A Crimson Dawn (43 page)

‘The Grove,' Flora announced. ‘The cottages are down by the river.'

In front spread rough pasture, running down to a narrow fast-flowing river. There appeared to be no sign of habitation, just sheep grazing. But as they dipped down along the stony track, they suddenly came across a row of low wooden cottages tucked in under the bank. Narrow cultivated gardens ran down to the river edge.

Playing outside one, surrounded by ducks, was a small, dark-haired boy. Emmie's breath caught in her throat. At the same time, the boy saw the carriage appear and he began to run, the ducks chasing after him. Emmie almost fell from the trap in her haste to reach her son. She was shaking and crying as she stumbled forward, blinded by tears of joy.

‘Mammy!' Barny shouted in delight. ‘Mammy!'

A moment later, he was jumping into her arms, amid a cacophony of ducks. Emmie fell to her knees, hugging him fiercely and squeezing her eyes shut.

‘My darlin', darlin' lad!' she sobbed and laughed in the same breath. ‘I've missed you so much.'

The ducks scattered as a shadow fell over them. Wiping away tears, Emmie looked up. Squinting, she saw a man smiling over them.

‘Welcome home, Emmie,' he said warmly.

It was Rab.

For a long moment, Emmie stared up at Rab. He was thinner, gaunt around the eyes, his chin clean-shaven to reveal hollowed cheeks. But his smile was broad and his blue eyes shone with warmth. Emmie clutched Barny, unable to stand.

‘Oh, Rab,' she whispered. ‘Have I died and gone to Heaven?'

He laughed softly. ‘This is as near as it gets, lass.'

Barny struggled out of her hold, eager to show her the cottage and the ducks. He gabbled about the number of ducklings.

‘We feed them every day, don't we, Rab? And Mr Runcie helps us get them in the shed at night ‘cos the fox will come and gobble them all up.'

‘Haway, Barny,' Rab grinned, ‘let's get your mam indoors. She's had a long journey and she's tired.' Rab leaned down and reached for Emmie. ‘Put your arms round me neck.'

Emmie did so, but as he pulled her up she gasped in pain. Her whole body felt tender to the touch. Rab's face creased in concern.

‘Oh, Emmie, what have they done to you?' he said angrily.

She crumpled at his words. ‘Hold me,' she croaked. ‘Please hold me.'

Gently, Rab gathered her into his arms and she dissolved into tears. Behind them, Flora called to Barny to help her with Cobbles, and the boy ran to her.

‘Rab,' Emmie sobbed, ‘I've dreamed of this so many times. In prison - it kept me from madness. The thought of seeing Barny again - and you …'

Rab kissed her tenderly on her forehead. ‘It was the same for me. I'm going to care for you now,' he promised.

Lifting her up, he carried her down the bank. She weighed nothing in his arms. Emmie studied his face, hungering for every detail, joyful to be in his arms at last, even though it hurt her physically. She did not want to know how little time they might have, or think of the future. All she wanted was for that moment to go on for ever; Rab holding her in the June sunshine, the air so clear she could hear the sheep grazing, and Barny's high-pitched chatter as he helped tether Cobbles.

Rab took her into the first of the cottages. Up close, the buildings appeared dilapidated, patched together with bits of boarding, chicken wire, railway sleepers and carriage windows. Inside, the cottage looked less like an allotment shed. It was sparsely furnished, with a bed, small table, two stools and an armchair. But there were mats on the floor and red gingham curtains and a stove that gave out the sweet, aromatic scent of burning wood.

As Rab laid her on the bed, she noticed a tea chest of clothes - hers and Barny's. Another one was upturned by the bed. On it was a candle and the poetry book Rab had given her so long ago. He pulled the rough woollen cover around her.

‘I'll make you some tea,' he offered.

But Emmie held on to his hand. ‘Sit with me first.'

He smiled and sat down, cradling her hand in his.

‘Tell me about this place,' Emmie murmured.

‘It was built by pitmen - evicted in the strike of 1910. Mr Calvert, who owns this land, let the families come here. They would've starved otherwise. Huts have been empty till the Runcies came.'

‘Who else is here?' Emmie asked.

‘Apart from the Runcies, just me and Laurie Bell in the house next door. We were in prison together.'

‘The postman?'

