Above the Harvest Moon
Above the Harvest Moon
RITA BRADSHAW
headline
Copyright © 2007 Rita Bradshaw
The right of Rita Bradshaw to be identified as the Author of
the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication
may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any
means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case
of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences
issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2010
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance
to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN : 978 0 7553 7593 6
This Ebook produced by Jouve Digitalisation des Informations
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
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Table of Contents
Rita Bradshaw was born in Northamptonshire, where she still lives today. At the age of sixteen she met her husband - whom she considers her soulmate - and they have two daughters and a son and three young grandchildren. Much to her delight, Rita’s first attempt at a novel was accepted for publication, and she went on to write many more successful novels under a pseudonym before writing for Headline using her own name.
As a committed Christian and passionate animal-lover Rita has a full and busy life, but her writing continues to be a consuming pleasure that she never tires of. In any spare moments she loves reading, walking eating out and visiting the cinema and theatre, as well as being involved in her local church and animal welfare.
To read some fascinating facts about the harvest moon and the countryside of the past and to find out what Rita Bradshaw’s most proud of, don’t miss the exciting extra material at the back of this book -
Just for You.
Just for You.
This book is especially for our darling grandson, Connor Joshua Thompson, as he prepares to start big school. Such a precious, comical and amazingly determined spirit in so small a body. Pappy and I love you so very much, little man.
And my Cara, already mourning the end of an era.Take comfort in the knowledge your boys love you all the world and that you and Ian are raising them to be the sort of men the world is in huge need of. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, and the wonderful mother you are.
Out of much research material special thanks go to
Treasured Tales of the Countryside
, published by David & Charles,
A Remembered Land
edited by Sean Street and
Tommy Turnbull
,
A Miner’s Life
by Joseph Robinson.
Treasured Tales of the Countryside
, published by David & Charles,
A Remembered Land
edited by Sean Street and
Tommy Turnbull
,
A Miner’s Life
by Joseph Robinson.
ABOVE THE HARVEST MOON
How often did he come to me
Beneath the harvest moon,
Take me in his arms awhile
Beneath the harvest moon,
Whisper that he loved me,
That sweethearts we’d remain,
Though all would try to part us
He’d not forget our sweet refrain.
Beneath the harvest moon,
Take me in his arms awhile
Beneath the harvest moon,
Whisper that he loved me,
That sweethearts we’d remain,
Though all would try to part us
He’d not forget our sweet refrain.
But then the days turned colder
And I waited there in vain,
Until another came and spoke
And took away my pain.
And when I gave my heart to him
I knew he would be true,
That beneath the fire and brimstone
He was of softer hue.
And I waited there in vain,
Until another came and spoke
And took away my pain.
And when I gave my heart to him
I knew he would be true,
That beneath the fire and brimstone
He was of softer hue.
Now when the harvest moon comes
peeping
And sweet whispers fill the air,
I can give my love so freely
Because I know how much he cares.
The twilight holds a magic
And nature sings a finer tune
Because my love he takes me
Far above the harvest moon.
peeping
And sweet whispers fill the air,
I can give my love so freely
Because I know how much he cares.
The twilight holds a magic
And nature sings a finer tune
Because my love he takes me
Far above the harvest moon.
ANON
PART ONE
1898 - Suffer the Little Children
Chapter 1
Rose Fletcher glanced at the clock then her mother, her voice anxious and apologetic when she murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Mam . . .’
‘Aye, I know, I know.’ Her mother hugged the small child nestled on her lap and it was to him she spoke next. ‘I’ve got to make myself scarce before your da comes home, Jake,’ she said into the bright little face looking up at her. ‘By, it comes to summat when I’m not welcome in me own daughter’s home.’
‘Aw, Mam, don’t.You know how much I love to see you but Silas . . . Well, you know what he’s like.’
Aye, she knew what Silas Fletcher was like all right. Ada Hedley said no more. Her poor lass had enough on her plate without her adding to it. She stood up and placed her grandson on his feet, whereupon he toddled over to the thick clippy mat in front of the glowing range and picked up the tin lid and wooden spoon he had been playing with when she had arrived earlier. Her voice soft, Ada said, ‘He’s a grand little lad, Rose, and so bonny. Bright as a button an’ all.’
Rose smiled. ‘Thanks for the brisket and dripping and everything, Mam, but you shouldn’t. You can’t afford it.’
‘Go on with you.Your da’s in work and there’s only the two of us at home. If I can’t see me only bairn all right it’s a poor lookout. Here.’ Ada glanced over her shoulder as though there was someone else in the kitchen with them before thrusting some coins into her daughter’s hand. ‘Put this where he can’t get his mitts on it. I bet you’re behind with the rent again.’
