A Family For Christmas (6 page)

Trousers? Eliza had never worn such a garment in
all her life.

Before she could answer, Fay had disappeared into
the bright, white outside, only to reappear moments later with an armful of logs, which she
threw down unceremoniously on the hearth. She tossed one onto the fire, then snatched up her
satchel.

‘Back before dark,' she said,
disappearing outside again.

Eliza sat listening to the wind roaring around
the building and the crackling coming from the grate. It was really quite cosy if you stayed by
the fire and she couldn't understand why Fay would choose to venture out. She stared
around the untidy room and decided that after clearing away the breakfast things she'd
tackle the cobwebs. Then come midday, when it should be warmer, she'd take herself out to
the garden and see what vegetables there were before making a start on the bread.

The ceilings and fireplace were festooned with
huge cobwebs that must have been there for years. Nature's lace, her grampy had called
them. Big black, hairy spiders, angry at being disturbed, scuttled across the ceiling and down
the walls, making Eliza shudder. When she was satisfied not a web or dead fly remained, she
snatched up a rag and began removing the patina of dust that covered
every surface. Early snowdrops or not, she was tempted to remove
the drooping flowers but by the time she'd got the room reasonably clean and tidy she was
feeling weary.

Noticing her hands were covered in muck and
feeling sticky after her exertions, she took herself outside. She was rinsing the worst of the
grime from her face and hands when she sensed she was being watched. Afraid it was another
unwanted visitor she spun round quickly and saw a dark pigeon eyeing her from the top of the
shed door. It opened its beak and gave a shrill squawk, like a warning, before disappearing into
the depths. Unnerved, Eliza fled inside.

Back indoors, Eliza began to shiver
uncontrollably. The cold had penetrated her bones and she felt light-headed. Collapsing onto the
chair, she huddled closer to the fire and closed her eyes.

When she opened them it was to see Fay sitting on
the chair opposite, cutting vegetables into a large pot.

‘So you've woken then?' the
woman grunted.

Eliza's eyes widened in horror; surely she
hadn't slept the whole day away?

‘Sorry, I only closed my eyes for a moment
but I must have dropped off,' she muttered. ‘I fully intended to prepare supper
after I'd rested.'

‘Suppose it'll take time for you to
get back on your feet. Looks like you've been busy, anyway. Room's cleaner than
it's ever been. Bet those spiders weren't too pleased having to find new homes,
though,' she chuckled.

‘Well, at least the flies will be safe,
poor things,' Eliza retorted.

‘Pah, it's nature's way. Eat or
be eaten. You can't afford to be sentimental up here, girl. Anyhow, it's not supper
time yet. It was too cold to be sitting outside for long. Wind was savage and cut right through
me so I came back for a warm. Still, I managed to sketch the outline of the icicles that were
hanging from the bridge over the river. Like huge glassy daggers, they were.'

Eliza shivered.

‘I see you went outside without putting on
something warmer like I suggested,' said Fay, going over and rummaging in the chest. She
threw Eliza a large woollen shirt and a pair of masculine-looking trousers. ‘Best put them
on now.' Eliza stared at the huge, rough garments and hesitated. ‘We don't
stand on ceremony here. Freeze to death if we did,' Fay said pointedly.

‘But surely the warmer weather's on
its way?' Eliza said, only to receive another look.

Realizing there was no use arguing, Eliza
struggled into the heavy shirt. It reached almost to her ankles and was so baggy she could
hardly see the floor, which was just as well, she thought, after she'd struggled into the
ill-fitting trousers. She'd just finished buttoning them up when there was a knock on the
door.

‘Thought you'd be back,' Fay
grunted as Duncan stepped into the room, his breath spiralling into the air as he blew on his
hands. Catching sight of Eliza, he grinned broadly.

‘Why, Fay, you're turning little un
here into a smaller version of you,' he laughed. Then his expression turned serious.
‘You're looking very pale, Eliza. I hope Fay hasn't been working you too
hard.'

The woman snorted. ‘Hardly. She was sound
asleep when I returned.'

Eliza hung her head in shame while Duncan stared
around the room.

‘I'm not sure Eliza's strong
enough to be doing anything strenuous yet,' he said, gently feeling her forehead with his
large hand. ‘And it's still cold in here, even with the fire blazing.'

‘Huh, it's warmer than out on the moors,' Fay
snapped.

‘True,' he agreed mildly, reaching in
his voluminous pocket and drawing out a bottle. ‘Let's get some of this down you,
little un,' he said, pouring red syrupy liquid into her mug.

