Authors: Margaret Dickinson
It was a week later when, in the mist of early morning, Maddie went to South End Meadow to fetch the cows for milking and she found one of Mr Weatherall’s cows lying dead in the middle of
the field.
‘I told you not to buy old man Weatherall’s bloody rubbish.’ Michael was blazing as they stood over the dead beast.
‘Watch your tongue, boy. I won’t have that sort of language.’
‘Oh, you won’t, won’t you? Well, it’s enough to make a saint swear and I’m no saint. Who knows what it’s died of. It could have brought anything on to our
farm that’ll infect our whole herd.’
‘Do you think I haven’t the sense to examine beast thoroughly before I buy? Give me some credit. They were undernourished, I grant you, but that was all.’ Even Frank’s
voice rose to a roar now. ‘There was nothing wrong with them.’
Michael thrust his head forward and shouted, ‘Well, there is now.’
For a moment they glared at each other and Maddie noticed that Michael clenched and unclenched his hands, but he kept them firmly by his side. Suddenly, the anger seemed to drain out of Frank
and his shoulders sagged. He took off his cap, ran his hand through his hair and then replaced his cap.
‘What’s done’s done,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s have a look at it before . . .’ His voice petered away as they both squatted down, one on either side of the
beast, whilst Maddie stood near the animal’s head and watched.
‘Mr Frank,’ she began tentatively. ‘Its tongue’s hanging out of its mouth and it looks all sore, sort of blistered.’
‘What?’
She pointed and Frank moved to look at the animal’s mouth. Michael was looking at the feet.
‘There’s sores and blisters here too, Dad.’ His voice was flat now, sorrowful.
Maddie felt sudden fear as she watched father and son stare at each other, horror on their faces.
‘Oh no, lad, not that. Oh please, not that,’ Frank whispered hoarsely.
Soberly, Michael said, ‘I’m sorry, Dad, but I think it is. It’s foot and mouth.’
Frank stood up but his gaze was still on the cow lying at his feet. He drew the back of his hand across his forehead. ‘Let’s look at the rest of them.’
Rising too, Michael pointed across the field and said, ‘Look at that one over there. It’s got a trail of saliva hanging from its mouth. That’s another sign, isn’t
it?’
Grimly, Frank agreed.
The three of them moved around the field inspecting the cattle.
‘Mr Frank,’ Maddie called. ‘This one’s lame. And – and it’s not one of Mr Weatherall’s. It’s one of yours.’
Frank shook his head and stood in the middle of the field looking for all the world as if he were lost.
Michael and Maddie walked back to him.
‘We’ve got it right enough,’ Frank said as they drew near to him.
‘What do we do, Dad?’
‘We’ll have to inform the local vet or the police – or both. Come on, let’s go back to the house.’
As they walked down the lane, Maddie slipped her hand into Michael’s and gave it a comforting squeeze, not caring, for once, if his father saw them. Michael gripped her hand in return and,
even though no words were spoken, she could feel his despair.
When they reached the farmyard, Michael put his head round the cowshed door and called, ‘Nick, come into the house a minute.’
The boy appeared. ‘Why? Where’s the cows? Everything’s ready.’
Michael, already walking towards the back door of the house, merely beckoned him. Shrugging, Nick followed.
Inside, Frank sat down at the table, resting his arms on it. ‘Get us a cup of tea, lass, would you?’ and Maddie, glad to have something to do, picked up the teapot.
Michael, too, sat down at the table, opposite his father. Once more the two exchanged sober glances.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Nick began as his mother came into the room from upstairs. She blinked as she saw everyone sitting there at the time when the milking should be
in full swing. Her startled glance came to rest on Frank and she stood very still, waiting to hear the answer to Nick’s question.
‘One of Weatherall’s cows is dead,’ Frank began and glanced again at his son as he added heavily, ‘and it’s got blisters in its mouth and on its feet.’
Harriet gave a cry and her hand fluttered to her mouth. ‘Oh no, Frank.’ In her agitation she quite forgot the ‘Mr’ but no one other than Maddie seemed to notice.
Quietly, Maddie placed a cup of tea in front of Frank and then pushed one towards Michael.
Frank spooned sugar into the liquid and stirred it, intent on his action. ‘That’s it, then. We’re finished.’
