Beyond the Veil of Tears (30 page)

Angeline didn’t know what it was that woke her, but when she opened her eyes it was to see a plump middle-aged woman with rosy-red cheeks and jet-black hair pulled
tightly into a bun staring at her. May must have roused at the same time, because she heard a movement behind her and her friend saying, ‘We’re not doing any harm, Missus. We’re
just resting awhile.’

‘You know you’re on private farmland?’

‘No . . . well, yes, I suppose so, but like I said, we’re just resting for a bit before we move on.’

The woman’s eyes swept over Angeline’s sling and then to May’s foot, which had turned all the colours of the rainbow. ‘Looks like you two have been in the
wars?’

‘We had an accident – fell down a bank in the dark. We’re . . . we’re trying to get to a town or big village to find work. Our da died and it was a tied cottage, so we
had to get out.’

‘You sisters then?’

May nodded.

‘Where’s your mam?’

‘She died years ago. There was only us and our da.’

Angeline rose to her feet, wincing as the movement hurt her arm. She sensed the woman didn’t believe May. ‘We’re not doing any harm,’ she said softly. ‘We just
wanted to shelter for the night, but we’ll move on if you tell us to.’

The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you’re sisters, why don’t you talk like her? Come on, I’m not daft and I don’t like being lied to. You’re an educated
lass – a cut above.’

Too late Angeline realized she should have kept quiet. Miss Robson’s elocution lessons had rid her of all but the slightest of accents and had given her the diction and pronunciation of a
young lady (something her mama, in particular, had been adamant about), but right at this moment it wasn’t helpful, to say the least.

‘She was sent away to school,’ May began, but Angeline gestured for her to be quiet.

‘You’re right,’ she said even more softly. ‘We’re friends, not sisters.’

‘You from that asylum place that caught fire?’

Angeline blinked. She heard May struggle to her feet, but before her friend could deny it, as she was sure May would, she nodded. As the woman took a step backwards, Angeline spoke quickly:
‘Neither of us is remotely mad, I promise. I know that’s probably what people who are mad
would
say, but it’s true. My husband had me locked away so he was free to live
his life without the encumbrance of a wife, and May—’ She stopped abruptly, not sure if May would want to share her story.

‘The son of the house where I worked forced me, and when I said he was the father of the baby I was carrying, the family had me put away,’ May finished for her.

‘When the fire started, we saw our chance to escape and we took it.’ Angeline glanced behind her at May and saw that she looked as frightened as she herself felt. ‘You have no
idea what it is like to be somewhere like that when you are perfectly sane. It . . . it’s beyond words. We’ll leave now, this minute, but please don’t tell anyone that
you’ve seen us and give us away. People were trapped in the flames and died, and they’ll think we’re there, under the remains of the building. It’s our only hope.’

There was a pause while the woman’s gaze moved several times to both faces. Then she said, ‘This husband of yours? He sounds a right so-an’-so.’

There was bitterness enough in her tone to convince the most sceptical mind that she was telling the truth when Angeline said, ‘He is.’

The woman nodded. ‘Gentry, is he? Aye, I thought so. I’ve no time for the gentry. Come riding over me husband’s land on the hunt, all dressed up in their finery, and never mind
the crops or anyone who gets in their way. No, I’ve no time for any of ’em.’ Again the keen brown eyes searched their faces, and then the woman smiled. ‘You two seem all
there to me, and I’m no bad judge. I’ll not give you away, don’t fret; but perhaps better me husband – he’s the farmer, Farmer Burns – don’t know
you’re here. Had a spot of trouble last year with folk stealing the beet and what-have-you, and he’s been a mite touchy since then, if you know what I mean. You can sleep here tonight,
but just the one night, mind. I want you gone in the morning.’

Angeline inclined her head as she said, ‘Thank you, thank you so much. You’re very kind.’

‘I’ve been called a lot of things in me time, lass, but rarely kind.’ The woman chuckled to herself. ‘What have you done to your wrist then? Painful, is it?’

‘I’ve broken it, I think.’

