Luckpenny Land (26 page)

The atmosphere was so chilled at times with Connie either finding fault with Meg or at loggerheads with her brother that Meg felt dizzy with the worry of it.

If only she could speak with Jack alone, and see that he was happy for her. It affected them both, didn’t it? The war wouldn’t last for ever. But all she could do was keep in the background as much as possible, even banishing little Effie to bed unreasonably early to avoid any danger of confrontation. And there was not a moment for Jack and Meg to have to themselves.

Chapter Thirteen

Monday morning at Broombank came in dank and cold. A mist clung to the upper reaches of Dundale Knott like wisps of hair round an old man’s bald head. The mood in the farmhouse was equally grim. Though Connie and her husband were finally leaving, Jack too had announced he must be on his way and Meg volunteered to walk with him as far as the road, grabbing the first few precious moments for them to be together since the reading of the will.

‘You don’t believe I engineered all of this, do you?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know what to think. One minute we’re going to get married and start a new life together somewhere yet to be decided, the next you’re setting yourself up as a farmer.’

He turned his face to hers and for a moment Meg looked into the eyes of a stranger. A cold shiver stroked the length of her spine but she shook it away, dismissing it as fancy. He was jealous, that was all, because there’d been nothing for his father to leave to him. She slipped her hand into his. It felt large and warm and strong, and she certainly had no intention of spoiling these last moments together in disagreement.

‘Don’t be cross, Jack. You know I always wanted to stay here. You like it too, deep down, or you would if you’d only give it a chance. You’re just depressed, feeling left out of things because of the war. But can you blame Lanky for dealing with it in this way? You never said you wanted Broombank.’
 

‘It doesn’t greatly matter what I want at the moment, does it?’ Jack said. ‘There’s talk of us going abroad soon.’

Meg stopped dead. ‘Oh, Jack, why didn’t you tell me? All this talk about me and Lanky and Broombank, and all the time you’re going overseas, into the fighting. Oh, dear God.’

‘Don’t start. I’ll be all right.’

Meg moved into his arms and Jack felt the warm pressure of her breasts against his chest. He slid his hands down over her small rump and pressed her closer. Drat Connie being there, they might have spent a much more pleasant night without his sister around with one ear cocked. He nuzzled into Meg’s neck, relishing the sweet scent of her. He’d forgotten how tantalisingly feminine she was, not at all like the rough types who frequented the bars around the Pool at Liverpool.

‘I’ll get some leave before I go. Embarkation leave they call it. We can have a good time together then, eh?’

He moved his mouth to hers and teased open her lips, feeling her sigh against him. He didn’t let the kiss go on too long though because he had a bus to catch.

Meg’s eyes were shining up at him. ‘Oh, that would be lovely. I wish we could get married before you go, but it wouldn’t be proper, would it? So soon after the funeral.’

Panic came into his eyes but Meg was pressing her head against his chest so didn’t notice. ‘I don’t know when we’re going yet. It could be months. But anyway...’

‘No, don’t.’ She pressed her fingertips to his lips when he might have said more. ‘I understand you’re going into danger. I know... that the worst might happen.’ There was a catch in her throat. ‘But I want to think that we at least had something, some time together, as man and wife. If they don’t send you abroad for a few months, we could get married, couldn’t we? Then we’d have known some happiness...’ She stopped and swallowed carefully. ‘I love you so much, Jack.’

He kissed her again and found himself sharing her rising excitement. It might not be such a bad idea. It might give him some hope for the future, to be married. Lots of his mates were doing it. Rushing in and marrying the first good-looking girl who crossed their path. Seemed to be all the rage. Meg would never let him have her again otherwise. He’d given up all hope, knowing that her Methodist upbringing and fear of her father were too strong in her. Sometimes he wondered what it was about her that made him want her so badly when there were any number of girls only too glad to have him.

‘Let’s think about it for a bit,’ he said. ‘You still wear my ring?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Meg held it out so they could both admire the sparkle. ‘I wear it all the time.’

