Like Father, Like Son

by Diane Allen

  Matt slapped Edmund on his back. ‘It’s a good job we came. You and Polly would never have managed all this.’ He walked behind the horse and cart.

  Edmund watched. He didn’t reply, but he knew he and Polly would have managed. It might have taken them two days, but they would have done it. They’d done it in the past without help and they’d do so again.

  Lunchtime came around fast and the group of four hay-timers sat down on a grass bank and waited until Polly had spread her wares around them. Each got an enamel mug of semi-warm tea, and was told to help himself from the bacon sandwiches and the baking laid out on the checked gingham tablecloth. The men and Polly ate hungrily, the fresh air and hard work making them all have healthy appetites, with hardly a word said between them.

  Afterwards Matt and Joe lay out in the long grass of the bank and lit a cigarette, breathing in deeply, before exhaling the smoke.

  ‘That was grand, lass. Ada would have been proud of you. She taught you well. That gooseberry pasty could have been hers, if I didn’t know better.’ Edmund tipped the last dregs of his tea out into the grass and passed Polly his empty cup as she cleared away.

  ‘Aye, it was like old times. It was like I was at home up Cowgill and helping my grandfather there.’ Matt sat up, wrapped his arms around his knees and legs and looked across at Polly. ‘Polly, you remember me saying that I loved the hay-field tea – there’s not a better taste? I miss helping my grandfather on t’ farm. It’s a pity we only rented it. I’d have liked to have still been there.’

  ‘Well, it’s only over that fell, Matt – you’re not that far away.’ Joe sat up next to him. ‘And you are helping here, so nowt’s changed, except you’ve got a fresh grandfather and a sister. You’re bloody lucky, from what I’m seeing.’ Joe smiled at Polly, making her blush slightly.

  ‘No, but it’s not the same when it’s not your own. One day I’ll own my own place, and then I’ll not be working for nowt.’ Matt emptied his cup out and stood up, stretching his legs and arms, as he got ready to start loading the last few loads of hay onto the cart.

  ‘I’ll see you right for today, if you are wanting some brass.’ Edmund looked at Matt, who couldn’t have hinted any harder that he didn’t expect to give his day’s help for nothing.

  ‘I didn’t come for money, Mr Harper. I just came to help.’ Joe stepped in quickly and jumped up from his seat.

  ‘No, and I didn’t. I came because I knew Polly and you would struggle getting this in, especially as my grandmother’s barometer gives it bad weather for tomorrow. But if there’s some beer-money in it for tonight, that will be grand. I’ll be ready for a drink before the day is out.’ Matt grabbed hold of the pitchfork and looked at his grandfather.

  ‘Aye, your father used to like a drink. I like an odd ’un with Len Brunskill, of a market day often enough, to catch up with the gossip and set the world right. But you should never let it control you – else that farm you talk about will never be yours.’ Edmund looked at the brazen young lad who stood in front of him.

  ‘I will never let that happen. And I will get my farm one day, of that I’m sure. Come on, Joe, let’s get a move-on. Another hour and we’ll have cracked it.’

  11

  Polly sat on the sofa in Bill Sunter’s drawing room. She watched as Maggie wrung her hands in despair and mopped the tears from her cheeks with her lace handkerchief.

  ‘My mam says I’ve got what I deserve – that I’ve brought shame to the family. That if I was going to get into this state, I should have made sure he was single, or at least had plenty of money to keep me and the baby in a fitting lifestyle.’ Maggie sniffed and stifled another sob.

  ‘But where are you going, Maggie? Can I come and see you?’ Polly watched her friend. Maggie was obviously heartbroken.

  ‘Nah, my father’s paid for me to go into a place that takes in unmarried women in my condition. When I’ve had the baby, they’ll find someone to adopt it and, if I’m lucky, then my mother and father might have me back.’ Maggie gave a quick glance at Polly.

  ‘What about its father – doesn’t he have a say?’ Polly couldn’t help but think of her own father, who might or might not know she existed. She thought this baby should at least have the chance of knowing its parents.

  ‘That’s just it. I don’t know who the father is. If it’s anyone’s, I think it could be the singer from the Beresford Band; but I don’t know, because it could be Ralph Bannister’s and all.’

