Constable Among the Heather (21 page)

But then, some eighteen months after that chat with Lucy, I visited Marshlands Hall at Gelderslack at the request of the occupants, a Mr and Mrs Slater. They had come to this old manor house and had turned it into fine private hotel; now, to take advantage of the changes in the licensing laws, they wanted to apply for a table licence which would permit them to sell intoxicants to non-residents who took meals in their
dining-room. I went along to discuss this with them, armed with my knowledge of the liquor licensing laws.

Bernard and Olive Slater were practical folks who saw the potential in their idea. As I chattered to them, I noticed a young woman working in the grounds. She was hammering some fence posts into the earth with a huge mallet. The Slaters noticed my interest.

‘That's Sylvia,' said Olive Slater. ‘Our daughter. She's an outdoor type if ever there was one.'

‘Does she work here?' I asked out of interest.

‘Sort of,' said her father. ‘She spends her time rushing all over the world. Her great-aunt – my aunt Felicity – left her some money, so she is almost independent of us. But she uses this house as her base and earns her keep when she's here by working, sometimes outside like she is now, and sometimes by waiting at table or even decorating. She's a real tomboy and a useful handywoman.'

‘She's just come back from a climbing expedition in the Alps,' her mother said. ‘And before that, she sailed every lake in the British Isles, and she's trekked to the source of every Yorkshire river …'

‘She sounds a restless sort of lass!' I laughed.

‘She ought to be settling down,' her father joked. ‘She's nearly thirty now, and there's no sign of a man in her life. If you know of any young men who could meet her challenge, I'd be grateful – she's always too busy rushing off to meet any local lads.'

At this, I recalled Lucy's plea about her Stephen. Here were two young people, each isolated in their own way, with no hope of meeting one another, and for a fleeting moment I wondered if they had anything in common. As I watched the powerful Sylvia hammering in those fence posts, I thought she might be ideal for Stephen. Where else would a farmer find a girl capable of doing a man's work?

‘I might know just the lad,' I said, and told them about Stephen Haines.

‘We think she'd do well with a place of her own,' said Olive Slater. ‘She needs to settle down and extend some of her energy making it a success – she's got nothing at the
moment, you see, except a bit of cash which won't last for ever. She can't go on for ever rushing around the world on her own. This isn't our own premises, we rent it, so we can't pass it on.'

‘Well,' I said, ‘I'm sure the Haines could use some help from time to time. Whether she and Stephen hit it off remains to be seen.'

‘Tell Mrs Haines to give us a call if she does need help about the farm,' invited Bernard Slater, ‘and I know our Sylvia will welcome the change – and the bit of cash. If a romance blossoms, well, that's a bonus. We'd rather she became independent instead of using us as a base and, let's face it, a convenience. We do have a permanent staff, and we can't pay any of them off every time our Sylvia decides to come home. We'd never get them back when she left.'

‘So something away from here would be an asset?' I said.

‘Ideal,' said Bernard Slater. ‘I think she could do with some work away from here.'

It was another three months before I revisited Crag Top Farm, and I found Lucy with her arm in plaster. She had fallen off the roof of an outbuilding while replacing some loose tiles and had broken her wrist.

‘How are you coping?' I asked. I knew that winter is a quiet time on the farm, but I also knew that much does require attention in winter, especially maintenance work. With one person incapacitated, life would not be easy.

‘I'll be honest. I'm not coping,' she said. ‘Our Stephen is doing his best, but the cattle take most of his time, and I'm tied to the house now. There's fencing to do, ditching and so on … and there's no workers available just now. They won't work for farm wages, and poor old Ralph's getting too slow.'

It was then that I recalled Sylvia Slater and, remembering my earlier conversation with Lucy, I said, ‘I know just the person!'

I explained that Sylvia was older than Stephen by a year or two, but that she seemed a capable lass so far as outdoor work was concerned. She might be willing to come along if she wasn't canoeing down the Amazon, hiking through the Grand
Canyon or rebuilding ruined castles. Lucy listened intently and smiled.

‘She might be just the sort to jerk our Stephen out of his shyness.'

I gave her the number of Marshlands Hall Hotel before I left.

As I was on holiday at the time of the next quarterly visit to the farm, the stock registers were inspected by a colleague, and so there was a gap of six months before I returned to Crag Top Farm. By then it was summer, and the countryside was looking its best. The hedgerows were in full leaf, buttercups covered the floor of the dale with their golden blooms, and forget-me-nots decorated the woods around Crag Top.

The farm was smart and tidy as I knocked on the kitchen door. It was opened by Stephen, who invited me in as his mother would have. He and old Ralph were having their 'lowance, as the mid-morning break is called, and both were sitting at the scrubbed wooden kitchen table. Blushing slightly, Stephen invited me to join them. He had made some coffee in a pan, and there was a fruitcake on the table. I smiled and accepted.

Stephen produced the necessary books from the bureau without my having to ask and laid them in front of me before joining me over coffee. But of Lucy there was no sign. Ralph said nothing but merely grinned at me as Stephen sat and looked into his coffee mug. Conversation would not be easy. But where
was
Lucy?

‘Your mum not around?' I asked eventually.

He shook his head. ‘She's gone mountaineering,' he said, then added quickly, ‘She allus has had a liking for mountains, and when that lass o' Slater's came to help out, they decided to have a month off. They're gone to Canada, to the Rockies.'

Good for Lucy! I was surprised at this sudden abandonment of the farm, but I smiled at Stephen.

‘She's a fine lass, that Sylvia,' I said.

‘She's too bossy for me,' he grunted. ‘She's as bad as my mother, so I'm off when they get back, Mr Rhea.'

‘Off?' I asked. ‘Where to?'

‘Hull,' he said. ‘There's a new tractor distributor opened there. They were advertising for a tractor mechanic. I got the job. I start next week.'

‘And the farm? What's going to happen to that?'

‘Mum and Sylvia will run it,' he said quietly, getting up to return to his task.