‘I'm sorry to be a nuisance,'
she said.

He shook his head. ‘You can't help
being poorly. 'Tis up to us to help you get back on your feet,' he said, gazing at
her warmly with his chestnut eyes. Eliza's heart jumped. No one had ever looked at her
like that before. ‘Now get some sleep.'

‘But I've been sleeping most of the
afternoon,' she protested, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Next morning, they were just finishing their
breakfast when Duncan reappeared.

‘Goodness, lad, don't tell me you
want feeding again?' Fay joked as he perched on a rug on the floor and held his hands out
to warm in front of the fire.

He shook his head. ‘I had something to eat
at the farm earlier. They're in a right state down there. Rose's mother slipped on
the ice and is housebound so can't help them out. Ben's torn between seeing to the
animals and looking after Rose, who is apparently fretting each time the baby whimpers. I mixed
something to help calm her, but even so …' He shrugged.

‘Well, it's natural for Rose to be
anxious, I guess,' Fay said, putting her dish to one side. ‘Anyhow, I can't
sit here chatting with you two. There's a bright new morn and my sketchpad beckons.
I'll replenish the wood supply and then be on my way.'

‘You know I'm happy to bring in the logs for
you,' Duncan said mildly, only to receive a scowl.

‘Quite capable of doing it myself,'
Fay grunted, shrugging into her coat and striding out of the door.

Duncan grinned at Eliza. ‘Can't get
used to seeing you dressed like that.'

She stared ruefully down at her weird attire.
‘And I can't get used to wearing trousers. I feel all trussed up like a
chicken.'

‘Guess they'll keep you warm.
You're looking brighter this morning so that curative must be working. Which reminds me
…' he said, going over to the dresser and picking up the bottle. He was carefully
pouring the ruby liquid into her cup when a terrible cry rent the air.

‘Stay here,' Duncan ordered, rushing
outside.

Eliza swallowed. What was going on? She
didn't have to wait long to find out. Moments later Duncan reappeared, supporting an
ashen-faced Fay.

‘What's happened?' Eliza asked,
helping the trembling woman into her chair.

Fay shook her head, tears coursing down her
cheeks. ‘It's Woody,' she whispered.

‘You mean he's …?' Eliza
asked.

Duncan nodded. ‘Cold got to him. Look after
Fay, I'll see to his …'

‘No! Leave him to me. Oh, Woody,
Woody,' Fay cried. As her gut-wrenching sobs filled the room Eliza stared helplessly at
Duncan.

‘I'll mix something to calm you,
Fay,' he said.

‘Just leave me alone, can't you? Go
on, get out, both of you,' she ordered.

Eliza shuddered at the vehemence in her voice but Duncan
nodded.

‘Happen that would be best, Fay. I've
got the sled outside so I'll take Eliza down to the farm for a while. It'll be
warmer there and Rose will be pleased of the company. Get your things together then wrap up as
warm as you can, little un, for it's still bitter out there.'

Eliza glanced over at Fay but the woman had her
head in her lap and was sobbing her soul out. Catching sight of the snowdrops on the sill she
felt a pang. She knew she should have got rid of them.

‘Come along,' Duncan urged as she
hesitated.

‘Are you sure we should leave Fay by
herself?'

‘'Tis the best thing, believe me, and
keep those things on,' he added as she went to remove the baggy garments. ‘They
might not become thee, young un, but they'll help keep out the cold.'

Quickly she threw her sister's shawl over
the shirt, then gathered her few things into a bundle. All the while her thoughts were raging
and, once outside, she turned to Duncan.

‘It's my fault Woody died, you
know,' she burst out.

‘How do you make that out?'

‘I should have warned Fay about bringing
snowdrops indoors. They betoken death.'

To her surprise Duncan snorted. ‘Oh, little
un, if we believed every false notion we heard we'd never pick a living thing. Now come
along before you catch your death. Sun might be out but 'tis a lazy wind blowing from the
north and there's still nothing of you.'

The
sun was indeed shining brightly, making the snow-clad moor sparkle like a bejewelled wonderland.
Despite her concern about Fay, Eliza felt excitement rising as Duncan helped her onto the sled,
then piled her high with sheepskins until only her nose was showing.

‘Can't be too careful,' he
said, picking up the ropes and pulling the sled effortlessly behind him.

