Like Father, Like Son

by Diane Allen

  Polly nearly ran to talk to Matt, but thought better of it, as folk watched her cross the churchyard towards him. They seemed to be showing interest in the friendship between them, and she could tell that some were even whispering about them, as she smiled and greeted Matt.

  ‘How are you keeping, Polly? I’m sorry for your loss. You’ll miss your mother.’ Matt looked at Polly. The high-necked black dress suited her, especially as her long black hair was neatly plaited on her head, making her look even more beautiful.

  ‘It’s my father – he’s going to be lost. They were so close and had been married so long.’ Polly wanted to throw herself into Matt’s arms and cry her heart out, but knew she had to keep herself respectable.

  ‘Do you know what he’s coming to see me and my grandmother about tomorrow night? When I told my grandmother, she went as white as a ghost and just muttered that she knew the day would have to come, some day.’ Matt leaned his arm on the old yew tree and watched the mourners as they talked to one another and then, one by one, made their way out of the churchyard, apart from the group that was congregating around the church porch.

  ‘He’s not said anything, but I don’t think he likes us two being friends. He nearly curses when I say your name.’ Polly lowered her eyes. She felt uneasy telling Matt the truth about her father’s reaction to her closeness to him over the last few days.

  ‘Aye, well, you want to tell him there’s a lot worse than me. At least I work, and I’m saving up for my own farm. My grandmother and your father should let us be. We aren’t hurting anyone.’ Matt was angry, and his voice told everyone that. Polly’s father didn’t even know him, so how could he judge him?

  ‘Are you all right, Polly?’ Tobias Middleton had been watching the couple with interest, like the other mourners next to the church porch, when he heard Matt’s raised voice. He looked at Matt and then stood next to him, coming between him and Polly.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you.’ Polly blushed. ‘Matt was just voicing his opinion on something.’

  ‘As long as that was all it was. This is not the time or place for raised voices.’ Tobias stood back. He looked at the proud blond-haired lad, who was obviously smitten with Polly, and wished that he’d disappear. Polly was going to be his, and Tobias would stop anyone who stood in his way.

  ‘What’s it got to do with you, what I say? Who are you anyway? You don’t look like family, in them flash clothes.’ Matt didn’t like the look of the preened peacock who was coming to the aid of Polly, after just a few raised private words.

  ‘You can say I’m a friend of the family, and I was just concerned for Polly. She looked upset.’ Tobias could feel his anger building, as Matt sneered at him and grabbed Polly’s arm, so that she was beside him.

  ‘Well, bugger off! Pol’s fine. She’s with me, and you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.’ Matt turned his back on Tobias and linked his arm into Polly’s.

  ‘I’m sorry . . . ’ Tobias started, only for Matt to turn around.

  ‘I told you to bugger off, but you wouldn’t listen.’ Matt lifted his fist and hit Tobias squarely on the chin, sending him wheeling into a crowd of mourners and making Edmund turn round from talking to the vicar, to see what the commotion was. ‘She’s my lass, so stop bloody bothering us.’ Matt stood over Tobias, who was now being dusted down by the crowd.

  ‘That’s it – stop it! By God, you are like your father. He broke his mother’s heart, and now you are spoiling her funeral day.’ By the time Edmund had said the words, it was too late to retract them.

  Matt stood still, his fists still raised over Tobias. ‘What did you say? What are you on about? How do you know who my father was? And how can Polly’s mother be related to me?’

  ‘Aye, God, what a bloody carry-on. Polly, come here – come into the church; and you, Matt, put your fists away and listen to what I’ve to say as well. I’d better finish what I’ve started. Vicar, can you tell everyone there’s a bit of tea up at the Moorcock, while I sort my family out.’ Edmund looked at the shocked Tobias and shook his head. ‘You just bugger off. You always seem to make trouble for me and mine.’ Edmund put his arm around the crying Polly. ‘I didn’t want you to find out like this. I was going to sort it out tomorrow night.’

  Edmund saw the vicar shaking hands with the departing mourners and watched as Tobias mounted the white horse that was tethered at the gate. He’d have smiled at the lad thumping him, if it hadn’t been under such terrible circumstances. Tobias probably deserved it. Edmund sighed and went into the dark interior of the small church with his arm still around Polly.