‘No, we’re not.’ Harriet’s voice was shrill. She sat down at the end of the table and leaned towards Frank. ‘Why don’t you bury it and say nowt? You keep an
eye on all the rest and if any of them get it, you can isolate them in the barn and treat them.’
Slowly Frank lifted his head as everyone turned to look at her.
‘It’s a notifiable disease, Mrs T,’ Michael said. ‘We can’t do that.’
‘Who’s to know?’ Harriet snapped at him, her gaze leaving Frank for a moment. ‘We can isolate ourselves too. No one need leave the farm for a while. We’ve plenty of
food . . .’
‘We can’t do that,’ Michael repeated. ‘And supposing we did, what about the milk round? People will soon know something was wrong when I don’t turn up with their
milk every morning and I can hardly supply the locals with milk from a herd that’s got foot and mouth.’
‘But it’s treatable. I’ve heard of it being done. Way back in ’23 there was a case where a big estate got it and they got permission to be isolated. They only lost two or
three. If you tell the authorities, Mr Frank, they’ll slaughter all your cattle, every last one, and the pigs too, and where’s your living to come from then, eh? And they’ll
probably kill everyone’s for several miles around. They’ll close the market. You know they will. Think what hardship that’ll cause.’
‘There’s not that many farmers with cattle around here, Mrs T, you know there aren’t. It’s not a cattle area, so . . .’
‘So all the more reason to keep quiet about it. We can keep it contained.’
‘That wasn’t what I had been going to say,’ Michael said.
‘Do you want to see your father ruined?’
‘Of course not, but . . .’
‘So who’s to know,’ Harriet said again, and this time there was a veiled threat in her words, ‘unless someone tells ’em?’
Frank stood up and leaned on his knuckles on the table. Looking at Harriet he said, ‘I am not going to do anything against the law. We’ll notify whoever we have to.’ Then he
looked towards his son. ‘Michael’s right. I’ve only myself to blame. I should have known better than to buy those beast of Weatherall’s.’
‘We can’t be sure how they got it,’ Michael said. His anger had died now and already he was prepared to be more understanding. ‘I mean, they say it can be carried on the
wind or brought by birds . . .’
‘Oh!’ Maddie could not stop the cry escaping her lips even though she clapped her hand to her mouth. Wide-eyed she stared from one to the other. Now everyone turned to look at
her.
‘What is it, love?’ Frank asked.
Slowly she let her hand fall away from her mouth. ‘Oh Mr Frank. The – the day Mr Weatherall’s cows arrived and I took them to the field . . .’
‘Yes, lass, what about it?’
‘There – there was a huge flock of starlings landed in the field. Some even sat on the cows’ backs. Ben was barking, trying to frighten them away, but – but . . .’
She bit her lip. ‘But I brought him away. I – I said they couldn’t do any harm. Oh Mr Frank, I didn’t know. Ben knew, but I didn’t.’
There was a moment’s silence and then Frank, even amidst the drama of the moment, actually laughed. He moved and put his arm around her shoulders.
‘It’s not your fault, love. How many times a day do you think birds land in the field or take a ride on a cow’s back when we’re not there to shoo them off?’
‘I – don’t know.’
‘Exactly. We can’t be there every minute of the day watching over them. If it has been carried by the birds, there’s not a thing we could have done about it.’
‘Really?’ Maddie felt comforted but she still felt very guilty because she had not followed Ben’s example and frightened the flock of starlings away.
Frank gave her a quick squeeze, then he sighed. ‘Well, I’d better go and get it over with.’
‘If you’re going down to the phone box in the village, Dad, don’t forget to disinfect your boots before you go. There’s some in the barn, I’ll get it for
you.’
As the three menfolk left the house, Harriet stepped towards Maddie and gripped her arm. ‘You! I might have known you’d have had a hand in all this. You’ve brought nothing but
trouble to this house from the moment you stepped into it.’
All Frank’s cattle and his two pigs had been slaughtered and their carcasses burnt. That day had been heartbreaking for everyone on Few Farm. Even the slaughterman who
came to carry out the operation did so in silence, the sympathy on his face plain to see. Then the dead cattle were piled in the middle of South End Meadow. Michael stacked bales of straw, wood and
old tyres around them and in amongst them and doused the whole lot in diesel. The fire burned for two days and at the end of it Michael and Nick had to dig a hole as deep as they could to bury the
ashes and then fill it in again.
