Red Sky in the Morning (23 page)

‘Well, good luck. Sorry I can’t be of more help.’

‘You have been. You’ve given us more places to look for the feller. Thanks. Come on, Tony. We’ve a long day ahead.’

By milking time that evening Eddie and Tony had still not returned and, of their own accord, the cows were gathering down near the yard, their udders full and
uncomfortable.

Anna, standing at the top of the rise and looking down towards the farmyard, chewed her lip worriedly. Ought she to go down to the yard and begin the milking? Two things stopped her. Bertha, of
course, and the fact that Anna was uneasy around cows. In the six years she had been here, she had only helped with the milking once or twice. And even then she had scuttled into the byre and out
again as quickly as she could, afraid of being kicked by a restless cow, but even more afraid of Bertha finding her. Only when Eddie had broken his leg had she felt comfortable being there.

Above the wind, she heard a distant sound and glanced to the left to see the pony turning in at the gate. She strained her eyes through the dusk of the winter’s evening.

There were three figures sitting in the trap. Anna’s heart leapt with hope as the three figures alighted and two – Tony and a tall, broad stranger – hurried up the path towards
her. Tony spotted her and waved excitedly.

Anna felt a lump rise in her throat and tears prickle behind her eyes. ‘Oh thank you, thank you,’ she breathed. Then she turned and ran down the track towards the little cottage,
stumbling and almost falling in her urgency. ‘Clare, oh Clare, come quickly.’

The door opened before she reached it, but it was Maisie who ran out. ‘Mam, Mam. She’s not here. I couldn’t stop her. She’s gone out. Into the woods, I
think—’

‘No, oh no!’ Anna was panic-stricken and blaming herself. She shouldn’t have left Clare alone.

She caught hold of Maisie. ‘Tony’s coming up the track with a man and I think it’s Clare’s husband. Peter’s daddy. Now, you stay here, darling, and tell Tony and
the man to come into the woods.’

Without waiting for a response from her daughter, for Anna knew Maisie would do as she had asked, Anna ran into the wood. It was dark and cold and the wind tore through the branches overhead,
making a sound like rushing water.

‘This is the worst place she could have come,’ Anna muttered to herself. Maybe, she thought, in her confused state poor Clare had thought the noise was the sound of the sea and she
had gone towards it to search for her man.

‘Clare,’ she cried out. ‘Clare. Come back. He’s here. Bill’s here.’

She was taking a chance on this being the truth, but moments later Tony and the stranger came crashing into the woods behind her. Breathlessly, Tony said. ‘We found him. This is Bill.
Where is she?’

‘I don’t know. She can’t have been gone long. I only went to the top of the hill. I wasn’t away more than a few minutes. Oh, I’m so sorry—’

The big man gripped her arm briefly. ‘Not your fault, lass. From what this young feller tells me, you’ve already saved her life once. Don’t blame yourself.’

Tony moved ahead shouting her name and then Bill cupped his big hands around his mouth and let out such a roar that Anna felt her ears ring.

‘Clare. It’s me, Bill.
Claaaare.
’

They waited a moment, listening. Bill shouted again and then they listened again.

‘I heard something,’ Tony said, pushing his way through the trees and undergrowth. ‘I’m sure I did. This way.’

Bill and Anna followed eagerly. Bill shouted again and this time they all heard a faint cry.

‘She’s here,’ Tony, still leading the way, shouted jubilantly, but then he stood aside as Bill rushed forward to gather his wife into his arms.

‘Oh, my darling girl. I thought you were lost. I thought I’d lost all of you.’

Clare was clinging to him as if she would never let him out of her sight again. ‘I thought you’d drowned. I thought you were dead. I didn’t want to live. Oh, Bill, I’m
sorry.’

He smoothed back her hair and between showering kisses on her face, murmured reassuring endearments. ‘It’s all right. I’m here now. We’re all safe . . .’

Anna was standing transfixed, staring at the tender scene and feeling a mixture of thankfulness and joy for them, yet, for herself, an acute longing.

If only . . .

She felt Tony touch her arm. ‘Come on,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s leave ’em to it. They’re all right now.’

‘Yes,’ Anna murmured. ‘They’re all right now.’

It wasn’t until Bertha saw the reports in the local papers that she realized exactly what her husband and son had done. Eddie Appleyard was hailed as a hero for his
rescue work.

