Authors: Margaret Dickinson
Her hands covered her belly protectively. ‘Love is making you weak,’ she murmured to herself, wondering if the old fearless, Madeleine March who hadn’t cared a fig for anyone
– except Jenny – was gone for ever.
As Nick rounded the corner in the lane and disappeared from view, she turned away but for the rest of the day her mind was not on her work. It was on a train heading north to see Michael.
The following day Nick returned late at night looking pale with tiredness.
‘What did he say? Is he all right?’
‘Let him get inside the door, girl.’ Harriet took the overnight bag from her son’s hand and led him to the table. ‘Sit down, lad, and get something inside you. You look
worn out.’
‘It’s them trains, Mam, great noisy things, pothering smoke. And then I had to walk two miles from the station to the camp and wait in a cold guard room for an hour ’til
they’d let me see him.’
Maddie stood at the end of the table, watching him eat, biting back the tumult of questions.
Nick glanced up at her once or twice but then quickly down again at his plate as he wolfed his meal.
‘Eat slowly, Nicholas,’ his mother scolded. ‘You’ll get indigestion. You look as if you haven’t eaten for two days.’
‘I haven’t,’ he mumbled, his mouth full.
‘What?’
‘Only what you gave me, Mam.’
‘But didn’t you get breakfast this morning where you stayed?’
‘No, they don’t serve it in the railway station waiting room.’
Harriet gasped. ‘You mean, that’s where you slept? In the waiting room on the station?’
Nick nodded.
The housekeeper cast a resentful glance at Maddie as if to say, There, look what my son has had to suffer because of you. But Maddie was not concerned about Nick’s few hours of discomfort,
even if they had been on her behalf.
‘What did he say?’
Frank came to her and put his arm about her shoulders. ‘Come and sit by the fire, love, and when he’s finished eating, Nick can bring his tea and sit with us and tell us what
happened. Come along,’ he urged finally as Maddie stiffened herself against his arm.
A few minutes later, they were all seated around the fire but Nick still avoided looking at Maddie. He cleared his throat and glanced uncomfortably at Frank.
‘Michael said to tell you, Mr Frank, that he won’t be coming back to the farm, not even when he’s finished his National Service. He – he said to tell you that he’s
taken to the Army life. He intends to sign on as a regular.’
‘What?’ Frank was staggered, his mouth agape.
‘He can’t. He must come home,’ Maddie cried.
‘How can he possibly know if he likes the life yet? That’s ridiculous. Are you sure that’s what he meant, lad?’
The young man nodded. ‘I pleaded with him, Mr Frank. I said just what you’ve said, but he was set on it.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Maddie whispered.
‘Did you tell him what I had proposed?’ Frank asked. ‘About Maddie, I mean?’
Nick nodded.
‘And?’
‘He agrees it’s the best idea for everyone.’
Maddie gasped and her insides trembled. ‘No, no. I don’t believe you,’ she cried as her eyes stung with tears she would not allow to fall. ‘He wouldn’t agree to
that. He couldn’t . . .’ Her voice fell away and there was silence in the room, the only sounds the flames crackling and hissing in the grate. But even before the warmth of the fire,
Maddie shivered. She felt as if her heart were turning into ice.
‘I’ll have to go and have a chat with the vicar,’ Frank said. ‘I need to know what we have to do.’
Maddie glanced at him but said nothing. She didn’t want this marriage. She really didn’t. And yet since Michael’s final rejection of her, it seemed the only way. At least in
the eyes of the world her child would be legitimate. It would not carry the stigma of ‘bastard’ all its life. It was for this reason alone that Maddie had finally been persuaded to
agree to the marriage.
‘Although you’re sixteen now,’ Frank was saying, ‘I think we still need parental consent, but because you haven’t any parents . . .’ His voice petered away as
he frowned, thinking. ‘I suppose Sir Peter is your guardian, in loco parentis, I think they call it.’
‘What does that mean, when it’s at home?’ Harriet asked sarcastically.
‘In place of her parents and I’m just assuming it’s him because she lived at his orphanage.’
‘I don’t know,’ Maddie said now. ‘Mrs Potter always said that once we were school-leaving age, we were out and couldn’t go back, so I don’t see . .
.’
