Red Sky in the Morning (7 page)

That first evening, when Eddie returned, wet through, aching in every limb and disconsolate because he had not found even one of his missing sheep, Bertha was already fretting. ‘I’m
going to be trapped ’ere, not knowing if me sister’s alive or dead.’

‘I’ll take you into the town on the tractor, love, if it gets that bad and you’re worried about her,’ Eddie offered.

His wife’s retort was scathing. ‘Spect me to ride on that thing? I’d be a laughing stock.’

‘Nobody’s laughing, Bertha. We’ll have to get about as best we can.’

‘Aye well, you’re all right, aren’t you? You can still get into town of a Wednesday.’ She leant towards him, wagging her finger. ‘Only thing is, Eddie Appleyard,
you can’t drink like a fish no more, ’cos the tractor won’t know it’s own way home like that poor old pony.’

Eddie turned away without replying. There was no talking to the woman sometimes. He couldn’t believe that she had not noticed by now – and he certainly wasn’t going to remind
her – that he had not come home drunk, not once, since the night he’d brought the girl home. He had kept his silent vow of abstinence, but Bertha hadn’t even commented on it.

In the cottage, Anna didn’t mind the weather. In fact, it made her feel more secure. No one could reach her now. No one would find her hidden away in a snow-covered
cottage near the wood. And she had all the supplies she needed. In the weeks since Christmas she had built up a woodpile in the next room and, thanks to Eddie, she had a good store of tinned food
in the larder. She and the puppy would be fine – the only thing that concerned her was Eddie’s sheep.

Gently, young though he was, Anna had begun to train the puppy. She would whistle softly in different tones and different pitches and repeat the words of instruction that the shepherds used.
When he grew bigger and spring came, then she would take him into the fields and teach him properly.

But sometimes the tears overcame her and she buried her face in his soft coat, remembering that other dog called Buster who had been hers in that other life.

The following morning Anna looked out to see a white world outside her window. But, for the moment, the snow had stopped falling. After a hasty breakfast, she pulled on her warmest clothes and
the wellingtons Eddie had brought her.

‘Now you stay here, warm and cosy by the fire,’ she said to little Buster, who, sensing that he was going to be left alone, whimpered. ‘It’s a pity you’re not
bigger like . . .’ she began and then faltered, blinking back sudden tears. Then she added bravely, ‘You could be a great help today.’

With a final pat, she opened the front door. Normally, she used the door from the kitchen, but today she had another idea. At once a deluge of snow that had drifted against it during the night
fell in and it took the girl several precious minutes before she could get the door closed again and then begin to dig a path away from the cottage.

‘This is worse than I thought,’ she muttered, resting on her spade for a moment. Digging away the snow was hard work and the ever-increasing bulge of her stomach hampered her. But
the thought of the sheep buried out there in the fields spurred her on. ‘Worst of it is,’ she muttered to herself, ‘they’re such silly creatures. They might not be together.
They could be anywhere.’ But her words were spoken fondly. She had a great affection for sheep and it was this that was making her disregard her own safety – even the well-being of her
unborn child – in an effort to save the rest of Eddie Appleyard’s flock.

First, she dug her way round to the back of the cottage, to find the sheep huddled against the back wall of the cottage, their long coats matted with snow.

‘You poor things, you do look miserable. Come on, let’s get you in the warm.’ Grabbing hold of the nearest one, she began to lead it round the side of the building and in
through the front door and pushed it into the empty ‘parlour’ of the cottage. Two had followed her of their own accord and, with three similar trips, she soon had all the sheep under
cover. She counted them. Ten. Yes, she had been right. Somewhere on the snow-covered hills were seven more. Already the little room looked crowded, but Anna was determined to find the others and
bring them to safety.

‘Now for the difficult bit,’ she murmured, taking up the crook and plodding round to the front of the cottage.

Snow was falling again, but only light, small flakes. Even though the sky looked laden, at the moment she could still see across the fields. Anna scanned the slopes. Taking a deep breath, she
pushed her way through the deep snow towards the side of the field. Sheep tended to look for shelter and when the snow began the hedgerows would be the most likely place to find them.

She had unearthed two by the time she heard a shout and looked up to see Eddie, Tony and Rip struggling to reach her.

‘I thought – you promised me . . .’ Eddie panted as he neared her, ‘that you wouldn’t do this.’