  ‘Oh, Maggie! What did you think would happen? You were so loose with your favours. I know it’s hard, but you shouldn’t let fellas have their way. You only get a bad name or end up like—’

  ‘Like this, you mean, with this bloody thing growing in me every day? I wish I were dead, Polly. I really do wish I were dead. So don’t you start lecturing me. I know what I’ve done.’ Maggie’s bloodshot red eyes looked at Polly as she crumpled her handkerchief up into a knot.

  ‘I’m not lecturing. I’m hardly in a position to lecture. The man I loved turned out to be my brother, and my father is my grandfather. And all’s to hell in my life as well. Even Joe Fothergill asked me out the other day: now do I trust him or not? And then there’s Tobias. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do think nobody understands him. He’s always been kind to me.’ Polly had missed talking to her best friend, and so much had happened to her since the quarrel in the market hall. She just wanted to tell Maggie everything.

  ‘Just listen to yourself. I’m like this, and you’re prattling on about this lad and that lad. Well, aren’t you the lucky one? You always have been, but didn’t know it. Just like you didn’t know who your mother and father were. All along I knew your deep, dark secret. My father told me – he knows all about your lot. How your grandfather drove his lad away because he was so self-centred and stingy. Just like you: only thinking of yourself.’ Maggie got up from her chair and stood behind Polly, as she let fling her usual cutting remarks in defence of her own actions.

  ‘Maggie, stop it; you don’t mean what you are saying. Why do you always come out with all this hurtful rubbish, when things are not going your way? I know your father was my father’s best friend. It was him, my grandfather says, who made my father go away, just like he’s making you leave now. No matter what you say, you can’t hurt me any more, because everything is out in the open. I just can’t understand why you hate me so much, when all I am is a friend to you.’ Polly’s eyes filled with tears. Maggie’s tongue was caustic, and the vulnerable young lass of a few minutes ago had vanished now.

  ‘I hate you, Polly Harper, because no matter what you are, you are loved. I used to watch your grandmother and grandfather looking after you – making sure you were home on time, that you knew how to look after yourself – all the while knowing they weren’t even your parents. Whereas my mother can’t cook, clean, or anything. She’s only good for one thing – that’s what my father says. Now he knows that I am the image of her and shouldn’t have been born, just as he’s always keen to remind me. The slight problem is that, unlike my darling mother, I didn’t catch a fella with money; and now nobody wants me, nobody in the whole wide world.’ Maggie was crying and nearly screaming with anger and fear. Unlike Polly, her family was a sham and always had been. Money had earned Bill Sunter respect, but behind closed doors his family was just going through the motions of looking like a respectable middle-class family.

  ‘Maggie, come here – stop all this. I love you. You are my friend and always will be, never mind our families. I bet there isn’t a family in the dale that doesn’t have a skeleton in their cupboard. Unfortunately, ours are a bit open to gossip at the moment.’ Polly stood up and wrapped her arms around the now-sobbing Maggie.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all those things, and I’ve a spiteful tongue in my head when my temper gets the better of me,’ sobbed Maggie into Polly’s shoulder. ‘My mother says it’s the Irish in me, but don’t ask me where that comes into it, because I’m damned if I know!’ She sniffed and
let go of Polly’s tight hug.

  ‘Aye, well, we are a mixed-up bunch. It’s a wonder we all survive, the way we hurt one another. Are you all right now?’ Polly stood at arm’s length to Maggie and looked at her. Maggie looked pale and worried.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m sorry. Happen I should have told you about your father, but my father told me not to. And you were so blissfully happy, and then Matt started making eyes at you and I didn’t know what to do. I knew he was your brother.’

  ‘I thought you were jealous. I thought you wanted Matt for yourself.’ Polly looked at Maggie.

