by Diane Allen
‘He seems all right,’ said Edmund. ‘He’s just bought all my flock. Happen I’ve perhaps been a bit hasty in the past, judging him. But he wouldn’t come here with us for a drink. I’d have bought him one for luck. I’m not keen on loners, or people who think themselves better than us.’ He sat back and looked around at all the farmers doing extra business over a shared pint.
‘You’ll not get him in here. He doesn’t drink. Saw too much of it when he was a little ’un. You know what his father was like: a right wrong ’un; would drink until he fell over, that ’un. If anything, it’s made Tobias go the other way.’ Len looked at Matt and Edmund.
‘He never said that. I didn’t know.’ Edmund sighed.
‘Aye, well, give a dog a bad name and it sticks. The poor bugger has had it hard. He’s pulled himself up, and he’s making something of his life. I hear he’s just bought Blue Bridge Farm at Appersett. He must be worth some money – he works every hour of the day. Believe me, there’s a lot worse out there than Tobias. Not all sons are like their fathers.’ Len sipped his pint.
‘Aye, and some are, worst luck.’ Edmund sighed and glanced at Matt, who was too busy counting his money to listen.
Polly lit the oil lamp and placed it in the window. She’d put a mutton stew on the hearth, which was now simmering gently. The meat was nice and tender, ready for eating. She’d also found the strength to milk the two cows and cool the milk, ready for the delivery up to the station the following day. Where was her grandfather? He didn’t usually take this long selling the lambs.
She opened the kitchen door and stood in the porchway. A strand of gloriously red Virginia creeper hung down over the porch roof, and the late-afternoon light shone through its leaves with a beautiful transparency. Another quarter of an hour and the sun would have set. She watched as bats started to screech their way out of the barn, catching the last of the day’s insects in the dying sun’s rays. As he made his way through the bottom field gate, she could just make out the form of her grandfather, stumbling and fighting with the gate-fastener. So that’s where he’d been: in the Crown with his old cronies! He’d regret it in the morning when he had to get up to take the milk. She smirked to herself as he wandered from one side of the track to the other, his gait all over the place, finally making it to the farmyard.
‘Well, I take it you’ve had a good day?’ Polly tried to keep a straight face as her grandfather nearly tripped over the porch step and grinned like an idiot at her stern face.
‘I have, lass, I’ve had a right good time. Did I ever tell you that you’ve a look of your grandmother, when tha gets vexed?’ Edmund swayed and made his way to his favourite chair, where he undid his shoes and slumped.
‘I suppose you’ve been in the Crown with our Matt and Len Brunskill? It looks like you’ve drunk them dry, between you.’ Polly picked up his shoes and put them to one side and then stirred her stew and stood, looking at her grandfather, with the ladle in her hand. ‘Did you not think I might be a bit worried?’
‘It was right, lass. I walked home with Len as far as The Street. And, anyway, it’s your fault I’m in this state – tha can’t blame anyone else!’ Edmund hiccupped and smiled.
‘Well, I don’t know how you came to that conclusion. I wasn’t behind the bar pouring beer down your throat. Now, are we going to have some supper, and did you get a fair price for the lambs?’
‘Like I say, it’s all your fault. If that Tobias Middleton hadn’t bought the whole lot for nearly double the price, I wouldn’t be in this state. And we all know why he bought ’em off me . . . Because I’m your grandfather, and he’s got his eye on you.’ He pointed his finger at Polly and grinned again. ‘He’s worth some brass, is that lad. Here, take this from out my pocket and put it in the tin box in the corner cupboard.’ Edmund pulled some crumpled notes and coins out of his jacket pocket. Some fell to the floor as he pushed them all into Polly’s hands.
Polly grasped the money and then looked at her grandfather. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
‘I’m beginning to think you could do worse than setting your cap at Middleton. For a fella, Len says he’s all right. I’ll think about it in the morning when I’m more sober. My head’s spinning.’ Edmund held onto his armchair and stood up. ‘I’m off to bed, Polly, it’s been a long day and I’m buggered.’