For the first time Anna laughed aloud throwing back her head, the joyous sound echoing around them. For a moment, Eddie and Tony stood looking at her and then, unable to stop themselves, they
laughed too.

Anna was shaking her head. ‘I didn’t actually answer you.’ Then she looked at him with an expression that was almost coy. ‘But I expect you’re used to being
obeyed.’ And she nodded towards Tony.

Eddie smiled, but there was a wry twist to his mouth now. ‘By Tony, yes. Well, most of the time.’

He looked at the two bedraggled sheep standing miserably in the snow. ‘I’m surprised they’re still alive.’

‘Luckily, they weren’t buried very deep, but we’d better get on looking for the rest . . .’

‘Oh no! You’re doing no more. You take this pair back to the cottage and . . .’

Her face was suddenly mutinous. She shook her head. ‘Not until we’ve found the others.’

The man and the young girl stared at each other, whilst the boy looked from one to the other, watching the battle of wills between them.

‘You need my help,’ Anna said, her expression softening. ‘Let me repay you for your kindness when I can. Please?’

He sighed. She was right. He did need her help, but he was worried about her. Even in the short time he had known her, her belly had swelled. She couldn’t have much longer to go, he
thought.

‘Well,’ he said still doubtful, but weakening. ‘All right, but promise if you feel tired you’ll stop.’

‘Yes, I’ll promise you that.’

‘Right. Tony, you take these two down to the cottage . . .’ Eddie said and Anna added, ‘In through the front door and into the other room. The one to the left.’

Eddie stared at her. ‘You’ve got some inside?’

She nodded. ‘The ones that were sheltering at the back of the cottage.’ She laughed. ‘They’re guests in my front parlour now.’

They worked – the three of them – until late afternoon, until all but one sheep had been accounted for.

‘We’ll have to leave it at that. I’ll take these down to the yard if they can make it through the snow. Mebbe she’ll turn up.’ Eddie’s thoughts were still
with his one lost sheep. ‘Mebbe she’s wandered off and found her own shelter somewhere.’ But his tone was not convincing.

‘I wanted to find them all,’ Anna murmured, her gaze still roaming the hillsides, but in the gathering dusk she could no longer see very far.

‘We’ve found more than I dared to hope thanks to you, lass,’ Eddie said. ‘Can you manage with those twelve? I really can’t get any more into the barn.’

‘It’s a bit crowded, but yes. They’ll be fine.’

‘I’ll bring some feed for them, but now into the cottage with you and get yourself dry and warm.’

‘I will, but first . . .’ Letting her crook fall, Anna bent and scooped up a handful of snow. Then she moulded it into a ball. ‘Let’s have snowball fight.’ And she
lobbed the ball of snow at Tony, catching him full in the chest.

For a brief moment, the man and the boy stared at her in amazement. Then, with a whoop they began to fling snow at her and at each other until a blizzard of snowballs was flying through the air
and their laughter was echoing through the dusk and the gently falling snowflakes.

At last, breathless, they stopped, bending over to catch their breath. As she straightened up, Anna’s laughter turned into a cry as pain stabbed at her stomach and she fell to her knees in
the snow.

‘What is it?’

She was bending double, crouching in the snow and groaning. ‘It – hurts,’ she gasped.

‘Let’s get you inside. Then I’ll have to fetch the midwife from the village. I reckon it’s your bairn coming, lass.’

She clutched his arm and looked up at him with terrified eyes. ‘No – no. I don’t want anyone else here. And I don’t want the baby.’ Her voice rose to a hysterical
pitch as she gripped Eddie’s arm with an intensity that frightened him. ‘I won’t have it. I won’t.’

They helped her back to the cottage. The man was worried and the young boy’s eyes were wide and fearful. All Tony wanted to do was to run as far away as possible.

‘Let’s get you into the warm and lying down,’ Eddie said, aware of how inadequate warmth and comfort were in the snowbound, isolated cottage.

‘Shall I go and get Mam?’ Tony asked.

‘No,’ the girl cried. ‘No. I don’t want anyone.’

As another spasm of pain gripped her, she grasped Eddie. ‘I don’t want anyone else. Promise me. I don’t want anyone to know I’m even here.’

