Authors: Margaret Dickinson
‘Oh, I am sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ Theo nodded and was obviously touched by the older man’s genuine concern. Maddie saw that the young man pulled in a deep breath as he went on. ‘Fortunately,
my father had mentioned to me your idea of turning your land into growing tulips.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Frank began doubtfully. ‘But Sir Peter didn’t seem very taken with the idea.’
‘Well, I think it’s a very good idea. I told him so and he did seem to be coming round to your way of thinking. So, as he’s obviously going to be incapacitated for some time
and I have come home to take up the reins of running the estate, I’m happy to tell you that I’m in full agreement with your proposal.’
‘Are you sure, Mr Theo? I mean, I wouldn’t want you to go against your father’s wishes.’
‘No, no. No more would I, but, as I said, we talked at length about it and I think he began to realize that there’s very little else you can do in the circumstances. Although I think
it was the visit from your housekeeper that clinched it for you.’
‘My housekeeper? Harriet?’ Frank’s surprise was obvious.
‘Why, yes. Didn’t you know? She was closeted with my father in his study for almost an hour on Thursday morning.’ The young man laughed and shrugged. ‘I don’t know
what she said to him, but she was obviously very persuasive because afterwards he just said to me, “I think we’ll let Brackenbury have his way.” Besides,’ Mr Theo added, and
this was obviously his own belief, not that of his father, ‘the land is perfect for it.’
‘Well, I’m very grateful to you, sir, if you’re really sure?’
‘I am. I understand, also, that when he spoke to you my father offered to waive a year’s rent?’
‘He did, sir, but that was to give us time to restock.’
Theo smiled at the honesty of the man. ‘Well, you’ll still have to buy stock, only bulbs instead of beast. And it will be some time before you get your first harvest of blooms so
we’ll still stick to that offer.’ His smile broadened. ‘I’m sure my father would agree.’
Frank’s weather-beaten complexion, was even more ruddy. ‘That’s very generous of you, sir.’
‘There is just one more thing. You’ll have to write to the authorities – the County War Agricultural Executive Committee.’ He pulled a comical face. ‘A mouthful,
isn’t it? They’re called War Ag’s for short. They came into being in the War to oversee food production, but I think they still have some powers as we’ve still got quite a
lot of rationing. I think you’ll have to get clearance from them, Mr Brackenbury.’
‘Oh.’ Frank scratched his head, clearly puzzled. ‘Well, yes. Thank you, sir.’
Maddie could see that Theo had noticed Frank’s dilemma. He didn’t know how or where to start.
‘Tell you what,’ the younger man said. ‘I’ll make the initial contact for you. I know one of the chaps there. Philip Taylor. I’ll have a word with him, if you like,
and ask him to get in touch with you.’
Plainly relieved, Frank said, ‘I’d be most grateful, sir. That would be very kind of you.’
Maddie found herself beaming at the young man, who had not only given them his approval but had made a practical and helpful offer too.
‘And see Bill Randall,’ Mr Theo went on. ‘He’s a good-hearted fellow and I’m sure he will give you all the advice he can.’ Theo held out his hand. ‘Good
luck, Mr Brackenbury, and please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything more I can do.’
‘Thank you, sir. You’ve been most kind.’
Maddie felt the young man’s glance linger on her for a moment as he said softly, ‘Good day to you, Miss March.’
She smiled and said, ‘Goodbye, Mr Theo and – thank you.’
Both Frank and Maddie followed the young man to the door and watched him walk back across the yard to his horse.
‘Well, that’s a surprise, isn’t it?’
‘It is, lass. But all I hope is that the lad won’t get into trouble when his father recovers and finds out what he’s agreed to.’ He shook his head, mystified. ‘And
I still can’t understand why Harriet thought she could help.’
Maddie begrudged giving praise to the housekeeper, but her innate honesty made her say, ‘Well, she obviously did.’
‘Yes, she must have done. But how?’
‘I don’t know, but it sounds,’ Maddie said slowly, ‘as if you’ve no need to worry about Sir Peter being well enough to object for some time.’
And though she was not, by nature, a vindictive person, Maddie could not find it in her heart to be sorry for Sir Peter Mayfield.
‘So then what do we have to do, Mr Randall?’
The big man laughed, the sound seeming to come from deep within his rotund belly. ‘By heck, mate, you’re keen, I’ll say that for you.’
