Luckpenny Land (13 page)

‘I do. I love the land, the farm, and the animals with a passion you will never understand. But never, as long as I live will I put them before those I love, or my own flesh and blood.’

‘That’s what you say now,’ said Joe, chortling merrily as if she had made some joke. ‘Things might change.’

There must be something wrong with me, Kath thought. She was sitting touching up the flawless beauty of her face in preparation for dinner, taking infinite care with the line of scarlet lipstick on her wide mouth. The dull November mists had turned to rain which battered against the window pane. Downstairs, in her view, was an equally dull crowd of people. Life, Kath decided, was boring and most confusing.

She stood up and swirled the skirts of her scarlet silk dress. They swished seductively against her bare legs. Delighted with the effect, she reached for her stockings and sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on, letting her thoughts turn back to her problem.

There was Sally Ann, a year younger than herself, and plump and homely to boot, walking out with stolid Dan. And Meg, whom she’d thought was on her side in seeking independence, eagerly hoping for wedded bliss with Jack on Broombank Farm. Though whether he was quite so eager for a starring part in this production was another matter. Kath had tried not to see Jack recently, in deference to her friend, but it was not easy. The prospect of enjoying the devilish rogue while she could was too tempting. There was a war coming. Everyone said so. Then they might all be dead.

In any case, nothing had been settled between him and Meg. It might fizzle out. But that wouldn’t solve her own puzzle, would it? It was not simply a question of whether she wanted Jack Lawson, but whether she wanted any man, as a permanent fixture, that is. Why didn’t she want the same sort of life that other girls craved? Marriage. Children. All of that stuff.

There had been several offers. From ‘darling Richard’ of course. He would repeat it tonight and Mummy would send silent messages across the room urging her to accept.

Richard was eligible. His father was in local politics, had acres of land and was considered comfortably well off. But Kath wasn’t interested in land or politics though money held a certain fascination. It was a commodity she had never been short of and she could hardly envisage life without it. But marriage was a high price to pay.

Sex was much more fun than suburban fidelity, a crusty-faced nanny and endless coffee mornings with flat-chested, bored housewives.

The dinner gong sounded and Kath sighed. She really would have to make up her mind soon on what she meant to do with her life, she supposed. She fastened her last suspender and swished the skirt again, smiling at her image in the mirror. ‘Far too good not to share,’ she told the reflection.

Later in the evening when it was carefully contrived for the young couple to be alone together, Kath had to admit that she was no nearer a decision.

They sat on the sofa in the drawing room in the prescribed manner and Kath allowed Richard to kiss her. His kisses were polite, guarded even, as if he were afraid of startling her. They bore scant resemblance to the impatient demands of Jack’s thrusting tongue. But she could never marry Jack. He had no money, and no prospects of getting any. He hated farming and had nothing else lined up. But he was delicious fun. His sunburned skin all smooth and rimed with sweat ...

‘Do you think you can have good sex and a good marriage all in one neat package?’ she asked Richard, quite out of the blue. He looked startled.

‘Is that important?’

Kath pouted. ‘Surely you’re not going to pretend that sex is only for men? Oh God, how old-fashioned.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Good.’

‘I think you come out with these things just to shock me.’

‘Perhaps I do.’

‘Have you thought about what I asked you the other day?’ Richard had placed one hand tentatively over the curve of her breast. Kath let it lie there.

‘Of course I have, darling.’ She wondered if he would jump a mile if she placed a hand upon him.

‘And do you have an answer?’

If there was one thing she hated it was uncertainty in a man. Katherine Ellis always intended to be in charge of any relationship, but she liked the fiction of pretending it to be otherwise. ‘I hate it when people try to pressure me into something.’

Richard at once demurred. ‘No pressure, Katherine darling, but I would like to know where we stand.’ He was such a very polite, well meaning young man, medium brown hair, brown eyes, medium height. Everything about him, Kath thought, was medium. And profoundly sensible.

