The storm of the previous night had left the air fresh and the sun was shining brightly. She jumped into the road, Bill waved his hand to her and touched his whip to the broad backs of the pair of horses in the shafts, and she bent down to take off her straw bonnet and boots and wandered slowly towards the town. She liked going barefoot, for the soles of her feet were still as tough as leather from years of being without shoes.
When she’d been walking for about ten minutes she heard the clip-clop of horse’s hooves coming up behind her and stood back against a stone wall to let the rider pass. It was a young man dressed in a rough brown corduroy jacket, with a red kerchief knotted round his neck.
His dark head was bare and when he drew level with her, he lifted his riding stick and saluted her gravely, saying, ‘G’mornin’. Fine mornin’.’
She smiled and agreed, ‘Yes, very fine.’
He pulled on his horse’s reins and slowed it to a stop. ‘Going to town? Going to the fair?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she told him.
‘Hop up at the back then. Ride pillion with me,’ he offered, looking down at her bare feet.
‘Why not?’ she said and he drew his horse towards the wall which she clambered onto and from it onto the broad back of the horse. She was clinging round his waist when they set off again and he called back to her, ‘Have you come far? I don’t recognise you.’
She made a wide gesture with one arm, saying, ‘From way back there. I’ve come to live with my uncle Jo and his family.’ Jo was the first male name that came into her mind.
‘Jo who? I don’t know any Jos and I know most of the folks in these parts. I’ve lived here all my life.’ He had a pleasant, deep voice with something like a laugh in it, no matter what he said.
Kitty frantically tried to think of a neutral surname but had no notion of what names were common in those parts. She gazed around and saw an old brown haystack in a field. It gave her inspiration.
‘Jo Brownrig,’ she said and added hastily, ‘he’s new to these parts though. He’s only just come.’
‘Where is he living exactly?’ persisted her new companion.
She giggled. ‘Wouldn’t you ask that and I don’t know the answer? I forget the name of his place but I know how to find my way back… I’ve to walk straight along the road back there for about a couple of miles and then branch off to the left for another two and then take a little lane up a hill for a mile and a half or so till I see a hill shaped like a sugar loaf…’
She succeeded in confusing him utterly and he was still worrying about the sugar-loaf hill when they reached the field that was to be the showground for the day and she jumped down from the pillion, thanking him.
He was reluctant to let her go and reached down to catch her hand, saying, ‘Don’t go yet. Stay with me. I thought we might go round the fair together. There’s lots to see.’
She looked up into honest brown eyes and saw that they were flecked with little dots of gold. She instinctively knew that this was a man she could trust.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Gerald Greatstone. Folk call me Gerry. I’m twenty-two years old and I’m not married. I’ve a farm on the other side of the hill with my father. We graze sheep mostly.’
She nodded. She knew enough about farming to tell that it would be hard work tending sheep in those hostile hills. His life could not be easy. She nodded her head.
‘All right, I’ll stay with you for a bit,’ she told him.
He jumped down from the horse and stood smiling at her. ‘You’re not the Queen of Faeryland, are you? Coming walking out on a bright morning with your hair glowing red and then disappearing when darkness comes…’
His imagery delighted her and she laughed. ‘Maybe I am. Let’s see. Are you prepared to take a chance on it?’
‘I’ll take a chance. I’d love to be enchanted by you,’ he told her. His smile crinkled up his face making his eyes dance.
Physically he pleased her, for he was as tall as she and well made with broad shoulders and a tapering waist. His face was long with a wide, mobile mouth and peaked eyebrows; his hair was dark and waving and it reached down almost to the collar of his coat at the back. He looked like a gentleman and spoke like one too, though she could tell by his hands that he did not leave the manual work of his farm to other people.
‘My name’s Kitty,’ she said, taking his arm after he’d tied up his horse. The jostling, noisy fair crowd swallowed them up and they walked from stall to stall, not really seeing the goods displayed there, for they only had eyes for each other.
It was not the fair that delighted Kitty, for she was used to fairs by this time; it was not the little town which was small and backward; it was not the inn where they went at midday for something to eat and drink because it was crowded and noisy; it was not the weather which was mild but not brilliant… it was his company. He turned the day to gold.
Never before had she felt so at ease with a man, never before had she wanted to please one so much. When they paused in front of the boxing booth, she saw Bill looking suspiciously at her and obviously wondering about her companion but she gave back no sign of recognition or reassurance. She was being someone else, a farm girl out to enjoy herself with handsome beau.
It was impossible not to give something of herself away to him as they talked, for he was so honest and forthright. In an outburst of confidence he told her how his beloved mother had died the year before; he told her about the loneliness he and his father endured in their house on top of the moors; he told her of his love for the inhospitable land and how it held him through good days and bad.
In return she told him that she was an illegitimate child born to a bondager. Amazingly, she heard herself telling him about Bullhead and how she’d dreamed that he would be handsome and dashing but found out he was an ugly villain. He listened with sympathy and held her hand.
When evening was drawing near and she knew they must soon part, she told him about Marie and her mother, how she’d lost her friend and was worried about Wee Lily. It was the first time she’d talked about that to anyone since she left Camptounfoot.
