doesn’t work out, then we’ll just have to say and be honest with one another.’ Matt let go of Polly’s waist, sensing her uneasiness at being watched by prying eyes.
‘Aye, let’s do that. I’ve loved this evening, and I do have feelings for you, Matt, I really do. I just don’t want my parents worrying about me. My mother isn’t well, and my father has enough on, with it coming up to hay-time and me working two days a week at the dairy.’
‘I used to love hay-time when we were up at the farm. It was the hay-field teas I used to love, a time when we all sat together in the hay-field, with the family and helping friends. My grandmother would bring a big basket out filled with tea, sandwiches, pasties and cake, and we’d all sit down and have a natter, before going back to either scale the hay or load it up onto the horse and sledge. There’s nothing comes close to the taste of a cup of tea in a hay-field. I think it must be the added flavour of the grass seed that you always find floating in your cup.’ Matt recalled happier days back on his family’s farm and sighed.
‘You see, I didn’t even know you farmed. There’s so much to know about one another yet, Matt. Do you miss your farm? Why did you have to leave? And why do you use a sledge for hay-time?’ Polly had a hundred and one questions about Matt that she wanted to ask, and she was only just beginning.
‘Aye, we farmed up Dent until my grandfather died, and th
en my grandmother thought we’d be better moving into Hawes. The farm was only rented, and my grandfather was struggling to make a living before he died, so she decided to call it a day, without even asking me what I thought. I’d have liked to keep it on, but my grandmother wouldn’t hear of it. And as for a sledge, it is exactly what it sounds: a huge wooden sledge that a team of horses pull, and the dried hay goes on it to be taken to the barn. It’s more stable than a cart, if you have a hilly meadow – that’s why we used a sledge. I loved that bloody farm. I knew every nook and cranny of it.’ Matt shook his head and bowed it.
‘Aye, I love Paradise, although my father will treat me like a lad, and sometimes I just want to be treated like a lass. That’s why I like working in the shop for two days. I’m sorry you didn’t have the chance to take your farm on yourself. But what about your parents: where are they now?’ Polly felt sorry for Matt, for she knew how much the land under her feet meant to her; and she’d die for her home, rather than have to leave it.
‘My mother died giving birth to me, and I never knew who my father was. I’ve always been brought up by my grandparents. I’ve never known anybody else. But don’t worry – it’s not your headache. Now get yourself up home, else they’ll wonder where you are.’ Matt smiled at Polly, as she looked so sorry for him.
‘I’m so sorry, Matt, you must have had it hard. But aye, I’d better go, else I’ll be in bother. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Polly looked at her crestfallen suitor as she opened the gate up to her lane. She stopped for a second, then ran back and pulled on his shoulder, before giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘See you tomorrow. I’ll be counting the minutes.’ Polly laughed and quickly closed the gate behind her and started up the lane.
‘Aye, and I, Polly Harper, will be counting the seconds,’ Matt shouted to her as she waved him goodbye.
‘Now you’re sure you’ll not come and see the doctor with me this morning?’ Edmund looked at Ada. She must not be feeling well, for it was market day at Hawes and, along with saying no to the doctor’s visit, she’d also said she wasn’t going into town with him.
‘There’s nowt wrong with me that an hour’s peace on my own wouldn’t put right. You’ll manage with the list of things I need. Besides, by the time you’ve picked up your new hay-rake from Heseltine’s, the joiners, and had a natter with Len Brunskill, I’ll be fed up of waiting for you in that cold market place.’ Ada gave Edmund her list of supplies for the week ahead and sighed as he screwed it up, putting it in his jacket pocket.
‘It’s not cold today, Ada, it’s a grand day. Just look at that bottom meadow – it’s growing so fast in this bit of good weather. I’ll happen think about starting to mow it this weekend.’
‘It might be warm in the sun, but there’s always a sneaky wind as I stand outside the Crown Hotel, and that’s where I’d have to wait, if you have a pint with Len.’ Ada sat down in her chair.
‘I don’t know why you don’t come in and join us. Nobody bites in there.’ Edmund made his way to the door. ‘Come with me. Get your coat and come with me. The day out will do you good.’
‘It’ll be a cold day in hell before you get me in a pub. Decent women don’t go into suchlike. Just get yourself gone, and leave me be. I’m going to have forty winks while you are out.’ Ada wanted a bit of peace; she was tired of Edmund telling her to go to the doctor, and there always seemed to be something to do nowadays.
‘All right, if you’re sure. I’ll not be long, I’ll get what you want on this list. Anything else you want?’ Edmund lingered with his hand on the kitchen door-knob.
‘Will you get yourself gone. It’ll be midnight by the time you get back, if you don’t get gone,’ Ada snapped.
‘Right, I’m gone.’
She stood up and watched Edmund go down the track, from the kitchen window. He was right, it was a glorious summer’s day. The cow parsley in the bottom meadow was gently swaying against the beautiful yellow hues of the meadow’s buttercups, and the smell of the flowers blew into the house through the open windows. She would have enjoyed the ride into Hawes, but she felt so tired. It was better that she had an hour in bed, in peace, while the house was empty. She climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. Lying on her bed, she looked up at the dancing reflection on the low bedroom ceiling of the leaves from the apple tree that grew next to the house. She listened to the bleat of a sheep up on the fell side, calling for its wayward lamb. The peace was glorious. She closed her eyes and gently found herself drifting asleep.
