Luckpenny Land (33 page)

‘Just look at that grey-faced one,’ Effie pointed out. ‘Hasn’t missed a move we’ve made all morning. I wonder what she’s thinking.’

‘ How she can reach this delectable meal.’ Puffing for breath, Meg heaved yet another stone in place. The walls really were in a sorry state of repair.

At about three o’clock they stopped for a rest and a snack. ‘Another two or three hours and we should be done,’ Meg said, sighing with relief.

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the grey-faced sheep Effie had pointed out earlier started to trot alongside the wall, seeming to sniff at it curiously.

‘She’s checking to see whether we’ve done a good job,’ Effie chuckled, but the laughter faded as the sheep discovered the limits of their efforts, finding the next broken section they had still not mended and leapt over it with nonchalant ease. And where she went, her comrades quickly followed.

Meg jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, no, now we have a dozen sheep to get out of the field before we can start the wall again. Oh, Effie, we shouldn’t have stopped.’

But Effie was rolling on the ground with laughter, holding her aching sides, the tears sliding down her thin cheeks. ‘You have to hand it to her, she’s sharp that one. Who says sheep are stupid?’

Meg found herself laughing too. That was the good thing about Effie. She never let you take life too seriously.

It had been arranged for Broombank and Ashlea sheep to be brought down from the fells together. The sheep from both farms would be compacted into one moving, seething mass, and, following the whistled instructions of the shepherds, the dogs would drive them from the heaf down the incline to be closer to the farm where they could more easily be sorted and supervised at lambing time.

Meg had arrived early at Ashlea in good time for the gather, but Sally Ann seemed anxious to talk, for all it was scarcely four in the morning. The reason was soon made clear.

‘I’m expecting again.’

‘Oh, Sal, I’m so pleased.’ Meg hugged her sister-in-law. ‘You must take special care this time. I hope that brother of mine is looking after you.’

‘Oh, he is, he is.’ Sally Ann’s eyes grew soft. ‘He’ll hardly let me lift a finger. Always telling me to sit down and put me feet up. He even washed up for me the other day.’

Meg’s eyes grew wide. ‘Is the end of the world nigh?’ Both girls laughed and hugged each other.

‘Is Dan ready for the gather?’

Sally Ann let out a heavy sigh. ‘Joe insisted they leave earlier than usual, in case the weather should worsen. They set off an hour ago.’

‘But they said I was to be here early, four at the latest, and I am. It’s barely dawn.’

‘You know what Joe’s like when he gets an idea in his head.’

Meg uttered a silent oath. Now she would have to climb up the fells and find them all by herself. Trust her father to make things difficult. She’d so wanted to be fully involved, show her worth, on this her first gather. As she walked she gazed at the wilderness stretching ahead. At the lonely, empty fells where silence could be felt, like a presence. At the colours smudged together by a dampening morning drizzle, grey crags poking like dry bones through a green baize cloth. She loved this country, even when, like today, the sky was heavy with cloud and a thick swirl of mist was collecting on the tops. Only slightly paler than the rocky outcrops were the clusters of sheep compacted together by bright-eyed collies, without whose skill the task would be impossible.

It was not a good day for a gather.

‘Will we call it off?’ she asked her father when she finally achieved the top of Dundale Knott, leaning on a dry stone wall to catch her breath.

Joe and Dan had already made a start on collecting the ewes from the high fells.

‘Not chickening out already, are we?’

Dan chuckled. ‘She’s happen wet and tired and didn’t want to leave her bed.’

‘Shepherds don’t have time to sleep at lambing time, as she well knows,’ Joe said, speaking about Meg as if she weren’t standing right next to him.

She clenched her hands and forced herself not to react. Meg had promised Sally Ann she wouldn’t fall out with her father and brother today. Besides, she couldn’t bring down the sheep on her own. Trouble was, Joe knew that.

;What would you like me to do then?’

‘Keep out o’road, that’s what. I’ve told thee afore, shepherding is not for women. It’s hard work.’