  She sat next to Matt on the back benches of the little church, sobbing into her handkerchief. She didn’t understand. What had her father meant by saying that Matt was like his father, and that he’d also broken her own mother’s heart? Had the sorrow of the day made her father not think straight?

  Edmund ran his fingers through his hair and sat down in the pew next to them.

  ‘I’ve asked the vicar to give us ten minutes before he locks up. What I’m going to say is going to hurt us all, and I’m just glad that Ada isn’t here to hear, and that she didn’t see that outburst in the churchyard. She’d have been broken-hearted to think someone was fighting at her funeral.’

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Harper, it was my fault, but he had no right listening into our conversation.’ Matt dropped his head. ‘So, who’s my father then? You obviously know?’

  ‘Aye, lad, that I do. And, Polly, I’m so sorry – we’ve not been truthful to you all these years, but it was easier to bring you up as our daughter. You’ve got to understand.’ Edmund reached for Polly’s hand, which he took and held, shaking. ‘Your father’s our son, Matt. Our Danny. He got your mother in the family way and hadn’t the guts to stand by her. I’m ashamed even to say his name. But what he didn’t know – and what you partly don’t know – is that when your mother, Matt, died in childbirth delivering you, she didn’t just give birth to you. She had twins that night.’ Edmund stopped and looked at the faces of Matt and Polly, who appeared dumbstruck. ‘Aye, and you’ve guessed the rest. Polly, here, is your sister. Your father came over from Dent with her in a blizzard, and we brought her up as ours.’ Edmund hung his head and then lifted it up to look at the young couple, who obviously loved one another. ‘It’s been hanging over our heads for the last sixteen years, and we were just hoping that we would never have to explain. Ada was so proud of her granddaughter, Polly, and I tried to protect you as much as I could, lass, but we couldn’t coop you up forever.’

  Polly shook with grief. She didn’t know what to think. She’d just buried her mother, who was really her grandmother, and she was sitting next to the man she thought she loved, but who now turned out to be her brother. Her thoughts were confused, and her heart was confused. Where, then, was her father, and why hadn’t she ever met him?

  ‘No, no, this can’t be right. Matt isn’t my brother. I’ve kissed him as a lover – you can’t do that with your brother!’ Polly shook. ‘You’d have pictures of my father. I’ve never seen him – he’s never once been mentioned. Besides, where is he? I can’t believe you!’ Polly cried hysterically.

  Matt looked at Polly and grabbed her other hand. ‘Polly, it could be worse. At least we’ve got one another now. And I now know who my father is, and that I’ve got a sister that I know I love, albeit in a different way now.’ He turned to Edmund. ‘And our father: where is he then? Do you ever hear from him?’ Matt asked a heartbroken Edmund the question that was on the lips of them both.

  ‘I’ve never seen him since the day he stole my life savings and got onto a train at Garsdale station. He never wrote to his mother – no Christmas or birthday card, nothing. He just disappeared. He broke everybody’s heart that day he left the dale, the selfish bastard, and I’ll never have him back in my house. That I do bloody swear by. Your mother was a lovely lass and deserved better than our lad. It was the least we could do, to raise you, Polly, as our own. I hope you understand. We knew t
hat you’d be all right, Matt, with Bernard and Dora, for they were good folk. Good folk that my lad treated like muck. He left a lifetime of heartache behind him.’ Edmund squeezed Polly’s hand tightly and patted Matt’s knee. ‘Polly, we have always loved you as our own – you know that – and we always will. And now that Matt has made himself known, I’ll treat him like the grandson he is.’

  Polly sobbed and looked at Matt and her grandfather. ‘It’s all been one big lie. At least Matt knew that his mother had died, and never knew his father. But I’ve had my whole world torn apart. I’ve lost my mother – grandmother – and found out that my real father is a bastard, all in one day. And you expect me to smile and take it.’ Polly sniffled and wiped her red eyes with her handkerchief.

