by Diane Allen
‘She ate too many gooseberries yesterday, giving herself a belly ache, that’s all.’ Danny sat down in a chair and looked at Harriet and hoped she wasn’t going to fret about Rosie being left at home.
Jane had moved to sit next to the window. She sniggered but quickly hid her reaction, as her Aunt Harriet gave her a warning glance.
‘That is unfortunate! But easily done, and I do hope Rosie soon recovers. Luke, would you and Jane like to show Ben the foal? She is growing so quickly, and you will all be bored while we adults chat before lunch.’ Isabelle watched as Georgina, the baby of the family, crawled around the room, leaving fingerprints on the highly polished furniture. ‘I’ll ask Lily to take charge of Georgina while we enjoy one another’s company. If that is alright with you, Harriet. Lily’s got a good way with children, and it is a pity she has no family of her own and will be leaving our service soon.’
‘I’d prefer that Georgina stayed with me; she does not know who Lily is and doesn’t like strangers.’ Harriet looked worried and glanced across at Danny for support.
Archie had said nothing up until this point. He looked around at his grandchildren and thought that he’d rather enjoy their company than sit in the newly decorated parlour of Windfell. ‘I’ll take Georgina out with me, and we will all go and see this young foal. It’ll give you four a chance to catch up in peace and say what you want, out of my earshot.’ Archie picked up young Georgina, noticing the worried look between Danny and Harriet as he held her tightly in his arms. He laughed as she tried to pinch his pocket watch out of his pocket. ‘Come on, li’l ’un, let’s go and look around outside while the grownups talk. Jane, you open the doors; and you two lads behave yourselves, otherwise you’ll have me to answer to.’ Archie made his way out of the parlour like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, with his grandchildren around his feet. It had been the excuse that he had needed. He still hurt when he thought of Charlotte sitting in the chair that Isabelle had now claimed as her own.
‘Would you like a sherry, Harriet and Danny? Or perhaps a cup of tea?’ James looked across at the couple, who rarely visited them, and noticed Harriet’s worried gaze once the children had left her side. He wanted to make them both feel at home.
‘A cup of tea would be grand, James.’ Danny stood up and looked out of the parlour window, turning round as James rang the bell for Thomson to come running, on command. ‘So, you’ve settled in, I see. I like the new wallpaper, Isabelle, it must have cost a pretty penny.’ He looked round at the newly decorated parlour and grinned at James, who was shaking his head in despair.
‘I always did want this room to be decorated with this wallpaper, but Mama would never hear of it. The pattern is called “Strawberry Thief” and is by William Morris. It is so pretty and suits this room so well. What do you think, Harriet? You always had a good eye for style.’ Isabelle smiled and sat down next to her sister-in-law.
‘Yes, it is very you, and it suits the parlour well. Who else would think of bringing nature into a living space, for us all to enjoy.’ Harriet looked around at the patterned wallpaper, depicting birds feasting on strawberries, and remembered the wedding dress that Isabelle had designed for her, after meeting the artist William Morris. They had been so close then, enjoying one another’s company and sharing their secrets together.
‘It’s a bit too posh for the walls at Crummock. So don’t be getting any ideas, our lass.’ Danny looked around him.
‘It cost an arm and a leg. I told Isabelle we could do without it, but she would insist. She likes to get her own way, don’t you, my dear?’ James stood behind his wife and ran his hand along her shoulders.
‘Crummock’s walls are practical, and are fine just whitewashed each year, so you needn’t fret, Danny.’ Harriet looked up as Thomson entered with tea for four, and the conversation stopped until he left.
‘Harriet, how are you keeping? I sometimes worry about you, for we seem to have drifted apart and I can’t ignore that any longer. We were once so close.’ Isabelle reached out for her sister-in-law’s hand and squeezed it tightly, after sipping her tea. ‘You will have heard that we nearly lost our Luke, when he fell into the river? It was then that I realized how hard and uncaring I had been over the loss of your twins. I hope you can forgive me? It’s just that until you have children of your own, you don’t realize how precious they are to you. You must have been heartbroken, as I know you both were, but I was too wrapped up in the business and was blinkered to your loss.’