With her hands still full of money, Polly watched as Edmund made his way across the flagged kitchen floor and up to bed. She’d never seen him in such a state. The silly old devil. Len and Matt had a lot to answer for. She unfolded her armful of money and counted it on the kitchen table. It was just short of twenty pounds. Her grandfather was right, Tobias had been generous. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of him, and the fact that her grandfather was warming to him. Still, she couldn’t forgive Tobias for not meeting her, and then causing her nearly to catch her death, due to his failure to appear.
She walked into the parlour and unlocked the oak corner cupboard, reaching up for the ancient tin box that held all the saving and deeds to the farm. She placed the money carefully at the bottom of the box under the title deed, stopping as a tide of curiosity came over her. She’d never looked at deeds before, and she fumbled as she unfurled the document before her. There it was: generations of Harpers all written down neatly on the deeds, father-to-son for five generations, ever since Paradise had been built. She smiled and quickly folded it back up. It wasn’t hers to look at, but one day it would be, she knew that for sure, because her grandfather had always promised her it.
Polly sniffed the air. A smell of burning wafted through from the kitchen. It was the stew – her supper! She ran through to the kitchen to save it. It was burnt. That just served her right for looking at things that weren’t hers, she thought, as she scraped the charcoaled remains of mutton and tatties from the pot and sat down to supper on her own. She could hear her grandfather snoring in his bedroom above. The likelihood of the milk being delivered tomorrow was very slim. She’d have to make butter with it and see how her grandfather was when he finally awoke. Nothing worried her at the moment. Tobias was beginning to be accepted; they had enough money for the winter and she was feeling better. What more could she ask for?
15
‘Oh, my head!’ Edmund sat with his head in his hands, feeling sorry for himself as Polly pushed a cup of tea into his hands.
‘Here, there’s a fried egg on bread for your breakfast.’ She placed the fizzling fried egg, with the yolk split and oozing out down the bread, on the table next to him.
‘You are a hard woman, Polly Harper. How do you think I’m going to eat that, in this state?’ Edmund lifted his eyes to look at his granddaughter, who was standing in judgement of him.
‘You’ll eat it. It’ll bring you back to your senses. My grandmother would have made you, so I’m standing in her shoes.’ Polly watched her ailing grandfather as he lifted his fork and poked at the offensive breakfast. ‘I’ve skimmed the cream off the milk and churned it into butter. I’ll make a milk pudding with some of the rest, and try to do something with what’s left. The cows are milked, and today’s milk is kitted ready for tomorrow’s delivery, so all you’ve got to do is apologize to Aunty Evie and her clan, for her standing freezing on Liverpool station waiting for this morning’s delivery of milk.’ Polly was curt with her words, but really she was laughing inwardly at the state Edmund was in. She watched as he attempted to eat the greasy fried egg, nearly retching as he swallowed it down. ‘So, I take it Len Brunskill and Matt will be in the same state? That’ll not go down well with Bill Sunter, if Matt’s working at the dairy with a hangover.’ Polly folded her tea-towel and waited for a reply.
‘Nay, Matt went home quite a while before us. He took a dislike to Len singing praises about Tobias.’ Edmund swallowed the last piece of egg and bread and took a long sip of tea. ‘Did you know he’s got four farms now, and everybody says he’s a good landlord. He must get his brains from his mother, because his father hadn’t any.’ Edmund lean
ed back in his chair, before reaching down for his boots. He struggled to fasten them, as the acid from the night’s drinking, mixed with the fried egg in his stomach, made him belch.
‘By, I do feel bad – never again. I should have taken a leaf out of that Tobias’s book and not bothered with that drink. Do you know he’s told Bill Sunter where to put his milk-kits and all? Len says Tobias reckons nowt to the prices Bill’s paying, and he’s going to be joining me, selling his milk in Liverpool. In fact, when I think of it, he might have been doing that for a while, because the farm man from Blue Bridge has been there in a morning, but I never thought anything of it.’ Edmund stood up and looked at Polly scowling at him. ‘Are you feeling all right this morning, lass?’