  ‘I did at first, and then I heard my father talking about your father, Danny, saying that he did right to leave and that Matt reminded him so much of Danny; that once his mind’s set on something, he’ll not give in until he gets it. And I watched Matt bossing some of my father’s staff around, grinning if he’d got the better of them, or making them look small in front of other folk. It was then that I realized I didn’t really care for Matt, he has a side to him that you don’t know, Polly, so you take care.’ Maggie grasped Polly’s hand tightly with shaking fingers. ‘I think he’s after something from you, but I don’t know what. He’s friends with no one unless it benefits him. I’ve been watching him.’

  ‘Maggie, you don’t have to tell me. I think I know what he’s after. I’ve watched him talking to my grandfather, trying to sweet-talk himself into his good books and making him feel guilty for knowingly having nothing to do with him all these years. I know what Matt’s after.’ Polly stood up and looked out of the window of the Sunters’ parlour onto the business of the dairy. ‘He’s after Paradise, my home. He’s trying to worm his way into my grandfather’s will and to block me out!’ Polly turned and watched her friend’s face as she sank into a chair and gasped at the words she had just heard.

  ‘He can’t do that. Paradise is your home. You know it like the back of your hand; you would farm that place just as well as any fella, and your grandfather knows that. Besides, it isn’t anyone’s until after his day.’

  ‘Aye, but he’s a lad, and they always come first. Women aren’t supposed to farm. Even though my grandfather has told me Paradise is mine after his day, I know that having a male heir means everything to him, though he will always be heartbroken over my father walking away from home. Do you know the most terrible thought I’ve had of late?’ Polly hung her head and waited for Maggie to ask what was troubling her.

  Maggie shook her head and waited for Polly to continue.

  ‘I think, when he was making eyes at me, and kissing me and laughing and flirting, I think he knew that I was his sister. And that I was the stepping-stone to get to what he wanted: my farm.’

  ‘Oh, Polly, he couldn’t use you like that. Surely that would have been too wrong!’

  ‘I don’t know, but he doesn’t seem to have been as shocked as I am. He’s strutting around without a care, and I’m feeling used, dirty and confused. He’s making himself indispensable at Paradise, although Grandfather doesn’t seem to take kindly to some of Matt’s phrases. I think Matt’s too much like my father. But, anyway, this isn’t about me. I came to see you, so I’m going to shut up. As you say, I like the sound of my own voice.’ Polly smiled. She was glad she had aired her thoughts with her friend, but they were nothing compared to bringing a baby into the world on your own.

  ‘I didn’t know you had all these worries. At least I know that even when I’ve had this baby that’s growing inside me, I can always come home. I know my father’s got plenty of brass, and that he’s always there for me. Pol, you watch your back with that Matt. Don’t let him make Paradise his. He may be your brother, but he’s no right to your home.’

  ‘Come here, Maggie, let’s give one another a hug. We’ve always got one another. You will keep in touch, won’t you, when you’re in Bradford?’ Polly held her arms out and squeezed Maggie tightly as she shed a tear on her shoulder.

  ‘Course I will. And I know I’m not one to give advice, but I’d be looking at Tobias Middleton – at least he has brass and isn’t in anybody else’s pocket. I just think he’s a bit creepy and dark; he looks so moody.’

  ‘That’s what attracts me. I’m curious about him, and I still think that the theft of my Herdwick and her lambs was planned,’ grinned Polly.

  ‘He’s a dark one, for sure. Perhaps I should say he’s the father of my baby. At least it would have some money behind it.’ Maggie grinned.

  ‘You didn’t . . . you haven’t?’ Polly was horrified to think that Maggie had slept with Tobias.

  ‘No, I didn’t. What do you think I am? He’s not my sort. This baby is either a Beresford or a Bannister. Either way, when you think about it, it’s a little B. A little B that’s got me into a lot of bother!’ Maggie sniffed while she fought back the tears again.

  ‘I’m going to miss you. You keep your chin up and just count the days until the baby is born, and then come home. I don’t know how you’ll manage to walk away from the baby, once you’ve seen it.’ Polly thought of the child that was about to be born, unloved; she couldn’t just walk away and leave it in an unknown person’s arms.

  ‘I’ll just have to do it, Pol. No one wants a woman with a bastard baby on her apron strings. Just think of all the tales we have heard about your Tobias. I’m not having that said about mine.’