He didn’t answer her, but pushed open the door and half carried her inside the cottage. ‘Lie down,’ he commanded. His voice was gentle, but there was a note of firmness in his
tone. ‘Now, look here, lass. I respect your feelings. Whatever reason you’ve got, I know you don’t want other folks around. But this is different. I can’t manage on me own .
. .’

‘Why not? You know about sheep – about lambing . . . aah . . .’ Her words ended in a cry of pain and she held her stomach.

Eddie could not help a wry smile. ‘This is a bit different, love, than helping a few lambs into the world.’

‘I don’t see why,’ she panted, as the contraction faded.

Eddie shook his head. ‘I’m going to the village to fetch the midwife. I’ll ask her not to say owt. Pat Jessop’s a good sort.’ His face sobered. ‘I’d
never forgive mesen, if owt happened to you – or to the bairn.’

Anna closed her eyes as she whispered dully, ‘It wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter to anyone. Maybe it’d be for the best.’

Eddie took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Don’t say things like that, lass. It’d matter to me. To both of us.’ He turned and looked at his son. ‘Wouldn’t it,
Tony?’

The boy nodded. He was still frightened. He’d seen lambs and calves born all his young life. But, like his dad said, this was very different. At his father’s next words his fears
increased.

‘Now, son, you stay here with Anna while I go back to the farm and fetch the tractor. I’m going to tell your mam that I’ve got to stay up here with the sheep. Then I’ll
go to the village and fetch Mrs Jessop and when I get back with her, you can go home.’

Seeing the boy’s terror, Eddie put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. ‘Don’t leave her, lad. I’m counting on you. I won’t be long.’

The boy’s voice trembled as he asked, ‘What if Mam comes looking for me?’ He put out his hand to fondle his dog’s head. Rip had come to sit beside his young master, his
attention divided between Tony and the boisterous puppy. Buster was leaping around him, giving excited little yelps, inviting the older dog to play. But Rip sat obediently to heel.

‘She won’t,’ Eddie replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt. Bertha would never venture out to look for her husband, but Tony was a different matter. She just might
be worried enough about him to brave the weather.

‘Please, oh please, don’t go,’ Anna moaned, but Eddie was adamant. ‘I have to, lass.’

‘But it’s coming. It’s coming.’ Her voice rose in anguish.

‘No, it isn’t. If I know owt about these things, you’re going to be a while yet. Specially . . .’ He had been going to add ‘with your first’, but he thought
better of it. Instead, he patted her hand encouragingly and turned away. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

He trudged back through the snow to the farmhouse.

‘Where’s Tony?’ was Bertha’s first question.

‘He’s all right.’ Eddie managed to sound convincing and, as much as he could, he determined to keep to the truth. His lies would sound more convincing. ‘We’ve got
all the remaining sheep into the cottage, bar one. And one or two of them look as if they’re going to start.’ If only she knew just who it was that was ‘lambing’, he thought
wryly. ‘I’ll have to stay up there for a bit, love. I’ve come for the tractor. I – I need some bits and pieces from the village. Anything you want while I’m
going?’ he added swiftly, hoping to divert her from asking too many questions about what was happening in the fields.

‘No, no, I don’t think so,’ Bertha said abstractedly, then, returning to her main cause for concern, she added, ‘You’re not to keep Tony up there all
night.’

‘No, no, love, of course not. I’ll make sure he comes home well before dark. But,’ he added, with more truth than she could ever know, ‘I know he’s only young, but
he’s a great help to me.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ Bertha said and there was pride in her tone. For a moment she softened. ‘You get off to the village and I’ll pack you some food up
now and you can call for it on your way back.’

Eddie swallowed, feeling trapped. He hadn’t planned on coming back this way, but on taking Mrs Jessop further along the lane and in by the track round the far side of the woods to reach
the cottage. He couldn’t risk Bertha seeing Pat Jessop riding on his tractor complete with her midwife’s bag. But all he could say was, ‘Righto, love. That’d be
grand.’

As he rode into town on his tractor, Eddie worked out a plan.
I’ll take Pat straight to the cottage, then double back round by the lane and into the farmyard. That way I can collect
what she’s packed up for me and then go back up the track from the farm to the cottage.
It was lucky, he thought, that the lane was not visible from the farmhouse. Bertha wouldn’t
be able to see him going past the gate and then coming back again. Not unless she was out in the yard near the gate. And he very much doubted she would be. Not in this weather! He smiled to
himself, beginning to enjoy the intrigue.