All Bertha could say was, ‘And how do you think you’re going to do the ploughing now?’

‘I’ll think of something, Bertha,’ was all Eddie would say. ‘I’ll think of something.’

But Bertha, keeping herself to herself, had no idea what the locals thought of her husband.

‘You wouldn’t believe it,’ a beaming Pat told Anna. ‘They’re falling over themselves to help. Mrs Arnold at the village shop has got a collection box on her counter
for the flood victims and she ses she has to empty it twice a day. And as for Eddie, he’s had the offer of three tractors and five trailers to borrow whenever he wants that I know about.
And,’ she added triumphantly, ‘they’re all talking about your brave rescue of that poor woman.’

Anna stared at her. ‘How does anyone know about that?’

For a moment, Pat could have bitten her tongue off. It wasn’t like her to let herself chatter so much that she was in danger of letting out secrets. But, for once, she had been so excited
that Eddie’s kind-heartedness had at last been recognized and then at hearing the villagers speak kindly of Anna, that she had let her tongue run away with itself. She knew very well how the
news had got out. Maisie had told Tony and he had deliberately spoken of it, hoping it would cast Anna in a good light amongst the locals.

Pat wrinkled her forehead and pretended vagueness. ‘Don’t really know, ducky. I expect Mrs Warren is singing your praises from the rooftops. And so she should.’

‘Mmm,’ Anna said, eyeing the nurse suspiciously. ‘Maybe.’

‘Anyway,’ Pat said, turning the topic of conversation, ‘all’s well that ends well, as they say.’

Now Anna smiled, thinking of the little family who had stayed with her and who were now happily reunited.

If only her own story could have had such a happy ending.

‘I’ve passed. I’ve passed the scholarship. I’m going to the grammar school in town. The same one Tony went to.’

Maisie danced around the table in Bertha’s kitchen clapping her hands. She caught hold of Bertha and tried to make her dance too, but the woman, who had grown even larger in the last few
years, flapped her hands. ‘Oh go on with ya. My dancing days are over.’ She sniffed and added wryly, ‘If I ever had any.’ Then she smiled, ‘But I’m real pleased
at your news, lovey. And Tony will be too.’ There was a slight pause. This was the moment she had waited eleven years for. Bertha’s eyes gleamed as she added, with deceptive casualness,
‘To think that his sister is following in his footsteps—’

Maisie stopped, her dancing suddenly stilled. She stared at Bertha. ‘What – what did you say?’

Bertha shrugged her fat shoulders. ‘Surely you know you’re his sister, don’t you? Well, half-sister.’

As if she had been pole-axed, Maisie shook her head. ‘I – I don’t know what you mean? How can I be?’

‘Mr Eddie’s your dad, that’s how.’

‘But – but I haven’t got a dad. Mam ses so.’

Bertha couldn’t prevent her mouth twisting scathingly. ‘Everyone’s got a dad. Hasn’t your mother even told you the facts of life yet?’

Dumbly, Maisie shook her head.

‘Well, you’re a big girl now and it’s high time you knew. You’ll be going to the big school soon and you’ll be laughed at if you don’t know. Besides, if you
learn it in the playground, you’ll learn it wrong. You ought to know the truth. The whole truth. Sit down . . .’ She took the girl firmly by the shoulder and pressed her onto the stool
near the table. ‘Let’s get us a cup of tea.’ Bertha’s thin mouth, almost lost now between the folds of fat, smiled, and her eyes were glittering with a strange excitement.
‘And one of your favourite scones. Then we’ll have a little chat, eh?’

Maisie walked slowly up the track and over the hill, her head spinning. She forgot completely to go out of the farmyard gate and into the lane to walk the long way home, as she
usually did after a visit to Mrs Bertha. This time she didn’t care if her mother saw her and guessed where she had been. She didn’t even care if her mother shouted at her. She would
shout back. And if Anna hit her, she’d probably hit her back the way she was feeling at this minute.

Bertha had spared the young girl nothing in the end. She had begun gently enough, as if she was doing Maisie a favour. ‘You know how animals are born, don’t you?’

Maisie had nodded. She’d witnessed sheep and cows giving birth and had accepted it as the most natural thing in the world. ‘Well, it’s the same with human beings.’ And
then Bertha launched into an explanation of all the facts of life in the most intimate detail. By the end Maisie felt sick, but Bertha was not done yet.

