Luckpenny Land (10 page)

‘It’s nowt much, just summat to say thank you.’

‘Thank you for what?’

‘For helping an old man.’ He grinned, showing gaps in his teeth. ‘But mainly for your company. Why a young girl like you should waste her time with an old chap like me, I don’t know, but I’m right grateful for it.’

‘Oh, Lanky.’ Meg put her arms round him and gave him a big hug.

‘Go on. It’s in t’barn. See what you think.’

‘But don’t we have to put the cam stones back on top of the wall yet? Can’t it wait?’

‘No, it can’t. Our Jack’ll help lift these big stones. They’re too heavy for a young lass, and an old man. Go on. Get away with you.’

He was clearly as eager with his surprise as a young boy, and, laughing, Meg ran down the slope and pushed open the great door. The barn was packed from floor to ceiling with hay as it always was at this time of year. Nothing else that she could see. Except the dogs, of course, who slept in a corner. There was a gap in the bottom of the door so they could move in and out of the barn at will on the ends of their long ropes. There was Tess, Lanky’s old collie, and her two sons, Ben and Rust. She stared at them now, a sudden wondering idea coming to her.
 

Meg turned to look questioningly at Lanky. ‘Tess hasn’t had more pups, has she?’

‘Nay, she’s past it now. But Rust is young enough to risk with a change of master - or mistress.’

‘Oh, Lanky.’ She was stunned for a moment by his generosity. ‘You can’t. He’s your best young dog. You can’t give him to me.’

‘I can do what I like, I reckon, with me own dogs. He needs someone young to tackle him. And Charlie says you’d like one.’

Meg grey eyes were shining. ‘Charlie would say that. He saw me make a proper clown of myself trying to do something clever without one.’

Meg looked at the dog. Most of him was black, the colour of all Border collies, but the rest was rust, as if he’d been left out in the rain too long. Hence his name. He was standing in front of her, feathered tail out straight, one brown ear erect, the other black and flopping over. Feet foursquare, eyes bright and alert with a question in them. ‘He understands. He’s weighing me up. Can you see it in his eyes?’

‘Oh, aye, he’s not daft is young Rust. Lie down, lad.’

The dog obeyed instantly, falling softly to his belly, velvet eyes fixed upon Lanky’s face. ‘He’ll make up for the loss of the pet lamb, eh?’

‘Oh, Lanky. He’s much better.’ She could feel tears in her throat.

‘You’ll have to keep him fastened to you for a while till he gets accustomed or he’ll keep coming back home to me.’

‘Oh, I will. I will.’ Meg held out the back of her knuckles for the dog to sniff, talking softly as she knelt beside him. ‘I’ll take good care of you, boy. You and me can be friends. Would you like that, eh?’

Tongue lolling from the side of his grinning mouth, he gazed at her, then up at his old master.

‘Aye, lad. Go on. It’s all right.’

Reassured, the dog nosed the hand, indicating he’d be happy to have it stroke him. Meg obliged. Then she remembered what Joe had done with the pet lamb, all those years ago. ‘Can I leave him here for a while though, just till I’ve made it right at home?’

Lanky smiled. ‘Not told Joe yet then about your efforts in the sheep department?’

Meg lifted anxious eyes to his. ‘No. I will tell him. In me own good time. You won’t. . .’

‘Nowt to do wi’ me. But that cur will need training. He’s young yet, coming up to twelve month. I’ll teach you to whistle.’

And so he did. Meg spent hours practising the signals in quiet corners, finding it far more difficult than she’d imagined. And twice as many hours encouraging Rust to round up the ducks and hens in Lanky’s yard without setting them off in a flurry. Only when he had served a long apprenticeship, and obeyed her every command, would he be permitted near sheep.

All of this had to be done in complete secrecy from her father and brother, so Rust stayed, for the moment, at Broombank. But Meg meant to have him with her as soon as she had spoken to her father. There was so much now that she had to talk to him about, the prospect was chilling and exciting all at the same time.

