Luckpenny Land (14 page)

He held out his present to her, and her heart plummeted. Too big for a ring, and quite the wrong shape. Meg smiled up at him, swallowing her disappointment, not wanting him to see that it mattered.

She carefully unfolded the gold paper. ‘A scarf. What a lovely blue. Just my colour. How did you guess?’

‘Not good at shopping. I had some help.’

Some of the pleasure went out of the gift but Meg shook the feeling away. It was the thought that counted, wasn’t it? He was saving the ring to give her later, when they were alone. This was the best Christmas ever. By next, who could tell? They might well be man and wife.

‘Look, it’s snowing,’ Kath cried, and they all ran outside to find the garden already covered with a thick layer of snow, sparkling white in the soft moonlight. Laughing like silly children with not a care in the world, they started a mad game of snowballs, stuffing it down each other’s necks. Jack kissed Meg, making her head spin, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Richard doing the same with Kath, although her friend didn’t seem to be responding quite so enthusiastically.

Kat pushed Richard away. ‘Go and fetch us some mince pies and sherry, darling, for a special toast to Christmas beneath the stars. Go on, there’s a good boy.’ And Richard obediently scurried off to do her bidding.

‘The way you bully that young man is quite wicked,’ Meg said, but Kath only shrugged.

‘The choice is his. Anyway, I wanted him to go away so that we three can have a precious moment alone together to toast a very special friendship.’ She linked arms, hugging them close, one on each side of her. ‘I want us always to be friends.’

‘Of course we will,’ said Meg, leaning her head against Jack’s shoulder. ‘For ever and ever.’ She shivered, drawing her coat closer.
 

‘Are you cold?’ asked Kath, concerned.

‘No, I’m fine.’ Forever was a long time, and she was far from sure of Jack’s intentions.

‘Things can go wrong sometimes, even between friends,’ Jack warned, almost reading her mind. ‘If there is a war we might be separated. I for one will have to join up.’

‘We’ll all join up!’ cried Kath, reckless as ever.

‘Don’t joke about it. It’s too terrible,’ Meg said, grey eyes alight with all the love and happiness she felt on this special day. ‘You are my best friends. Who else do I have but you two?’

There was a moment’s silence as both acknowledged the truth of this bleak statement. It was the penalty of living in such a remote spot.

Then Kath wriggled free to stand before them, one hand held out. ‘Let’s make a vow. A promise that whatever happens, we’ll always be friends.’

Meg, knowing she’d drunk far too much wine, started to giggle. ‘You make it sound like the Three Musketeers.’

‘It is in a way,’ Kath agreed. ‘Come on, promise. Friends for ever.’

Meg clasped Kath’s hand and covered both with Jack’s. ‘All right. A solemn vow. Friends for ever.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’
 

They both looked up at Jack and he grinned. ‘Promise.’

It was after eleven when they walked down the lane, arms wrapped about each other in the starry darkness, and Meg was glowing with love. The lack of a ring didn’t trouble her any more. She knew they loved each other, that was the important thing.

But then in the contented silence, as so often happened, her thoughts moved on to her secret dreams. Of being at Broombank with Jack, as man and wife. She traced the picture of the great inglenook in her head and she and Jack seated within it, talking about their flock, as generations of Lakelanders had done.

‘Lanky isn’t well, is he?’

‘Doesn’t seem to be.’

‘He should see a doctor.’

‘He won’t even bring a vet to the animals. He’s too set in his ways. If it can’t be cured with treacle or embrocation, he doesn’t want to know.’

‘Is he going to let you take over the farm?’

Jack looked surprised. ‘Why should he?’

‘Because he’s ill and it needs attention.’

‘Stuff the farm.’ Jack pulled her into his arms to kiss her and Meg melted against him, happily relinquishing all thought but that of desire. When it was over she curled against him, cheeks flushed, eyes star bright. Jack’s hands tightened upon her buttocks, rubbing her against him.

‘Sometimes I think you fancy my dad more than you do me.’