‘Perhaps they both miss you as much as you miss them,’ he offered as a consolation.
She nodded. ‘That doesn’t help. It makes me feel worse. Sometimes I can feel someone is thinking about me. I’ll be busy doing something and not thinking about it when I get a feeling that I’m not alone. It’s very odd.’
‘You should go back to them if you feel like that,’ he said but she shook her head. ‘Oh no, I can’t go back.’ She did not tell him why.
‘You’re a mystery woman. I’m sure you are the Queen of the faeries,’ he told her with a laugh and she looked up into his face. When their eyes met she was overcome by the most peculiar sensation. Her head swam, her stomach tightened and she felt as if she were about to faint. She had to put her hand on his arm to steady herself and when she did that he laid his own hand on hers and gave a sigh which told her he felt the same way as she did. They were enchanted.
In the distance she heard the thud, thud, thud of the boxing booth band. She shook her head. The time had come to leave him. She stood back and said, ‘I have to go now.’
He looked sad. ‘Not yet please. The fair goes on till dark. Don’t go yet.’
But the distant music was calling her. ‘I have to go.’
‘Why? Is someone waiting for you? Have you a husband somewhere?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve no husband.’ She could not tell him that she was a plant from the boxing show. She did not want him to know about that part of her life. It was better to be thought of as an enchantress.
He was bitterly disappointed but still tried to detain her. ‘Don’t run away like this. It’ll soon be dark and you’ve a long way to go. I’ll take you back to your uncle’s place on my horse,’ he offered but she shook her head.
‘No, that’s not possible. I must go now.’ It was nearly half-past seven and her appearance o
n the show was always the last item on the bill, which had started at seven o’clock.
She did not want him following her; she did not want him to see her playing out her charade with Grandma.
He clasped her hands in his and held them against his heart. ‘I don’t know why you’ve got to go, but please change your mind. Please stay with me, just for another hour, that’s all,’ he pleaded. ‘If we’ve only got one day together, let’s make it as long as possible.’
Kitty stared at him. How handsome he was, how admirable in every way. He deserved a day that he would remember all his life and so did she. What he said about them only having a short time with each other impressed her for it was true. They would never meet again. One day in the whole of their lives for two people to meet and then part.
All of a sudden it struck her that there was nothing to stop her staying in Alston with him. It would be very easy. She could walk away from the boxing show, leave it behind and go back to his farm. They’d get married and live together…
The thought almost made her draw her hands back. No matter how attracted she was to Gerry, she did not want to marry him or anyone else. She did not want to end up as a farm housewife with a family of children. Instinctively she knew that many different adventures lay ahead of her and if she gave up the chance now, she would regret it for ever.
Yet the touch of his hands on hers was having a very peculiar effect on her. She looked into his face and she melted with desire. ‘I want to kiss you,’ he said softly.
She had never kissed anyone. He bent his lips to hers very slowly and gently and she felt his arm tighten round her waist and pull her towards him. The world went velvet-black but not for long because suddenly it was shot through with brilliant coloured lights, flashing and flowing in all directions.
‘Don’t go away yet,’ he whispered when he let her go.
He didn’t need to ask any more. Kitty Scott was not going anywhere. Not yet. I want this man, she told herself. It was part of Kitty’s nature to make decisions by instinct and then rationalise how she had come to her conclusion later.
She was almost seventeen years old and ready for love. For some time she’d been aware of the effect she had on the men of the boxing show, for they crowded round her and courted her carefully but no one approached her directly because they were all afraid of Grandma. She could have had her pick of them but there was no one she wanted.
Now in Gerry she’d met a man that she did want; now she’d come across her perfect physical partner. The blood in her veins ran fast, she had a passionate nature and was avid for experience.
She would not be taken by force like her mother. She’d fought off Liddle and Thompson but she knew she would not die a virgin. She would be the one who did the choosing and this was the first man who pleased her.
She gently kissed his cheek. ‘All right, I’ll stay a little longer but I’ll have to go eventually,’ she told him. They walked like people in a trance along the lines of paraffin-lamp-lit stalls. She was very conscious of him beside her and all the time her passion mounted.
Their wanderings led them to the field where his horse had been turned out to graze and hand in hand they walked over the grass in search of it.
At the far side of the field there was a little rocky gorge making a channel for a fast-flowing waterfall. Without speaking they sat down beside it and started kissing each other again. The die was cast. They could not stop. It was all so natural and easy when they began to make love, as natural as a nymph and a shepherd in a pastoral.
When they drew apart at last, Gerry was apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.’
She laughed. ‘Neither could I. Don’t be sorry. It was lovely.’
He leaned over and took her face in his hands. ‘Please don’t go away. Stay with me. I’ll cherish you all my life if you do. I love you.’
She shook her head. The music was loud in the distance. She could hear it again. It was calling her back. ‘I have to go. I can’t stay with you but I’ll never forget you, never.’
‘You’ll have other lovers,’ he sadly told her.