‘You want to be careful of men, young Maisie.’ She wagged her finger at the girl. ‘They’re only after one thing and they’ll tell you all sorts to get it. Tell you
they love you and that they’ll marry you. But they’ll never be faithful just to you. They’re like animals. Like a ram amongst the ewes.’

The vivid pictures Bertha aroused in the young girl’s mind made her scramble up from the table and rush outside. She had leant against the wall, breathing deeply, her eyes closed.

Inside the house Bertha cleared away the cups and saucers, smiling as she did so.

Maisie reached the cottage and entered by the back door. To her relief the kitchen was empty, so she climbed the ladder to her bedroom and lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Was it really true what Mrs Bertha had told her? Was Mr Eddie really her father and Tony her half-brother? Had her mother, her pretty mother, done
that
with Mr Eddie? He was an old man
in the young girl’s eyes. It was disgusting. And the way that Bertha had explained it to her, it was all disgusting. Maisie groaned and turned over, burying her head in the pillow, trying to
blot out the images in her mind’s eye.

She couldn’t ask her mother about it because Anna would then know she had been visiting Bertha and had been doing for years. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask Mr Eddie. She
couldn’t even ask Tony. He was away at agricultural college in his final year there. He would be coming home to stay then, to work on the farm. But he wouldn’t be here until the end of
June or so.

Maisie sat up suddenly. There was one person she could talk to, who would understand. Nurse Pat.

‘Hello, ducky. This is a nice surprise. Come in.’

Pat Jessop had hardly altered in the eleven years since Maisie’s birth and to the young girl she had always been Auntie Pat.

As Pat ushered her visitor into her cosy sitting room and fetched her a glass of lemonade and a chocolate biscuit, she eyed the girl worriedly. She could see at once that something was troubling
Maisie.

The girl sat on the old sofa, twisting her handkerchief in her fingers, leaving her drink and biscuit untouched.

Pat sat down beside her and took the girl’s agitated hands into her own. ‘What is it, love? Come on, you can tell me.’

Maisie raised tearful brown eyes. ‘You won’t tell anyone? Not my mam? Not anyone? Promise?’

Pat’s mind worked quickly. If the girl had been older she’d’ve guessed she was in trouble. Pregnant and scared to death. But Maisie was only eleven. It was almost impossible.
Not entirely, but most unlikely. But Pat was an honest woman. Carefully she said, ‘I won’t tell a soul, but I might have to encourage you to tell someone else. I don’t know till
you do tell me. It depends what it is, but I’m trying to be truthful with you, Maisie.’

The girl nodded. Then the words came out in a rush, all jumbled up and making little sense at first. When at last Maisie fell silent, Pat swiftly pieced the sorry tale together. Her mouth was a
hard line, her kind eyes unusually angry. Her wrath was not directed at Maisie but at the unthinking woman who had imparted nature’s most beautiful facts to a naive child in such a cruel
manner. It could warp the young girl’s mind for life, Pat thought, incensed by Bertha’s callousness.

She sighed, knowing that she must do what she could to minimize the damage. And she must do it now.

‘Now listen to me, Maisie,’ Pat began in a kind but firm tone. ‘Bertha Appleyard is a bitter, twisted woman.’ Over the next half-hour, Pat’s gentle voice eased away
the girl’s horror. She explained that Bertha had had an unhappy childhood because of the kind of man that her father was.

‘A father is a big influence, specially on a girl and—’

Maisie raised her eyes to look steadily into Pat’s. ‘Auntie Pat, is Mr Eddie my father?’

‘Only your mother or Mr Eddie could answer you that, but I don’t believe he is. Both he and your mother always say that he found her in the marketplace in Ludthorpe just before
Christmas with nowhere to go. He brought her home and gave her shelter in his little cottage. And you’ve lived there ever since.’

‘Then – then who is my father?’

Pat took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know. I’m guessing that your mother wasn’t married to him and that she ran away. But why she did I don’t know either. Maybe one day
she’ll tell you. All I do know is that over the years she has tried to remain hidden away. She’s terrified of being found, presumably by her family or – or your father. Several
times she’s talked about leaving. About getting further away.’ Pat smiled gently. ‘But always something’s happened to stop her going.’