‘Daddy once wanted me to go to university,’ she said, making a tiny moue with her brilliant lips. ‘His old one in Edinburgh for preference where I could learn the noble art of medicine. I might have done it too if he hadn’t been so terribly pushy about it. Quite put me off.’ She got up and went to refill her wine glass. She’d already had two and knew Richard wouldn’t approve of her having a third so she filled the glass to the brim and offered him the small amount left in the bottle. He shook his head. So sensible.

‘Just as well I didn’t. Look what life as a boring doctor has done for him. He’s a physical wreck, forced to take early retirement.’

‘I was sorry to hear that,’ Richard muttered.

‘Yes, darling. I’m sure you were.’ She sat on the chair opposite, and the silk of her stockings squeaked as she drew up her skirt and crossed her legs. Richard’s eyes were riveted upon them. So he was human after all, she thought, smiling to herself. ‘I told him, no thank you, Daddy dear.’

‘If you married me,’ Richard urged, almost on one knee as he leaned closer, ‘you would never have to worry about working. I don’t think it proper for a woman.’

Kath rewarded him with a delighted smile. ‘How very tempting you make it sound. But don’t you think I should discover something of myself first, and something of the world? Try for a career or job?’

He looked shocked. ‘What sort of job?’

Kath gazed into space, quite lost for an answer. Unlike Meg, she had never given work any serious consideration. She changed tack. ‘Wouldn’t marrying too quickly make Daddy even more disappointed in me?’

‘I don’t see why. You could have lots of babies.’

The smile faded. ‘So I could.’ She stood up. ‘Perhaps we’ll think about it at Christmas, darling. If there’s still no war, of course. Would that do?’

Richard reluctantly conceded that it would do very well.

By then, Kath thought, she’d have found some way out of the cage, some place she could spread her wings and fly.

Chapter Seven

As if deciding on self-protection, Kath invited Meg and Jack to spend Christmas Day at Larkrigg.

‘I feel the need for moral support.’

Meg, thrilled and flattered by Kath’s invitation, broke into gales of laughter at the very idea of her sophisticated friend needing support from anyone. ‘Of course I’ll come. After lunch, when the menfolk are snoring their meal off.’

There was every sign of a white Christmas. The clusters of larch groves on the lower slopes stood out darkly against the winter pale grass. A time of year that Meg loved and a merrier party than usual to celebrate the festive season at Ashlea. She had taken her father at his word and invited Lanky and Jack. Her regular visits to Broombank had been curtailed somewhat by the colder weather so it was important that Jack felt he could call on her at home, which so far he hadn’t done. At least their relationship seemed more settled. Following their tussle in the wood there had been many sweet apologies and lingering kisses, and Jack hadn’t asked her to go too far again.

Today being Christmas, Meg nursed a secret hope for more tangible evidence of his love. A ring perhaps?

‘It’s just like old times, when Mum was alive,’ she said, on a rush of goodwill and emotion.

‘Dinner was a bit late. Your mother was an expert cook. She’d never have been late,’ complained Joe. ‘You’ll have to shape better if you want to catch theeself an husband.’

‘Thanks for those few kind words.’ Hot and flustered from her long stint in the kitchen, Meg nevertheless managed to laugh at her father’s put down.

‘Your Connie not come home for Christmas then, I see?’ Joe addressed Lanky, seemingly determined to spoil the mellow atmosphere by bringing a frown to the old man’s brow.

‘She has to think of her husband’s family now. Said she might pop over at New Year,’ said Lanky, smothering a sudden tickle in his throat.

‘Aye. Happen.’

Lanky rubbed his horn hard palms together, clearly agitated by the questioning.

‘Anyone for more plum pudding?’ offered Meg quickly, sending a glance of furious displeasure in her father’s direction.

‘What? What have I done?’ Everyone laughed and the tension lifted again.

It was a lovely day, crisp and bright as Christmas should be, a rose pink sky against cool blue mountain tops. High above a peregrine falcon circled, perhaps seeking its own Christmas feast. The two families took a long walk together, to shake down the rich food, as Lanky said. And perhaps replete after his good meal, Joe was as good as gold and made no more ill-tempered remarks. Even Dan congratulated Meg on the excellent meal. ‘You know Father only wants what’s best for you,’ he added.

