Red Sky in the Morning (13 page)

‘That’s just it,’ Anna said reasonably. ‘You’ve got enough to cope with and you’ll be going back to school soon.’

The boy pulled a face but could not argue.

As she stepped off the ladder, the puppy sprang up from his place by the Moses basket, where he had been sleeping, his nose resting on his paws. He galloped across the floor, sliding and
tumbling in his anxiety to reach her. He jumped and made little yapping sounds of pleasure.

Anna smiled down at him and fondled him, but her attention was on Tony as she watched him cuddling the newborn lamb. ‘They’re still your lambs,’ she said softly, ‘not
mine.’

He shrugged and tried to say with grown-up common sense, ‘They’ll be going for slaughter as soon as they’re old enough anyway.’ But there was a tremble in his voice that
the young boy could not hide. ‘Dad always tells me I shouldn’t treat them like pets. We’re farmers.’

‘That’s right. Rip’s your pet, but—’

‘Not really. He’s a working dog.’ He nodded towards Buster, still jumping and barking excitedly. ‘He’s growing, isn’t he?’

Anna nodded. ‘Yes, and he’ll be a working dog too, but it doesn’t mean I can’t fuss him now and then.’

‘You’ll have to start training him soon, then,’ the boy said, knowledgeably.

‘I already have.’

Tony’s eyes widened. ‘
You
have? You know about training sheepdogs?’

Suddenly, the wariness was back in Anna’s face and she turned away from him. ‘A bit,’ she said shortly and then deliberately changed the subject. ‘Now, we’d better
get somewhere sorted out for this little chap to sleep. Let’s go and look in the other room.’

They inspected the other upper room together, but both declared it far too cold and draughty for the young lamb.

‘We’ll all stay in here,’ Anna declared. ‘And keep each other warm.’

The weather improved at last, the flood waters drained away and Pat Jessop was able to cycle from the village to see Anna. She came up the lane and rode boldly through the
farmyard. Leaving her bicycle propped against the barn wall, she took her bag and climbed the track to the top of the rise and down the other side to the cottage.

‘I’d like you to see the doctor. Maisie ought to be checked over and you certainly should be.’

‘We’re all right—’ Anna began at once, but Pat interrupted firmly. ‘I wouldn’t be doing my job properly, love, if I didn’t insist. Now, do you want to
go into town or have him come here?’

Her eyes wide with fear, the young girl looked around her, as if casting about for some way to escape. ‘I—’

‘Look,’ Pat said gently. ‘Why not let Eddie take you into town next market day? You’ve got to register the child anyway. You must do that. It’s the law.’

‘I – I know, but—’

‘I’ll come with you, if you like.’ Pat chuckled. ‘I’d quite like a ride in Eddie’s old pony and trap again. It wouldn’t be the first time.’ Her
tone grew wistful. ‘Mind you, it was a different pony in those days.’ Then she became businesslike once more. ‘I’ll speak to Eddie, and if it’s a nice day next
Wednesday we’ll all go. I’ll make an appointment at the doctor’s for you and we’ll go and see the registrar too.’

There was no getting out of it. When Pat Jessop was in her most persuasive mood, there was no arguing with her.

Anna sighed. ‘All right then.’

Pat beamed. ‘Good. I shall look forward to our little jaunt. And now I must go. See you next week.’

Pat was already late for her rounds that morning. The cycle ride out to Cackle Hill Farm would put another hour on her routine, but she was not ready to leave yet. There was someone else she
wanted to see first.

Pat knocked on the back door of the farmhouse, summoning her most forbidding expression. It was not an easy thing for the district nurse to do, for she was a buxom,
pleasant-faced young woman with a ready smile and a teasing, jovial manner. Her long blonde curls were tucked up neatly beneath her cap and the navy blue uniform gave an impression of a severity
that was not really part of her nature, though she could, when necessary – as she had been that morning – be firm and persuasive with her patients.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ Bertha said unnecessarily when she opened the door.

‘Yes, it’s me, Bertha. Can I have a word?’

‘What about?’

‘Oh things,’ Pat said airily evasive. ‘How about a cup of tea? I’m parched. It’s a long ride out here.’

‘It’s not a cafe. I haven’t time to be making tea.’

‘Oh come on, Bertha, there’s a dear. Surely, we’ve known one another long enough—’

‘Oh aye, we know enough about each other not to need cosy chats over my kitchen table.’

But seeing that the nurse was not to be budged, Bertha turned away, muttering, ‘Oh, come in then, if you must.’