Meg smiled, holding fast to her patience, wanting so much to get it right. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work, and I’m here now, so tell me what to do.’ Still Joe ignored her, his eyes intent on the sheep. ‘What’s that young cur doing now?’ He put a small flat whistle to his lips which he’d been forced to adopt since he got his false teeth. He gave two sharp blasts upon it. One dog shot smartly to the left and rounded up a few stragglers. ‘Away by,’ he shouted.

Meg watched, impressed, as Ashlea dogs went about their work with professional expertise. A fell dog needed to be strong and have considerable stamina as well as absolute obedience, for he could cover anything from thirty to forty miles in a day. He’d be soaked and muddied by the peat, snagged by the spikes of heather and bracken. The sheep would be quick to take advantage of any sign of weakness and it was not uncommon for a ewe to charge a dog and butt it if she thought she could get away with it, so a dog’s personality too had to be strong.

Joe walked away and followed his sheep, leaving his daughter to the buffeting wind.

I see you fetched yon dog,’ said Dan, pointing his crook in the direction of Rust who was standing, legs foursquare beside her, eager to be off.

I’ve brought three dogs, as you can see,’ she said, closer to tears than she dared to admit.

Aye. Is that the young daft one that Lanky gave you last year? Has he done a gather afore?’

‘No, Will Davies brought the sheep down for me last backend, as you well know. But Rust is a good dog. He’s ready for work. Strong, intelligent and quick-thinking, as he’s supposed to be.’ As I am, she wanted to add.

‘Aye, well, I hope he doesn’t take it into his head to run off home when the going gets tough, as his mistress seems keen to do.’

‘He won’t. Nor will I. We’re both ready. Let’s get on with it, shall we?’

As they set off walking together, Dan seemed to consider. ‘Did you see Sally Ann?’

‘Yes. She told me about the baby. I’m so pleased for her, Dan, and for you.’ She put a hand on her brother’s arm. ‘Take care of her. Don’t let Father bully her as he does me. Stand up to him for a change.’

For once Dan didn’t argue but seemed seriously to consider what Meg was saying. ‘He’s not an easy man to defy.
^,

‘I know, but it has to be done if we’re to survive, and if Sally Ann is to stay well. He thinks he can dictate our lives to us and we mustn’t let him. You’re a married man now, Dan, with a wife and coming family to consider.’

‘Try telling him that. It’s all right for you, you have Broombank and can please yourself. I have only what he gives me.’ The resentment in his tone was bitter.

‘Let’s get on with the job in hand, shall we?’ Meg said, wishing to avoid an argument.

‘Right, take your dogs round that knob. Remember, some of the ewes will be hiding in t’bracken. So see your dogs don’t just slink about. They should speak up and tell you if they find one.’

‘They will,’ Meg assured him, feeling her confidence strengthening bit by bit as Dan issued his instructions. Even so her gaze took in the enormity of the task. All the sheep seemed to have disappeared, or were distant blobs on the horizon.
 

Tess and her son Ben were more used to Lanky’s commands and were only slowly getting used to hers. Meg could only hope that she’d remember what the signals were that Lanky had taught her. She gave two quiet whistles and at once the dogs moved softly forward, eyes bright, ears alert. Meg’s nervousness instantly began to ease. She could do it. She would show her father that a woman could make a good shepherd.

It had been a long, hard, wet day and Meg was dropping on her feet. The weather, if anything, had worsened. Grey clouds were lying heavily over the peaks, rolling slowly down after them, gobbling up the heaf almost faster than the sheep could move across it. The whistles seemed to come from all directions as the dogs gathered the flock ready for the main drive down.

One ewe broke away and Meg gave a slow rounded whistle. Rust, who hardly needed to wait for the signals now, got there almost before she’d made a sound.

‘Good boy.’ She liked to praise him, to show her appreciation. The sheep started to move forward with Rust at one side, Ben at the other and Tess behind, stalking them. Not too close, keeping wide.

The drive down was not as straightforward as she’d expected. Meg constantly had to urge the dogs to correct the wandering line as the animals persistently sought any gap to dash through. Sometimes a whole bunch would break free then a dog would be sent off to run wide and round them up to bring them back, adding miles to the journey.