  ‘Polly, it changes nothing. I love you just the same as I’ve always done. You are still my flesh and blood, and you know Ada worshipped the ground you walked on. She must be turning in her grave to think that, on the day we have buried her, I’m having to tell you both this. If that bloody interfering Bill Sunter hadn’t taken you both on at the dairy, none of this need ever have come out into the open.’ Edmund couldn’t help but curse, even though the setting wasn’t congenial for such language.

  ‘Does Bill Sunter know we are brother and sister?’ Matt asked quickly.

  ‘He might, or he’ll have a good idea. He was our Danny’s best mate. I have my suspicions that it was Bill who persuaded him to leave the dale, or at least frightened him out of married life.’ Edmund looked at Matt.

  ‘I always thought he took me on without bothering about what I’d done in the past. But the fellas at work think he favours me. I just thought I was good at my job. He even took me to one side the other day and gave me a father-like lecture, about behaving myself with women. Now it all makes sense. His lecture was about you, Polly, as he knew you were my sister.’ Matt smiled at Polly.

  ‘Well, he could have said something to me. I’ll be the laughing stock of the dairy: flirting with my own brother and dancing with him all night.’ Polly blew her nose and played with her handkerchief in her hands.

  ‘Will he know where our father is?’ Matt looked at Edmund. Now that he knew whose son he was, he wanted to track Danny down.

  ‘I don’t know, lad. He’s never said anything to me. Don’t go looking for him, but if you want to know what he looks like, just you look in the mirror. You are the spitting image of him. My Ada would have been all over you, if she were still alive.’ Edmund sniffed and breathed in deeply. It hadn’t been the funeral he had planned, and the funeral tea would be in full swing now at the Moorcock Inn further up the dale.

  A discreet cough made the family of three turn and look towards the shaft of light coming through the open doorway.

  ‘Do you still want that lift, Edmund? Vicar says just pull the door to, when you’ve finished; and if you need him, he’s at the vicarage.’ Len Brunskill twiddled with his cap as he waited for a reply.

  Edmund tapped the hands of Matt and Polly. ‘Are we up to seeing your grandmother off with a drink, and her friends?’ His face looked pained as he waited for an answer from the young couple.

  They looked at one another and then nodded their heads in agreement.

  ‘Aye, we are coming, Len. I don’t think you’ve been introduced to my grandson, Matt. Doesn’t he look like his father?’ Edmund put his arm through Polly’s and squeezed her tightly as they walked up the aisle.

  ‘As long as he isn’t such a pillock as his father was,’ Len muttered, as he walked down the churchyard path.

  ‘Nay, I think this ’un’s a grand lad, and I’m glad he’s one of mine. Did you see how he chinned that Tobias Middleton?’ Edmund made light of the incident in the churchyard.

  ‘Everybody saw that. The poor devil was left reeling,’ said Len.

  ‘He deserved it. He was pestering Polly.’ Matt was quick to defend himself.

  ‘He wasn’t pestering me; he was making sure I was all right. He’s a gentleman, and you were just jealous.’ Polly closed the churchyard gate behind her, before Len helped her into his trap.

  ‘How could I be jealous? I’m your brother, it seems. I’ll look out for you even more now – he doesn’t stand a chance.’ Matt bowed his head and frowned.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing. I like Tobias Middleton.’ Polly looked quickly at her grandfather’s face.

  ‘We’ve had enough upset for one day. The less I have to hear about your liking Tobias Middleton, the better. He’s a bad lot, and I keep telling you that.’ Edmund climbed up into the trap between his two grandchildren.

  Polly bit her tongue. After being lied to all her life, who did her grandfather think he was, to tell her how to run her life? She’d see Tobias if she wanted to, and he wouldn’t stop her.

  10

  Polly stood with the hay-rake in her hand and looked down the dale. The sun blazed, drying the two-day-old mown grass to a crisp and filling the air with the fragrance of hay-meadows filled with buttercups and daisies. Sweat ran down her brow and she swept it and her hair back with a flick of her hand. It was hot, not quite midday, but the sun beat down on her as she shook the clumps of drying grass out with her hay-rake. This was the first time she had been asked to do this, but with her grandmother dead and only her and her grandfather on the farm, it had to be done.

