‘Where’re you going?’ asked Joe, as his father turned and moved slowly along the path. ‘That ain’t the way.’
‘I’m going to Dyke…Lass is there.’
‘You’ll never get to Dyke.’
‘Who won’t? Got here afore you, didn’t I? Lass is near mad. That lot near done for her.’
‘They really meant it then?’ Old Pop’s eyebrows were reaching for his scalp.
‘Meant it?’ Grandpop turned on his son. ‘You stone blind as well as daft? You saw ’em all, and Katie Booth like a witch.’
‘Aye. But she always looked like witch when you got at her. Your tongue were never easy on her. But I can’t take it in; ’tain’t feasible. Johnny says they were gonna duck miss…fact?’
‘Fact!’ Grandpop’s voice was withering. ‘Why d’you think I’m this far from me chair? Looking for fairies in me dotage? Aw, come on, you helpin’ me or is it me helpin’ you? Give me yer shoulder.’ Slowly, and in silence now, they made their way to where the three paths met.
Chapter Twelve
‘I’ll kill her if I get me hands on her, I’ll kill her!’ Peter, holding the sodden body of Leo to him, looked wildly from one member of his family to another as they all stood in a group on the road bordering the dyke. Then lifting Leo’s face up to his he begged, ‘Are you all right?’
She did not speak but nodded her head.
‘We’ll get you home and to bed, then—’
‘No—no.’ To his astonishment she dragged herself from his hold and backed from him. She backed from them all as she cried, ‘I’m not going back there—ever—I can’t!’
‘But, Leo…’
‘It’s no use—I can’t set foot in that village again.’
‘But, lass, you’re soaked, and you’ll catch your death.’ It was Rosie speaking, a changed Rosie, for the weird incident had both shocked her and frightened her. In a flash of insight she had seen herself as one of Katie Booth’s followers, if not in flesh, in spirit, and she turned in fear from the picture. And now it was a genuine pity that was filling her, and she said again, ‘A day or two in bed, lass—’
‘No.’ Leo shook her head emphatically and Peter, stepping to her side, said soothingly, ‘It’ll be as you say, dear. What do a few hours matter anyway. I’ll go back and get our things and you can change in the car…all right?’ He patted her cheek.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was scarcely audible.
‘But you’ll catch your death.’ Rosie repeated her statement as much now to prolong the departure as because of her concern for the girl, but Harry, who had spoken very little up to now, said firmly, ‘It’s the best way. Get your things together, lad, and get off.’
Without another word Peter went to the car, and with his foot hard down on the accelerator he headed back to the village. It may have been just coincidence that the entire street was deserted—in fact, the whole place looked dead; perhaps it was as well that he encountered no-one, for the anger in him would have burst over innocent and guilty alike.
It took him only a matter of minutes to gather their belongings up and bundle them into the car before he was once again roaring through the village towards Top Fell Dyke. As he came to a stop opposite the family seated on the grass verge as if on an outing, Grandpop’s voice hailed him with, ‘Think to bring a drop of hard with you, lad?’
Peter, getting out of the car, drew a flask from his pocket and handed it towards the old ’un, and Grandpop, his eyes sparkling at the sight of the whisky, said, ‘Ah, lad, that’s the ticket.’ But when with trembling hands he filled the lid cup from the flask, he did not gulp it down but handed it to Leo, saying, ‘Get that into you, lass.’
Leo hesitated until Peter urged quietly, ‘Drink it up, it can’t do you any harm.’
As Leo drank the spirit she shivered, and Rosie, as if there had been nothing between her and this girl but affection, said gently, ‘That’ll keep out the chill…come on and get those things off.’ And then to the surprise of all the Puddleton men, even the twins, they watched her get into the back of the car and hold the door open for Leo to enter, at the same time shouting in an overloud voice to Peter, ‘I bet you didn’t think to bring a towel!’
‘I did; there’s a couple on the front seat.’ He opened the front door of the car and leaning over handed the towels to her to be greeted with, ‘All right. Leave them there and get away for a minute…And look, get that bottle off the old ’un, or we’ll have a nice game getting him back home. Go on now.’