‘Mam, no, I can’t take this.’ Rose stared down at the two half-crowns and shilling. ‘It’s too much. You don’t have to do this all the time.’
‘Look, hinny, it fair kills me to see you taking in all that washing and ironing and working every hour the good Lord sends, while that one drinks and gambles his wage away with them pals of his. Take it, Rose. It’s for you and the bairn. I know how you whittle about paying the rent.’
‘Aw, Mam, Mam.’
‘An’ don’t cry, lass.You’ll upset the bairn, now then. It’ll work out in the end, things always do.’
‘I’ve been such a fool.’
‘Aye, well, we can all say that at some time or other, hinny. There’s not a man nor woman can say, hand on heart, they’ve not made a few mistakes along the road.’
‘But most of them didn’t have to marry their mistake.’
Both women’s eyes were drawn to the child who was banging away at the tin lid with the spoon, jabbering nineteen to the dozen in baby talk. Becoming aware of their gaze, he stopped and gave them a big smile, showing his small white teeth, before resuming his game. ‘You can’t say some good didn’t come out of it when you look at him,’ Ada said warmly. ‘He’s the bonniest bairn I’ve ever seen and no mistake.’
‘I wish Da would try and see it that way.’
‘Lass, lass, you know how your da is. He’s a proud man and it knocked him for six, especially it being Silas Fletcher. He’s never had any truck with the Fletchers, thinks they’re the lowest of the low, he does.’
Rose couldn’t argue with this. She agreed with it. Instead she lifted her apron and dried her face, a little catch in her voice when she said, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mam.’
‘An’ me you, lass.’Ada reached out and gently touched her daughter’s cheek, a rare gesture from one who was not physically demonstrative. Then, as the wooden clock on the shelf above the range chimed the hour, she pulled on her worn hat and coat, sliding woollen gloves over chilblained fingers. ‘I’d better be off but you keep your chin up, hinny. Like me old mam used to say, worse things happen at sea. I’ll see meself out, lass.’
Worse things happen at sea
. Once the door had closed behind her mother, Rose walked across to the loose brick at the side of the range which Silas knew nothing about. She carefully withdrew it and placed the coins next to the sixpence and odd pennies in the little hollow over which the brick fitted and slid it back in place. Then she cleared away every trace of her mother’s visit and set the table for dinner, her mind churning. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being married to Silas. If it wasn’t for Jake she would have walked down to the river months ago, like poor Emily Burns had after her three bairns had been taken with the fever within weeks of each other. All the old wives hereabouts had had a field day gossiping about that, saying Emily shouldn’t have done it, that it was a mortal sin to do away with yourself, but Rose had understood that life could be such that facing the Almighty’s wrath in the hereafter was preferable to living.
. Once the door had closed behind her mother, Rose walked across to the loose brick at the side of the range which Silas knew nothing about. She carefully withdrew it and placed the coins next to the sixpence and odd pennies in the little hollow over which the brick fitted and slid it back in place. Then she cleared away every trace of her mother’s visit and set the table for dinner, her mind churning. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being married to Silas. If it wasn’t for Jake she would have walked down to the river months ago, like poor Emily Burns had after her three bairns had been taken with the fever within weeks of each other. All the old wives hereabouts had had a field day gossiping about that, saying Emily shouldn’t have done it, that it was a mortal sin to do away with yourself, but Rose had understood that life could be such that facing the Almighty’s wrath in the hereafter was preferable to living.
Jake’s grizzle told her he was hungry.‘I’m sorry, hinny. We’re all behind with Grandma coming, aren’t we?’ she said softly, picking him up and putting him into the stout high chair her father had made for her when she was a baby.‘You’ve normally had your tea by now. Here,’ she handed him a crust of bread, ‘have that till Mam can feed you your bowl of broth.’
After checking the mutton broth simmering on the range, Rose hastily sliced one of the loaves she had baked earlier and put it on the table. She then filled the big black kettle and placed it on the hob, putting the teapot on the steel shelf at the side of the range so it would warm through. Outside, the January day was raw, the smell of snow in the wind, but in the kitchen the mellow light from the oil lamp increased the cosiness. All the furniture had been bought second-hand - with her mother’s help - in the frantically busy days before her hasty marriage to Silas. The kitchen table with its two narrow benches tucked underneath, the stout old sideboard and massive clippy mat - so heavy it took two to lift it but which provided some comfort against the cold stone flags - had all come from the house of an elderly widow who had died. Silas’s very ugly high-backed chair with a slatted back and flock cushions had been going cheap in the old market due to its condition, but after she had re-covered the cushions it didn’t look so bad.
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