Saddle the Wind (41 page)

‘Ernie – you weren’t at the farm today. I know that because I went there to take you your dinner.’

He looked at her, a child caught out. He said nothing.

‘I called at the farmhouse to ask where you were,’ Blanche said. ‘I saw Mrs Hanworth in the yard. I asked where I could find you and she said she had no idea – you were no longer employed there.’

After a moment Ernest nodded. ‘What else did she say?’

‘She said you hadn’t been at the farm for a few days.’

He stared down at his cup. ‘Hanworth asked me to take less money,’ he said after a moment. ‘I told him I couldn’t. Good God, it was hard enough to manage on the little I was getting as it was. He had his own men, though, he said. And he had me over a barrel – he said there’s plenty without work on the farms these days – that’s why so many are flocking to the cities. I told him I couldn’t accept less, though.’

‘– And …?’

Ernest shrugged. ‘So – I’m out of a job.’

‘Oh, Ernie … Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I couldn’t. I thought I’d get another job first – then I could tell you about it – once the other business was all behind us.’

‘Have you had any luck – finding other work?’

Gloomily he shook his head. ‘There’s so much unemployment around these days. Too few jobs and too many men looking for ‘em.’

‘So what have you been doing during the days while I thought you were at the farm?’

‘Well – I’ve been going the rounds of the other farms – and the rest of the time I’ve just been sitting on the heath.’

‘Waiting till it was time to come home – so I wouldn’t suspect the truth.’

‘Something like that.’ He gazed at her for a moment, his eyes intense, then he added: ‘I’ll find something soon, Blanche, don’t you worry.’

‘I’m sure you will. Anyway, until you do at least we’ve got my bit coming in. It’s not much but it’ll help till you get something.’

She was smiling at him, but seeing his own grave expression her smile disappeared. ‘What is it?’ she said. ‘There’s something else …’

‘The cottage,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to leave. Hanworth said he wants it for his own employees.’

She felt her heart sink. ‘How long …?’

‘The end of next week. Saturday noon at the latest. I was going to tell you all this tonight, anyway. I couldn’t have kept it back from you any longer.’

‘Oh, Ernie.’ Blanche felt overwhelmed by the weight of the depression that fell, settling on her. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘What am
I
going to do? you mean. Don’t worry, I shall be all right.’

‘It’s both of us, Ernie. It’s not just you.’

‘You’ll be all right, Blanche. You can go back to Hallowford House. You won’t be homeless.’

‘Well, I’m sure I could, yes, but – without you? I can’t leave you with nowhere to go.’

‘I told you – don’t worry about me, Blanche. I shall manage all right. And if I can’t find any work I can always go for a soldier. The way things are going out in South Africa it looks like they could do with all the help they can get.’ He reached across the table and briefly pressed her hand. ‘We’ll be all right, Blanche, you’ll see.’

Late in the morning a few days afterwards John Savill arrived at the cottage. He had expected to find Blanche ready to agree to his proposal, but to his surprise he found her reluctant even to discuss the matter.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘What’s the matter? Has something happened?’

They stood facing one another in the little front parlour. After a little hesitation Blanche told him of Ernest’s having lost his employment at the farm. ‘He’s trying to find another job,’ she said, ‘–
and
somewhere else to live. Uncle John – how can I leave at a time like this? I can’t just – forsake him. How could I do that – leave him here to fend for himself?’

‘But Ernest is not a child.’

‘Of course he’s not a child. But I’m all he has left in the world. And how could I leave him to look after himself when I’m living in comfort just a few miles away.’

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hold you back.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘– that’s the last thing he’d do. He’d be the first to urge me to go. All his life he’s always thought about others.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t leave him. Particularly now when things are so uncertain.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘He went to Trowbridge to look for a job there.’

‘Well, when he gets back tell him to go and see my brother at the mill. There’ll be a job for him there.’

‘I’ve already suggested that this might be a possibility. I’m afraid he’s not very amenable to the suggestion.’

‘Oh, too much pride, is that it?’

Blanche gave a resigned little nod, then she said brightly: ‘But he’ll find something. He’s very determined and very able. It won’t be long.’

‘And until he does? What will you do – sleep out in the fields?’

When she didn’t answer, Savill said: ‘Listen, I’ve got a cottage in Hallowford that will be empty for a few weeks. At least have that until you find somewhere else to live – if you’re both determined to be so stubborn.’ He gave a slow shake of his head. ‘And what will happen when Ernest
does
find a job, Blanche? When he
does
get back on his feet?’

‘Well – then I’ll be able to do what I choose. But until then – I have to stay with him.’

Savill said: ‘What you feel for your brother is pity, Blanche – and that’s not the best foundation for happiness.’

‘No, Uncle John,’ she said quickly, ‘it’s not pity. I love Ernest. Not only that, but right now he needs me. Later, when he’s settled about his job, then I’ll think again about what I want. But for now I have to think of him.’

Savill gave a slow, resigned nod. ‘I can see that in your present frame of mind you’re not going to see things differently.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, let me know if you want the cottage.’

‘I will. And thank you, Uncle John.’

He put his arms around her, held her for a moment. ‘Don’t thank me. I want what is best for you.’

Blanche remained sitting near the parlour window after Savill had gone from the cottage. Then, hearing a faint noise she turned and saw Ernest standing in the doorway, Jacko at his side.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘– when did you get back?’

‘Oh – just this moment.’

She smiled at him, but his returning smile didn’t quite hide the look of melancholy behind his eyes.

‘Did you have any luck?’ she asked.

‘No – not today.’ He came on into the room. ‘I’ll try again tomorrow.’

‘Mr Savill was here,’ she said after a moment.

‘Oh? Yes?’

‘He said there’s a job for you at the mill, if you want it.’

