Red Sky in the Morning (17 page)

Now Anna smiled. ‘I know that, but we’ll be miles away from here by then.’

On the evening of the harvest supper, Anna sat alone on the grass outside the little white cottage, watching the sunset. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around her legs
and rested her chin on her knees. It was so quiet, so still, so peaceful . . .

As the sun dropped lower, emblazoning the western sky with red and gold, Anna dared to feel happy for the first time. The feeling of contentment came stealthily, unbidden, and yet she hardly
dared to acknowledge it, to believe that she could ever feel secure and . . .

She heard a movement and jumped, glancing round to see Eddie standing only a few feet from her.

‘Sorry, lass,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

He came across the grass and sat down beside her. ‘Lovely sight, ain’t it? A Lincolnshire sunset. Nowt to beat it. “Red sky at night, shepherds’
delight”.’

They sat in companionable silence. For a while, it seemed as if there was no one in the world but them. Then, quietly, Eddie began to talk. ‘You must wonder why me an’ Bertha ever
came to get married.’

‘It’s not my business, Eddie,’ Anna said, not sure she wanted to be the keeper of his confidence. It bound them even closer.

‘You might have guessed’ – he smiled ruefully – ‘that once upon a time I carried a torch for Pat Anderson. Sorry, Jessop she is now.’

‘I could see there was a closeness between you,’ Anna murmured.

Eddie sighed. ‘But she left the village. Went to be a nurse in Ludthorpe and met this handsome young feller at the hospital.’ There was no bitterness or jealousy in Eddie’s
tone, just sadness. ‘Couldn’t blame her, I suppose. He was a really nice feller.’

‘And you started seeing Bertha?’

Eddie gave a short laugh. ‘Sort of. She came to work here at the farm. My mam and dad were still alive then, but getting on a bit. Mam needed help in the house and with the dairy work. She
was a kindly old dear, my mam.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Anna said, before she could stop herself.

His eyebrows raised in question, Eddie glanced at her. Anna laughed softly. ‘You must take after her, Eddie.’

He smiled and gave a little nod. ‘I’d like to think so.’ He paused as if lost in thought for a moment. ‘Anyway, me mam felt sorry for the Tinker family, specially the
youngsters, and when Bertha left school she offered her a job here. And, of course,’ he added pointedly as if it explained everything, ‘she lived in.’

Anna could imagine how it must have been. A young man, disappointed in love, and a young girl thrown together. Maybe, then, Bertha had been prettier than she was now. Maybe she had fallen in
love with Eddie . . .

But Eddie had no such illusions. His next words dispelled Anna’s romantic hopes. ‘The Tinkers always had an eye for the main chance and my dear wife was no exception. She set her cap
at me and I, like a fool, fell for it.’ He sighed heavily. ‘It wasn’t so bad in the early days, I have to admit. She was good to me mam and dad, nursing them in their final
illnesses. I’ll give her that. But then, after Tony was born, it was as if she gave all the love she had to give to him. So’ – he turned to look at her gravely –
‘don’t ever think, lass, that it’s you who’s caused trouble between us, ’cos it ain’t.’

‘I’m very sorry, Eddie,’ Anna said huskily. ‘There’s no happy endings in real life are there? That only happens in books.’

‘Don’t say that, lass. Mebbe there’s not one for me, but for you—’

Anna pursed her mouth and shook her head emphatically. ‘No. Not for me either.’

There was a long silence until Eddie said, ‘Then I’m sorry too, love. Very sorry.’ He paused again before asking tentatively, ‘Won’t you tell me what happened to
you?’

Anna’s head dropped forward and she pulled at the grass with agitated fingers. ‘I can’t. It’s – it’s too painful.’

‘All right, love. But if you ever feel the need to talk, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.’

As if pulled by an invisible string, they turned to look at each other. Hesitantly, Eddie reached out. For a moment, Anna drew in a breath and almost jerked away, but then, seeing the tenderness
in his eyes, she allowed him to touch her. He traced the line of her cheek with his roughened forefinger, yet his touch was surprisingly gentle.

‘Ya won’t leave, lass, will ya?’ he pleaded softly. ‘Ya’ll stay here. With me.’

His face was soft in the golden glow of the sunset, his eyes dark unreadable depths, but she could hear the longing in his voice. Anna trembled. By going, she would hurt this lovely man. This
man who had given her everything, yet asked nothing in return. But by staying she risked the safety of herself and her child too.

