For a Father's Pride (27 page)

‘Where’s Clifford?’ Daisy asked Kitty, who was giving her the cold shoulder as she cleared the breakfast pots away.

‘He’s gone to look at a lambing ewe up in the top pasture. He’ll have to look after them, now that we are to live like paupers, with no inheritance.’ Kitty glared at her
sister as Daisy caught her arm.

‘Kitty, it isn’t my fault. It was our father’s will. I didn’t know about it.’

‘What was he “sorry” for, and what “things will take a turn”? It was you who should have been sorry – jiggering off without a by-your-leave.’ Kitty
scowled at her sister.

‘You’ve no idea what went on, Kitty, and I’m not about to tell you. I’m sorry you’ve had a hard life with Clifford, but that’s not my fault. Father was as
much to blame for your unhappiness as he was for mine. Parents shouldn’t plot their children’s lives. Anyway, you were as happy as could be on your wedding day.’

‘That’s what you thought. I felt like I’d been sold off to the highest bidder.’ Kitty slammed the clean pots down.

‘Where’s Tobias? I thought I’d take him with me to Grisedale and wander down the dale to see what the house is like now.’ Daisy cut herself two slices of bread and put
them in her pocket.

‘That’s it – rub my nose in it. The little bastard is with those fox cubs, probably getting covered with fleas.’

‘Oh, Kitty, shut up! I can’t help what’s been done. I’ll make sure your dresser and clock are still there.’ Daisy walked out into the bright sunshine and around the
back of the barn. She stood and watched the young lad playing with the fox cubs as if they were puppies. He’d be broken-hearted if the hunt group took them and the hounds tore them apart in
the name of sport. Clifford Middleton was nothing more than a bastard himself, letting the boy get attached to the cubs.

Tobias suddenly cried out.

‘Aye, watch your fingers! Their teeth are like razors. They are wild animals, you know.’

‘Look at this one, Daisy. He likes his stomach being rubbed. Look at his feet kicking me.’ Tobias giggled as he rubbed the cub’s stomach.

‘Put them back in the cage, Tobias. You mustn’t get too attached – they’re not ours. Feed them and then leave them,’ said Daisy. ‘Come with me, and
we’ll have a day away from here. Come and walk up the dale to where I was born. I’ve got dinner in my pocket.’

Tobias picked up the fox cub and slammed the cage door shut.

‘Are we going to be away all day? What will Clifford say?’ Tobias nodded his head at the house.

‘Don’t worry about him – he’s all words. And you are with me. Come on, Tobias, race you down to the road.’

Daisy picked up her skirts and started to run, glancing around at Tobias, who was hot on her heels and soon overtook her. She laughed as her dress caught around her legs. She couldn’t keep
up with the young lad, and she knew it. She doubled up at the bottom of the field, out of breath and aching.

‘You win. I’m too old to chase your young legs.’ She held out her hand to Tobias, who took it quickly. ‘Come on, we’ve to walk along the road for a little way up
Garsdale, and then we’ll walk up the lane to Grisedale and my old home of Mill Race.’

Tobias held her hand tightly. Since she’d come to Grouse Hall, Daisy had turned his life around, and he knew it. Her feelings were strong for the little lad, and she was growing fonder of
him every day. He was such a loving little soul, when given the chance.

‘It’s a lovely day, Tobias – just feel that sunshine.’ Daisy lifted her face up to the sun. ‘Do you know your flower names? I was taught them as soon as I could
walk.’ She ran her hand through the hedgerow plants, stopping to smell the bluebells and primroses that filled the hedgerow along the roadside.

‘Flowers have names? Don’t be silly.’ Tobias laughed.

‘Yes, they do, just like you and me. This is a bluebell – that one’s easy, because it’s blue and shaped like a bell; this little yellow one is a primrose; and this little
one . . .’ Daisy lifted the delicate little flower head. ‘It’s called a soldier’s button, because – look, when you lift its head, it’s like a soldier’s
button on his uniform. We’ll play a game. It’ll make the walk seem not as long. I’ll ask you to find me a flower, and then you’ve to tell me its name.’ Daisy smiled.
This was how she’d learned the flower names, and it hadn’t felt like learning when she’d done it with her mother.

Tobias kept running back and forward with different flowers. He was a quick learner and Daisy enjoyed teaching him. The walk felt like freedom, and she relished every moment. The day felt like a
new start in her life, now that she had a home waiting for her.