Rab nodded. ‘He's in bad health. Told him to gan for a medical - the army would exempt him now. But he's that pigheaded. Said if they won't give him absolute exemption for being a CO then they can go to the Devil.'

‘Sounds like someone else I know.' Emmie gave him a wry look. ‘This Mr Calvert is taking a great risk having you here, isn't he?'

‘Aye,' Rab agreed, ‘these Quakers are grand people. If the military come for us, Laurie and me will say we've just arrived - squatted without the owner's knowledge. Calvert doesn't even know our names, so he has nothing to hide if questioned.'

‘Still, it's dangerous,' Emmie worried. She put his hand to her lips and kissed it. ‘I don't blame you not wanting to gan back to gaol. Six weeks was an eternity. Don't know how you managed a year - not the way they tret the likes of us.'

Rab moved closer, smoothing back her limp hair. ‘Emmie! I'm not frightened of going back - though there were times I nearly gave up. I've gone on the run so I can be near you. I needed to find out how you felt - after I wrote that letter. I know you said you'd chosen Tom, but I know what he did to you, Emmie. You don't have to stay with him. I can't offer you a soldier's pay or even a proper roof over our heads, but I can love you more than he ever will.' He looked at her with fierce eyes. ‘I love you more than any other man ever could. But it's a dangerous future I'm offering, Emmie, for you and the lad. I'll not blame you if you turn it down. I just want to know if my love is returned.'

Emmie's tears spilled down her pale cheeks, her eyes huge and dark-ringed.

‘I've always loved you,' she whispered. ‘How did you never see it, you foolish man?' She gave a choking laugh. ‘I'm not afraid of danger, nor do I care about the future.' She reached out and touched his face. ‘If we only have a month together - a week, a day - it will be worth it. Whatever happens, I will always love you, Rab,
always
.'

He gave a small, exultant cry and pulled her into his arms. Tenderly he kissed her lips for the first time.

At that moment, Barny ran in. ‘Mammy, don't gan to bed. Come and see the ducks. Aunt Flora's coming in the boat. You come too, Mammy.'

Reluctantly, Rab and Emmie pulled apart. ‘Your mam needs to rest,' Rab told him firmly. Barny's face fell. ‘But I'll take you out in the boat,' Rab promised. The boy brightened at once.

‘You sleep, Mammy,' he ordered. ‘I'll fetch a fish for tea.'

Emmie smiled at them both. ‘That's grand, bonny lad.'

She watched them go, then sank back into the bed. It smelled of camphor and traces of Barny. Emmie closed her eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in months. The last thing she heard was the splash of ducks on water and her son's laughter, before she fell into exhausted sleep.

***

It took a week before Emmie was back on her feet. Flora stayed to help nurse her back to health, sharing the bed with her while Barny slept in a box bed that Rab had made him. Laurie helped cook, Philip and Rab worked the allotment gardens, Barny fed Cobbles and fished, Mabel mended clothes and instructed Laurie in the making of cordials and pickling onions. Little by little, Emmie was able to help the small band of comrades.

After ten days, Flora took her farewell. Philip decreed he would be the only one to take her down the valley to the nearest station, to prevent attention being drawn to strangers. Barny protested at being left out of the trip and cried when the doctor hugged him goodbye.

‘You'll be twice the size when I see you again,' she joked. ‘I'll bring your Uncle Charles to visit and you can teach him how to use that fish trap.'

Emmie hugged her tightly. ‘Thank you for everything you've done for us,' she gulped. ‘We owe you so much.'

‘You owe me nothing.' Flora smiled in affection. ‘You and Barny have given me more pleasure than you will ever know - Charles too.'

‘Give him our love,' Emmie said tearfully. ‘Tell him we'll all meet again in peacetime.'

‘In peacetime,' Flora echoed.

They waved her away until the carriage disappeared into the trees. Rab gave Barny a ride back on his shoulders. The rest of the day, Emmie worked in the garden, chatting to Laurie as he shelled peas while Rab took Barny off to the woods to snare rabbits.

Philip came back with flour and oats and a precious bag of sugar he had bartered with his wife's cordial. That evening they cooked on an open fire by the riverbank and sat around in the long evening twilight, discussing the news from the newspaper Philip had brought. There was an upsurge of fighting on the Front at a place called Passchendaele, food riots in Germany, a resumption of war by the new Russian parliament against the wishes of Lenin's Bolsheviks. They talked late into the night, Barny falling asleep in Emmie's lap.

