Authors: Margaret Dickinson
‘I can always give him a bottle,’ Harriet said and sniffed. ‘I haven’t quite forgotten how to do it, you know.’
Maddie said nothing, but bent over the cradle, her anxious eyes examining him. But he was sleeping peacefully, his tiny fingers curled in repose.
As if sensing her unease, Harriet came to stand on the other side of the cradle. ‘I do know how to look after a baby, you know. He’ll be quite safe with me.’
Maddie raised her eyes slowly and the long look she gave the woman said it all. Not a word passed her lips, but she knew Harriet Trowbridge would be left in no doubt as to her suspicions.
As she left the house again, Maddie realized that the housekeeper now had a weapon more powerful than ever before; she could hurt Maddie through her child. The only thing – or rather
person – who protected Maddie and her baby was Frank.
But the woman was so devious, Maddie thought. If there was a way to do something that would not point the finger of blame at her, then Harriet would do it.
Maddie sighed. Once more, her overwhelming love, this time for her child, had made her vulnerable.
Over the next few months, Maddie had to admit that her fears seemed groundless. Far from carrying on her resentment towards the child, Harriet was captivated by the little
chap. It was not until Maddie overheard Harriet talking to Frank one evening that she began to understand a little perhaps why, even though her antagonism towards Maddie herself was still evident,
Harriet was charmed by Maddie’s son. Harriet obviously thought that Maddie was upstairs when in fact she was in the kitchen heating the baby’s bottle that had now become necessary since
her own milk was not so plentiful. So Harriet made no attempt to keep her voice low and her words carried clearly through the half-open door.
‘Do you know, Frank, I can’t bring myself to dislike the little fellow.’
‘Why on earth should you, Harriet?’
‘Because he’s
hers
.’
Frank’s heavy sigh was clearly audible. ‘Oh Harriet, I don’t understand why you’re so against poor Maddie. After all, you brought her here from the orphanage. If you
remember, it was you who was adamant we should have a girl from the Home. I wasn’t so sure myself at the time.’
‘I had my reasons.’
‘What, exactly?’
‘Well . . .’ There was a brief pause and Maddie sensed that Harriet was floundering for a reply. ‘Well, with an orphan you’ve no parents demanding this, that and the
other. No one coming to see if they’re working a few more hours than they should. Checking up. All this Welfare State – huh! Hard work never hurt anyone. I don’t hold with it, all
this namby-pambying children today.’
‘And was that the only reason?’
There was a pause before Maddie heard Harriet say sharply, ‘You’re too sharp by half, Frank Brackenbury.’ Then her voice softened as she deliberately changed the subject.
‘It’s like having Nicholas little again and this time I can enjoy looking after the little man without all the worry I had then.’
Maddie heard the low murmur of Frank’s voice but as the milk boiled up and threatened to spill over, she made a dash for the saucepan and could hear no more.
So Maddie returned to her work in the fields with a lighter heart and though she still did not entirely believe that Harriet would never bring her pain through her child, she
did now think that the woman would not harm the baby boy.
‘It’s nice to have you back,’ Nick said, as they planted row after row of bulbs alongside each other.
‘It’s nice to be back.’
‘You have recovered quickly, haven’t you? And you’ve got your slim figure back, except . . .’ His voice faded away but Maddie had seen that his glance lingered on the
fuller shape of her breasts.
Nick was only a few months older than herself and it was natural that he should start to be interested in girls. And since she was the nearest . . .
‘Have you got a girlfriend, Nick?’ she asked, keeping her tone light, teasing, but not unkind.
‘Huh, who’d look at me? Besides, they wouldn’t get further than the gate, now would they?’
‘What about Jenny? She really likes you, you know?’
‘Does she?’ His tone was non-committal.
‘Why don’t you ask her out sometime? You could take her to the village dance or to the pictures.’
‘I don’t think . . .’ he began and then he glanced up and stopped whatever he had been going to say. ‘What’s he doing here?’ Now his tone was full of
belligerence.
Maddie straightened up. ‘Who?’ she began and then, as she saw the rider on horseback picking his way carefully down the edge of the field, she said, ‘Come to see what
we’re doing with his land, I expect.’
The rider had dismounted and was standing beside his horse holding the bridle and watching her as Maddie stepped carefully towards him along the single row left empty between the bulbs.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Theo. Have you come to see how we’re getting on?’