After a while the flower game started to wear thin on Tobias.

‘Come on, we’ll play ducks and drakes down in the river, and then we’ll get a move on.’ Daisy scrambled down to the river bank with Tobias following her. ‘What you
need is a thin, flat stone that’s really smooth. Then you hold it curled between your finger and thumb and throw it, so that it skims the water and bounces along the surface.’ Daisy
demonstrated, laughing as she counted the times the stone bounced along the river. Then Tobias tried, getting frustrated after the first time or two, and finally beaming when he managed to throw
the stone successfully.

Daisy sat down by the bank, watching the little soul doing what a boy his age should be doing. She felt guilty about leaving him at Grouse Hall, but he wasn’t her concern. She hadn’t
known he existed until she went to live there. The trouble was that he’d grown on her, and she felt responsible for him now. She looked around her. The new green leaves of late spring rustled
in the wind, and their shadows played on the steady ripple of the River Clough. A dragonfly darted above the river and a trout jumped lazily, trying to catch its dinner, but missing.

‘That was a three-er. Did you see that, Daisy?’ Tobias ran across the riverside shingle.

‘I did – you’re getting good at this. If we’ve time on the way back we’ll stop here again. Come on, let’s go and see my new home.’ Daisy patted down her
skirts. They were damp from sitting on the mossy bank.

‘Your new home,’ said Tobias, sounding upset. ‘You can’t leave me. I don’t want to be on my own again.’ He pulled on her skirts with tears in his eyes.

‘I haven’t gone yet, my love. Besides, I’ll make sure they treat you right after I’ve left. Now that you know where I live, you can always escape and come and see
me.’ Daisy bent down and wiped his tears away from his dark eyes. ‘I promise you, Tobias, I’ll not let them treat you like a dog again.’ She didn’t know how she was
going to protect him, but she would. She could never live with herself if Tobias had to go back to the way he lived before.

The track up to the little dale of Grisedale was steep and windswept. The rough moorland grasses and sedges stung the legs of Tobias and Daisy, as she took them through the fields to her old
home. Her heart beat faster with every bend they took, until down in the bottom of the valley she caught sight of the family home. She stood looking around her. She knew these fells like the back
of her hand. She knew where the white heather for luck grew, where the curlew always nested, and where bilberries were to be found in autumn. This was home, whether she liked it or not. It pulled
on her heartstrings and made her feel sick with sheer love for the place. And down there, in the bottom by the stream, was where she was born and raised to be a happy young woman, until that
fateful day. She sighed and brushed a stray strand of her long brown hair from her eye, holding Tobias close to her by his shoulder.

‘This is Mill Race, Tobias. This is my home.’ Daisy held his hand tightly and strode down the fellside to it. She stood by the garden wall. Brambles and briars had taken over the
square walled piece of land that used to be planted with cabbages, potatoes, carrots and whatever other vegetables were needed to see them through the winter months. The gate was still standing,
but the paint was cracked and dry, and it groaned as Daisy opened it. The path was lost under weeds, as Daisy and Tobias made for the front door. Light-blue paint was flaking from it, as Daisy
pulled the large iron key from her pocket and turned it in the lock. She closed her eyes and pushed the door open, imagining that she was opening Pandora’s box and that all the evils of the
world would be released as she walked into the small, dark front room of Mill Race. A mouse scurried into the corner of the room, disturbed by Daisy and Tobias’s entrance, and Daisy looked
around her at what used to be her home. Everything was just as it had been, but covered with dust and cobwebs, and the mice had obviously made the horse-hair settee their home, with tufts of the
filling strewn over the floor.

The grandfather clock that was to be Kitty’s stood next to the doorway to the kitchen, and Daisy walked across the dusty floor to the kitchen and bakehouse. Memories flooded back to the
morning when she had told her mother that she was pregnant, and she remembered the look Martha had given her, in disgust and panic, as she raced to get the baked bread out of the huge black
Yorkshire range. She could hear her mother’s voice nearly screaming at her, as it dawned on her that Daisy was with child.