As they slid over the frozen ground, Eliza stared
around in fascination. She hadn't realized she'd wandered this high up the moors.
There were undulating hilltops as far as the eye could see, intersected by grey stone walling.
The track was bordered with wind-bent beech hedge banks, and everywhere was blanketed in the
silence of deep white snow.

Squinting down the valley, she could just make
out the tops of trees and a scattering of buildings far below them. Overhead the sky was as
bright blue as a dunnock's egg, and dark buzzards were mewling as they circled their prey.
Revelling in being outdoors again, Eliza was slow to realize they'd come to a stop.
Smiling down at her, Duncan gently eased her back along the sled.

‘'Tis all downhill from now, so hold
onto my waist and we'll soar like swallows,' he said, perching himself in front of
her. Taking up the ropes, he pushed off with his foot and she clung tightly onto him as they
sped down the moorland, the sled picking up pace as it went.

It was exhilarating to see the scenery whooshing
by. She could taste the freshness of snow on the breeze and was enjoying herself so much she
felt quite disappointed when they eventually came to a halt beside a strong fence surrounding
Ashcombe Farm.

‘Are you sure they won't mind me coming here, what
with the new baby and everything?' she asked, as Duncan helped her to her feet.

‘You're used to dealing with infants,
aren't you?' he asked.

‘Yes, I cared for my two younger brothers
from the day they were born.'

‘Well then, you can teach Rose the
mysterious ways of babyhood while I help Ben around the farm. And Fay needs peace and quiet to
come to terms with her loss. Woody was her companion and confidant all rolled into one and
she's going miss him terribly. A pigeon might seem a peculiar friend to have but Fay
really loved that bird and she's not one to give her emotions lightly.' Remembering
the woman's earlier resentment towards her, Eliza could only agree. ‘Come along,
let's get you in the warm,' Duncan said, leaning the sled against the fence and
tucking the sheepskins under his arm.

Clutching her bundle, Eliza followed him round
the side of the large, blue-grey stone building, where long icicles dangled from the gutters
like glass daggers. She'd hardly had time to take in her surroundings before the door was
thrown open by a harassed-looking young man.

‘Duncan, am I glad to see you,' he
cried, showing them into a homely, if somewhat untidy kitchen. As a high-pitched squeal came
from above, he threw up his hands. ‘As you can see, chaos reigns.'

‘Ben, this is Eliza. She has experience of
babies and I thought Rose might be glad of some help until her mother can get here. Not that
Eliza can do anything too strenuous as she's still recovering from the fever.'

The
young man grasped Eliza's hand. ‘Welcome, Eliza. Any help you can give Rose with the
baby will be gratefully received. He won't stop crying and she's convinced she must
be doing something wrong.'

He looked so concerned her heart went out to the
open-faced young farmer.

‘I'll do my best, sir. It's
amazing how much havoc one little baby can cause. Luckily everything usually settles down within
a week or so.'

‘Thank heavens for that, and please call me
Ben,' he said, raking his hand through his corn-coloured hair. ‘But where are my
manners? You must be ready for a hot drink,' he said, lifting a kettle onto the range.
‘Then I must go and milk the cows before it turns to cream in their udders.'

‘I'll give you a hand,' Duncan
said.

‘Why don't I tidy up in here and call
you when the tea's brewed?' Eliza ventured.

Ben smiled for the first time since they'd
arrived. ‘That would be a great help. By then, I hope Rose will be ready to join
us.' He pulled on his flat cap and headed towards the door.

‘Don't overdo it, little un,'
Duncan warned before following after him.

Eliza looked around the farmhouse kitchen.
Although the range was quite clean and burning brightly, the copper pans on the dresser would
benefit from a polish. The big square deal table was littered with dirty dishes and mugs, but
there was water simmering in a large pot alongside the kettle. Quickly discarding her shawl,
Eliza rolled up the voluminous sleeves of the woollen shirt and set to work.
The stone sink was set beneath a window that looked out over the
farmyard to rolling moors beyond.

She was pouring boiling water into the teapot
when a fair-haired woman appeared, a sleeping babe in her arms. Her beautiful gentian eyes were
shadowed by bruise-like smudges, and as she stood looking askance, Eliza bobbed a curtsy.

‘Morning, mistress. Eliza Dryad at your
service.'

‘Oh, you must be Duncan's
friend,' the woman said, smiling warmly. ‘I'm Rose, in case you didn't
realize, and this bundle of trouble is Joshua.' She stared around in amazement. ‘My
word, you have been busy.'