Meg smiled mischievously up at him. ‘Maybe I do.’

Jack bit her ear, making her squeal. ‘It’s not often I get you to myself these days. You always seem to have dogs around, or sheep.’

His lips were finding the curve below her ear, his tongue tickling enticingly. ‘I reckon it’s starting to snow again. Or maybe rain.’ He started to unbutton her coat. ‘Better take shelter, wouldn’t you say? How fortunate, here we are by our barn.’ Jack was walking her backwards and with his arms still clamped tight about her she had no option but to go where he led her.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked in a breathless voice, not really caring. Violet-blue eyes, dark and teasing, ran over her face with a need that set a sharp and piercing ache somewhere deep in her belly. She knew what he wanted, what he had always wanted.

And Meg also knew that she wanted to go with him. Anywhere he asked.

It was warmer in the barn, amongst the hay. Rust welcomed her with thumping tail and wet tongue. But Meg had no time for dogs just now.

‘Lie down, boy. Stay.’

Jack was leading her deep into the darkness, only a shaft of moonlight lighting the dust motes in the musty air.

Meg reached for him, taking his beloved face between her hands, smoothing the dark hair. How she loved the way it curled into a point at his nape.

There was an impatience in him, like a fever. She could feel him tremble as he laid her down, lengthening himself beside her so that he could smooth one hand over the curve of her breast and the flatness of her stomach. Very quickly it seemed to Meg, he had removed her blouse and camisole and her young, rosy-tipped breasts were exposed to his eager gaze. But she didn’t mind, she welcomed it. She could feel the impatience rising in herself just as fiercely. When he caught her nipples between his sharp white teeth this time she did not protest, only arched her back and pushed herself into him, making him moan with agony.

This time she meant to show him how much she loved him. This time she would prove that she wasn’t frigid. It would be her Christmas gift to him.

She wondered if it would hurt, the first time. As schoolgirls they had made wild guesses and there had been much talk of blood and piercing pain. Would it be like that? Meg hoped not. She wanted to feel only pleasure and the proof of his love. Would he tell her that he loved her afterwards, when they were one? Perhaps it was these confused thoughts that made the words she had so longed to say come out in a muddle.

Jack’s fingers were fumbling with her skirt buttons and she was finding it hard to catch her breath. ‘It’s going to be all right. Father doesn’t mind. About us. He thinks it’s a good idea,’ she said, meaning to encourage him, but at once felt him freeze.

‘What did you say?’

Quietly, almost fearfully, she repeated the fateful words.

He pulled away from her to sit back on his heels and survey her. Meg drew her hands over her suddenly chilled breasts, feeling cheapened by the anger in his face. ‘What is it? What have I done? I only said...’

‘I know what you said. Did your father tell you to come here, with me, should you ever get the chance?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She reached for him again but he evaded her grasp. ‘He tells me nothing, except to fetch home-made dishes for Lanky now and then, but…’ It was the wrong thing to say, she could sense it the minute the words were out.

‘To soften him up? And did he tell
you
to offer yourself to Lanky’s son for afters. Did he?’

Meg couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How had it all gone so badly wrong? What had she
done?

‘It’s not like that,’ she protested. ‘I don’t care about my father any more than you do. Anyway, it wasn’t me who told him about us. He guessed, and didn’t seem to mind. I thought it would make it easier for you to call and see me.’ But she could tell Jack wasn’t listening.

‘Joe Turner has been wanting Broombank for years. And having failed by the usual methods, he’s trying bribery and corruption now, is that it? Offering delicious home-made titbits, even his own daughter in exchange. Or is it wedding bells he’s after, to get Broombank in the family, eh?’

Tears sprang to her eyes, filling her nose and mouth and seeming to run all over her face. This couldn’t be happening. What Jack was saying was awful, terrible,
and surely not true.
But there was a doubt in her mind.