She looked across at the long oak dresser along the kitchen wall. That was to be Kitty’s as well, along with the contents. They were worth nothing, she realized, as she opened the top
cupboard, blowing away the dust and cobwebs. All that was left now were mouse-droppings and chewed paper bags, with spiders hiding in the darkness. She pulled out one of the long middle drawers
that ran down the centre of the ancient dresser. She hadn’t appreciated how deep and wide the drawers were, and how heavy. Then she accidentally pulled out the drawer to its full length,
making it fall onto the dusty floor. In the dim light of the kitchen she looked at the drawer – the last third of it was closed off with a wooden lid. She’d never noticed that before;
she’d never pulled the drawers that far out, for the spices and other ingredients had always been at the front.

Tobias watched Daisy as she tried to lift the lid, but realized it was locked. But wait: she had a small key, along with the large iron house-keys in her pocket. She quickly pulled the key out
and tried it in the lock. It fitted, and her heart beat fast as she turned it in the lock and pulled open the secret compartment. It was full to the brim with bank notes of all values. This was
what her father had left Kitty – it wasn’t the dresser that was of value; it was the contents. Daisy opened all four drawers and they all revealed the same secret compartment, with
enough money to make her sister quite a wealthy woman. So, her father had done right by both his daughters: she had the house and Kitty had the money, but he’d left it in such a way that
Clifford didn’t need to know.

‘Tobias, you’ve never seen all this money, do you understand? We’ve never found it, and we know nothing about it.’ Daisy looked at the young boy’s face as every
drawer revealed a small fortune.

Tobias nodded his head. He’d do anything Daisy said.

‘Come on, let’s open this back door and let some light in.’ She unbolted the back door and threw it open, to let the light spill into the kitchen. The honeysuckle that grew
around the doorway bullied its way into the kitchen.

‘Well, that’s going to have to be cut back, Tobias. I think you’ve got me at Grouse Hall for a long time yet – until I’ve tidied here up, anyway.’ Daisy
smiled. The next step was going to be hard, she thought, as she climbed up the back garden stairs into the sunshine and the orchard. The grass was knee-high as she stood quietly under the apple
tree that had been growing there for decades. Under the soil lay her baby, buried and forgotten, rotted back to nature, without a mother’s love. She brushed back a tear. She had to come back
and live here to make sure that her bairn was not disturbed – her father had known that.

She watched as Tobias swung on one of the branches of the apple tree. Her baby lay dead under the soil, and another woman’s baby was swinging in the tree, unloved and unwanted. How many
other bastard children did Clifford Middleton have? And how ironic that his wife – her sister Kitty – couldn’t bear him children? Nature had a funny way of getting even with
folk.

Daisy’s mind was racing as she lay in her bed that night. Her sister obviously didn’t know that the dresser drawers contained money and thought she’d been
left nothing.

What if she drip-fed it to Kitty, making her promise to keep Tobias out of harm’s way, once she left Grouse Hall? That way Clifford wouldn’t get his hands on it. It was quite obvious
that her father hadn’t wanted him to have the money. It would at least serve a good purpose then, and Clifford wouldn’t get the chance to squander it all. Sisters should be closer than
they had been, and as long as Kitty kept receiving her father’s money, Daisy was fulfilling his wishes. That’s what she’d do, then her conscience about the young lad would be
clear.

‘Some bloody father you had! You looked after your mother when she was ill, and all you get is a dresser that’s got woodworm and a grandfather clock.’
Clifford pushed the dresser onto the cart, swearing at the weight of it. ‘Daisy got bloody everything, yet she’s done nowt for it. And I hear she’s worming her way into Luke
Allen’s family.’ He leaned on the wheel of the cart and moaned to Kitty, as he watched Daisy lock the door of Mill Race behind her.

‘She can’t help it – my father was the one to blame. Besides, I’ll be glad to get my house back to myself. The sooner she’s out from under our feet, the better. A
kitchen isn’t made for two women.’ Kitty was looking forward to her sister leaving, for Daisy was beginning to be the more dominant one, and she didn’t like sharing the
decision-making.

‘Aye, and that bastard can stop being mollycoddled. He’s turned into a baby since she came,’ growled Clifford.

‘I think we could turn him into a gentleman, Clifford, if we put our minds to it.’ Kitty looked at her husband.

‘And why the fuck would we do that? He’s nowt to me.’

‘Clifford, I’ve never said anything until now, but I believe him to be your son. Regardless of who or what his mother is, you should raise him properly.’ Kitty felt the money
in her apron pocket. She’d do as her sister asked, if the money kept coming – she was such a soft lump, her Daisy. She always had been the softer one of the two of them as they grew up,
always looking after a stray kitten or an orphaned chicken that used to beg at the kitchen door.