Isabelle’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Harriet, whose head was bowed as she remembered the pain Isabelle had caused when she had flippantly remarked that infant death was something nearly every family endured. It was true and it was part of the times they lived in, but to lose two boys cruelly in one afternoon, without their mother by their side, was a pain of Harriet’s that Isabelle would have to live with all her life, and something she hoped she would never have to experience herself. Now, all these years later, she realized how callous she had been, and she wanted to sweep any misunderstandings to one side.
Harriet shook as she remembered the day twenty years ago when she could not get home to her children in time, after working in the shop at Skipton in the run-up to Christmas. ‘I still feel so guilty. I put my work first and placed the children in the care of their nanny. I thought it was just a cold they both had. If I’d been there with them, and had noticed their suffering and seen them fighting for breath before I set off for the shop, they might still be with us, if I had called the doctor out in time.’ She pulled her handkerchief out of her sleeve and sobbed into it.
‘Diphtheria took a lot of lives that year, and it moves so fast – it was not your fault, my dear Harriet. You must not constantly blame yourself. It is I who was to blame, if anyone, by insisting that we finished off the orders before we went home. I know I seemed very uncaring. I beg your forgiveness, dear sister-in-law. And I regret I have not had it in my heart to say these words earlier. Mama often chastised me for not being more caring, and told me that one day I would realize how you felt. Well, I do now, after Luke’s brush with death.’ Isabelle hugged Harriet to her, as Danny and James looked on, thankful that at last the two women had spoken about exactly how they felt.
‘I thought you hated me for staying at home and looking after my children. I know the business was everything for Mama and you, but my children are my world, along with Danny.’ Harriet sobbed anew, looking into Isabelle’s tear-filled eyes.
‘I know, and Mama knew that too. I don’t hate you; we’ve just grown apart, which is truly a shame. From this day forward, let us get back to being friends. After all, Mama wished that to happen, and she left you part of the shares in Atkinson’s. Both she and I have never forgotten that without you we would never have been so successful.’ Isabelle looked up at her husband and urged James to back up her words.
‘All these tears. What are we to do, Danny?’ James looked over at a worried-looking Danny. ‘Put the past behind you, both of you, and let’s all look forward to a better future. I think that is what Danny and I hope for, as we love you both dearly.’
‘Aye, that we do. I’m getting a bit fed up of walking on eggshells. Especially now we’ve got my father living with us, for he’s a liability in his own right. He forgets that I’ve been farming Crummock for nearly twenty-four years without his help every day. And I don’t know why Archie has decided he wants Ethan to work for us, as I’ve hardly any work for him. Although he will come in handy, come hay-time,’ said Danny.
‘I enjoy having your father living with us,’ Harriet sniffed. ‘He’s good with the children. Ben loves him, and Rosie won’t have a bad word said about him. And as for bringing Ethan with him, well, he’s no trouble. I hardly ever see him.’
‘I’m sorry Archie has burdened you with Ethan. That’s the trouble with him: you don’t ever see Ethan, and he was never to be found when there was work to be done here. My mother was too easy on him, because she had always held his father in great esteem. And
Ethan helps himself to trout out of the river and the odd rabbit or two. I just don’t know why Father took him up to Crummock.’ Isabelle looked over at James.
‘Probably because he cares about Ethan and feels liable for his welfare, my dear. Especially as he saved our Luke’s life,’ James added quickly.
‘Well, if I were you, Danny, I’d keep an eye on him. But let us forget about Ethan for the moment because the family is more important. My dear Harriet, let us put our differences aside and get back to being the friends we were, all those years ago. We don’t have dear Mama as our buffer any more, and I would so like us to be there for one another.’ Isabelle looked at Harriet with pleading eyes, meaning every word she said. She needed her sister-in-law, and especially her knowledge of the business. Jane would take years of training, but Harriet knew everything about the trade and would be an asset to the firm, if she could get her interested in it again. ‘Come and have afternoon tea in Atkinson’s next week with the children and see our new designs – they are stunning this year.’
