Authors: Margaret Dickinson
To Maddie’s surprise, he was as good as his word, he did not leave her for a moment the whole evening. In the lull between the dancing he paraded her around the room as if showing her off
to everyone and Maddie was secretly thrilled when more than one local girl cast furious glances in her direction. Only one dared to approach and, winding her arms about Michael’s neck, said,
‘I hope you’re saving the last waltz for me, Michael Brackenbury, and seeing me safely home
as usual
.’ The emphasis on the final two words was not lost on Maddie.
Gently Michael unfastened the girl’s hold around his neck. ‘Not tonight, Susan. I’ve to look after Maddie.’
Susan turned huge, innocent eyes upon Maddie. But in their depths the look was not so guileless. ‘She’ll be fine, won’t you? All the boys are panting to dance with her. Let her
have a bit of fun.’
‘I don’t want to dance with anyone else, thanks,’ Maddie said quickly, returning the girl’s stare, which was rapidly turning frosty. Now there was not even the pretence
of friendliness. ‘I’m with Michael.’
With the merest hint of emphasis on the word ‘I’, Maddie staked her claim.
The girl glanced back at Michael, who made no effort to contradict Maddie, so Susan shrugged. ‘Have it your own way then.’ And she flounced away, heels tapping angrily on the floor,
her full skirt bouncing as she walked.
‘Oops, I think I’ve upset her,’ Maddie said, not in the least contrite.
Michael laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it. Susan was getting far too possessive for my liking, anyway. Do her good.’
For a fleeting moment, Maddie wondered if he was using her to rid himself of Susan, but as he drew her into his arms for the lilting last waltz, she forgot all about the other girl and even
about poor Nick left sulking at home, too afraid to rebel against his mother.
It was a beautiful evening, but already the sharpness of autumn was in the air. Leaving the village, they walked into the pitch blackness of the lane leading to the farm.
‘I love the dark nights, don’t you?’ Michael said, pulling her closer.
Maddie thought about her life in the Home. Bedtime was an hour earlier in winter in a freezing dormitory where the whole night was punctuated by the sound of one or other of the girls coughing
and sneezing with colds or flu. On winter mornings, the girls woke to find ice on the inside of the windows and had to run, shivering, to the washroom to wash in cold water.
No, she thought, she didn’t like winter and doubted she ever would.
When she didn’t answer, Michael said, ‘It’ll be Christmas before we know it. What do you want Father Christmas to bring you, eh?’
In the darkness, Maddie grinned. ‘Just you.’
‘Eh?’ Close beside her, she felt him give a start. ‘What do you mean – just me?’
‘I’d like you for Christmas.’
‘What?’ Now he was laughing, joining in her fun. ‘All done up in pretty paper and tied up with tinsel?’
‘If you like. Then you’d be all mine and I could play with you all day.’
His arm tightened around her waist. ‘Oh Maddie,’ he whispered close to her ear. ‘You’re a little darling. Do you know that?’
She didn’t answer, didn’t know how to. Michael stopped and in the middle of the lane, beneath the bright stars and the fitful moon, he put his arms around her and held her close. She
lifted her face and felt his mouth warm upon hers.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ he murmured. ‘I won’t hurt you. I won’t ever hurt you. You’re my girl now and I’ll always look after you. I promise. I love
you, Maddie.’
As he said the magical words, words that had never before in the whole of her young life been said to her, Maddie let the love that was in her heart for him overflow.
‘And I love you, Michael. I’ve loved you from that very first day when I was sweeping the hearth.’
He laughed softly, his breath warming her cold cheeks. ‘You had a smut on your nose, did you know?’
They laughed softly together, even though there was no one out here in the darkness to hear them.
He kissed her again and then they walked on slowly, their arms entwined around each other. ‘What about your dad? Will he mind?’
‘’Course not. He’s very fond of you, you know. I can tell. Specially when he sticks up for you against Mrs T.’
‘Is she – I mean – are they . . .?’
‘Sharing the same bed?’ he said bluntly.
‘Well, yes.’
‘Lord, no. Who’d want to make love to that sourpuss?’
There was silence between them. Maddie longed to ask what had happened to his own mother, but their newfound closeness was so new, so fragile, that she dared not risk breaking the beauty of the
moment.