‘I thought you loved me?’ she said, trying to scramble free of him and hiccuping like a child on her tears. ‘I love you.’ For so long she’d tried not to be the first to say those words and now she had spoiled it all by letting them come. Jack would never love her now. He would blame her for everything, she could see it in the mutinous set of his handsome face. Her heart ached to see how it turned against her, to see the sensual lips curl with distaste.

‘
Love?
Who are you to talk of love? For months you’ve hardly let me touch you. What do you think I’m made of? Stone.’ He’d got her skirt unfastened and tugged it from her in a frenzy of frustration. Not listening to the voice of reason in the back of his head, he could feel only the pulsing heat of his loins.

‘No, Jack.’ Her voice sounded oddly cracked and surprisingly calm. ‘Not like this. I don’t want it to happen like this, in anger. You know you’ll only regret it.’

‘Damn you,’ he said, flinging himself down upon her and starting to knead her breasts. She’d planned it all, he could see that now. Making him mad for her all these months, then when Joe Turner had yet another refusal on his latest offer for Broombank, it was suddenly all right. She was begging for it. ‘All this time I’ve wanted you and all you’ve given me is the prissy miss act, but Daddy now says it’s all right so here you are, the virginal sacrifice.’

‘No. It’s not like that.’ Meg knew her words were lost on him. His legs straddled her and his mouth was grasping her nipple, suckling her, driving her mad with need. But this was all wrong. It wasn’t meant to be this way. With shock she felt his fingers move deep inside her, thrusting and probing, and pain and pleasure swamped her. Dear God, how I love him, she thought. Let his anger go. Oh, please let him be kind. He must want us to be one, our love perfect, as she did.

‘Kiss me,’ she begged, but he ignored her as his fingers explored her with outrageous boldness, making the need worse not better, making her want him beyond anything she had ever imagined.

‘Love me, Jack. I do love you so.’

She could hear her own voice begging for him as he’d said she would one day, feel her body arching against him, the wetness of herself a startling revelation. What was it he wanted of her? Not just to lie here, surely?

He was fumbling with something, talking of how much something or other cost and would she keep still or he’d tear it?

Then he was lifting her thighs, his fingers bruising her flesh as he pulled her against him. When he drove into her it took her by surprise and she cried out with the unexpected pain of it. Then he was pounding into her with such force her head was pushed uncomfortably against the wall of the barn. She lifted herself to him, wanting to be as close as she could get, to make the loving come right. Meg tried to match his energy and need with her own, but somehow all desire seemed to drain from her and she found herself wanting it all to be over as quickly as possible. When he finally withdrew, shuddering on the hay beside her, an aching disappointment left her spent and drained of emotion.

And feeling very faintly foolish.

Afterwards, they lay in the hay side by side, not speaking. Meg became aware of a strange soreness in parts of her body she had never considered before.

‘Feel better now?’ Jack asked, and she smiled shyly, not sure how to answer. It hadn’t been exactly as she’d imagined. But perhaps that was because it was her first time, and she’d feel more involved when she’d had a bit more practice. Guilt washed over her. What was she saying? It’d been Christmas and the unaccustomed wine that had gone to her head. It mustn’t happen again. Not till they were wed. ‘We shouldn’t have done that,’ she said.

Jack was sitting up, lighting a cigarette. ‘Why not? It’s made me feel better anyway.’

‘I wouldn’t like to make a habit of it,’ she said worriedly.

Jack chuckled, his eyes scanning her pale body in the shaft of moonlight. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’

She stroked one finger over the bow of his lips, giggling when his teeth nipped her fingertips. ‘Why should I want Lanky’s farm when I can have you? Land is easy to rent anywhere for a pound an acre. Love comes much more expensive.’ And as his eyelids flickered slightly, eyes glinting, she kissed him softly.

‘We’ll marry in the spring,’ she said. ‘Then we can make love all the time. There. Will that make you happy?’

Chapter Eight

1939

Everyone in the farming community was glad that 1938 was over. What with the slump in prices and shortage of labour, things had been difficult and profits few. But with talk of a coming war it looked as if next year might be even worse.