‘He has a funny way of showing it!’

Meg suspected that Sally Ann had deliberately engineered for them to be walking side by side and she could see that her brother looked suddenly nervous as he cleared his throat. ‘Sal and me are thinking of getting wed in the spring.’

Meg turned to him in a burst of genuine pleasure that passed for affection between them. ‘Oh, I’m so glad. I like Sally Ann a lot.’

Dan flushed like a pleased schoolboy. ‘Aye, well, we thought we might as well. If war does come things might get more difficult.’

‘It’ll come,’ said Charlie. ‘Congrats, old boy.’

Meg usually turned her mind obstinately away from all thought of war. She knew the threat was there but far away, in Germany and Austria and Spain. How could it affect them here on the Westmorland fells? Even so it was hard to be completely oblivious as a general feeling of unease was beginning to spread.

Even the Ellises could talk of little else as Meg and Jack sat politely sipping tea and eating tiny slivers of Christmas cake later that afternoon. There were several friends and neighbours present. The Jepsons, Mr and Mrs Parker from Swillhead, Hetty and Will Davies in their best clothes looking faintly uncomfortable. And of course the vicar. Mrs Ellis was highly regarded at the church.

‘They’ve given the schoolchildren gasmasks, can you believe that?’ Rosemary Ellis was saying. ‘Where in heaven’s name would the gas come from up here?’

‘It’s only a precaution,’ explained her husband, in his rather slow, kindly manner.

‘Lanky says they were talking on the wireless the other day of evacuating children from the cities,’ Meg put in.

Mr Ellis nodded sagely. ‘Cities will be the worst places if war does start. We will be fortunate here. The war will not affect us at all.’

Kath, who had been feeding scraps of icing to the adoring Richard and taking little interest in the conversation, now turned abruptly to her father. ‘That’s the kind of talk that makes me wild. Of course the war will affect us. We could be bombed, even here. And there’s talk of conscription soon. Some of us might be called up. Maybe even me.’

Rosemary Ellis laughed politely as if her daughter had made a lovely joke. ‘Don’t talk foolish, darling. Let’s not spoil Christmas with all this morbid talk. More tea anyone?’

Meg was happy for the subject to change, for the thought of losing Jack in a war was too painful to contemplate. She slipped her hand into his when no one was looking and he squeezed it softly, as if to reassure her.

‘Come on, everyone,’ Kath cried, leaping up. ‘Charades.’ There was a general groan all round but she was adamant. ‘You can’t have Christmas without charades. I’ll start. Come on, Jack. I’ve got a grand idea but I shall need you to play a part. Richard, you too.’
 

Grabbing both men’s hands she pulled them into the kitchen and everyone was laughing again, the black mood gone.

Meg sat feeling suddenly left out. She’d been quite happy in her mustard and tan suit until she’d seen Kath, lovely as ever in a new turquoise dress with gold buttons. She didn’t mean to be jealous, not really. It was an insecurity in her, a lack of confidence, that was all. One she usually accepted with equanimity. Not recognising her own fresh beauty, sometimes Meg longed for a touch of Kath’s more exotic variety. Perhaps then Jack would declare his love more openly.

What she wanted most of all right now was for them to exchange their personal gifts in perfect privacy. She didn’t want anyone to see her face when she opened Jack’s. Meg was almost certain she would be engaged before the day was out. But privacy was denied them, although Jack did manage to sneak her a kiss when no one was looking as Kath handed out presents from the tree.

Sweetly sensual, his fingers slipped swiftly into the neck of her blouse to caress the swell of her breasts. Meg started, giving an embarrassed giggle, but a warm glow illuminated her face.

‘I’ve knitted you some socks,’ she said, and Jack took the carefully wrapped parcel in all seriousness, then they both laughed and hugged each other.