He must have read her mind, for he said, ‘Me mam died when I was born and for a while me dad coped with the help of his sister, who came here for a few months, and then later with help
from the village. That’s one of the good things about village life, you know. They do rally round when someone’s in trouble. Mind you, the down side is that everybody knows everybody
else’s business. But there you are, I suppose you can’t have one without the other.’
She was silent as he went on. ‘Anyway, when I was about two, dad heard that Mrs T’s husband had died in tragic circumstances and she’d been left with a tiny baby. So he did his
own bit of rallying and asked her if she’d like to come and be his housekeeper and look after me.’
‘How did her husband die?’
‘Dunno. I’ve never been told and if you even so much as mention the subject she goes off the deep end.’
‘Does Nick know?’
‘Shouldn’t think so. Even he’s not allowed to ask questions.’
‘Not about his own father?’ She was astounded. ‘That seems unfair.’
‘Mm.’ Michael was thoughtful. ‘I have wondered if there’s some dark secret about it all. I mean, I wonder if he went off with some other woman or something. Maybe
he’s not even dead at all. There’s no grave in the churchyard. I know, because I’ve looked.’
Maddie laughed. ‘You nosy parker, you.’
‘Well, you’d think if he’d just died, or even been killed, that she would talk to Nick about him. I mean me dad doesn’t talk a lot about me mam, because it upsets him.
But if ever I ask about her, he will tell me.’
They had arrived at the farmyard now and the house was in darkness.
‘Let’s go into the hay shed,’ Michael whispered. ‘We’ll be lovely and warm in there.’
As Michael opened the rickety door, the squeaking noise it made sounded loud in the stillness.
‘There – there aren’t any rats in here, are there?’ Maddie asked nervously. ‘I don’t like rats.’
‘I didn’t think you were scared of anything, young’un,’ he teased and then, sensing that she really was afraid, he added swiftly, ‘Don’t worry. We do get them
in here sometimes. Wherever there’s animal feed, you’ll always get Mr Rat and his family. But we keep a supply of poison and put some down regularly. Besides . . .’ he paused as
he laid his jacket on the hay for her and then put his arms around her. ‘I’m here to look after you.’
They snuggled down together, side by side. He kissed her and held her close and whilst her knowledge of kissing and petting was non-existent, Maddie found herself responding with a naturalness
that surprised her. Even shocked her a little. Perhaps, after all, a little corner of her mind whispered, you have got bad blood in you, just like Mrs Potter and Mrs Trowbridge said.
But then Michael was kissing her with such ardour that every other thought was swept from her mind.
‘I know where you were last night.’ Nick’s tone was sly.
Maddie glanced at him, puzzled. Of course he knew where they had been. At the dance. What was he on about?
‘So?’
‘There was bits of hay all over our bedroom floor this morning. Just you wait till me mam goes up there. You’ll be for it. She’s not daft neither.’
Now Maddie hid her face against the cow’s side, her fingers trembling as she gently squeezed the milk from the beast’s udder. Oh no, she thought. How could Michael have been so
thoughtless? She had been so careful to remove every trace of hay from her clothing when she had got to her room. She’d pushed it all into an old paper bag and had thrust it into the stove in
the kitchen this morning.
‘And you were very late in. I don’t think Mr Frank was best pleased either.’
Maddie quailed inwardly. This was worse than ever. Even Michael could not stand up to his father. If he was angry with her then . . .
‘Did he kiss you?’
Angry now, Maddie shot back, ‘That’s none of your business.’
Nick smirked. ‘So he did. I thought so. Well, you’re not the first. And you won’t be the last.’
Maddie opened her mouth to retort, but then she thought about the girl at the dance, remembering the intimate way she had spoken to Michael, the way she had looked at him.
Maddie swallowed. ‘Are you trying to get me into trouble?’ she said. ‘Go away and let me get on with me work.’
Nick gave a wry, humourless laugh. ‘I don’t have to make trouble for you. You’re doing a good job of that yourself. And as for “getting you into trouble”, if you
know what I mean . . .?’ Again the smirk was back. ‘Well, Michael’ll do that for you, all right.’
‘You’re just jealous,’ she snapped.
Nick laughed. ‘I aren’t jealous of a little trollop like you.’ The name-calling sounded strange coming from the young boy’s mouth and Maddie knew instinctively that the
words were not his own, but his mother’s. ‘A little bastard that nobody wants.’
Maddie stood up and faced him. ‘So why did she come to the Orphanage and pick a little bastard to come and work here, eh?’