‘Till spring, Eddie,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all I can promise. Till spring.’

Anna did not leave the following spring. Maisie learned to walk on the soft grass of Eddie’s meadows on the hillside outside the cottage, whilst Anna helped again with
the birthing and rearing of the lambs. Anna planted vegetables in the garden at the back of their home and Eddie renovated the upstairs rooms.

‘Maisie needs a room of her own, now she’s getting such a big girl,’ he said, smiling down at the little girl, who followed him whenever she could, clinging to his legs and
gazing up at him. He ruffled her coppery curls and tickled her cheek.

‘Tony?’ Maisie would ask day after day and Eddie would laugh. ‘He’s at school, lovey. You’ll have to make do with old Eddie today. I know, you can come and watch me
do the milking.’

‘No, Eddie. She’s not to go to the farm,’ Anna said, overhearing.

In the past year, she had seen Bertha rarely and, in all that time, had never spoken to her once. The other woman made no trouble now, but on the odd occasions that Eddie had needed Anna’s
help in the buildings or the yard near the house Anna had felt Bertha’s malevolent glare following her.

‘It’ll be all right—’

‘No!’ Anna was adamant. ‘She’s not to go to the farm. Not ever.’

‘Bertha wouldn’t hurt her, Anna. She’s got a lot of faults, but she’d never hurt a child. She loves children.’

‘Even
my
child?’

‘Oh Anna.’ His eyes reproached her. ‘She’s not a bad woman. She’d not harm your little girl.’ He shrugged. ‘She didn’t like the idea of you being
here. Still doesn’t, I expect.’ He wrinkled his forehead. ‘But she’s not even mentioned you recently. ’Spect she’s got used to you being here now.’

‘She doesn’t allow Tony to come to see us though, does she?’

Eddie smiled. ‘No, but he comes anyway.’

‘Not so often now and when he does he comes round by the road and the woods so that she can’t see him come up the track.’

‘Aye, well, I expect he’s only trying to save her feelings. He’s very fond of his mam, y’know.’

‘Of course he is,’ Anna murmured and there was a catch to her voice that Eddie couldn’t fail to hear. For a brief moment, her eyes had that haunted, faraway look.
‘That’s as it should be.’ She paused and then added emphatically, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want her to go to the farm.’

Eddie sighed and shrugged. ‘All right, love, if that’s the way you want it.’

He patted the little girl’s head and gently disentangled himself from her clinging arms. ‘Ta-ta, lovey,’ he murmured and then walked away from them.

Anna bit her lip. He was disappointed, she could see that, but she dared not risk Maisie going to the farm.

She could not blot out the memory of the murderous look in Bertha’s eyes at the time of Maisie’s birth.

They were still living in the cottage when Maisie reached her fourth birthday. And on that day the little girl decided it was high time she investigated what lay beyond the
hill up the track from her home. By now Maisie, with her shining coppery curls and dark brown eyes, was bright, intelligent and surprisingly knowledgeable for her age, considering that she had had
little contact with the world outside her isolated home.

She knew very few people other than her mother, Eddie, Tony and Pat Jessop. But now the inquisitive child was set on adventure.

‘I need to fetch some water,’ Anna said. ‘Are you coming?’

Maisie shook her head. ‘No. I’ll stay with Buster.’ The dog was now fully trained as a sheepdog and was every bit as trustworthy at looking after the child as he was at
guarding Eddie’s flock.

Anna shrugged and set off carrying two water buckets. With narrowed eyes Maisie watched her go. When her mother was some distance away, the child went round the side of the cottage and began to
climb the hill, hidden from her mother’s view if she happened to glance back.

Sensing that his charge was about to do something wrong, Buster began to bark.

‘Ssh,’ Maisie frowned at him. ‘If you make a noise, I’ll shut you in the house.’

The dog whined and then leapt around her, trying to shepherd her back home as he would have done a wayward sheep. But the little girl was not as docile as the animals. She wagged her finger at
him. ‘Quiet, Buster.’ Then she added, ‘Down!’ in such a firm, grownup voice that the dog obeyed her. Panting, his pink tongue lolling, he watched her climb the hill with
anxiety in his eyes. He sensed this was wrong, but he didn’t know how to stop her.

At the top of the track, the child, a tiny figure now, looked back. The dog barked and stood up, but Maisie’s shrill voice bounced over the breeze to him. ‘Stay!’ Buster
obeyed, though as she disappeared over the brow of the rise he whined unhappily.