Rosie was speaking to him as if he were her bit of a lad again, and he knew the reason. Her shouting and bustling was only a way of covering up her embarrassment.
Grandpop no longer had the bottle. It was being passed now from Old Pop to Harry. And when Harry had had his pull he handed it to Peter, but Peter shook his head and stood for a moment voiceless among them, just looking at them. There they were, five of them, the Puddleton men, and as he looked from the youngest to the eldest an odd feeling flooded him. It was as akin to love as ever he had felt for them and he knew that he would miss them, each one of them, more than he cared to admit.
Harry, imbued with the same kind of feeling, put his hand onto his son’s shoulder and said softly, ‘Well, lad, this is it.’ They looked steadily at each other for a moment before he went on. ‘There’ll be no chance to talk in a minute and I couldn’t say this to you then, anyway. But I’d just like to say that when you are…alone again, come back, will you? This is your home, lad. This ground, these rocks and hills. And you won’t be able to throw them off lightly no matter what you think. And what’s more, in a short while folks will have forgotten anything ever happened, and if anybody talks about it later on, it’ll just be like another fable, with a smattering of truth in it—or something to laugh at.’
Peter’s face hardened immediately and his voice was stiff as he said, ‘I’ll never laugh at the day’s business.’
‘No, lad, no. I wasn’t meaning that. You know what I mean. But you’ll come back, won’t you?’
After a long moment, during which he looked from one to the other and saw in their eyes an intensified reflection of the feeling he bore them, he said, slightly non-committal, ‘I may do. But it won’t be for years—not for years.’ His voice was hard with emphasis as he repeated this.
‘Aye. Yes, lad. Aye.’ It was a chorus joined with shaking of heads. ‘We know that. We understand that. But we’ll see you…perhaps you’ll settle not so far off.’
This last was from Old Pop, and Peter said, ‘Perhaps. Anyway, I’ll let you know.’
‘Give us a hand up, one of you.’ Grandpop held up his arms and they all went to his assistance. And when he was standing between Harry and Joe he put out his trembling hands to Peter, and, gripping his, said, ‘She’s a fine lass. Be happy, and later on you can remember the words’—his voice was shaking and his eyes were full of the unusual moisture of tears as he quoted brokenly—‘“And often glad no more, we wear a face of joy because we have been glad of yore.”’
The whisky as usual had revived Wordsworth, and Peter said softly, ‘I’ll remember, old ’un.’
They stood now, saying nothing but watching the twins scampering in the hedge, then the car door clicked and Leo stepped down into the road. The difference in her appearance that a change of clothes and her hair rubbed near dry had made brought the first touch of relief to Peter’s face.
‘That’s better.’ He touched her hair and said softly, ‘You look yourself again, like a million.’
Leo’s smile was wan, and full of disbelief, and still a little fearful.
Now came the goodbyes. Under ordinary circumstances Peter hated the business of leave-taking and always avoided it if possible, and now the urgency to make the break and be gone caused him to bustle almost as much as Rosie.
‘Well, we’d better get a move on,’ he said to no-one in particular, ‘no use hanging about.’ He turned to the car and, putting his head inside, fiddled with the ignition key. As he did this Rosie
’s busy-busying ceased and he said, without turning his head to look at her, ‘All fixed, Mam?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Her voice was quiet now and she slipped out of the car and into the road.
Leo was standing surrounded by the three men and the twins; the twins were holding on to one of her hands while with the other she held Grandpop’s; Old Pop was patting her arm and Harry was saying, ‘Well, don’t forget us, lass. And don’t go too far away, now, will you?’ He waited for a reply, and when her lips moved without sound and she swallowed, he said hastily, and thickly, ‘There now, there now…Go on, there’s that big goof of yours straining to be off.’
Grandpop’s gums were champing up and down, and when she leant forward and kissed him he looked deep into her eyes and muttered softly, ‘We’ll meet up again, lass, you’ll see. I’ve a sort of feeling this isn’t the end. God bless you. Go on now.’
He pushed her as he had done earlier, and she turned away towards the car, and there she was face to face with Rosie—Rosie standing close to her son. It was a testy moment. Slowly she held out her hand and Rosie took it. Then to the further surprise of all the family they heard Rosie mutter, ‘Always wanted a daughter.’