Rab lifted the boy for her and carried him to his box bed, tucked in behind the stove. Barny hardly stirred.

‘So full of fresh air,' Emmie mused. ‘It's a little bit of paradise for him.'

‘And me,' Rab said in a low voice. In the glow of a midsummer night, Emmie could see his searching look. She held it a moment, then looked away. Rab turned. ‘Good night, lass,' he murmured, and left.

Emmie's heart raced. Had he wanted to stay the night, now that Flora was gone? Part of'her yearned to lie with him, yet she was wary. The thought of her miscarried baby still plagued her. She was not ready for intimacy, but did not know how to tell Rab. She went to bed alone, lying long into the night, listening to the bark of a fox in the nearby woods.

July came and a group of gypsies appeared in the woods with brightly painted wagons. At first, Emmie and her friends were cautious of the newcomers. They did not want word spreading around the area of the nature of their community. But it was not long before Barny had made friends with a boy called Ned and brought him back for tea.

Gradually they got to know Ned's family. The Kennedys were tinkers from south-west Scotland, who relied on agricultural work. They moved about, picking up casual work as well as news. A socialist convention in Leeds had demanded negotiated peace, but their proposed mass meetings had been banned. There was a rash of strikes from the Mersey to the Clyde over long working hours and rising prices.

‘There's talk of industrial conscription,' Ned's older brother said. ‘Fit lads that are in essential jobs are being pressured into wearing badges to say they're able-bodied.'

Rab was indignant. ‘Aye, and you know what that means? Next thing is they'll be bringing in the old men and the unskilled to take their place.'

Ned's father, David, nodded. ‘And packing them off to the Front.'

‘It's a wonder there hasn't been revolution.' Rab threw up his hands in despair.

‘Folk are too ground down with surviving,' David grunted.

‘Dead or in prison,' Laurie added bitterly.

‘Not all.' Ned's mother, Lily, spoke up. She told how she had been approached in Liverpool by some women factory workers. ‘Wanted me to join a peace crusade,' she said, wide-eyed. ‘Said it was time working-class lassies got together and did something before we were left with a country of widows and orphans.'

Emmie looked at Rab in encouragement. Later, as they stood watching the boys throwing pebbles into the chuckling river, she said, ‘I think the tide might be turning in our favour. People can only take so much.'

They walked arm in arm along the riverbank as the sun set. Flies danced above the water. Rab pulled her down on to a sandy bank.

‘Emmie,' he said, looking at her intently, ‘you know I want to lie with you.'

Her heart jerked.

Rab went on, ‘I don't hold with marriage promises, only the ones made between lovers. A lass should be free to love who she wants, not be tied like a serf to a husband.' He stroked her cheek. ‘But you, Emmie, I'm not sure what you want. Do you still feel tied to Tom by your vows? I know you're more religious…'

‘No,' Emmie said, ‘I believe in a loving God, not one who condones wife beating. I feel nothing for Tom - and I would risk my soul to lie with you, Rab.'

‘But something is holding you back?' he challenged her.

Emmie let go a heavy sigh and told him about miscarrying in the prison.

‘I'm frightened of intimacy - the risk of losing a babe again,' she confided.

Rab gripped her to him. ‘My poor Emmie,' he groaned.

They held each other for a long time. In the still evening, they could hear Barny chattering with Ned about fish and desert islands. Emmie broke their silence.

‘Has Barny ever talked about Tom to you?'

‘No,' Rab answered.

‘Me neither,' Emmie said, thoughtful. ‘Tom frightens him.'

‘And you?' Rab questioned.

Emmie looked at him. ‘What frightens me is the thought of having to gan back to Tom for Barny's sake.'

‘You don't have to,' Rab insisted.

‘But what if he tried to take Barny from me?' Emmie agonised. ‘As his father, he's Barny's guardian. I have no rights - especially if we …'

Rab looked at her in bewilderment. ‘Are you telling me, if Tom survives the war, you're prepared to go back to him?'

Emmie looked at his overwrought expression and hated herself for the pain she caused him. ‘If it's the only way I'll keep Barny with me, then yes, I'll gan back to Tom.'