Red Sky in the Morning (16 page)

All afternoon she worked steadily, until Eddie called a halt and Bertha appeared in the yard carrying drinks for the workers. Anna turned away, but not before she had seen the look of fury on
the older woman’s face.

It was late in the evening when Anna climbed the track wearily, with scarcely the strength left to push the pram up the slope. Even when the shearing was done for the day and the men had gone,
the work was not finished. The sheared sheep had to be driven back to the field and the next lot brought down to the farm for the night, ready for shearing the following day.

‘Dad, Dad,’ Anna heard Tony shouting. ‘There’s three lambs can’t find their mothers. They’re crying.’

The high-pitched bleating of the lambs as they darted from one ewe to another, unable to recognize their newly shorn dams, was pitiful. But Eddie only chuckled. ‘It’s all right, lad,
I’ll make sure they’ve found the right ones afore I leave them. But you run on home now. Ya mam’ll be wanting you away to your bed. And you too, Anna, you take that little one
home. You look all in, ya’sen.’

‘Goodnight, then, Eddie. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Goodnight, lass. And thanks for all your help today.’

Anna smiled and turned away. As she entered the cottage, she leant a moment against the closed door, glad to be back in her little sanctuary. And yet it hadn’t been a bad day. Despite
Sam’s obvious disapproval and Bertha’s malevolent glare, Joe had treated her kindly. It had been a good day.

There had only been one moment that had caused her anguish, but no one could have guessed. At least, she hoped no one had noticed that for a moment her heart had seemed to rise into her throat
and her hands had trembled.

Joe had unwittingly brought about the stab of fear. He had been admiring Sam’s skill at shearing and had commented lightly. ‘You remind me of a young feller that lives over Lincoln
way. By, I’ve never seen a better shearer in me life. Like a knife through butter, it is, to watch him and he never leaves so much as a nick on the sheep. But blessed if I can remember his
name.’

‘I bet you mean Jed Rower,’ she heard Sam say. ‘I saw him at the show one year. You’m right, he’s a clever feller . . .’ The two men had continued their
chatter, whilst Anna froze for a moment and then her heart began to pound. Her hands were trembling as she carried the next fleece to the table, her face flushing bright red. Biting her lip, she
tried to concentrate on the wrapping, but she did it so badly that she was obliged to unfold it once more and begin again. No one seemed to notice and gradually her heartbeat returned to normal and
she tried to squash the thoughts that mention of the name had evoked.

But now, in the stillness of the cottage, those thoughts refused to be ignored.

I must go
, was all she could think of.
I’m still not far enough away. Once the shearing’s finished, I must move on.

‘You coming with me into town?’ Eddie asked Anna as they stacked the rolled fleeces into the back of his trailer to take into Ludthorpe. She shook her head.
‘No – I – er – I’ve things to do.’

‘All right, then, lass. I’ll see you later. Anything you want bringing?’

Anna’s heart beat a little faster and her hands were clammy. She didn’t like deceiving Eddie, who had been so kind to her, but, as soon as he had left the farm heading towards the
town, she intended to leave too, but in the opposite direction. She dared not tell him, dared not say goodbye, for she knew he would try to persuade her to stay. And he would probably succeed. She
would leave via the village, Anna decided. She would call in to say her farewells to Pat and to leave a message for Eddie with her. She could even write him a note . . .

‘We’ll have to dip in about a fortnight’s time . . .’ Eddie was saying as he climbed up onto his tractor.

Startled from her own thoughts, Anna said, ‘What? What did you say?’

‘I said, we’ll have to dip all the sheep in about a fortnight.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I’ll need your help then all right, lass. Tony’s not strong enough to
manage them when they struggle . . .’

Anna stared up at him. Oh no, it wasn’t possible. Quite unaware of her plans, Eddie had innocently presented her with yet another reason for her to stay longer.

‘Oh, er, right,’ she murmured and silently promised:
Two more weeks, then. Just two more weeks and then we’ll go.

Anna stood at the top of the rise, watching the lorry taking a batch of the lambs to market manoeuvre its way out of the gate of Cackle Hill Farm. Beside her Maisie lay asleep
in the depths of the black pram, blissfully unaware of her mother’s inner turmoil. The young woman smiled gently, though tears prickled her eyes. She couldn’t help it. It was not the
way of a true farmer. Though never cruel to any animal, nevertheless proper farmers were unsentimental about the need to slaughter the livestock they had so carefully reared. But Anna had not been
able to stop herself becoming fond of the woolly little creatures that gambolled and leapt about in their joy at just being alive.