Leo gazed at the little dominant woman, then swiftly she bent her head towards her and pressed her lips to her cheek before turning blindly away and into the car.
Now Peter was shaking hands and receiving pats and advice from his elders. Lastly, as he knew it would be, he came to his mother. After a moment of eye holding eye he pulled her awkwardly into his arms and held her close and whispered, so that only she could hear, ‘Thanks, Mam.’
‘There.’ Her voice was shaking and her eyes blind with unshed tears and she stepped back from him. ‘Off you go, the pair of you.’
When he was in his seat and the engine throbbing she put her head through the window past him and addressed Leo: ‘Take care of yourself, lass,’ she said, before adding diffidently, ‘Perhaps I could come and see you when you settle.’
‘Yes. Oh, yes.’ Spontaneously Leo’s hands went across Peter and touched hers.
‘Get him to write.’ Rosie nodded at her son. ‘He’s the world’s worst letter-writer.’
‘I will, I promise. And soon.’
‘Goodbye, lad.’
‘Goodbye, lass.’
‘Goodbye, miss.’
‘Goodbye, Peter…Bye.’
‘Goodbye. Goodbye.’
The farewells were mixed and toppling over each other; then the car was away and Leo’s voice, stronger than it had been yet, could be heard for the last time calling, ‘Goodbye, Grandad.’
‘Goodbye, lass.’ Grandpop spoke aloud to himself, for she could no longer hear him. He stood unsupported, the receding car lost in the blur of his eyes. ‘Reckon we’ll meet up on the road out. Aye, reckon we will, somehow.’ His words were clear and firm and brought a quick exchange of glances between Harry and Joe.
The sound of suppressed crying turned them about to see Rosie, their hardbitten Rosie, her back to them, standing at the side of the road crying her heart out, with the twins, silent and disturbed, one on each side of her.
‘Aw, lass. Now, now, don’t give way.’ Going to her, Harry put his arms about her shoulders and turned her towards him adding, ‘It’s a pity to say this and I wish it wasn’t so, but you’ll have him back afore long, aye afore very long. So come now.’ Then giving a silly laugh, and his voice high, he said, ‘You’ve still got me.’ He paused now, and an odd look came over his face and he murmured under his breath, ‘Perhaps you’ll remember I’m here now, Rosie, eh?’
Rosie, slowly lifting her wet face up to her husband, looked at him, and he held her look, and even through her blurred vision she saw that something had gone from him. Was it the jealousy of their son? For a moment she forgot the presence of the others and a flicker of tenderness passed over her face. Then she turned from him, sniffing and saying, ‘It’s no use standing here, is it? We’ve got to get him back.’
‘Him,’ in his wisdom, had called the twins to his side and was engaging their attention, as well as that of Joe, by describing graphically just what he was going to do and say to Katie Booth and the rest of them murdering bitches. He was going to the Hart the night, he was that, and he’d show ’em, every pluddy one of ’em.
‘Come on, old ’un.’ Harry approached his grandfather, and Rosie rubbing her face quickly with her handkerchief said, with some regret for what appeared like past splendour, ‘No garage to send to now for a car, unless we hire one from them. Huh!’
The three men had turned as one and were surveying her, and Harry asked, tentatively, ‘You so sorry, lass, that the garage has gone?’
Rosie’s head wagged a little as she said, ‘Well, if you want to know, I’m sorry that them lot’s got it, as sorry as you are. And we’ll be more sorry still yet, you mark me.’
‘Tell her, lad.’ Grandpop’s eyes were twinkling, and he chuckled, ‘Tell her.’
‘In a minute. Here.’ Harry called the twins to him and bending over them, said, ‘Look, run back home and bring the barrow. We’ll take Grandpop home in it.’
There was a sort of minor explosion from the road. ‘Push me in a barrer! No pluddy fear. No you won’t, be God!…No, be God! I won’t be ridden in no barrer.’
‘Sh!’ Harry laid a restraining hand on his grandfather’s jerking and indignant shoulders and whispered, ‘Got to get rid of ’em.’
‘Ah. Ah, well, that’s as may be, but send ’em for summat else, not barrer. No pluddy fear.’