Meg’s peace ended one day in October. It was one of those quiet, still days only found in autumn. The leaves of the Lakeland woodlands were a paint palette of russet, gold and terracotta. A fat yellow sun that never seemed evident in August now turned the cooling lakes to a blinding sparkle of light. Dew-spangled cobwebs knitted the thorn hedges and, high above, swallows and martins bossed and ordered each other into massive groups ready for their flight south.

The weather was unseasonably warm, almost balmy, and Meg and Jack had walked to their favourite place in Brockbarrow Wood. As usual she had responded eagerly to his kisses, but this time he objected to the set boundaries and there was a particularly undignified tussle. Meg was forced to slap his exploring hand away, cheeks flying flags of hot scarlet.

‘What kind of girl do you think I am?’ she demanded to know, feeling disappointed and somehow guilty all at the same time.

‘You’re turning into a prude.’

‘I’m not. I’ve told you I’m..’

‘Yeah. Keeping yourself on ice. Well, maybe I don’t want a woman with ice in her veins. It’s hot blood that warms a man, Meg.’

Meg flushed. ‘You know how I feel about that. I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.’

‘Oh, come on.’ He stroked her leg, making her shiver with longing. ‘What’s so wonderful about settling down, I’d like to know? Make’s a man boring and middle-aged before his time.’

‘It needn’t.’

‘Don’t expect too much from me, Meg. I am what I am.’ Dark brows crashed down over violet eyes, and he got quickly to his feet. Then thrusting his hands deep in his pockets Jack strode briskly away, leaving her alone on the cold grassy slope where a moment before she had been warmly clasped in his arms. ‘Let me know when you decide to be a real woman,’ he tossed casually over his shoulder, his frustration finally spilling over into temper.

Meg thought of running after him but his broad back looked so furious and unapproachable that she let him go. An action she later regretted.

She spent several miserable days hoping he would come round and ask forgiveness for his ill temper. But he didn’t. Nor did he meet her in their usual place each afternoon in Brockbarrow Wood.

Meg’s despair deepened. Perhaps she was wrong to hold herself back. Should she take the risk? She did love him, but any talk of marriage had always come from her, not Jack. Surely that only meant he was waiting till she was twenty-one?

In the end she decided to seek advice about her dilemma, and who else was there to ask but Kath? It didn’t seem quite right to talk about such personal matters, even to a dear friend. What went on between herself and Jack was their affair after all. But Meg was desperate to know what she should do, for she was so afraid of losing him.

‘We’ll walk as far as Whinstone Gill,’ Kath declared, determined to enjoy the warm sunshine. A deep cleft cut in the rock, the two girls loved to scramble along the gill, sometimes as far as Whinstone Force, a gushing waterfall that burst out of the rock face from a network of underground mountain streams.

Kath had been out riding and her cheeks were flushed by the wind. She wore jodphurs of pale cream cord and a shirt that was very likely silk clinging to firm uptilted breasts. By comparison Meg felt frumpish in her old sandals and cotton frock, and foolishly naïve.

Nevertheless she decided there wouldn’t be a better opportunity and, screwing up her courage, she put her question. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Goodness, this sounds serious.’

‘I suppose it is.’

‘Ask away.’

‘Have you ever, you know, gone all the way?’ Meg’s cheeks fired up with embarrassment.

Kath stared at her, startled for a moment. ‘What did you say?’

‘I was only wondering what it was like, if it was as good as all the romantic stories say? And if there’s a really safe way of doing it?’ she rushed on, finishing in a fluster of heated confusion.

‘Safe?’

‘Yes. To stop - you know - babies.’

Kath was stunned. ‘Didn’t your mother tell you? I mean, haven’t you and ... Oh, my God.’ This was the last thing Kath had expected to hear and she wondered for a moment how to cope with it. Meg’s attitude to sex had always been less down to earth than her own, though they’d discussed it openly enough between them on many occasions. But not this, she’d never expected this.

‘You really don’t know? I thought you and Jack...’

‘That’s just it. He wants to.’

‘But you don’t?’