Once she had known that kind of joy.

Her gaze roamed over the slopes of the surrounding fields, vibrant in their summer colours. Below her in the cottage garden splashes of colour vibrated against the darkness of the trees beyond,
stately white foxgloves, purple lupins, and pink petunias and even a few early red roses. She wished she could plant more flowers in front of the cottage and there was room in the vegetable patch
at the side to plant potatoes, carrots, beans – enough to provide for herself and Maisie for months. She could make it into a real home. She already had, really. She could be content here,
almost happy. Anna bit her lip. But it was futile to make such plans.

She couldn’t stay here. They had to move on. It wasn’t safe. She must get as far away as possible. There were too many people now who knew she was living here. Pat Bishop, Joe
Wainwright, the doctor and the registrar in the town and, more recently, the vet and then the men who had come to help with the shearing. And it had been then that she had realized she was still
not far enough away. The list of those who now knew where she was was getting far too long, to say nothing of the gossips in the village who knew all about her presence in Eddie Appleyard’s
shepherd’s cottage, even if they had never seen her. The more who knew, the more likely it was that word might get back . . .

And most dangerous of all was Bertha, whose malevolent gaze seemed to follow her everywhere.

It was time to go. The dipping was done, the lambs all gone. Now would be a good time to leave.

Her mind made up, Anna turned her back on the idyllic scene and determinedly pushed the pram down the rough track towards the cottage that had been her haven for the past few months. She would
go, she resolved, and go now before she could change her mind.

Back at the cottage, she began to gather her belongings together, her own and Maisie’s clothes and food for the journey, piling them all beside the pram. Then she stood looking down at the
heap. There was far too much to fit on the pram. Its already sagging springs would never take the extra weight. And there was too much for her to carry. Maybe if she put some in the pram and made
up a kind of bundle she could carry on her back . . .

From outside, the sound of Eddie’s tractor came closer.

‘Oh no!’ Anna breathed and hurried outside to forestall him coming into the cottage. He was back earlier than she had thought. She had taken too long to get ready.

He drew to a halt and switched off the engine. Climbing down, he came towards her, smiling. ‘Well, lass, that’s another lot gone and I got a good price.’ His grin widened.
‘I’ll be able to give you a bonus on your wages.’

Anna smiled tremulously and walked away from the door, trying to keep a distance between him and her home. But her ruse was not working.

‘Where’s Maisie?’ He moved towards the back door.

‘She – she’s asleep,’ Anna said desperately. ‘Don’t wake her. She’s teething and – and she’s not sleeping very well.’

This was not strictly true. The child was indeed teething, but she seemed to be having little trouble.

‘She’s very lucky,’ Pat had told Anna on her last visit, adding with a laugh, ‘and so are you. Most kiddies have an awful time and so do their mothers. Being kept awake
half the night isn’t any fun for baby or mother.’

‘Oh.’ Eddie stopped at once. ‘Poor little mite,’ he said sympathetically. ‘I remember Tony crying a lot when he was teething. I used to rub a little whisky onto his
gums.’ He grinned. ‘But don’t tell Pat I told you that, will ya?’

Anna tried to smile, but it was a nervous, halfhearted effort. Eddie didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was roving over the outside walls of the cottage. ‘You know, this could do with a
lick of lime wash—’

At that moment, much to Anna’s chagrin, they heard Maisie wail.

Eddie’s face brightened. ‘She’s awake. Now I can see her.’ He was in through the back door before Anna could stop him.

She sighed and followed him. He was standing quite still, staring down at the pile of their belongings beside the pram. Slowly he turned to look at Anna, disappointment and concern on his
face.

‘What’s this? You – you’re not thinking of leaving, love, are you?’

Silently, Anna nodded.

‘Aw, lass, why? What’s wrong? Is there something you need? What is it? Tell me and I’ll get it.’

Anna shook her head. ‘It – it’s not that, Eddie. You’ve been wonderful, so good. Too good—’

He stared at her for a moment and then closed his eyes and groaned. ‘Aw, lass, you’re not thinking I’m going to want summat in return. Aw, lass, don’t ever think that.
Not of me.’