‘Edmund, I don’t know how to tell you this, and I don’t want to cause any bother, but I think there’s something you should know.’ Len Brunskill lifted his pint to his lips and looked at his lifelong friend.
‘What are you on about? You’ve never caused bother for me yet, so get it spitted out, man. It’ll be right, whatever you’ve got to tell me.’ Edmund looked at the worried face of his best friend and wondered what it was that he’d been building up to tell him for the last half-hour.
‘Now I know part of it is true, because I’ve seen him myself, but the other might be a load of rubbish.’ Len took another sip of his pint as he summoned up the courage to carry on with his news. ‘Your Danny’s son is working at the dairy with your Polly. That Bill Sunter’s taken them both on. He always was good mates with your Danny; he’ll think he’s doing him a favour. He’ll know that they are both his children, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he kept in touch with your Danny – thick as thieves them two were, when they were growing up. But I don’t have to tell you that.’
‘He’s what? I thought the lad, and his grandmother, were over in Dent. Where are they living? The stupid, bloody fool. Bill never did know when to stop meddling in our business.’ Edmund went white with anger. He’d always tried to act right with Bill Sunter, but he always suspected that Bill knew where Danny was.
‘The lad is called Matt. He lives with his grandmother up Gayle. They moved here just after his grandfather died, just in time for the dairy opening. Bill Sunter took him on as his yardman. He’s in charge of the milk deliveries, and he’s damn good at his job, from what I hear.’
‘I don’t give a damn about what he does; it’s if he knows our Polly, and what the Dinsdales have told him as he’s been growing up.’ Edmund looked into his pint.
‘Aye, well, that’s the other bit of news. The lasses at the dairy say Matt’s sweet on her. In fact a bit more than sweet on her, if you believe the gossip. But it may all be nowt, you know what women are like. Our lad did see them dancing together, though, at that dance last weekend. I don’t think either of them have the faintest idea that they are brother and sister, but you’d better do something before there’s a disaster.’ Len withheld the worst bit of gossip he’d heard: that disaster had already happened, if there was truth in the young couple sharing a bed. It was that news that he’d taken as pure gossip, for he couldn’t see Polly being easy with her affections.
‘Jesus Christ, it gets worse. For sixteen years we’ve brought her up as ours. She never had an inkling that she was our lad’s dirty secret, and that he’d walked away from it, along with walking away from his family. And now I’m going to have to tell her everything. It will break her heart, and my Ada’s. I hope to God this lad isn’t our Danny’s, and that you have it wrong.’ Edmund stroked his white hair and felt that he could have shouted his anger for all to hear.
‘I’m not wrong, Edmund. He’s Bernard and Dora Dinsdale’s grandson. He even looks like your lad – more than your Polly does, because she takes after her mother. He’s the spit of Danny. No matter where your lad is, his image is in Hawes, and I think he’s courting his sister.’
Edmund stood up and gulped the rest of his pint down, slamming his glass on the varnished table.
‘Where are you off to? Now, think of what you are doing. Folk might have got it wrong. There might be nowt between them.’ Len looked up at his usually placid friend and regretted telling him the news.
‘I’m going to our Polly, and will se
e for myself if this lad is who you say he is.’ Edmund wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, before putting his cap on.
‘And then what are you going to do? You can’t tell your lass at work, and if you tell Matt, he’s going to blame you for all those years without a father. He won’t understand that it wasn’t your fault. Wait until she comes home and then sound your Polly out; it’s no good going in hot-headed.’ Len tried to calm his best friend down.
‘Nay, Len, save your words, I’m off down to the dairy now. It needs nipping in the bud, right now.’ Edmund walked out, banging the door behind him. He was on a mission, and he had an uneasy feeling about meeting the grandson he’d never known.
Polly was busy serving in the shop as she watched her father come in through the door. He looked angry and then frustrated, as he saw the shop was extra-busy with demanding market-day shoppers. When another group of shoppers entered the shop, he waved his goodbye, in frustration at not being able to talk to her alone.
It can’t have been important, Polly thought, as she filled the basket of her customer. Father would catch up with her at home.
Edmund walked around to the yard of the dairy and stood watching the loading and unloading of the milk and kits. He knew most of the men working there, but in the centre of the activities stood one whom he guessed to be Matt Dinsdale. Len was right: the lad was the image of Danny, his father. It was as if life was replaying itself, as Edmund watched the young man giving orders to the workforce. He was a fine-looking lad, there was no doubting that, but why did he have to be working there?
Edmund watched Matt doing his job and remembered how Danny had broken his heart, and how he could never forgive him. Now was he to break Matt’s heart, and turn his world upside down, by saying the lass he had his eye on was his sister? Edmund cursed under his breath. He couldn’t tackle Matt at the dairy and bring his life to a halt in front of the workers. He’d see what Polly had to say for herself when she got home. It wouldn’t pay to be too hasty, and they might hate the sight of one another, if the gossips had got it wrong.