The day was bright but cold and blustery and now, in the late afternoon of the February day, Anna sat down for a few moments on an old tree stump near the stream. She looked down into the brook
as it bubbled and chattered its way down the slope, past the wood and under the bridge in the lane and on out of sight. Where it went she didn’t know, but she felt as if this little stretch
of the stream belonged to her. She pulled her coat around her as she watched the bright water. She sighed. She loved this place and now she would hate to leave, but soon they must. This time next
year Maisie would be five and, if they stayed, she would have to go to the village school.

Anna couldn’t risk it. She would have to get further away. She couldn’t risk even more people knowing them. People who might ask questions: teachers, other children and their
parents.

She must get away, yet the thought made her feel sad. She stood up, but then, hearing the sound of a bus coming along the lane, she crouched down behind the tree stump until it had passed by.
The vehicle stopped and she heard voices. As the bus drew away, she peeped round the side of the stump to see Tony walking along the side of the stream, head down and his hands thrust into the
pockets of his trousers. He was whistling and his bulging satchel swung from his shoulder.

Tony, at fourteen, now attended the grammar school in Ludthorpe. Anna still remembered the look of pride on Eddie’s face when he had given her the news. ‘He’s passed the
scholarship for the grammar. Bertha dun’t know where to put ’ersen, she’s that pleased.’

Anna had smiled. ‘And so are you, Eddie. I can see it on your face.’

‘Well, course I am. Can’t deny it.’

‘Is Tony pleased?’ Anna had asked softly.

Eddie had shrugged. ‘I reckon he is, but he ses all he wants to do is follow me onto the farm. But I tell him he’ll have the chance to go to agricultural college now when he leaves
there. That’d be something, wouldn’t it?’

Anna had nodded, happy to see Eddie so pleased and proud.

Now, as she watched Tony come towards her, Anna realized how much he’d grown and matured in the last four years. He was a young man, already taller than her and almost as tall as his
father. He had Eddie’s brown hair and dark eyes.

As she saw that he was alone, she rose from her hiding place and waited for him to reach her.

‘Hello,’ she called and he looked up and grinned at her, his eyes wrinkling in just the same way that Eddie’s did.

‘Thought I’d come and see Maisie on her birthday.’ He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small white paper bag. ‘I’ve brought her some sherbet lemons. It
isn’t much . . .’ he began, ‘but she likes them and I’ve got her a card,’ he added as if in apology that his gifts weren’t more.

‘That’s lovely,’ Anna reassured him.

Tony grinned. ‘Went without me dinner today so I could get her a card.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that. What would your mother say?’

Tony tapped the side of his nose. ‘She’ll not know if you don’t tell her.’ He laughed. ‘And you’re not likely to do that, are you?’

Anna laughed too. ‘Certainly not. Come on,’ she said, picking up the buckets. ‘Let’s go and find Maisie.’

‘Here, let me take those,’ Tony offered, but Anna shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine. That satchel looks heavy enough and, besides, carrying two I’m balanced.’

As they walked back towards the cottage, Anna said, ‘She’s been a very lucky little girl. Pat brought her a lovely doll and Eddie has made her a wooden cradle for it. They must have
had their heads together planning it.’

Tony nodded. ‘I know. He’s been making it in the shed for weeks. It’s from both of us really, but I wanted to get her a bit of something on me own.’

Anna laughed. ‘They’re her favourite sweets. The only trouble is I’ll have to hide them from her and dole them out one by one.’

‘Why?’

‘If she eats too many at once – and given half a chance she will – the lemon makes her mouth sore.’

Tony laughed too and nodded ruefully. ‘Yeah, I’ve done that too.’ As they reached the cottage, Tony added, ‘Is she inside?’

‘I left her out here, playing with Buster. Oh, there he is. Look, halfway up the hill.’ Suddenly, there was fear in Anna’s eyes. ‘But where’s Maisie?’

Maisie skipped down the track towards the farm below her. There was no one about, so she climbed onto the five-barred gate leading into the yard and swung on it as she looked
around her. It was lambing time; it always was near her birthday. Only yesterday a ewe had given birth in the field near the cottage. Her mother had allowed her to watch and the child had been
fascinated to see a lamb sliding from its mother’s tummy and within minutes stand on its own wobbly legs.