‘Don’t argue with Mr Frank,’ Harriet snapped. ‘You want to think yourself lucky. Now he’s having to go round telling folks, we can expect a visit from the police
any day now, I shouldn’t wonder. Want to see him carted off in handcuffs, do you?’
Maddie swallowed. For the sake of her child, she would marry its grandfather, though the lie she was being forced to live out went against her instinctive honesty.
‘No one must ever know the child is Michael’s,’ Frank pleaded with the whole household. ‘Beyond these four walls, the child is mine. I’m counting on you, Harriet,
just as I’m counting on you both to stay here. You and Nick.’
Maddie watched the conflict visible on the woman’s face. She was sure now that Harriet Trowbridge had harboured hopes of marrying Frank herself, but now these hopes were dashed for ever.
Maddie held her breath, half-hoping that the woman would keep to her threat, pack her bags and leave.
But now Harriet and Frank were staring at one another, their gaze held by the past in which neither Maddie nor even Nick had any part.
‘More secrets, eh Frank?’ Harriet said softly.
‘Aye, more secrets, my dear.’
Slowly, Harriet nodded.
‘And Nick?’ Frank persisted. ‘He’ll not say anything? Because I don’t think he’s in favour of this plan. I think, maybe, he thinks that when he’s older
. . .’ Frank gestured towards Maddie.
Harriet’s eyes widened in horror. ‘What? You mean – he . . . With her? Oh no. Never.’
Frank put his head a little on one side and smiled as if he had just played his trump card.
Harriet was still struggling with the conflict raging within her. At last she said, ‘Well, in that case, Mr Frank, there’s nothing more I can say.’ And both Frank and Maddie
knew that to save her son from even thinking of marrying Madeleine March, Harriet Trowbridge would finally sacrifice her own hopes.
They were married in July after the main work of lifting the bulbs for storage through the summer had been done.
‘You’d do better to make out you’re older than you are. Put seventeen when you sign the register.’
‘More lies, Mrs Trowbridge,’ Maddie muttered.
‘What’s a lie, if it saves him from prison, eh?’
Maddie shuddered, but for the first time in her life she had to agree. Perhaps in such dire circumstances, a lie was justifiable.
‘Besides,’ Harriet went on. ‘It’s not really as if you are certain about your age, is it?’
‘Mrs Potter said . . .’
‘And what does Alice Potter know?’
Maddie stared at her. ‘You know her?’
‘What? Oh . . .’ For a moment Harriet was flustered as if realizing she had said too much. ‘Of course I know her. I met her when I brought you here. And . . .’ she wagged
her finger in Maddie’s face, regaining her control now, ‘I rue the day I did.’
‘But you referred to her as Alice just now.’
‘I did no such thing. I said Mrs Potter. Your hearing must be defective.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my hearing. You said, “And what does Alice Potter know?” ’
‘I did no such thing. Don’t argue with your elders and betters, girl.’
‘Elder, maybe,’ Maddie muttered. ‘Better, certainly not.’
‘What did you say?’
Maddie grinned at her. ‘Nothing, Mrs Trowbridge,’ she said innocently, thankful that if anyone had defective hearing, it was the housekeeper.
‘Have you told the vicar my age?’ Maddie asked Frank as they drove towards the church in his motor car. ‘Because Mrs Trowbridge thinks I ought to say
I’m seventeen.’
Frank glanced sideways at her. ‘I wouldn’t want you to lie. Not for me, Maddie, and not in church especially.’
‘I’ve always been truthful,’ Maddie said slowly, ‘even if it got me into trouble. Somehow, I can’t tell lies.’ She paused and looked sideways at him. ‘I
wasn’t lying that time about the hen-house, you know.’
Frank sighed. ‘No, I know you weren’t, love.’ He paused and then haltingly said, ‘There’s things about Harriet you don’t understand. Maybe one day, you will.
But just trust me, Maddie, will you?’
She looked at him again, this time long and hard. His face was in profile to her as he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead. It was a good, honest face, she thought. A little troubled.
In fact, a lot troubled. There were dark shadows beneath his brown eyes and he didn’t seem to smile as much as he had when she had first come to the farm. Maddie felt a stab of guilt. She had
been the cause of some of his anxiety, though she could hardly be blamed for the difficulties with the farm.
They did not speak again until he drew the car to a halt outside the church, switched off the engine and turned to face her.