‘Well, see that you do. Some of the lads have been let down by their girls back home already, playing about the minute they’d gone.’

Meg looked shocked. ‘Oh, but that’s dreadful. To cheat on somebody when they’ve gone off to fight a war. I would never do that to you, Jack.’

He hugged her close, enjoying the feel of her small body against his. ‘See that you don’t, or I’ll make you sorry.’ He bent his head and kissed her lips, nipping them with his teeth so that fire shot through to her belly, shaming her.

She pulled away a little, feeling flustered. ‘Have you heard from Kath?’ She linked her arm safely in his as they sauntered on.

‘Not for ages.’ Then as an afterthought, ‘Well, I did get a postcard from Southport.’

‘Southport?’

‘Staying with an aunt, she said.’

‘I do wish she’d write to me. What have I done? Why doesn’t she write? Or do you think she sent me a postcard too and Father threw it away?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past him. Mean beggar.’

Meg considered. ‘Southport isn’t far from Liverpool, is it? I don’t suppose you could call and see her? Find out what’s wrong. Perhaps she’s not well or something.’ Meg held her breath as she waited for his reply. She missed Kath.

‘What time do I get for going visiting?’

Meg sighed. ‘I suppose not. Was there an address on this postcard?’

Jack shook his head. He didn’t tell her what the message said, that Kath had asked him to call and see her. Made him feel a bit jumpy, though he couldn’t rightly say why it should.

He pulled Meg into his arms. ‘Stop worrying over Kath Ellis. She’s probably married someone rich by now and forgotten all about us. Come here, let me show you what’s really on my mind.’

Squealing with delight she let him chase her for a full hundred yards before she allowed him to catch her again. His kisses and his demanding hands upon her body more than quenched her worries over her old friend. How silly she was. Jack was right. Kath always came up smiling.

‘Maybe I do like the idea of your waiting here for me, making a home. Maybe one day starting a family.

Meg gasped. ‘Oh, Jack. Really?’

The thought of going overseas thrilled and scared the hell out of him all at the same time. It might help to know Meg was here, a loving home to come back to. Who would buy the farm anyway, with a war on? It rankled a bit that his father had overlooked him in this way, yet it didn’t surprise him.

But they didn’t have to keep it for ever. Five years was a long time. The war would be over long before then and there was no possibility of Meg’s finding the purchase price in any case. She’d be lucky to manage to pay the rent. After the war they could sell it at a good profit, give Connie her share and put all this nonsense of farming out of Meg’s head. It would only take a baby or two to do the trick, and everything would be fine and dandy then. For now, he’d leave things just as they were.

It did not occur to him to ask if Meg was all right for money or if she needed anything. And Meg, being Meg, did not mention her need. He gave her one last lingering kiss.

‘We’ll give it twelve months, as we should in the circumstances, then see what we can do, eh?’

‘Oh, Jack.’ Meg squealed with delight and flung her arms about his neck while he spun her around, startling a flock of hedge sparrows into chaotic flight.

Meg was as near happy as she had been in a long while, not unaware that she had Lanky as much as Jack to thank for it. ‘I’ll make you proud of me, you’ll see,’ she said into the darkness that night as she snuggled down in bed, dazzled by her good fortune and terrified by it all at the same time.

She had no illusions about the amount of work involved but that didn’t worry her. Meg had every faith that she could make a success of Broombank and restore it to its former glory. She certainly meant to try if only because it was something she could do on her own, to help Jack while he was away fighting. It would be her contribution to the war effort.

She tucked the Luckpenny beneath her pillow and with a smile still upon her soft lips, fell quickly asleep.

But there was little time for dreaming now. Dawn found her out in the farmyard, paper in hand, making an inventory. If she was to make a success of this business she must first work out its assets. What exactly did she own? She knew the acreage but had no idea how many sheep there were. Though she saw, with sinking heart, Joe had kept his threat and taken the two remaining cows.