Pat stepped into the warm kitchen, drew off her gloves and held her hands out to the roaring fire in the range. How different was this kitchen to the meagre surroundings in the little white
cottage over the hill. Yet Pat could feel that there was already far more love in the tumbledown haven near the woods than there ever would be in this house.

For a brief moment she wondered if Bertha was right. Was there an affair going on between Eddie and the girl? Perhaps the child
was
his. But then she dismissed her fanciful notions as
being just that. She had seen them together and whilst there was no doubting Eddie’s concern for Anna’s welfare, it seemed to be no more than that.

But who knew what the future might bring? For a moment she felt a pang of sympathy for Bertha, who was at this moment banging cups and saucers onto the table with bad grace.

‘This is very kind of you, Bertha. It’s cold riding about the countryside on that bike in this weather.’ But Pat’s words were only greeted with a belligerent glare.

When the tea was ready, they sat down together on opposite sides of the table.

‘What is it you want, then? Come to talk me round about that little slut up yonder?’ Bertha jerked her head in the direction the cottage lay. ‘’Cos if you have,
you’re wasting your time.’

‘Not really, Bertha,’ Pat said, taking a sip of tea and then placing her cup carefully onto its saucer. She looked up and held Bertha’s gaze. ‘I just wondered what you
know about her.’

Bertha shrugged her fat shoulders. ‘Nowt. Nor do I want to.’

‘Why not?’ Pat’s question was direct and pointed.

‘Why d’ya think?’

Pat leant ever so slightly towards her. ‘I don’t know, Bertha. That’s why I’m asking you.’

Bertha clattered her own cup into its saucer. ‘It’s obvious, ain’t it? She’s Eddie’s bit on the side. He’s got her into trouble and she’s coming
knocking at his door. And him being the soft fool he is—’

Pat was shaking her head, unable to believe the tirade of abuse coming out of Bertha’s mouth. ‘Bertha, your Eddie’s not like that.’

‘How do you know?’ Bertha’s retort was like a whiplash. ‘Men are all the same. Only after one thing. And even when they’ve got it on tap at home, it’s never
enough.’ Her small mouth twisted into a bitter sneer.

Pat was appalled at what she was hearing. Eddie’s home life must be far worse than she had imagined. Whether or not Eddie had looked for comfort elsewhere, Pat couldn’t be sure, but
she knew one thing now.

If he had, she wouldn’t blame him.

She stood up, unwilling to listen a moment longer to Bertha’s twisted logic. The whole village had known for years that Bertha’s father had been a ‘ladies’ man’.
Pat had grown up hearing the gossip, witnessing the men’s nudges and winks and the women ‘tut-tutting’ in sympathy with his poor wife. But what she hadn’t realized was the
terrible effect her father’s philandering had had on the young Bertha.

‘Do you know something, Bertha? I feel sorry for you. Really I do. But you’re a fool. You’ve got a good man in Eddie Appleyard. There’s never been a hint of gossip about
him and other women that I’ve heard. And, believe me, in my job I’d hear it. I carry a lot of secrets for folks round here. And that’s what they’ll always remain. Secrets.
But I’m telling you now, Bertha, Eddie’s a good man and I believe him. He felt sorry for that lass and tried to help her.’ She leant towards Bertha to emphasize her point.
‘And that’s all.’

Bertha heaved herself to her feet. ‘Get out of my kitchen, Pat Jessop. You’re another of his fancy women. Oh, don’t think I don’t know that you an’ him went
together afore you found yourself a better catch. And now your husband’s dead, you’re trying to worm your way back in with Eddie. Well, you won’t get the farm. I’ll tell you
that. I’m his wife and all this’ – she waved her arms to encompass the house and all the land that lay around it – ‘will one day belong to my son.’ She jabbed
her finger into her own chest. ‘
My
son.’

Pat shook her head. ‘Oh Bertha,’ she said sadly, ‘is that all poor Eddie is to you? A good catch?’

Bertha’s eyes narrowed. ‘I told you, get out of my kitchen, Pat Jessop.’

Pat pedalled away from the farm with a heavy heart.
Poor Eddie
, she was thinking.
Poor, poor Eddie. And that poor lass, too
, for she was sure that Bertha Appleyard was just
biding her time and that one day, when the opportunity came, she would cause that poor lass a whole barrowload of trouble.

‘I don’t want to go. I don’t see why I have to go.’ Anna’s face was mutinous. ‘The baby’s fine. You’ve said so yourself. And so
am I. We don’t need a doctor.’