‘You know why,’ Nick said nastily. ‘Because you ain’t no family to make trouble.’
‘The old beezum!’
‘Don’t you call my mother names.’
‘I’ll call her what I like and I don’t care if you do tell her, because one of these days, I’ll tell her mesen.’
Maddie picked up the buckets and marched past him on her way to the Dairy, the stirrings of pity she had begun to feel for this boy gone in an instant.
She was still dreading coming face to face with Frank, but when they all sat down together at the dinner table, he was smiling and, to her astonishment, he actually winked at her and said,
‘Enjoy yourself last night, little lady?’
Under the table she felt Michael’s foot gently touch hers, but she dared not risk a glance at him as she said, ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Frank.’
Close beside her she heard Harriet’s irritating sniff.
Towards the end of October as they were sitting down to supper one evening, Frank said, ‘I’ll be going to market this week, Michael. I’ve heard that old man
Weatherall is giving up his farm and selling his stock.’
‘You’re not thinking of buying his cows, Dad, surely? He’s a mucky farmer.’
‘He used to be a very good farmer, son. But the last few years he’s got too old and ill to manage his farm properly. He’s no son to carry it on.’ There was a note of
pride in his voice and yet his tone was tinged with pity for the man who had not been so fortunate as Frank believed himself to be. ‘I’ve heard tell he’s giving up all together.
His beast are up for sale this week.’
Michael shrugged. ‘Never mind what he used to be, Dad. It’s what his herd’s like now that matters.’
‘Well, it’s worth a look anyway and they’ll be going cheap.’
‘Maybe so. But are they a good buy, Dad, or a bad buy?’
‘We’ll take a look, son. Just a look.’
At the beginning of November, three scrawny looking beast arrived at Few Farm.
‘I tried to tell him,’ Michael spread his hands as Maddie and Nick stood surveying Frank’s purchase. ‘But would he listen?’
‘Think you know more about cattle than your dad?’ Nick said.
Michael shot him a look. ‘Well, if he’s going to buy beast like these three, then yes, I reckon I do.’
‘They’ll be all right.’ Frank was coming towards them. ‘Once we’ve fattened them up a bit. Take them to the meadow, Maddie.’
‘Don’t you think we ought to keep them separate from our stock? Just for a few days at least?’
‘No, Michael, I don’t.’ It was the first time Maddie could remember hearing Frank speak sharply to his son. Then he asked a similar question to the one Nick had asked a few
moments earlier. ‘Don’t you trust my judgement?’
‘Dad, it’s not that, it’s just . . .’ Michael’s voice petered away. ‘Oh all right, then. Have it your way.’
‘I will. They were a damned good price.’
‘They would be,’ Michael muttered, but he kept his voice so low now that only Maddie, standing close to him, heard.
‘Which field do you want them in, Mr Frank?’ Maddie asked quietly. Even with her limited knowledge, she, too, was worried by the sight of the cows. They looked neglected, as if they
had not been fed properly for weeks.
Frank jerked his thumb in the direction of the field adjacent to the tulip field. ‘South End Meadow, lass.’
‘Right. Come on, Ben,’ Maddie called and the dog bounded towards her, his pink tongue lolling, his eyes bright and eager. But the cows ignored his excited barking and just continued
to stand in the centre of the yard, their heads lowered, not moving an inch.
‘Come on, cush, cush,’ Maddie said and slapped the nearest one on its rump. She recoiled in horror as she felt the animal’s bones through its skin.
Frank was right about one thing, she thought, they certainly needed fattening up.
Slowly, almost painfully, the three cows lumbered out of the gate and, with Ben barking at their heels, turned to the left towards the meadow. Maddie looked up as a dark shadow passed over their
heads, a flock of starlings wheeled and dived above her head. As she opened the gate and Ben cleverly guided the newcomers into the field to join the other beast, the birds swooped down into the
field, some landing on the hind quarters of the cattle, others on the hedges and on the ground. Ben ran about, barking excitedly, so that some of the birds, startled, rose into the air once more.
But those perching on the cows’ backs, were more daring and cocked their heads to one side to look down upon the dog with cheeky conceit.
Maddie laughed. ‘Come on, Ben. Leave them alone. They can’t do any harm.’ She closed the gate and whistled to the dog, who obeyed her reluctantly. All the way down the lane
towards the farm, Ben kept stopping, his tongue hanging out, and glancing back towards the impudent starlings.