Harry did not change his order but said, ‘Go on now and hurry.’ And the twins scampered off, glad to be sent on such a pleasant errand with the ultimate prospect of a laugh to see their Grandpop wheeled in a barrow.
‘Now,’ said Harry slowly nodding his head at Rosie, ‘I’ve news for you.’
‘’Bout garage?’
‘’Bout garage.’
Rosie looked puzzled. The garage was sold, Peter’d had his share and she’d had hers, and Peter was gone with every penny in his pocket, for Harry had not tried to borrow a farthing from him. Yet, as she had felt since Sunday, there was something up. ‘Well, let’s hear it,’ she said.
‘How much d’you think you’d have got for it afore the road was going through?’
‘Aye, how much?’ added Old Pop.
‘Eight, perhaps nine hundred. That’s what Mackenzie said, but they’d skin a louse for its hide, them skinflints.’
‘And how much did you get?’
‘That’s a silly question, you know what we got—fifteen hundred.’
‘Aye.’ Harry paused, and the old ’uns nodded. ‘That was ’cos road was going through. But there was no mention of that in the deeds, was there? Old Mackenzie didn’t make a hullaballoo about it and yell, “I’m giving you fifteen hundred ’cos road’s going through,” did he? No. He knew that when road went through that piece of land and garage would be worth three times what he paid. He felt he was cute not to harp on about it and put it in writing.’
‘So what?’ said Rosie puzzled. ‘Ain’t road coming through?’
‘Aye, it is. But not through Battenbun, it ain’t.’ There was a wave of glee connecting the faces of the three men.
‘Not coming?’ Rosie blinked. ‘Not coming? Who said?’
‘Major.’
‘But ’twere major who said it were.’
‘Aye. And he were right then, but apparently committee were divided all along. And then it were found that if they built the road running through Downfell Hurst they could build houses nearly all along its length but not if they built it through Battenbun. You know major, he wouldn’t sell an inch and they were stumped. They could run the road by the side of his land but that’s all they’d get out of him.’
‘But—but won’t they come back on us?’ said Rosie, looking scared.
‘Come back on us? What for?’ asked Harry. ‘The cat won’t be out of the bag for near on two weeks, next committee. Major only told me because he sa
w I was in a bit of a state about the lad selling, and it was him, hisself mind, who said, “You sing dumb, Harry.” He was tickled to death about the whole thing. You know what he thinks of the Mackenzies. And, of course, he’s over the moon about the road not touching us…Mackenzie’s got a place for his lorries, and that’s what he said he wanted, isn’t it? But as for the garage, when the road goes through not a damn car will come this way at all. And now he can’t do a thing about it, it’s all been done in good faith. Them was Mackenzie’s own words—good faith.’
‘He won’t make out our Peter’s gone off on purpose and sue him?’
‘Let him try.’ Harry’s face became grim. ‘And anybody in the village who doesn’t know what’s happened the day will by the night, and their lass was one of them who tried it on. Peter took his future wife away because of this village’s women’s murderous attack on her. ’Twould make good reading in the Sunday papers…let ’em start anything.’
Harry drew himself up, and after gazing up at him for a moment a smile spread over Rosie’s face and she gave a little hick of a laugh.
‘That’s it, lass.’ Harry slapped her on the back.
‘Eeh, what a shock!’ Rosie’s smile was broad now and Grandpop’s and Old Pop’s chuckles were deepening.
‘She—she turned her nose up at me this morning, Winnie Mackenzie.’ Rosie put her hand over her mouth to still a chuckle; then she laid her fingers on Harry’s arm and tapped it twice saying, ‘But it’s good job lad’s gone, he would have taken it back. The money and the garage.’
‘Yes. Aye, that’s what were worrying us, weren’t it?’ Harry looked at his father and grandfather, and they nodded and slapped each other. Their laughter mounted, and to it was joined Rosie’s. For the first time in her life she was laughing with the combined force of her menfolk, and this knowledge did not escape them and gave further rein to their mirth. Grandpop’s sides were cracking with it, his body was rocking. Then one minute he was standing as firmly as any of them and the next he was on the road all of a heap.
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