Maddie chuckled. She had met Bill Randall only once before and his habit of calling everyone he met – male or female, young or old – ‘mate’ always amused her. But it was
a friendly term and Maddie warmed to him.
His expression sobered now. ‘And I’ll give you all the help I can, because I was sorry to hear about what happened to Frank Brackenbury. Very sorry. He’s a good man and
dun’t deserve to lose his livelihood in such a cruel way. So, mate, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall us? Has Frank got approval from the War Ag’s?’
Maddie nodded. ‘Mr Taylor visited us the day before yesterday and told us what we can do. Mr Frank’s got seventy-five acres altogether. We’re to plough up the meadows and plant
about ten acres of bulbs to start with, he said, and the rest to potatoes and vegetables for a while, or wheat if we want to. Then we should be able to increase our bulb production gradually as the
regulations relax.’
Bill Randall raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know if you’ll manage ten acres in your first year, mate. It’s not a good time to be setting up, y’know.’
Maddie’s heart plummeted as the man went on. ‘Bulbs is very expensive still, since the War, see. We’re still having to import a lot and not only are we restricted in how many
acres we can grow, but we can’t get hold of the bulbs easy.’
Maddie bit her lip and nodded, but the big man was still smiling at her. ‘Tell you what, though, I’ll have a word with a few of my mates and we’ll see what we can do to help
old Frank.’
‘Oh thank you, Mr Randall.’
‘And you could try the bulb auction. They hold one in the cattle market every Tuesday in Wellandon. But be careful, don’t go paying too much. And another thing, you do know that
bulbs become like another crop? You have to rotate them along with whatever else you grow?’
Maddie nodded. She wasn’t quite sure what he meant but she would report faithfully back to Frank and Michael everything that Bill Randall said and they would understand.
‘I was forced to cut my bulb production right back in the War, y’know,’ he was saying, ‘and they’re still only letting me increase steadily. A lot of our production
went to America.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of the War, their supplies from Holland were cut off.’
‘Oh.’ Maddie tried to show polite interest but she didn’t really understand. She was far more interested in finding out how Few Farm could get started with its first few bulbs.
Mr Randall’s next words brought her further disappointment.
‘’Course, it’s the wrong time of year for planting, but I’ll tell you what could be a good idea for Frank. A greenhouse.’ The man beamed as if he personally had
solved all of Frank Brackenbury’s problems.
‘A greenhouse?’
‘Yes. Forcing flowers to grow out of season, ’specially in time for Christmas. It got very popular in the Twenties, but, of course, even they had to turn their greenhouses over for
food production in the War. Y’know, tomatoes and such. But that way, you can get better prices. It’s like everything else, mate. If you get a glut of flowers all ready at the same time,
the price drops. But if you,’ he winked down at her and tapped the side of his nose, ‘can be the one to have flowers ready when no one else has. Well, then, you can up the
price.’
‘I see,’ Maddie said slowly. ‘At least, I think I do.’
With a willing listener, Bill Randall launched into the practicalities of forcing bulbs to bloom earlier than nature intended. ‘It’s hard work, lass. You pick out the biggest bulbs
for forcing. They need to be in a cold store for a while and then you plant them in boxes outside in autumn. Keep them well watered and bring them into the heated greenhouses in batches, so that
when they flower they’ll do so at different times.’
Maddie smiled and nodded. ‘I understand, so that you’ll have a few trays ready for Christmas then a few at the beginning of January and so on?’
‘You’ve got it, mate. That’s the idea.’
‘But wouldn’t it be very expensive to build a big greenhouse?’
‘Well now, it just so happens that I know where’s one going for a song. Weatherall’s old place. It’s a bit dilapidated. The woodwork would need painting up and some of
the glass needs replacing. But it could be taken down and moved to Frank’s yard without a deal of trouble.’
Maddie pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure how Mr Frank would react to hearing that it’s from Mr Weatherall’s.’
Mr Randall looked puzzled for a moment before he said, ‘Oh aye, I was forgetting.’
Maddie tried to make a joke of it. ‘He might think it’d carry some sort of disease that tulips get.’
The big man laughed. ‘Well, I don’t think a bit of timber and glass could do that. You won’t be using his soil, now will you? You’d need to make your own foundations
first and then just buy the wooden frame and the glass.’
‘I’ll see what he says.’
‘Don’t forget to tell Frank that he’s got one thing in his favour.’