‘Before we go in, Maddie love, there’s just something I want to say to you.’ He licked his lips that were suddenly dry. ‘We both know why we’re doing
this.’
Maddie nodded and determinedly swallowed the lump that rose in her throat as she thought of Michael.
It should be Michael standing beside me today. I should be about to become Mrs Michael Brackenbury, not Mrs Frank. But she said nothing. Michael didn’t love her, or at least he
didn’t love her enough. She was on her own now. And she’d do whatever it took to protect her child. With a deep sigh for what might have been, Maddie knew she must face the future
without Michael. In that moment, she locked away all memories of him, all thoughts of him and looked to the man at her side. The man who was willing to give her child a name. When it was born, it
would bear the legitimate name of Brackenbury and even though there would perhaps be another lie to be told when she registered the child, at least it would have every right to that surname and
Frank, legally, would be its father.
Frank was speaking again, haltingly with embarrassment. ‘I want you to know that I don’t expect you to be a wife to me. What I mean is, I shall make no demands upon you. The marriage
will be in name only.’
Maddie looked at him then, full in the face. That good, kind and caring face that she was already very fond of. Suddenly, she smiled at him, ‘Oh no, Frank,’ she said, calling him by
his Christian name for the first time without the title Mister in front of it. ‘Oh no. If we are to be married, I shall be your wife in every way.’
For a moment he looked startled and then he too, smiled. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. His voice slightly husky, he said, ‘Well, if you’re sure, my
dear.’
‘I am,’ Maddie said firmly and then added, ‘Can I ask you something now?’
‘Of course, love.’
‘I – I don’t want to pry . . .’ Suddenly, she felt hesitant, but before she married Frank she wanted to know the answer to something that had been puzzling her ever since
she had come to Few Farm. ‘Or – or to bring up painful memories for you, but would you tell me what happened to your first wife and why you never talk about her?’
As Frank leaned back against the car seat and sighed heavily, Maddie said swiftly, ‘Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked . . .’
‘No, no, love. I can understand that it must seem a bit odd to you.’ He glanced at her and smiled gently. ‘Specially for someone who probably longs to know about her own
family.’
Maddie found it difficult to speak as the long buried yearning rushed to the surface. More than ever before, as she waited for the birth of her own child and now as she was about to enter into
marriage, she missed the comfort of a mother, father and even of brothers and sisters.
‘It must seem to you as if we don’t want to talk about her,’ Frank was saying softly, ‘but nothing could be further from the truth. I loved Michael’s mother dearly
but she died at his birth. She’s – she’s buried here in this churchyard. In fact, if you like, when we’ve seen the vicar, I’ll take you to see her grave.’
Maddie nodded and whispered, ‘I’d like that.’ There was a pause and then she asked, ‘But why do you never talk about her? Why are there no photographs of her around the
house?’
‘There were at first. In every room and for the first year or so after her death I never stopped talking about her. My sister came to look after the baby and me at first. I think I must
have driven her mad going on and on about Elizabeth and how happy we’d been. But she was very good. She never complained. I think she realized it was my way of coping.’ He sighed.
‘But my sister couldn’t stay for ever. She had her own life. And it was when Harriet moved in as my housekeeper that things had to change. She’d had a very unhappy experience. I
can’t tell you about it, Maddie, because I gave my word to her years ago never to talk about it, but because she wanted the past buried, it was difficult for me to talk about mine. Gradually,
I noticed she removed all the photographs of Elizabeth and the only one I have left is in my bedroom.’ He turned to her. ‘But I’ll put that away now, if you . . .’
‘No, no,’ Maddie reassured him. ‘Not on my account, please.’
‘So,’ Frank went on, ‘the only time I could ever talk about Elizabeth was to Michael as he grew older.’
There was silence and although he said no more, the unspoken words hung in the air. And now he’s gone, there’s no one I can share my memories with.
Maddie leaned across and gently kissed Frank’s weather-beaten cheek as she whispered, ‘Well, you can talk to me about her, any time you like. In fact, I’d like you
to.’
Again he raised her fingers to his lips as he murmured simply, ‘Thank you, my dear.’
‘I suppose I ought to go and see Michael again and tell him he has a son.’
Nick was standing at the end of the big double bed in the main bedroom that Maddie now shared with her husband and had done since the day of their marriage.