‘Broken, you say? Let’s have a look, lass. When I was bringing my six lads up there was rarely a few months went by without one of ’em breaking something.’ The
farmer’s wife helped Angeline take her arm out of the sling and then gently felt her wrist. ‘Aye, it’s broken all right, but it seems a clean break to me. You want me to see to
it? I used to sort my lads out myself – them quacks charge a fortune. What about you, dear? Want me to look at your foot?’ she added to May, examining her ankle before pronouncing,
‘Nowt but a sprain, but they’re painful enough. I’ll strap that up an’ all, when I come back after I’ve given my lot their dinner. Suppose to be out looking for one of
our goats, I am. She’s a wanderer, Eliza is. Won’t stay with the others and is forever finding a way out of the pen.’

Angeline was feeling giddy, whether from lack of food, the pain in her wrist or simply relief at the way things had turned out she didn’t know, but when she said faintly, ‘I need to
sit down’ and slid to the floor with her back against the barn, the farmer’s wife looked at her intently.

‘When did you two last eat something?’

It was May who said, ‘A couple of days ago.’

‘I’ll see what I can bring later. You’re lucky it’s a warm May this year. Last year there was snow on the ground even now. Still, every cloud has a silver lining.
That’s what Farmer Burns always says, and he’s rarely wrong.’

With that the little woman bustled off, leaving the two girls staring at each other. May hobbled over to Angeline. ‘Do you think we can trust her? Perhaps we should go now? She might bring
her husband or one of her lads back with her, or send them to fetch the authorities.’

It was beyond her to go anywhere tonight. Weakly Angeline murmured, ‘May, let’s take it Mrs Burns is the silver lining in our cloud, all right?’

A soft, scented twilight was falling when the farmer’s wife returned carrying an enormous wicker basket. Setting it down next to where Angeline was sitting, Mrs Burns
said softly, ‘Lass, I won’t pretend this isn’t going to hurt like the dickens, but it needs to be done, if that wrist is going to heal properly. Now I’ve got to make sure
the two ends of the bone are lined up and then strap your wrist to this splint. All right? I’ll be as quick as I can, and your friend will have to help me, cos it’ll need two of us.
Then we’ll see to your foot,’ she added to May, ‘and after you can both have a bite and sup tea.’

Afterwards Angeline was glad she hadn’t known what was in store. Halfway through the procedure she must have fainted, because when she came round her wrist was bandaged to the wood and May
was looking at her with a white face and anxious eyes. Mrs Burns was just tying the knot in her bandage, her voice cheery as she said, ‘All done, lass, and it’s going to feel better now
it’s held firm. Here, drink this.’ She delved into the basket and brought out a bottle. ‘A couple of good swigs will help.’

‘What is it?’ Angeline said as May helped her to sit up.

‘Laudanum. It’ll dull the pain and help you sleep, and you’ll feel much better in the morning.’

Turning her attention to May, Mrs Burns swiftly and expertly bandaged her ankle before returning to her cavernous basket and bringing out a cloth on which she laid a whole egg-and-ham pie, a
crusty loaf and a pat of butter, and a baked jam roll and pot of thick cream. Setting two plates and a handful of cutlery in front of them, she then added a jug with a lid on it, full of tea,
saying, ‘It’s already got milk and sugar in it’, and two tin mugs. ‘Now, I’ll leave you both to get on the other side of that lot, but I’ll be back in the
morning to see how you’re doing. They think I’m collecting the last of the eggs from the hen house, so I’d better get going. Now, now, the pair of you – no blubbering. You
get stuck into your grub, all right?’

‘I . . . I don’t know how to thank you,’ Angeline managed through her tears, as May openly sobbed at the side of her. It was the first time she had seen the tough, resilient
May cry and it shocked her, although of course it shouldn’t, she told herself. May might be made of stern stuff, but she was only human, and the unexpected kindness was overwhelming.

They ate every morsel of food and drank every last drop of the sweet tea, before snuggling down on their hay bed as the moon and stars came out in a velvet-black sky. They were asleep even
before they said goodnight to each other.

Mrs Burns was as good as her word. They were still fast asleep when she woke them in the morning. Angeline had stirred once in the middle of the night when something furry had
run over her legs. Normally that would have been enough to have her jumping up and screaming, but she was so tired she had merely thought, ‘Hope it’s a mouse and not a rat’ and
had gone straight back to sleep.

‘Rise and shine!’ The farmer’s wife stood smiling down at them, basket in hand.