‘No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know. The thing is, will I lose him if I give in?’

‘Or will you lose him if you don’t?’

Meg stared at her friend in consternation. Trust Kath to spot the nub of the problem right away. ‘Something like that.’

‘Would it matter very much?’

Meg flushed. ‘Yes, of course it would matter.’ Jack wasn’t the only one to suffer. No matter how hard Meg tried not to think about it, as her love for him grew so did her need to demonstrate that love. Completely. ‘I daren’t risk getting pregnant and it would be just my luck to catch on first time. Father would throw me out instantly, if only to save his face at the chapel.’

‘Funny, isn’t it?’ Kath agreed. ‘How it’s always the girl who is blamed, when it takes two to make a baby?’

‘And how do I know that Jack would do the decent thing by me? It has been known for the man to walk away and deny the child is his. Not that I think Jack would be so cruel but, oh, it doesn’t bear thinking about!’

She wished they didn’t have to wait till she was twenty-one to marry. She wished they could go right this minute and live at Broombank and she could help him run the farm. Then they’d live happily ever after. Meg did her best to explain all of this to a suddenly silent Kath.

‘So do you think I should - let him, I mean? Would he still respect me, still marry me?’

Kath and Meg had always been close ever since childhood. With few other girls their age living in the area, they’d been almost like sisters. Kath certainly loved her as a sister, but that hadn’t stopped them being rivals, not ever, just as real sisters were. Now she felt, not guilt exactly but as near to it as Kath’s selfish, careless nature could get. It came together with a great wave of protectiveness towards her more innocent friend. Kath chose her next words with care. ‘I didn’t realise he was so important to you.’

‘Of course he’s important. I love him. I’ve always loved him.’

‘I thought that was just schoolgirl stuff.’

Meg’s eyes widened. ‘No. It might have been once, but not now. And he loves me, I know he does.’

Kath turned away quickly, unwilling to meet the certainty in Meg’s clear grey eyes. She climbed up on to the top bar of a wooden gate to give herself time to think, swung one elegant, smoothly jodphured leg as if they were discussing nothing more important than whether it would rain tomorrow. ‘Jack’s a rolling stone. He won’t stay here.’

‘He will. He loves Broombank. He’s settling down nicely. He would have left long since otherwise, wouldn’t he?’

‘You know he’s no good, don’t you? Never has been. He’s had any number of girls.’ Kath gave a little laugh, sounding oddly uncertain in her resolution to say what she must. ‘He would once have been termed a libertine and a rake. Can’t you just see it in those come-to-bed eyes?’

Never in all their long friendship had the girls had a really serious row. But Meg could feel the hot anger stirring within her and knew that at any moment she was about to spoil that good record. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Kath was her best friend, only showing that she cared about her as she’d always done, but Kath didn’t understand. She didn’t understand at all. For the first time in their relationship, Meg felt superior to her more confident friend.

‘He might have been once, when he was younger, but not any more,’ she carefully explained.

Kath’s heart sank as she looked at Meg’s earnest expression. Why hadn’t she seen what was happening, put a stop to it earlier? How could she have been so blind? But then why couldn’t Meg see that Jack would never settle down? Not in a million years. Certainly not with a quiet little mouse like Meg, however resolute she might pretend to be underneath that meek and mild expression.

‘Jack is only kicking his heels,’ Kath gently pointed out. ‘Waiting for the right opportunity to leave Broombank and the Lake District for the great wide world beyond. Can’t you see that?’ She could understand that need in him. Didn’t she have it herself? There was genuine anxiety now in her plea. ‘Don’t get caught up with him, Meg. He’ll only break your heart.’ But the warning was months too late.

Meg was listening appalled. ‘How can you be so cruel, Kath Ellis? You don’t know him, not as I do. You don’t know what it’s like to love him.’

Kath swung down from the gate and started to walk away. Shielding her eyes from the direct glare of the sun so that it was impossible accurately to read her expression she looked back at Meg. It was a long moment before she spoke again. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t suppose I do.’