  ‘He’s not my Tobias. And he wasn’t wanted by his father, and his mother didn’t know he’d lived. Are you sure you couldn’t tell Ralph Bannister that it is definitely his? He’s not a bad lad. There’s no shame in marrying a lead-miner; they are hard workers, and your father will always support you all.’ Polly was still thinking of the baby being left with a family in Bradford, not knowing where it really came from.

  ‘No, he’s not come near me, and he must have heard by now that I’m this way – all of Hawes seems to know. He’ll be thinking, like the rest, that I’m just a common slut. I’m so frightened, Polly. I don’t know if I can handle childbirth, and I’ll have nobody I know with me.’ Maggie started to sob again, and Polly comforted her with another hug.

  ‘Don’t cry, Maggie, you’ll be all right. Things will turn out fine, I promise you. It’s only a baby; folk have them every day – you’ll manage it.’ Polly held Maggie close; words were easy to say, but she wouldn’t be in Maggie’s shoes for all the tea in China.

  Edmund waited outside the draper’s as Polly took her time ordering the dress that he had offered to pay for. He sat with the reins in his hands, watching the folk of Hawes go about their business. His mind was wandering to the conversation he’d just had with Bill Sunter, and he was regretting that his temper had got the better of him. The bloody fella had always been a pain in his side, so he’d decided to stop supplying milk to him. Evie in Liverpool would take it again, although it meant getting up at an unearthly hour to catch the train. Tah! That Bill – the bloody cheek of the man – trying to tell him how old he was, and that he wouldn’t get the same price as he gave him.

  Edmund spat on the pavement. Bill might be right on both counts, but at least he wasn’t in that bloody man’s pocket, and that counted for a lot. He should have listened to Ada from the start, and then none of this would have happened. He sighed. What was that lass doing? Surely it didn’t take this long to be measured and choose material for a new frock? He looked across to the solicitor’s offices. If he’d known Polly was going to be this long, he’d have called in and seen old Winterskill. It was time to put his affairs in order. Ada hadn’t needed a will, for all that was hers was his, but now it was time to put things down in writing, square things up, for after his day. He wanted to do right by the folk he loved, the way it should be.

  The tinkling of the draper’s shop bell brought him back from his thoughts and he sighed with relief as Polly climbed up next to him, beaming from ear to ear in excitement at the thought of her new frock.

  ‘Well, have you spent my brass, and is she making you what you want?’ Edmund stirred Clover into action as Polly told him the colour and fi
t, and that it would be ready in a week’s time. ‘I’m glad you are happy with it. My Ada never had one made; she always made her own. She’ll be looking down and saying I’m spoiling you,’ grinned Edmund.

  ‘I know. You are spoiling me, and I’m really grateful.’ Polly leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Aye, well, I’ve only one woman in my life now. I’d better look after her, because she’s growing up fast and turning the heads of all the young men in the district.’ Edmund clicked his tongue, making Clover go into a trot.

  ‘Don’t know what you mean, Granddad,’ Polly smirked.

  ‘I think you do, Missy. I think there will be hearts broken when that new dress is worn.’

  It was the week after Polly’s visit to the Sunters’ when her grandfather shouted to her as she was busily making the beds and dusting the dressing table. ‘Polly, have you seen who’s coming up the track?’ he yelled up the stairs to her. ‘I think it’s yon Sunter lass, Maggie, with a fella next to her. I thought she’d been sent to Bradford in shame?’

  Polly ran down the stairs and stood in the porch at Paradise, then watched as the red-haired Maggie and a determined-looking Ralph Bannister came up the track in a little gig, pulled by a piebald horse that had a mind of its own as it snorted in defiance of the reins.

  Edmund stood behind Polly as she waved to them both, whilst Ralph tied the headstrong horse to the ring next to the saddling steps at the side of the barn. ‘It’s got a mind of its own, has that horse. He’ll have to be careful, especially with her in that condition,’ commented Edmund, as he watched Ralph help Maggie down from the gig.

  Maggie, flushed with colour, and a hesitant Ralph made their way across the yard to the porch where Edmund and Polly stood waiting.

  ‘I thought you were in Bradford?’ said Polly, as Maggie reached the porch.