Like Father, Like Son

by Diane Allen

  Maggie beamed. ‘No, I’ve come to tell you my news – or should I say we have come to tell you our news.’ Maggie reached round and grabbed Ralph’s hand, making him blush in front of the sombre Edmund Harper. ‘Ralph and I are to be married. He proposed to me the day after you came to see me. I couldn’t keep my news to myself. I had to come and see you.’ Maggie grinned from cheek to cheek as she stood in front of Polly and her grandfather.

  ‘Congratulations, Maggie. Congratulations Ralph, that’s wonderful news. I’m sure you will both be very happy.’ Polly smiled and bent down and kissed Maggie on the cheek, before beckoning them to enter her home.

  ‘Aye, it’s good that you’ve done the honourable thing, lad. Sometimes you’ve to stick by your commitments, no matter how hard they’ll try you.’ Edmund drew on his pipe and watched the excited couple make themselves at home in his kitchen.

  ‘Thank you, sir. I don’t look upon it as being too hard a task. I’ve always been sweet on Maggie here. And a baby – well, it will be somebody to look after us when we are old and grey.’

  ‘Aye, tha’s a long way off them days, lad. But a baby will always bring happiness. Look at our Polly here – she keeps me young. Her grandmother worshipped the ground she walked on. From the day she entered this house she filled it with love and hope, and I’ll never forget that. Anyway, enough of my wittering. I’ll leave you lot to it; you don’t want an old codger like me about the place.’ Edmund placed his pipe in the side of his mouth and decided to make himself scarce.

  He made his way across the farmyard and heard the two girls giggling as he leaned over the pasture gate. It reminded him of when his beloved Ada and her bridesmaid, her cousin Winnie, were planning their wedding, and of how excited she had been. Her cheeks had been flushed. They were like roses next to her black hair, and her laughter had been infectious as she’d smiled at him with love in her eyes. How he’d loved that lass; how he still loved her now. He didn’t know how he’d survived the last few weeks without her. It was just as well she wasn’t alive to see and hear her family being gossiped about.

  Ever since last week, when he’d gazed across at the solicitor’s office, Edmund had been in a quandary. He’d always promised Paradise to Polly, but now Matt had made himself known, and hadn’t been away from the place since he’d found out that Edmund was his grandfather. He should do right by the lad and leave him half, after his day, but something was stopping him. He didn’t like Matt’s attitude – he was too much like his father. Perhaps he’d just bide his time and see what happened. If Matt was like his father, then farming would be too steady for him.

  Another ring of laughter made Edmund smile as he gazed down the valley, watching the smoke from the early-evening fires rising from the houses of the dale. It was good to hear them being happy. He didn’t think much of the Sunter lass, but the baby would need a father, and perhaps a baby in her arms would steady her down. Perhaps it was time for Polly to find someone. That Joe Fothergill seemed keen; he was always finding an excuse to visit with Matt. She could do worse than him, and there’d always be need of a joiner, so she’d never be short of brass, even if she didn’t farm Paradise. No doubt whatever he thought, he’d be wrong. Best just to say nowt and keep his thoughts to himself, Edmund thought, as he took in the evening rays and puffed on his pipe.

  ‘I was just getting into my father’s trap. I’d even packed my bags and said goodbye to my mother, when Ralph here comes running hell for leather down the street. He nearly fell over when he got to the cobbles, he was in such a rush to see me.’ Maggie giggled and squeezed Ralph’s hand. ‘Anyway, to cut a long story short, he’d never heard of my predicament until that morning. But as soon as he realized he was going to be a father, he’d hitched a lift out of Swaledale with a drover and decided to make an honest woman of me. Another ten minutes and I’d have been on that train on my way to Bradford.’

  ‘Aye, I don’t think your father’s that suited that I caught you in time. I don’t think he thinks I’m good enough for you.’ Ralph looked sheepishly at Polly.

  ‘Well, I’m just glad it’s ended in good news, and that the baby is going to have a pair of loving parents.’ Polly smiled. She’d done her bit towards bringing them together when she’d written her note telling Ralph of Maggie’s plight. That was a secret between her and Ralph, else Maggie would never have agreed to his hand in marriage, thinking that he was only giving it out of pity.