She studied the barns. Only one was sound, the hay barn filled with this year’s harvest, so she ignored that and examined the others. They were in a worse state of repair than she had feared. Some of them were cluttered with old rusting hand tools. She would need to check every item for its likely usefulness, clean every fork, rake, pail and sickle. Mend what was broken, if she could. Fix the holes in the barn roofs, rebuild the miles of dry-stone walls that lined the land, count every bale of hay, and most important of all, check the well-being of every sheep.

She must talk to Effie. For a city child with a fear of animals this was hardly the best place to be. Life was going to be hard, no doubt about that. Effie had to be told what was involved and be allowed to make up her own mind about staying.

It was a subject Meg intended to raise over breakfast but the reality of their situation was brought sharply home to her before she got the chance.

‘This is the last of the oats,’ Effie announced. ‘You’d best get some more.’

The last of the oats. Get more? How? She swallowed a sudden fear that constricted her throat, dipped her head so that Effie could not see the dawning horror in her face. ‘Right,’ she murmured, remembering her vow never to let the child go hungry again. But she had underestimated Effie.

‘Mind you, there’s plenty of cabbages round the back,’ she said, pouring out a mug of black tea and passing it directly to Meg. ‘The milk was sour.’

‘Yes, I’ll see about that,’ said Meg vaguely, not quite sure how. ‘Cabbages, you say?’

‘Aye. A person can live on cabbages, if you have to. Surprising what you can do with a good cabbage if you set your mind to it, my mam says.’

‘We don’t have to live on cabbages,’ Meg protested, quickly rejecting the very idea. ‘We have eggs, the chickens if necessary, though admittedly we can’t kill too many as we need them to lay and improve the flock. We have the sheep, but no lambs, of course, and we daren’t slaughter any ewes right now as we need every one.’

Effie spooned porridge into her mouth and stared at her for a time in silence while she finished it, showing off her new table manners. ‘So what do we eat fer our dinner?’

It was such a pertinent, commonsense question that it left Meg breathless. ‘Is there nothing left from yesterday?’ she asked, incredulous that so much food could disappear so quickly.

‘With that lot going at it night and day? Not a crumb.’

Meg put down her spoon as her throat closed up, quite robbing her of appetite. Their situation was more dire than she’d bargained for. How very silly she’d been. Here she was starting on an inventory of farm implements and stock, excited at the prospect of running her own farm, and the reality was that she couldn’t even feed the two of them for a day.

Most farms kept a pig. Lanky had been too sick to bother. Most kept ducks or turkeys to sell for Christmas. Lanky had sold his few ducks long since, and Meg had no money to buy fresh young birds. It was probably too late in any case. Most farms had at least one, and preferably two cows who kept them in milk, butter and cheese. Yet Joe had taken all of Lanky’s.

As if on cue, she heard a voice calling her name in the yard. Meg and Effie exchanged a speaking glance.

‘Keep my porridge warm. I shall need it later. I’ll see what he wants.’

Before she could move from the table, the door was flung open and Dan’s bulky presence filled the frame. ‘I’m not stoppin’, so no need to put the kettle on.’
 

Meg hadn’t thought to do so. ‘I’m always glad to see you, Dan,’ she said quietly. ‘But I’d appreciate it if you’d knock in future.’

‘Knock?’

‘On the door. This is an all female establishment. I’d appreciate it.’ The sneer was back and his ears seemed to stick out further than usual as he grinned. ‘Gettin’ fussy, are you, now you ’ave a place of your own?’

‘I just want our privacy respected, that’s all.’

‘Aye, well, that’s as maybe. I only called to tell you that the debt’s settled now, you’ll be glad to hear. We’ve taken what’s due to us.’

Meg was across the room in a second. ‘What have you taken?’

‘What’s due to us. You can get on with trying to make a do out of this ramshackle hole.’ Laughing as if he had made a joke, Dan turned to go.