  She swished the rake back and forth, getting air into the grass that was still green underneath, in order to dry it into hay fit to place in the barn for the coming winter. The prongs in the rake pulled on the grass, and her arms ached from tossing the grass into the air. Along with the blisters from the coarse wood of the rake-handle, she was becoming short-tempered as she finally finished the last swathe of grass on the steep hillside of the top meadow.

  She sat down in the hay-field and put the rake down beside her. The short grass stubble prickled her legs, and she wrapped her skirt around them in order to stop them from itching. She frowned as a school of midges danced around her, and wiped them away with the back of her hand. Sighing, she looked around her. The dale lay like a patchwork quilt before her, the summer meadows mown and cleared, ready for the onset of winter, some with grass still standing and other pastures filled with the white dots of grazing sheep. There was a warm haze over the dale and, if she hadn’t been in such a mood with herself, she would have probably smiled and appreciated the beauty of the day. As it was, she hadn’t time to appreciate the delights that nature had thrown at her feet, and was angry at the world and at the plight that she was in, through no fault of her own.

  Things had not been the same since her mother’s funeral – or, as she kept having to remind herself, her grandmother’s funeral. She’d not been back to the dairy, partly because she felt embarrassed to face everyone and partly because she hadn’t the time, as she’d taken the place of her grandmother and had a house to run and a farm to look after. She looked down into the farmyard under the hillside and could just make out her grandfather letting the last sheep out of the pen, where he had been inspecting them for foot-rot, and parting the now-grown lambs from their mothers. He’d want his dinner and expect it on the table at twelve-thirty, just like her grandmother had done, every day of her life.

  Edmund’s life hadn’t changed much since her death, but Polly’s definitely had, and not for the better. Matt had become part of her family, but only when he wanted; and he now made more fuss of his grandfather than of Polly, leaving her feeling rejected and unloved, as Edmund showed Matt around the farm and shared a cigarette or a pint with him. Polly sighed. She’d never escape from the farm – she didn’t have the time or the transport. She pulled herself up, using her hay-rake as a prop, and made her way down the field to the farmhouse.

  ‘You finished scaling that meadow then? We’ll cart it all in tomorrow, if the weather holds.’ Edmund looked up from sweeping the yard of lost sheep wool and droppings, as he noticed Polly walking down by the side of the house.

  ‘Yes, it’s done for the day. Looks like good hay, this year.’ Polly st
ood in front of her grandfather and looked at him as he brushed his boots clean with the yard brush.

  ‘I’m ready for my dinner, Polly. What have you got for us?’ Edmund grinned at her and walked after her to the open farmhouse door.

  ‘I left some potatoes from last night in the side-oven in a bit of fat. They should be warmed through, and I thought we could finish the cold brisket off with them. And there’s still some apple pie left.’ She had planned dinner as much as she could. Surely he couldn’t expect the top meadow to be scaled and to have a full lunch?

  ‘Mmm, I suppose that will be all right. You’ll be baking this afternoon, will you? Just in case we have some helpers tomorrow.’ Edmund sat down at the table and waited for dinner to be served.

  ‘Oh, aye, and I’ll wash the bedding, mend your socks and sing the National Anthem, just to keep me busy,’ Polly snapped as she laid place-settings for them both.

  ‘Now then, Polly. We didn’t bring you up to be sarcastic, and there’s no need to snap at me. It’s just your mother—’

  ‘What! My mother died sixteen years ago – something you all forgot to tell me. And now I’m nothing more than a skivvy.’ Polly threw the tea-towel down on the table, turned her back on Edmund and sobbed as she held onto the sink, then looked out of the kitchen window.

  ‘Polly, I’m sorry. I’m asking too much from you. But it’s hard for me, too. Your grandmother ran this house with one hand tied behind her back, and I forget how young you are. Look, when we’ve got the hay in, go and have a day in Hawes. Buy yourself some material for a dress from Margaret Milburn, or perhaps she would run you one up – I don’t know what you womenfolk do.’ Edmund put his hand on the shaking shoulders of Polly and bowed his head.

  Polly looked out of the window and sobbed. ‘I’m doing my best, Grandfather, but everything’s altered and I feel so trapped. Even if I go into Hawes, folk will be talking about us. I feel such a fool.’