She did not deny it. ‘But I’ll always remember you,’ she said, ‘because you’re my first.’
He put his arms around her and leant his head against her flat belly. ‘I love you. You’ve cast a spell on me.’
She stroked his hair. It was really hard to go, hard not to let him see what a war was being fought inside her. One part wanted to stay with him and make love for ever but the bigger part, the stronger part, said, ‘You’ve things to do, places to see, you can’t stay here in Alston.’
‘I have to go. Please don’t try to stop me. It’s hard enough as it is.’
He groaned. ‘I can’t understand this. Are you bespoken to someone else? Is that what this is about? I never believed the story about the sugar-loaf hill…’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not promised to any other man and I’m not married. I chose you and I’ll never forget you. If I stayed here with you it would be like that poem about the mermaid woman, the one who came out of the sea and got married and then one day she had to go away again… I heard it at school and I thought it was very sad. I wouldn’t want to make you sad. Be happy but don’t forget me.’
He sat up and told her, ‘I’ll never forget you. I love you. Wherever you go, remember that. One man, up here in the hills, will always love you.’
She knelt by him, put her arms around him and kissed him gently as she said, ‘Thank you, thank you very much. You can’t know how much that means to me. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.’
It was harder than ever to go but she forced herself although her eyes were filled with tears as she turned away from him.
When she ran off into the darkness, he did not try to follow her but sat with his head resting on his knees for a long, long time.
Chapter Thirteen
Gerry was not the only one who’d been enchanted. When Kitty reached the middle of Alston, she was amazed to see from the church clock that it was nearly midnight.
A hand of fear clutched her belly. What if they’d gone off without her! She started to run to the field where the fair was held and on the way she met a disconsolate little crowd of men beating the bushes by the roadside with sticks. They were looking for her – or at least for her body – because Grandma was sure that she’d been murdered.
Bill looked up and saw her coming, pelting up the lane with her bonnet in her hand and threw down his stick with a muffled curse.
‘By Hades you’re in for it. The old woman’s spitting mad about you!’ Kitty grabbed his arm. ‘I’m all right. I was – detained. I’m sorry I didn’t come for the fight tonight, though. Is she really very angry?’
‘She’s furious. Some woman from the crowd fought Joe and half-killed him. Grandma wouldn’t go into the ring with her.’
Kitty sighed. ‘Oh that’s bad. Is Joe all right?’
‘A black eye, that’s all, but his pride’s hurt.’
He walked beside her to Grandma’s wagon and Kitty could see the lights inside shining out through the little window. ‘I’ll go in on my own. I’ll explain what happened,’ she told him.
‘You’d better make it a good story,’ he replied as he walked away to call off the hunt.
Grandma and Sophia were sitting facing each other over the table on which playing cards were laid out. Sophia was trying to find out where Kitty was by reading the cards. They looked up expectantly when the door opened and their expressions changed from anxiety to astonishment and anger when they saw her.
‘What time do you call this?’ demanded Grandma.
The girl stood in the doorway and hung her head. ‘I’m sorry. I meant to turn up for the fight but I couldn’t. I met a man, you see.’ She told them the truth, for she thought they were women enough to appreciate it.
They looked at each other in astonishment. Grandma spluttered in fury but Sophia laughed. ‘A man, eh? That’s not like you
, lass,’ she said.
Kitty told her. ‘He was marvellous, really marvellous. Now I know what all the fuss is about.’
Grandma was muttering furiously, ‘Slut, you’re just like all the rest… I expected better of you. You’d better take your stuff and go, that’s what you’ll be wanting to do, isn’t it?’
Kitty sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘Please forgive me, Grandma. I don’t want to go away with him, though I liked him a lot. I want to stay with you. I sent him away.’
The sisters looked surprised and Sophia said, ‘You’re a strange lassie. Are you sure you want to go on travelling? Wouldn’t he take you with him?’
‘Yes, he wanted to take me but I wouldn’t go. It was my first time. I told him how good it was but I never pretended I was going to stay with him.’
Grandma shook her head and said sarcastically, ‘It’s usually the men who act that way. But what if you’ve fallen with a child? Have you thought of that?’
Kitty hadn’t and her face showed disquiet. ‘But it was my first time, and only once. You can’t fall the first time, can you?’ she protested. She’d forgotten about her mother and Bullhead.
‘Oh yes you can,’ hissed Grandma. ‘And you needn’t think we’re going to burden us with a bairn on your behalf.’
Kitty stood up from the table. ‘Then I’ll go off on my own. I can look after myself.’
If she was pregnant, she’d get rid of it, she decided. She wasn’t going back to find Gerry, and the thought of having a fatherless child to rear was too reminiscent of her own childhood to be borne.
Sophia seemed to understand her thoughts because she said, ‘Don’t worry, you’ll not fall with a child. I’ve got a draught that’ll do the trick if you take it immediately. You’ve just come from him, haven’t you? You must take it now if it’s going to work.’
Grandma was still not won round and she turned on her sister to say bitterly, ‘Trust you to take her side. You weren’t any better at her age.’
Wild Heritage Page 29