‘What time is it?’ May murmured sleepily as she sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

‘Gone eight, lass. I had to wait till my lot were in from milking and what-have-you, an’ had had their breakfasts and gone out again, before I came. Likely one or the other of
’em will be along this way later, so I wouldn’t dilly-dally once you’ve eaten.’ She had taken two dishes out of the basket as she’d been speaking, one with several
slices of thick ham and a few sausages in it and the other full of scrambled eggs. This time the accompanying jug was full of thick, sweet, milky cocoa. ‘How’s the wrist?’ she
asked Angeline as she finished setting out the meal on the cloth. ‘Feeling better?’

‘Yes, yes, it is. Thank you.’ Angeline was staring in wonderment at the food. In spite of the big meal last night she realized she was hungry enough to eat a horse.

‘I’m a dab hand at fixing bones, if I do say so myself. Had plenty of practice with my lads. You were lucky it hadn’t come through the skin. Always more of a problem when that
happens. My Robin nearly lost his arm when it got infected when he was a bairn, but he’s six foot three now and got arms on him like a wrestler at the Michaelmas Fair. Now tuck in, the pair
of you. I’ll wait and take the plates and everything back with me, so no one knows you’ve been here.’

Mrs Burns continued to chatter non-stop as they devoured the food, telling them all about her lads, the oldest of whom was thirty and the youngest sixteen. The six of them lived at home and
worked on the farm with their father, although the eldest two were betrothed to twin sisters and planned to get wed as soon as the cottages they were helping their father build close to the
farmhouse were finished. They sounded a happy and contented family, but then – as Angeline remarked to May later – how could they be anything else with someone like Mrs Burns as mother
hen?

Once they had cleared every scrap of food Mrs Burns produced an old canvas bag from the basket. ‘There’s some cheese sandwiches, fruit cake and a bottle of my lemonade in there for
the journey,’ she said offhandedly, and as they thanked her again she added, ‘Don’t be daft, it’s nowt. A farm can always spare a bit of food.’

‘It’s the world to us, Mrs Burns.’ Angeline swallowed deeply. ‘We were at the end of ourselves last night. And it’s not just the food – wonderful though that
is – but the fact you listened to us and believed us. We’ll never forget you, and your boys are very lucky to have you as their mother.’

‘Go on with you!’ Mrs Burns flapped her hand to hide her pleasure. ‘It’s little enough, lass; but if we women can’t stick together, it’s a poor old world.
Now, you get on your way and go careful, mind.’ She grinned at May. ‘No more falling down banks, eh, lass?’

May went red. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Burns. I shouldn’t have lied to you. We hurt ourselves getting out of the asylum, as I suppose you’ve guessed.’

‘Aye, I
had
worked that one out for meself, lass. Still, you didn’t know me from Adam, and likely I’d have done the same thing in your shoes. It’s hard to expect
the best from folk when you’ve been through the mill, like you two.’ Her voice losing its briskness, she said softly, ‘I’ll say a prayer for the pair of you from this day
forth and ask the good Lord to bless you.’

Close to tears again, Angeline and May made their goodbyes. Mrs Burns directed them to a narrow bridle path that skirted the farm and wound across countryside towards Newcastle.

They passed the farm’s orchard at one point. Pink and white blossom, snow-like, loaded the boughs of apple and cherry trees and they stood for a moment gazing over the old dry-stone wall,
just drinking in the scene. A dizzy fragrance wafted over them on the warm breeze and the glinting bright blossom was a firm promise of the rich harvest to follow. The farm seemed another world
from the one they had been forced to inhabit.

More to herself than to May, Angeline murmured, ‘
This
is real, the flowers and the birds and the trees. You can trust this. This doesn’t lie.’

It didn’t really make sense, but May must have known exactly what she meant. She put her arm round Angeline for a moment, nodding as she said, ‘The world would be a grand place
without people in it. But we can trust each other, lass. That is a certainty for the rest of our lives, come thick or thin.’

They smiled at each other, a smile of perfect understanding.

‘I wish Verity was standing here with us now. If there was any justice, she would be,’ Angeline said. If Verity hadn’t introduced her to May, May would never have come looking
for her. Verity had been the connection that had brought them together. She doubted she would even have spoken to May, without Verity introducing them.

‘I know. But it was impossible. I think the fire must have started close to the seclusion rooms, because everything was blazing when I reached there. It was like a furnace.’