He smiled as he touched his riding hat with his whip. ‘Good day to you. I trust I find you well?’
Closer now, Maddie looked into his eyes and saw that his enquiry held genuine concern. She wondered if he knew. At his next words, she was left in no doubt.
‘I understand congratulations are in order.’ His voice was soft and its tone still kindly, yet the smile was gone from his mouth and there was a strange look in the depths of his
eyes. ‘Both on your marriage and the recent birth of your son.’
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
‘And the child? All is well with you both?’
‘Thank you, yes.’
‘Ah. Good, good.’ He paused, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Then turning to other matters he became more at ease. ‘I’ve brought you some good
news.’
‘Really?’ Her heart lurched. Was it Michael? Had he somehow got news of Michael? It was the first thing that sprang to her mind.
‘Yes. I’ve just had word from the authorities that you can plant another two acres of bulbs this year and I’m sure it won’t be long now before restrictions are lifted
altogether.’
Despite the plummeting of her heart in disappointment, Maddie smiled, ‘That is good news. Thank you.’
There was a pause as for a moment he held her gaze. Then he glanced over her shoulder and said, ‘By the look on Nick’s face, I’m keeping you from your work. I must go. Be sure
to give my regards to – er – your husband.’
He gathered the reins in his hands and mounted. ‘Good day to you . . .’ There was the tiniest pause before he added, ‘Mrs Brackenbury.’ Then, once more, he guided his
horse carefully along the side of the field towards the gate.
She stood watching him until she heard Nick’s truculent voice behind her say, ‘Are you going to help me plant the rest of these bulbs today or not?’
It was a bright warm autumn day when Maddie tucked baby Adam into the deep-bottomed black pram and wheeled him down the lane towards the village. She had promised to visit
Jenny and Mrs Grange at the corner shop and today she had allowed herself the afternoon off to do just that.
She parked the pram outside and climbed the steps to push open the door. The loud clang of the doorbell made the two people standing behind the counter and their one customer look up.
‘Oh Maddie.’ She heard Jenny’s cry at once as she came darting around the counter from her place and saw Mrs Grange nodding a welcome.
After the first greeting, Maddie glanced towards the young man standing near the counter, holding his hand out for his change from the old-fashioned till.
‘Well, if it isn’t Stinky Smith. Fancy seeing you.’ Almost before the words were out of her mouth, she felt Jenny’s sharp nudge in her ribs.
‘Don’t call him that any more, Maddie. He’s got a nice job in town now, in an office, haven’t you Sti . . . I mean, Steven?’
Maddie looked him up and down and had to admit at once that the name no longer suited him. Standing before her was a well-dressed young man in a suit, white shirt and tie with his once unruly
hair slicked neatly back.
But the grin he gave her was as cheeky as ever. ‘And I hear the name the Mad March Hare doesn’t fit you now.’ The grin widened. ‘The mad bit might, of course, but I hear
you’ve changed your name.’
Maddie was suddenly on the defensive, wondering what was coming next, but Stinky – or Steven – as she told herself she must now call him, seemed quite at ease. ‘Where is the
little fellow then? Outside is he? Come on, Ma, let’s have a look-see.’
‘Cheeky young imp, you are,’ Mrs Grange laughed but came round the counter and passed through the door Steven held open for her. Puffing, she descended the three steep steps and bent
over the pram.
‘He’s a lovely little chap. Hasn’t he got a shock of dark hair? Get a lot of indigestion when you was carrying him, did you, love?’
‘Not particularly,’ Maddie laughed.
‘Ah well,’ Mrs Grange nodded sagely, ‘they always say if you have it bad when you’re carrying, the babby’ll have a lot of hair.’
At that moment the child whimpered and wriggled.
‘Bring him inside. I should like to have a hold of him.’
‘Well, I’d best be on me way,’ Steven said. ‘See you, Jen. Don’t forget. Sat’day night?’
Jenny turned a little pink. ‘All right.’
Minutes later, they were sitting in Mrs Grange’s back room and she had taken the child from Maddie. Cuddling him against her ample bosom, she rocked him gently to and fro.
‘Now then, now then,’ she crooned, ‘let’s have a proper look at you. Why, you are just like your daddy was when he was a babby. He was a handsome little chap an’
all.’