‘No, no, Eddie,’ she reassured him swiftly. ‘It’s not that. Truly. That – that never entered my head.’

He eyed her sceptically. ‘Didn’t it?’ he asked gently. ‘’Cos it has into other folks’ nasty minds.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Even me own
wife’s.’

‘Well, maybe at first,’ Anna admitted. ‘But not now. Not since I’ve got to know you. You’re just a very kind man, Eddie Appleyard.’

For a moment there was silence between them as they gazed at each other. At last Eddie cleared his throat, but his voice was still husky with emotion as he asked, ‘Then why,
lass?’

Maisie’s wailing grew louder and before she answered him, Anna moved to the pram and picked up the child. Resting her baby against her shoulder, Anna patted her back soothingly.
Maisie’s cries subsided to gentle hiccuping.

‘I have to move on. I have to get further away.’

‘Why? What is it you’re afraid of?
Who
are you afraid of? You’ve been here months now and no one’s come looking for you. Or has summat happened I don’t
know about?’

Anna lowered her eyes, not daring to meet his steady gaze. Hating herself for lying, she shook her head.

‘Then why, lass? You’re safe here.’ When she did not answer, he added, ‘Aren’t you?’

Anna closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. Flatly, she said, ‘I don’t know. I – I just feel that the further away the better.’

‘Further away from where exactly?’ Again there was no reply from her, so he prompted gently. ‘Won’t you trust me enough to tell me that at least?’

In a husky, reluctant whisper she said, ‘Lincoln.’

‘Lincoln?’ Eddie almost laughed. ‘Why, that’s miles away. No one’s going to find you here. To folks from the city, this is the back of beyond.’

Anna smiled thinly but said nothing.

‘So will you stay, lass? At least a little longer? It’ll be haymaking afore we know it and then harvest . . .’

‘And then it’ll be winter and I won’t be able to go,’ she said.

Eddie grinned ruefully. ‘Aye, so it will, lass. So it will. You see right through me, don’t ya?’ They smiled, understanding one another. ‘So, will you stay, love? Please
say you will.’

With a jolt Anna saw that there were tears in his eyes. A lump grew in her own throat so that she could not answer. Instead, slowly, she nodded.

Anna and her daughter were still there through haymaking and into the harvest in the heat of August. It seemed as if half the village turned out to help the local farmers get
in the harvest.

‘It’s always happened round here. It’s a sort of custom, but more so in the war,’ Pat told her. ‘With a lot of the fellers away, we had Land Army girls here and the
local women helped an’ all.’ She laughed. ‘I reckon we all got to enjoy it.’

‘Did – did Eddie have Land Army girls here?’ Anna asked.

‘Oh yes,’ Pat said. ‘Most of the farmers did. Some of the girls even stayed on. One girl married a local lad and stayed.’ She nodded towards a pretty, fair-haired girl.
‘That’s her. That’s Phyllis. Nice lass, she is. You’d like her. Why don’t you let me introduce—’

‘No,’ Anna said swiftly. ‘No, thanks.’

Puzzled, Pat glanced at Anna but said no more. Anna was staring across at Phyllis, almost as if she recognized her and yet she had refused to meet her. In fact, she refused to meet anyone,
refused even to try to make friends. Pat sighed. Anna was a funny lass and no mistake.

As Eddie towed the last of the wagons behind the tractor to his stack yard, Pat said, ‘There, that’s Eddie’s all safely gathered in. We’ve just Ted Bucknall’s to do
now and that’s the harvest home. There’ll be a harvest supper in the village hall then. You’ll come, won’t you?’

Anna shook her head.

‘But everyone will be there—’

‘No!’ Anna was adamant. ‘I – I can’t.’

Pat sighed as they walked together back towards the farm. ‘You will have to mix with folk sometime, love. You can’t keep yourself a recluse.’ She laughed and nudged
Anna’s arm. ‘They’ll be calling you a witch soon.’

Anna smiled wanly.

‘And what about Maisie? She needs to play—’

‘I play with her.’

‘But she needs to be with kiddies of her own age. She needs—’

Anna stopped and turned to face Pat. ‘I know you mean it kindly, and I’m grateful, really I am, but I can’t mix with folk. And – and I can’t let Maisie
either.’

‘She’ll have to when she gets to five years old and has to go to school,’ Pat said bluntly. ‘You’ve got to face that, Anna, because it’s a fact and you
can’t get away from it.’