‘Never mind about me. I’ll have to be all right, otherwise nowt would have been done this morning. A few months ago Tobias Middleton was the devil incarnate to you, and now you won’t shut up about him. You’ve never even thanked me for all I’ve done this morning, even though I was nearly at death’s door last week. Did you see Joe? He’s not been to see me since I were ill. I thought he’d have been by now.’ Polly was annoyed at her grandfather. When she’d had feelings for Tobias, her feelings hadn’t been allowed. Now, once Edmund knew he was worth a bob or two, the tables had turned. Had he been blind when they went up to Grouse Hall? Had he not seen how it looked, and how Tobias dressed?
‘Oh! Sorry, lass, I forgot. I did see Joe. He came into the Crown and asked me to give you this.’ Edmund rummaged in his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope with her name on it and passed it to Polly.
Polly looked at the scrawled handwriting, as if a spider had dragged its legs over it to write her name, and then quickly tore it open to read the contents. She stood holding the kitchen chair, as she read the letter that told of Joe’s feelings for her:
My Dearest Polly,
I’ve thought about this for a long time, and my heart ached seeing you so ill the other day. In fact, like your grandfather, I feared that we could have lost you, if the good Lord had wished it. As it was, he wanted me to hear of your true love, when you were in the depths of delirium. My heart broke when you called for Tobias Middleton, when it was me that was patting your forehead and praying for you to live. I’ll never hold the key to your heart, and I’ll never be the man that you want, but you will always have a part of me, and I wish you well. However, this is where our friendship must end. I’m not prepared to play second fiddle to a man I cannot compete with.
I wish you well, my dearest, and that one day you catch the man of your dreams.
Joe
‘Well, what’s he say – is he wanting to get wed?’ Edmund looked at Polly, who sat down quickly in the kitchen chair, her face telling a story.
Polly’s eyes brimmed with tears, and she wiped them away quickly and blew her nose on her pinny. ‘No, Grandfather, it’s the other way. He says he doesn’t want to see me again.’ She screwed the note up and sniffed, while her grandfather patted her on her back.
‘Tha’s better off without him. If he hasn’t got manners to tell you to your face, then you can do without his kind. He wasn’t a farmer anyway; knew a bit about horses, but nowt about sheep. Somebody bigger and better will come along, mark my words. Tha’s too bonny a lass for them not to.’ Edmund was uncomfortable talking to Polly about matters of the heart, for that was women’s stuff. ‘I’ll go and look at the stock, get a bit of fresh air. Don’t you be crying over that Fothergill lad – he’s not worth it.’ He walked over to the kitchen door and stood for a second, his hand on the door latch, before walking out into the yard and closing it behind him. He lit his pipe and looked down the dale. It would never have worked between Joe and Polly; she was too strong-willed for him. Besides, he was Matt’s best mate, and Matt had made it as clear as the nose on his face that he wanted Paradise. Well, he wasn’t going to get it, not even over his dead body. So they could think again!
Polly sat and reread the words that Joe had written down. She must have called out for Tobias when she was ill. Why hadn’t Tobias come that afternoon? He must think of her just as a foolish girl, and be using her for his amusement. She screwed the letter up tightly in her hand and threw it on the fire, watching the orange flames curl around the burning paper, and the fire-fairies of burning soot glow at the back of the chimney. The tears weren’t for the loss of Joe’s love; they were for Tobias. What made it even worse was that he would probably meet with her grandfather’s approval, now that Edmund knew more about him. Would she have a chance to meet him again before spring? She doubted it. The winter months were nearly upon the Dales, and with them came snow and rain. It would soon be time for the weekly visits to Hawes to stop, halting any fleeting chance of bumping into Tobias.
Already she had been busy preparing jams and preserves to see them through the winter. Bacon flitches hung from the hooks in the pantry ceiling, and the flour barrel was full for the oncoming winter months. Her grandfather might deliver the milk to the station, but other than that, nobody stirred far in the winter months. All were self-sufficient at home, warm and dry. Polly sobbed. A few weeks ago she had the choice of two men, and now she had none. Instead she was stuck at Paradise, with only her grandfather and her scheming brother, whenever he wanted something. Even Maggie was over in Swaledale and could no longer be visited. She was happily building her new home and planning her family. Polly felt a wave of loneliness sweep over her. How she wished Tobias had come to her. Why hadn’t he come to her?