Maddie frowned and then forced herself to laugh and say, ‘Oh Mrs Grange, you don’t look old enough to remember Frank as a baby.’
The huge bosom heaved with laughter. ‘I aren’t, lovey. But I do remember Michael as a bairn.’ Now she stared straight at Maddie as if defying her to deny the truth.
Maddie felt herself colouring and dropped her gaze. So what Jenny had told her had been true. It was too late to stem the gossip and, for once, the gossip had been the truth.
She heard Mrs Grange chuckle softly and say, ‘Don’t worry, lass. All the village know the truth and they know that Mr Frank has married you to save that young scallywag’s
skin.’ She laughed even louder as she added, ‘Even the village bobby knows all about it, but he’s not going to do owt when you and the bairn are being well cared for and that
young scamp safely out of the way, now is he? He knows as well as the rest of us, that Mr Frank’s not to blame.’
‘I . . .’ Maddie felt herself growing hotter by the minute.
‘Mind you,’ Mrs Grange went on. ‘I must say I was surprised at young Michael going off like that. I had him made of sterner stuff than that. Oh, I know he flirted a bit with
the village lasses and I don’t doubt there’s more than one around here fancied her chance with him, but I wouldn’t have thought he would have deserted you the way he did. And I
have to say it . . .’
And who would be able to stop you, Maddie thought, but she held her tongue between her teeth to stop the words from slipping out.
‘We’d have thought better of him if he stayed and faced the music and stood by you.’
‘I – it’s not as simple as that,’ Maddie blurted out, forced to speak about something she had vowed she never would again.
‘No, lass, I don’t suppose it is. Life ain’t simple. It never was.’ The woman was still rocking the baby in her arms, but now she was glancing from Maddie to Jenny and
back again, a thoughtful look on her face. ‘Are you sisters?’ she asked bluntly.
Maddie and Jenny exchanged a glance and then, with a similar gesture, they both shrugged. ‘We don’t know who we are, really,’ Maddie explained and added wryly, ‘only that
we were both not wanted ’cos we were dumped on the steps of the orphanage only a few months apart.’
‘Were you really?’ Mrs Grange said. ‘Now, I’d call that more than a coincidence, wouldn’t you?’
‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Jenny stammered.
The woman opened her mouth, but at that moment the shop door bell clanged loudly and Mrs Grange held out the child towards Maddie and levered herself up from her chair. ‘No rest for the
wicked,’ she laughed as she waddled through into the shop.
They heard voices and were surprised when only seconds later Mrs Grange poked her head back around the curtain. ‘It’s Nick Trowbridge looking for you, lass. He ses can you go home.
There’s been an accident.’
Maddie’s eyes widened. ‘An accident? Who?’
Clasping the baby to her, Maddie hurried into the shop and around the counter. ‘What’s happened?’ she demanded.
Nick was white-faced. ‘It’s Mr Frank. A fork’s gone through his foot. He needs to go to the hospital.’
‘Have you called a doctor or an ambulance?’
Nick ran his hand through his hair ruffling it and making it stand up on end so that he looked wild. ‘No, no. I came to find you. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In the field – where it happened.’
‘What? You’ve just left him there? Alone?’
‘I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Leave the bairn with us, lass, and you go,’ Mrs Grange offered. ‘He’ll be all right.’
Maddie did not hesitate, but passed the child back into the woman’s arms.
‘There, there, my pretty,’ Maddie heard her crooning to the gurgling child as she hurried out of the shop. ‘You’ll be all right with me and young Jenny here . .
.’
‘Come on,’ Maddie urged Nick. ‘We’d better run.’
By the time they reached the field, Maddie’s legs were trembling and her breathing laboured. She hadn’t realized, until put to the test, just how much the birth of her child had
sapped her strength.
‘Down here.’ Nick led the way along the side of the field and then Maddie could see Frank lying on the ground.
Maddie took one look at the blood oozing out of the man’s boot and seeping into the earth. ‘Go back to the village phone box and phone the doctor,’ she said swiftly to Nick.
‘On second thoughts, you’d be quicker going to his house. It’s only across the road from the phone box.’
Nick was off again at a run but Maddie called after him. ‘Get Michael’s bike from the barn. You’ll be quicker.’