  ‘And I’m trying to rent us somewhere to live. Boggle Hole has been empty for years, but it’s near where I work, and with a bit of attention it will make a good home. I’m determined to show your father, Maggie, that I can support you and our baby.’ Ralph looked lovingly at her; she was the woman of his dreams, and now she was his.

  ‘The wedding’s a bit rushed, and a quiet affair. My father says not to make a fuss, after all the gossip. We are trying to make the wedding for the last day in September, if the vicar can fit us in on time. You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you, Pol?’ Maggie sat on the edge of the chair and waited for an answer from Polly.

  ‘Maggie, I’d love to. Is the wedding at St Margaret’s in Hawes?’

  ‘Yes, but only our parents are invited, along with a few other friends. And you, of course; and Ralph’s brother, Bert – he’s to be best man.’

  ‘Don’t forget we’ve got to invite Tobias Middleton, if I can rent Boggle Hole from him. He sort of invited himself, when I was telling him I was to marry you. I don’t suppose we can turn him down, with the rent he was initially thinking of charging us,’ Ralph added quickly.

  ‘You are renting a house from Tobias, and he’s coming to the wedding?’ Polly was surprised.

  ‘Oh, Ralph, I forgot to tell you. Polly has a strange fascination for Tobias. In fact I think it is more than a fascination.’ Maggie giggled.

  ‘Well, she’ll meet him at our do, if I can rent the house, that is. He looked at me as if I was wrong in the head, when I said I wanted it. All the locals say it is haunted. That’s why it’s called Boggle Hole. A boggle is an evil sprite, but I don’t believe in such rubbish.’ Ralph sat back and laughed.

  ‘Nah, it’ll be all right. Just don’t tell me father until you’ve got it. And you, Polly Harper, you should have a good day, with the man of your dreams to hand. What more could you wish for?’ Maggie winked, for she too had been planning. There was no way she was going to move into a godforsaken haunted house up on some remote hillside, but if it got Polly within talking distance of Tobias, then it was worth playing along with. Her father would buy her and Ralph a good house in Muker, and well she knew it.

  Polly smiled. A whole day with the dark and handsome Tobias, with no one to stop them from talking together. Maggie’s wedding couldn’t come quickly enough.

  12

  Polly walked through the churchyard gate, and on to the graveside of her grandmother. She had visited the grave at least once a week since Ada had died, placing fresh cut flowers in the jam jar and saying a silent prayer for her grandmother’s safekeeping. Today she placed the vivid orange blooms of the calendula on the grave, before entering the church to help the local women decorate it for the harvest festival, in thanks for another fruitful year of good crops and healthy stock.

  The sun shone down. It had been a good summer, but soon the autumn winds would be blowing and the rain would never cease, and the days would be long and dark as the winter months drew in. In her other hand Polly held a basket full of home-made jams; a cabbage from the small garden that Edmund spent many an evening in; and lengths of rosehips, picked from the nearby hedges and then thread onto cotton by her. They shone like a precious necklace of rubies, ready to be hung from the candleholders and pews of the church. She’d spent the last two nights with a darning needle in hand, threading the hips, just as Ada had shown her, ever since she was old enough to be trusted with a needle and thread. It was a tradition that she supplied the threaded hips, and this year was not going to be any different.

  ‘Polly, it’s good to
see you, my love. We didn’t know if you’d make it or not, this year.’ Mrs Armitage, the churchwarden’s wife, welcomed Polly as she entered the church, while the other farmers’ wives and women of the district smiled and waved to her.

  ‘I couldn’t let you down. My mother – sorry, I mean my grandmother – would never have forgiven me.’ Polly blushed at her honest mistake, as Molly Armitage took her arm.

  ‘We were all saddened about Ada, my love. We didn’t think, this time last year, that she wouldn’t be with us now. Are you and your grandfather managing? He must be missing your grandmother terribly, and it must have been a shock for you to find out in such a terrible way about your real father and mother. I saw your brother hit that Tobias Middleton. They were always trouble, that family. I bet that Tobias takes after his father. “Neither a fighter nor a gambler be” – and he was both.’ Molly shook her head and then shouted at the woman placing the flowers on the altar, telling her to centre them more.