Pat was patiently adamant. ‘But
I
need you to see a doctor. If there was anything wrong, then I’d be for the high jump. You wouldn’t want me to lose my job, would
you?’

If Pat had hoped to appeal to Anna’s sympathy, she was sadly mistaken. ‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with you. Nobody knows about me. Nobody knows I’m here.’ She
paused and, almost accusingly, added, ‘Do they?’

‘No.’ Pat was holding onto her patience. ‘But like I said, if there was anything wrong and you had to see a doctor – or even go to the hospital – well, questions
would be asked.’

Anna frowned. ‘What do you mean “wrong”?’

‘I like to have a newborn baby checked thoroughly. And only a doctor can do that properly. And you should be checked too, particularly when a doctor didn’t attend the birth.’
Pat forbore to add:
Especially when the birth happened in such a squalid place
. Instead she added, ‘Besides, you’ve got to register her.’

Anna’s frown deepened, but at last she muttered, ‘All right, then.’

So on market day the following week Eddie took Pat, Anna and the child into the market town of Ludthorpe. The baby was snugly wrapped in shawls and her mother held her close for extra
warmth.

‘We’ll have to go in the trap,’ Eddie had said. ‘I’ve got to save me petrol for the tractor.’

Above the rattle of the wheels, Pat chattered merrily.

‘This is a treat and no mistake. I can get some shopping that I can’t manage on my bicycle.’ She smiled saucily at Eddie. ‘We’ll have to do this more often,
Eddie.’

He smiled, but did not answer her.

From the moment they had climbed into the trap outside the white cottage, Anna had seemed ill at ease. As they came down the hill towards the church with its tall spire and turned right along a
street that widened out into the marketplace, Pat noticed that the girl’s nervousness was increasing. Her eyes were wide and dark with fear and her hands trembled. They passed through the
busy marketplace and in front of the low, whitewashed Shepherd’s Crook. Eddie glanced at it with nostalgia. He’d had some good times in there. He’d had some good pals and he
missed their friendly company on market days, but he had kept his vow. He would never again get sow drunk.

Pat put her arm around Anna’s shoulders. ‘It’s all right, love. I’ll come in with you, if you want me to.’ With kindly bluntness, she added, ‘You’re not
the first to have a bairn with no dad around and you’ll not be the last neither. There’s just one thing, though. You do know that you can’t put the father’s name on the
birth certificate when you’re not married.’ She leant a little closer. ‘I presume you’re not married to the father, are you?’

Anna shook her head with a vehemence that surprised both Pat and Eddie, who was listening. ‘No,’ the girl almost spat. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Well then,’ Pat went on placidly, giving no sign that she had noticed the girl’s agitation, ‘in that case, you have to register the child in your surname. That’s
all.’

‘I – know,’ the girl whispered, but Pat could see that she was still disturbed.

‘Mr Bowen’s not going to judge you. He’s just there to do his job.’

Anna hung her head, her dark hair falling down like curtains on either side of her face, hiding her expression. Above her bent head, Pat and Eddie exchanged an anxious glance. Then Pat pulled a
face and lifted her shoulders in a gesture of bewilderment.

When Eddie pulled the trap to a halt outside a tall, stone-clad building with pillars on either side of the huge oak door, Anna was still white-faced and trembling. When she walked into the
registrar’s dingy office, she almost turned and ran.

‘Go on, love. It’ll be all right.’ Pat gave her a gentle push. ‘I’ll be just out here if you need me.’

Mr Reginald Bowen was a bent, wizened little man with a wrinkled, unsmiling face. He frowned at her over small, steel-rimmed spectacles and his beady eyes seemed to bore into her soul. She felt
that he could read her innermost secrets.

But Anna’s first impression was wrong. When the registrar spoke, his voice was gentle. When he moved forward and ushered her to a seat in front of his desk, his manner was kind. As she sat
down, Anna looked into his face, close to her now as he bent forward and, with a hooked finger, gently pulled aside the shawl so that he might see the child.

‘So this is your little one.’ Mr Bowen smiled and all the deep lines on his face seemed to curve upwards so that his whole face seemed to be smiling. His beady eyes were no longer
fearsome, but twinkled with pleasure. ‘What a little treasure. A girl, is it?’

Anna nodded.

‘Well now.’ Mr Bowen straightened up and went round to his own side of the desk. He pulled a notepad towards him and, pen poised, glanced up at her. His ‘official’ face
returned and he looked severe once more. Anna was still a little nervous, but no longer frightened of what she must do. It had to be done, for the sake of her child.