‘I’d like that. Rosie would, too.’ Harriet smiled and cast her mind back to the fitting and cutting room, which she had enjoyed working in, until the fateful day when her life had stopped.
‘Is Wednesday alright with you? James can take the children’s photographs while you visit me. Can’t you, James?’ Isabelle smiled.
‘Certainly, my dear. Dress them up in their Sunday finery and I’ll do my very best.’ James grinned across at Harriet, knowing full well that his wife was sweet-talking Harriet back into the firm.
‘Splendid! Now, let’s see where Father has gone to with those children. You will be wanting your lunch and to get back to Rosie, if she is not feeling well.’
‘Yes, I would appreciate getting back a little earlier than we anticipated, just to make sure she’s alright.’ Harriet was relieved that Isabelle understood.
‘I understand. I’ll ask Thomson to hurry Cook along.’ Isabelle linked her arm through Harriet’s as they walked into the hallway. ‘Danny, do you want that old grandfather clock? It really does not fit in this hallway; it was another thing that my mother put up with, but didn’t like.’
‘It’s belonged to my father’s family for years – you can’t just throw it out. We’ll have it up at Crummock, won’t we, Harriet?’ Danny looked shocked at Isabelle’s lack of love for a family heirloom.
‘Yes, it will fit well at the bottom of the stairs. Archie will no doubt like to have it back with him.’ Harriet smiled.
‘Then I’ll get Jethro to bring it up to you on the flat cart next week. Now, where are those children?’
The train pulled into Appleby station after making its way through the tunnels and cuttings that spread along the length of the remote railway track. The engine heaved a sigh of relief as it came to rest after the steepest climb on the line, known as ‘the long drag’.
‘That was a journey! How beautiful did Dentdale and Garsdale look as we passed through them? The houses looked so small, way down in the bottom of the valleys.’ Rosie smiled and tried to keep up with Ethan as he made his way through the station gates, following the crowd down into the town of Appleby.
‘Mallerstang looks so rugged, even on a beautiful day like this. Just think what it would have been like when they were building the railway line. It’s a wonder they didn’t freeze to death when they were laying the track down.’ Ethan stopped in his tracks and watched in wonder the number of horses and travelling people that lined the streets of Appleby. Flat-bedded wagons and round green-topped caravans painted with bright-green, red and gold decoration crowded through the narrow streets, drawn by horses of every description. Black-and-white pintos, brown-and-white skewbalds, chestnuts and roans were all were being led and ridden by their owners, who were not bashful when it came to showing off their horsemanship. Amongst the horses, droves of sheep and cattle were also being driven in the direction of Gallows Hill, the main field for Appleby Fair.
‘White heather for your girl, Mister?’ A beautiful, sultry young gypsy girl came and enticed Ethan with a basket full of heather and wooden clothes pegs. ‘It’ll bring you both luck.’
Ethan shook his head and looked at Rosie, knowing that between them they had very little money.
‘Some pegs for your ma, then?’ She tugged on his sleeve.
‘Sorry, no money.’ Ethan hung his head.
‘Good luck to ya anyway.’ The young girl moved on to her next victim, and both Ethan and Rosie watched her as she wove her way through the crowds. Her long colourful skirt swayed and her bracelets jangled as she cleared a passage away from them, watched by the visitors to Appleby.
‘Sorry, Rosie. I would have bought you some heather, but we both need whatever money we’ve got.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Ethan – we can pick our own heather. I’ve never seen anywhere so busy. There’s so many people, and they are all selling something or riding horses. You can’t walk safely along the street because of the horses racing up and down.’
‘It’s called “flashing”, and they are riding them to the places I’ve heard my father talking about, called Flashing Lane and Long Marton Road. It’s where all the gypsy men show off their horses by riding them up and down the lane to put them through their paces, and to show their best points before selling them. We can go there, if you want; or down into the village to watch the horses being washed down at a place called “the Sands”, which is just under the main bridge that spans the River Eden.’ Ethan waited as Rosie made up her mind.