  ‘Actually, Tobias wasn’t doing any wrong. Matt was just being over-protective. That was before he realized we were sister and brother.’ Polly leapt to the defence of Tobias and watched as the frustrated Molly yelled out some more instructions to her army of helpers.

  ‘Still, my dear, you don’t want to have anything to do with him. It was unpleasant business, the way he was brought up. Now, what have you got in your basket? Let’s find a place for them. I’m so glad that you have strung some hips together – they look so lovely draped around the brass candleholder at the end of the nave. Oh, Winnie, will you stop moving that vase of flowers! Excuse me, Polly, I’m going to have to sort Winnie out. She has no eye for balance, and that’s what a good decorated church is all about.’ Molly bustled off, hands in the air and posh voice on; after all, she was in charge of the whole operation, whether her fellow helpers knew it or not!

  ‘Eh, I bet you’re glad she’s shut up. Is she bossy or what?’ Len Brunskill’s wife Martha came and helped Polly to empty her basket, placing the jams and cabbage in one of the church’s windows. They were to be displayed throughout the coming Sunday’s service, and then to be auctioned off the following night, for church funds.

  ‘She is just a bit.’ Polly smiled.

  ‘Aye, and she’s a nosy old bugger. Reckons to know it all, but knows bugger-all,’ whispered Martha Brunskill, grinning. ‘Are you all right Polly? The news of you having a father and mother, other than Ada and Edmund, must have come as a shock. And then to find the fella you like is your brother must have really hurt.’ Martha looked at the young lass, who was running her hands through the string of beaded hips, and knew she was hurting.

  ‘I just get upset sometimes. My world has been turned upside down, and I’ve no one to talk to.’ Polly fought back a tear. She’d known the kindly Martha since she could toddle and loved her like an aunt. ‘Everyone else knew the truth, except me. I wish someone had told me, stopped me making a fool of myself with Matt.’ She sniffed.

  ‘Aye, lass, sometimes thing are better left buried. You were loved, and still are. Ada loved the ground you walked on, and Edmund would lay down his life for you. As for Matt turning up like a bad penny, you’ll have to learn to love him like a brother; happen it’s better that way. From what I hear, he’ll not be the marrying kind. Sounds like he’s a bit like your father in that respect.’ Martha patted Polly’s hand.

  ‘Martha, did you know my mother? I’ve no one to ask. I don’t want to upset my grandfather. What did she look like? Do I look like her?’ Polly’s eyes pleaded with Martha for the much-coveted information that had been on her mind since she’d heard about her conception.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and sit on the bench outside where prying ears can’t hear us. We’ll come back and hang up those hips in a minute.’ Martha placed Polly’s basket down on a pew and made for the brilliant sunshine outside, with Polly following her.

  ‘Now then, lass, what do you want to know? I know exactly how things happened, and how much heartache your father caused. And, aye, I remember your mother. She was a young slip of a lass. She was a bonny thing, with long black hair and forget-me-not-blue eyes. And, yes, you are the image of her. She was shy and quiet, yet the lads were round her like bees around a honey pot, but she had only eyes for Danny.’

  Polly smiled as she thought of her mother as a young woman just like her.

  Martha carried on with her story. ‘The trouble was that Danny was never one for commitment. He was spoilt by Edmund and Ada, being their only child. And he hadn’t the courage to tell his father when he got your mother in trouble, so he left the dale like a dog with its tail between its legs, and robbed your grandfather of his savings. Edmund should have followed him, brayed him around the lugs and brought him home, but he’s a proud man, is your grandfather. Besides, at the time he didn’t know why Danny had left, until Bernard Dinsdale turned up on the doorstep of Paradise in a blizzard, with you wrapped up under his coat. I remember the first time I ever saw you, a little bit of a crinkly thing, with a huge tuft of black hair and the bluest eyes! No wonder Ada and Edmund brought you up as theirs; they’d never think they were doing any harm. You were loved, lass, and that’s all that matters.’ Martha held Polly’s hand and smiled. ‘Everybody meant well, lass. No one wanted you hurt.’ She raised her face to the sun and sighed deeply.

  ‘And my father? Does anyone know where he is?’ Polly looked at Martha.