Up, down, right, left, forward, stop, forward again. Sometimes Meg wondered if they were making any progress at all. But the challenge was fascinating, engrossing her completely.

Ahead of them in the valley below was the enclosure. Getting the sheep through the open gate and into the field would be the easiest part of the manoeuvre. The sheep knew well that the grass beyond was always better and more lush than that they’d left behind. They’d learned this when they were in-by at lambing time and never forgot it.

Meg stepped out purposefully, for she knew what needed to be done and was proud to be a part of it.

Afterwards there would be a soak in a hot tub and supper by a blazing fire. She felt exhilarated, alight with an inner glow at having accomplished so difficult a task. Her dogs had more than pulled their weight in gathering the ewes today. And Dan, perhaps even Joe, seemed to have accepted her as a useful part of the team which added to her sense of satisfaction. Of course Joe had shouted at her from time to time, and Dan had shown scant patience, but they hadn’t packed her off home which she’d been half afraid they would do.

Then suddenly she saw it was all about to go wrong. She looked in dire danger of blotting her copy book good and proper.

Maybe she’d given the wrong signal, or perhaps Rust had been a touch over enthusiastic. Whatever the reason, he had three sheep pinned out on a ledge and there seemed no way of getting round him to fetch them on to safe ground. They stood hesitant, poised to run if Rust came at them too fast or made one wrong move. If they fell, they would slide down the lethally slippery slope of stony scree, bounce off jagged rocks and not stop till they reached the valley bottom, several hundred feet below.

Meg tried edging forward, but every time she moved the sheep panicked, compacted closer together and backed right to the lip of the precipice.

‘Wait, boy. Steady, steady.’

She chewed on her lower lip, agonising over how best to deal with the problem. Meg could almost read the dog’s thoughts, as frustrated as herself. High above them on the fells, coming closer every minute, were her father and Dan, ready to see her mistake and judge her.

A buzzard swept past, the wind whistling through its outstretched wings. Leave the sheep here too long and the crows and ravens would peck their eyes out where they stood.

Then suddenly Rust was away, running up the fellside away from the ledge. Meg watched him reach the top of the knob overlooking the crag where he stopped and lay down in the bracken. Following his lead, Meg moved quietly away too. Several achingly long moments later the sheep jostled each other, looked about them, then seeing the way was clear, darted forward, struggled through a narrow gap in the rocks and pelted off down the hillside to join their companions.

Meg laughed out loud. ‘Well done, boy. Well done! You did it. You’ve taught me a lesson there.’

‘Daft dog. Didn’t I say you’d make nowt of him?’ The figure of Dan loomed suddenly above them. ‘Too eager. He could have killed them ewes.’ And lashing out with his feet, he kicked at the dog. Rust yelped, failing to avoid the toe of that great boot.

‘No!’ Meg cried, and leapt forward just too late to stop Rust slithering right over the edge of the precipice.

Kath tugged at the sheet to drape it over the huge rollers, sweat pouring from her. Why had she ever complained about the old mangle at Southview Villas? The steaming hot rollers of this one were a thousand times worse.

Polly, who was the nearest she had to a friend at Greenlawns, urged caution, as always. ‘Take your time. You can’t hurry.’

Kath recklessly yanked at the wet sagging cloth which had wrapped itself into a proper tangle. ‘Drat the thing.’ But her efforts only made the situation worse.

There was the most terrible grinding sound as gears locked and then oil was spurting out, soaking a treacherous, sticky path over the white cloth.

Both girls struggled to free the fabric, glancing fearfully over their shoulders, anticipating trouble. They were not mistaken. Bearing down upon them came Miss Blake, her expression so sour you’d think she’d been sucking lemons.

‘Don’t say anything,’ warned Polly. ‘Leave it to me.’

Polly had been put in Greenlawns for stealing a loaf of bread. The fact that she had been starving at the time because her mother had abandoned her was not taken into account. She was fourteen years old and considered herself lucky that she hadn’t been sent to prison. Kath had no such consolation. In her estimation she had done nothing wrong and it was perfectly ludicrous for her to be here at all. A Home for Wayward Girls indeed?