‘Polly, Polly, here, this is for you.’ Edmund opened the kitchen door and held a parcel in his hands. ‘The delivery lad from Sam Allen’s has just given it to me, at the bottom of the lane.’ He handed over the brown-wrapped parcel with no writing on it, to a swollen-eyed Polly. He watched as she peeled back the plain brown paper, his heart beating as fast as hers as she came to the contents.
‘Well, what is it?’
‘It’s some courting cake from the shop: six pieces.’ Polly looked at her grandfather and then noticed the note that was wrapped in with the cake. She quickly unfolded it and read it, in front of her grandfather, who was peering at it:
Grouse Hall
15th November 1903
Dear Polly,
Forgive me for being so presumptuous, but your grandfather said you’d been ill. So I thought I’d send you this, in the hope that it will help you get your strength back. May I also ask for the first dance at the Boxing Day Ball at Hawes? Although I know it is quite some time away, it will give us both something to look forward to, and this time I will attend, I promise.
Please tell your grandfather that his sheep are doing well, and I enjoyed doing business with him.
With fondest wishes,
Tobias
‘Well, what does he say?’ Edmund leaned over her shoulder and tried to read the wording.
Polly folded the letter up quickly, not wanting her grandfather to see the invite to the dance. ‘You must have told Tobias Middleton I was ill. He’s sent the courting cake for me, and says to tell you that all the sheep are doing well.’ Polly looked up at her grandfather, who stood staring at her with an inquisitive look on his face.
‘Well, that’s good of him, lass. But I think there’s more to telling me the sheep are all right. I think that lad has his eye on you, lass. You know, I didn’t think a lot of him up until the other night, but I’ve seen another side of him now, and he’d be good for you.’ Edmund rubbed his chin with his hand and studied Polly’s face.
‘All right, I’d better tell you, he’s asked me for the first dance at the Boxing Day Ball, down in Hawes.’ She lowered her head, for she couldn’t lie to her grandfather.
‘That’s a while away yet. He must be keen, if he’s thinking that far ahead. Well, lass, you go and meet him there. If Len Brunskill says he’s all right, that’ll do me. You’ll never go hungry with that ’un on your arm, so that’s a big thing in this life.’
Polly stood up and hugged her grandfather, putting her arms around hi
s neck. ‘Thank you, Grandfather. I think he’s a good man, too.’
‘Aye, well, time will tell. I still remember his father, and I wouldn’t want anything like him in my family.’
16
The wet and windy days of November blew the autumn leaves from the trees, leaving them looking bleak and black against the dying grasslands of the Dales. They were long, dreary days of pouring rain and biting winds, with the sheep standing huddled next to the limestone walls and the cows being thankful of the warm, hay-filled barn.
Edmund lifted his oil-filled storm lantern and stepped out into the darkness of the farmyard, while the wind howled around him and the rain poured down in torrents. This was no way to make a living at his age, he thought, as he slapped the reins over old Clover’s withers and set off on his three-times-weekly visit to Hawes Junction, to meet the connecting train to Liverpool with his kits of milk for his sister Evie. Perhaps he should rethink and go back to Bill Sunter’s dairy.
The rain dripped down his neck and through to his vest, making him shiver as he made the long haul up Garsdale to Hawes Junction. The junction was used for the Wensleydale line, and as the main line for the Midland Railway to go through Westmorland and over the Scottish borders up to Glasgow northbound, and south to Leeds. As he neared the station, he passed the small shop that all the locals used. The curtains were still drawn and in darkness as he climbed the hill steadily, before crossing over the bridge that strode the track and then making his way onto the platform. The yellow glow of the lit gas lamps welcomed him, as he rolled the full milk-kits off the back of the cart and placed them on the edge of the platform, ready for the train to halt for them.
‘Now then, Edmund. Shit of a day, isn’t it?’ Bunce, the stationmaster, came over the sleepered walkway across the track and looked at his watch. ‘You’re in good time this morning, Edmund, it isn’t yet six.’