  ‘Aye, your father – I wish I did know where he was. I thought he might turn up at Ada’s funeral, but he never did. Bill Sunter once said he’d gone across the sea to America. They were best friends, you do know that?’

  Polly nodded.

  ‘I can’t see him going there myself. He hadn’t the guts to do anything on his own.’ Martha looked at Polly. She was the image of her mother – she’d not told her a lie there. ‘I hear that Joe Fothergill is sweet on you. He’s not a bad lad; a bit steady, but will not make anything of himself, apart from being in business with his father. Life’s what you make it, Polly. If you want something, or somebody, go for it, just as long as you don’t hurt anyone on the way.’

  Polly blushed. ‘He’s all right, but he’s Matt’s friend.’

  ‘All right isn’t good enough. Now that Tobias Middleton has the world at his feet, and he’s not a bad lad, no matter what folk say about him. And he was going to fight for your honour, if I remember.’ Martha grinned.

  ‘You know Tobias?’ Polly was shocked.

  ‘Aye, I know his mother, Daisy, the kindest woman you can ever meet. Now his father was a different matter, wild as a mountain hare. But Tobias hasn’t a bad bone in his body; he’s just judged because of his father, and because he looks like him. Don’t tell your grandfather, or my Len, I spoke highly of him. They don’t understand us women.’ Martha let out a loud laugh. ‘It’s good to look at the mantelpiece, when you are stoking the fire.’

  Polly blushed; her grandmother would never have been so crude.

  ‘Are you two here to help or to gossip?’ Molly Armitage shouted from the porch of the church, squinting in the sharp sunshine.

  ‘Just catching up, Molly. We are on our way,’ Martha shouted back. ‘Any suggestions where to wrap those strings of rosehips, Polly? I have one, if you haven’t!’ She laughed as she made fun of the bossy Molly Armitage.

  ‘I think I could think of one.’ Polly was glad to have found an ally.

  ‘Are you not going to the harvest festival, Polly? You know I think nowt of going to church, but I thought you’d have gone.’ Edmund looked at Polly, who was sitting next to the fire, darning his socks.

  ‘No, I can’t go. I don’t feel there’s anything to celebrate this year. I will go to the sale tomorrow night, though. I enjoy the harvest sale.’ Polly wrapped the darning wool around her fingers and broke it off from the darned hole that she had mended, then examined her handiwork.

  ‘Ada would have liked you to have gone.’ Edmund placed the Sunday paper down and looked at Polly over the top of his reading glasses.

/>   ‘I’m not going. Just for once I’m stopping away. That Molly Armitage only looks at me like I’ve got two heads, and I don’t want to face the vicar. I still remember his face when there was all that carry-on outside the church at the funeral.’ Polly put her sewing things away and sighed.

  ‘All right lass, if that’s what you want.’ Edmund shook his paper and started reading the news of the day.

  ‘I think I’ll go for a walk, up the side of the gill. I’ll look if there’s any nuts on the hazel trees along the bank, although it’s a little too early to pick them yet.’

  ‘All right, lass. Do you want me to do anything while you are away?’

  ‘No, all’s done for the day. I like my Sundays – at least they are nice and quiet.’ Polly reached for her shawl and smiled, looking at Edmund with his feet up, engrossed in the paper and enjoying his pipe. The smell of the tobacco filled the air, and Polly loved the heavy fragrance of Kendal Twist. ‘I’ll not be long,’ she shouted as she closed the kitchen door behind her.

  She made her way to the back of the house and followed the gill up through the pastures and onto the fell side. Every so often she stopped to examine the gnarled branches of the hazel trees that lined the gill side. It was going to be a good year for the sweet little nut that both squirrels and humans liked. The trees were covered in clusters of nuts that grew in twos and threes, still coated in their little green-frilled jackets, and not yet quite brown and ripe enough to be gathered. She pulled a single nut from off its branch, shelled it from the green jacket and then tried to crack it between her teeth. She pressed her teeth hard onto the nut, finally deciding to crack it between two stones, to save her from breaking a tooth. The shell splattered, revealing a small white kernel inside the shell. Polly picked it up and placed it in her mouth; the nut tasted milky, with just a hint of what it was going to taste like if left to mature. No, the hazel nuts needed another two or three weeks yet and then they would be just right.