‘What’s that, Mr Randall?’
‘His own electricity supply. He’ll be able to run pipes from that boiler house of his to heat a greenhouse and control it with a pump . . .’ The man beamed, ‘Run by his
electricity.’
Maddie’s smile widened. ‘I’ll tell him, Mr Randall. And thank you for all your help.’
‘Think nowt on it, mate, think nowt on it. I’m looking forward to the day when I can look over yon hedge and see your field of tulips.’
Frank, Michael and Nick listened intently to all that Maddie had to relate. Even Harriet, though she tried hard not to look as if she was taking any interest in the project,
hovered within earshot.
When she came to the point of telling Frank just who owned the greenhouse that was ‘going for a song’, Maddie hesitated. But she need not have worried. Frank laughed wryly and said,
‘Well, I reckon old man Weatherall owes me one, don’t you? So now, we’ve just got to let Mr Theo know what we’re doing and then . . .’ Frank stood up and look around.
‘We can get started.’
Michael gave his father a slap on the shoulder and then turned and slapped Nick on the back, too. But he put his arms about Maddie’s waist and picked her up and swung her round.
‘My little Tulip Girl,’ he said. ‘It’s going to happen, Maddie. We’re going to make it happen. And it’s all thanks to you.’
Maddie wound her arms about his neck and hugged him hard, the lump in her throat too big to let her speak.
Then, over his shoulder she caught sight of the venomous look in Harriet’s eyes and the joyous moment was spoilt.
They ended up with not one, but two greenhouses.
As Frank and his near neighbours, and even the village folk and the townsfolk too, counted up the cost of the winter’s blizzards and began to try to restore some sort of normality to their
lives, Mr Theo called again at Few Farm. He arrived one blustery late April day when the noise of Mr Randall’s concrete mixer filled the yard.
Michael, stripped to his sleeveless vest, shovelled gravel, sand and cement and tipped water into the rotating drum whilst Nick barrowed each mix to where Maddie and Frank waited. For a week
they had dug out an oblong shape approximately eight inches deep to the length and breadth of Mr Weatherall’s greenhouse for the foundations. They had put wooden boards all around the inside
of the oblong – shuttering, Frank told Maddie – and now Nick tipped barrow load after barrow load of concrete mix into the hole for Frank to spread with a spade.
‘Right, lass, now we have to tamp it,’ Frank said and then, one at each end, they picked up a long wooden board and smoothed out the concrete with the edge of it, level with the top
of the shuttering. The lumpy gravel sank into the mixture and the top was skimmed with the wet cement and left to dry into a smooth surface.
It was as the last load was tipped in that Maddie jumped to hear Mr Theo’s voice just behind her. She had not seen him arrive nor heard him above the noise of the mixer.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at once as she turned around swiftly, her lips parted in a startled gasp.
‘I didn’t hear you,’ she shouted above the clatter, but at that moment Michael turned the engine off and the noise died away. He came towards them and Maddie noticed that the
two young men smiled at each other.
‘Mr Theo. It’s good to see you. Sorry I can’t shake hands.’ He spread his hands to show their dirty state. Theo laughed and stepped back a pace, but it was obvious that
his action was only in jest.
‘How are you, Michael?’
‘We’re fine, thank you.’ He nodded down at the foundations. ‘This is for a greenhouse.’
‘A greenhouse?’ Theo’s glance appraised the size of the proposed structure. He watched as Frank and Maddie bent to their task to level out the last of the concrete.
Standing up and easing his aching back, Frank said, ‘We’ve picked one up from old Weatherall’s place, sir. We’ve already taken it down and brought it here in sections.
We’ve even managed to salvage most of the glass too.’
‘The woodwork needs painting, of course,’ Michael put in, ‘but it’ll be a good start for us.’
Theo’s eyes were still upon the wet cement and he tapped his lips with the tip of his riding crop, deep in thought. Then he glanced around him assessing where they had positioned the
greenhouse alongside the hen-house, next to the crewyard.
‘You didn’t think of taking that old barn down, then, and building it there?’
‘Well, sir,’ Frank was hesitant. ‘I didn’t like to without your permission.’
‘This is nearer the boiler house, sir,’ Michael pointed to the corner building in the crewyard where the boiler house was situated. ‘It’ll be easy to run the pipes from
there to the greenhouse to heat it. Like we do the hen-house.’