Since then, the family had been confined to the farm and hollows had been dug in the lane on the approaches to the farm and filled with disinfectant.
‘It’s like having the plague,’ Michael muttered, leaning against the five-barred gate leading into the farmyard, which had been closed and padlocked. For several days after
they had made the awful discovery, Nick had sat on top of the gate, Frank’s shotgun across his knees as a warning to inquisitive sightseers. From time to time they had heard a bang as he took
a pot-shot at birds flying over the farm.
‘I don’t know what good he thinks he’s doing,’ Michael had muttered.
Maddie had sighed. ‘I think he’s just taking his anger and frustration out on them.’
‘Well, I think he’s venting his anger in the wrong direction. He should shoot old man Weatherall!’
Maddie had said no more. She knew Michael didn’t really mean what he said but the fact that the thought even came into his mind, never mind the words actually passing his lips, told her
the depth of his bitterness.
Now Maddie climbed up and sat on the topmost bar of the gate. ‘I bet you miss your milk round, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I do. Funny, I always used to moan about having to get up so early seven days a week but now I can’t go, I’d love to be out there on the cart meeting all the old dears
bringing out their milk cans.’
‘You will again,’ Maddie said, touching his shoulder. ‘Soon.’
‘We could restock but Dad doesn’t seem to have the heart now.’
‘Well then, when the authorities give permission, you’ll have to be the one to do it,’ Maddie said determinedly.
Michael smiled up at her. It was the first time she had seen him smile since their dreadful discovery, but even now it was only fleeting as he added worriedly, ‘I really don’t know
what to do. The infection thrives in the cold, you know, and I don’t reckon even the regulations allow long enough to let the land get really clear of it.’
‘But no one else round here has got it, have they?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. The chap from the Ministry or the Council or wherever he was from, congratulated us on our prompt action and said we’d probably saved the whole area from
an epidemic.’
They glanced at each other, remembering Harriet’s suggestion.
They heard the splashing of water and Maddie narrowed her eyes to look down the lane. ‘There’s somebody coming.’
‘Really? Can you see who it is?’
‘It’s Jenny!’ Maddie cried in delight and was about to jump down into the lane when Michael caught hold of her.
‘No. You mustn’t. We mustn’t go out of the yard. She can come to the gate, but she can’t come in.’
‘I’m sorry. I forgot,’ Maddie said at once.
Michael remained standing with one arm around Maddie’s waist, making no move to remove his hold on her.
‘Maddie!’ Jenny called and waved as she clumped along the lane in oversize Wellington boots. ‘Are you all right? All of you?’
Panting a little, she stood a few feet from them and read the large notice saying ‘
FOOT AND MOUTH PRECAUTION
–
KEEP OUT
’. Jen pulled a face but then
gave a little nod, understanding at once that she must stay in the lane.
‘Where’s Nick? Is he all right?’ Jenny’s glance went beyond them to search the yard.
‘He’s about somewhere.’ He raised his voice and bellowed, ‘Nick? You there, Nick? Young lady to see you.’
But the yard was empty and silent and Michael made no effort to move away to find him.
‘Never mind. I’ll see him another time, maybe?’ Jenny said. ‘Do you want anything bringing from the village if you can’t go out?’
‘We’re fine, Jenny,’ Michael said, ‘but it’s lovely to see you.’
‘I got permission to come,’ Jenny said, proud of her own initiative. ‘I asked at the police station and the man there said as long as I got some boots and was sure to wash them
well in the disinfectant.’ She gestured back towards the hollow through which she had just splashed. ‘Mrs Grange lent me these boots.’
‘Mrs Grange? Her at the corner shop in the village?’ Michael said.
‘That’s right.’ Jenny was beaming now. ‘That’s what I’ve come to tell you, Maddie. I’ve got a job there and – best of all – I live
in.’
‘Oh Jen. I’m so glad. Oh I want to hug you, but I mustn’t.’
The younger girl’s face clouded. ‘Is it that bad? I mean, I can’t catch it, can I?’
‘Well, there is a human form of it, but it’s usually harmless,’ Michael said. ‘It’s more to prevent you carrying it on your clothes to other places, see?’
The girl nodded.
‘Tell me more about Mrs Grange and how you got the job. Did Mrs Potter arrange it?’
Jenny looked happier than Maddie could ever remember having seen her. ‘No, I got it for myself. She’d taken me to a few places. You remember about the flower packing?’