‘Can we go and see the horse being washed? I don’t want to go near the racing horses. It looks dangerous, and there are so many people. I don’t want to offend you, Ethan, but some look like they can’t be trusted.’ Rosie had never seen such a raggle-taggle collection of people, and she was beginning to regret agreeing to spend the day at Appleby Horse Fair.
‘They are only travelling folk, Rosie. They love their horses and country ways. You’d look a bit worse for wear, if you didn’t know where you were going to rest your head from one night to the next and were out in all weathers. Besides, somewhere in these people will be my relations, so they can’t be that different from me.’ Ethan looked at the fear on Rosie’s face. ‘Here, put your arm through mine, I’ll look after you.’
She looked up at Ethan and saw the excitement in his eyes. He was loving the smell and the mix of what he thought to be his own people, but at the same time he wanted to protect her. She smiled and put her arm through his, and felt safe as they pushed their way past the crowds to stand on the top of the bridge that crossed the mighty River Eden. There they looked down, watching the gypsy men washing their horses in the deep waters. The two of them gasped as they watched the horses swim in the deepest parts of the river with their riders on their backs, and cringed as the riders made the horses climb the banks out of the river with a deft whipping.
‘I think it’s cruel.’ Rosie held Ethan’s arm tight.
‘It’s good horsemanship, that’s all.’ He watched as a beautiful black-and-white stallion snorted and tossed its head, in defiance of its owner.
‘No, I don’t like these ways.’ Rosie looked around at the crowds and decided that Appleby Fair was not for her. She saw linnets that were being sold in cages so small they could hardly stretch their wings, and women offering to tell fortunes to people who only wanted to hear good things. ‘These aren’t our people, Ethan, we belong back home.’
‘We’ll be home soon enough. Give us another hour and we’ll catch the train. I’d like to go up onto the main field and just have a look around the horses for sale, and wander through the caravans. I don’t know what my grandfather looks like, or if he is even alive, but I’d like to see his lifestyle and his ways, while we have time.’ He pulled on Rosie’s arm and they made their way back through the crowds towards Gallows Hill.
‘Alright, I know it’s important to you. I know you would really like to find your grandfather, if you were truthful. Just an hour, though, and then we must ret
urn.’ Rosie tried to smile, worrying that Ethan was getting carried away with the atmosphere of the fair.
‘I promise we will only be another an hour, and then we will catch the train.’ Ethan flashed his winning smile at the girl on his arm and set off in earnest pursuit of his grandfather. They wandered around the covered wagons and flat carts, with the families that lived in them huddled around camp fires, telling stories and exchanging the year’s news together. Dogs barked and sniffed around their feet, with a lurcher showing its teeth at Rosie, as Ethan dragged her away from harm.
‘Please let’s go home. We’ll not find your grandfather here.’ She looked at the tanned, weather-worn faces and at the women in their colourful skirts, and wanted the safety of her home. These were not her ways, although they were country folk like her.
‘Alright, we’ll be away. But I’m going to return because somebody somewhere will know my grandfather.’ Ethan looked disappointed, but knew Rosie was right: if they didn’t go back now, they would miss their train home. He looked back at the campsites they were leaving behind and vowed to visit them again on his own, for this was a life he could enjoy.
Rosie sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts as she watched the scenery pass by her outside the train carriage. Her hair and clothes smelt of the camp fires they had wandered amongst, in their pursuit of an elusive grandfather whom both of them knew they would never find. Her skirt and boots were covered with mud from the churned-up field at Gallows Hill. She knew she looked a mess, and she only hoped she could change and wash before her parents returned home. With every clatter of the railway line beneath her she wished she was home, safe and sound. She cast her mind back over the day, at the horses being put through their paces, and the beggars selling whatever produce they could; the smell of rabbit stew drifting on the wind, and the brightness of the painted wagons that were home to the wandering gypsies. It was a completely different way of life from hers and a different language. She had not understood a word that some of them had spoken, and had felt as if she was an outsider in her own world.