Ernest looked away. ‘I don’t want to work for Mr Savill.’

His answer came as no surprise to her. Nevertheless she asked, ‘Why not?’

‘Oh, Blanche,’ he said, ‘how can I go and work for him when things are the way they are with you and him?’

She had guessed that this would be his answer. She said, ‘He’s also offered us a cottage in Hallowford for a few weeks. Until we find somewhere else.’ Seeing Ernest’s frown, she quickly added: ‘We’ve got to live somewhere, Ernie.’

‘You mean
I’ve
got to live somewhere. You can go on back to Hallowford House.’

She was silent for a moment, then she said:

‘What makes you so sure that I
want
to do that? Where will it get me if I do?’

He sighed. ‘We’ve been through this before. For one thing you’ll be living in comfort. Admit it, Blanche, this
isn’t the right home for you. You deserve something better than this.’

‘Meaning that you don’t?’

‘Ah, but I’m used to it. This is the only kind of home I’ve ever known. That’s not the case where you’re concerned.’ He moved to the window, stood staring out across the tiny front garden onto the lane. ‘Thank Mr Savill for me,’ he said, ‘but I’ll manage without his charity.’

Blanche felt a flash of anger at his words, at his pride. ‘How?’ she asked. ‘How will you manage?’

He remained gazing out. ‘I’m going away,’ he said.

‘Away?’

‘Away from Colford. Away from Wiltshire.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s no money in farming – not for a common farmhand, anyway. I’ll never amount to anything if I stay here. I shall be twenty-nine come October. Twenty-nine – and what will I have to show for it? What have I got to show for God-knows-how-many years’ hard work? Nothing. I ain’t even got a roof over my ‘ead that I can be sure of. It’s no way to live.’

‘But – but where will you go? What will you do?’

‘I shall go north.’ He turned to her now and she saw the determined set of his mouth.

‘I shall get work in a factory – in one of the cloth factories there.’

‘You could work in a cloth factory here in Trowbridge.’

‘Trowbridge!’ he said scornfully. ‘You don’t realize it, Blanche, but the West Country’s almost finished now when it comes to wool production. Oh, yes, it’s jogging along, but its heydays are
over
. If you want to make money now you’ve got to go where the big factories are – where they can
really
go into production. And production can only come from machines.’

‘There are machines here,’ Blanche said. ‘Mr Savill has machines at his mill.’

‘I don’t mean a
handful
of machines, Blanche. I’m talking about the great factories full of them.’

‘Well, in time they’ll have them here too, won’t they?’

‘Oh, yes? How will they drive them? You need power to drive machines. Which means coal. Which is why they build the factories where the coal is to be found. In Leeds and Bradford and those other Yorkshire towns.
They’re
becoming the centres now. Look at East Anglia – they’ve got no coal supplies and their wool industry’s dying on its feet. And the West Country’s not much better.’

‘We’ve got coal in the West Country, Ernie, haven’t we?’

‘Ah, a bit, but nothing to compete with further up north. And that’s where I’m going. Leeds or Bradford or somewhere like that. That’s where the money is.’

‘You always said you’d stay on the land. You said you’d never work in a factory.’

He shrugged. ‘Times change. I’ve got to do something. I can’t stay here and starve. You know, Blanche – I’ve heard stories of factory men in Yorkshire walking round with pound notes stuck in their ‘atbands.’

‘You sound – determined, Ernie.’

‘I am.’

He sat down, bent to stroke the dog’s head. ‘We’ll have a good life, eh, Jacko, boy?’ Jacko’s tail thumped the floor. Blanche said after a moment:

‘I’m coming with you, Ernie.’

‘You? Come with me?’

‘Why not? I can work as well as you.’

‘Ah, I daresay you can, but …’ He shook his head. ‘I never thought of you coming along, Blanche.’

‘Does that mean you don’t want me to?’

‘No, of course not. It don’t mean that at all. It’s just that I never considered it.’ He paused. ‘It might not be easy at first, Blanche. Times might be hard till we got established.’

‘That’s all right. I’m strong. And I’m as determined as you are. I can put up with a lot when I have to.’

‘But, Blanche …’ He frowned. ‘I thought you’d stay on here. Go to live at Hallowford again. Surely that’s the best place for you, isn’t it? And Mr Savill wants you to go back that badly.’

‘Yes, I know, Ernie, but – well, I’ve thought about it, and I want to make my own life. It’s time I did. I can work up north as well as down here. Children need teachers there as well as here. And if I can’t teach I’ll work in a factory like you. With two of us working in a factory we could earn good money, couldn’t we?’

‘Oh, ah, I daresay.’

‘So …? Will you take me with you?’

He studied her for a moment, one hand abstractedly stroking the dog’s head. Then, smiling, he said, ‘I reckon you’re set on it, are you?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Then we will.’

‘Oh, Ernie!’ Blanche got up, a brightness in her eye at the thought of the opportunities that were to be theirs. ‘When shall we go?’ she said.

‘What about your teaching at Ashton Wick?’

‘I’m not due back there yet. I can write to Mr and Mrs Andrews. I’m sorry to let them down, but it can’t be helped.’

‘All right, then.’ Ernest shrugged. ‘We’ve got to be out of here in another two or three days, so we might as well go straight away. We can start in the morning.’

They spent the rest of the evening making plans.
They would go to Leeds, they decided. As they sat at the table, counting out the little money they had saved, Ernest said, looking at the coins near Blanche’s hand:

‘That’s your sovereign. The one Mr Savill give you.’

‘Yes. What about it?’

‘Oh, Blanche, you can’t use that.’

‘Why not? This is no time for sentimentality. We’re going to need every penny we can get.’

When they had counted up their money they reckoned they would have enough to take them to Bradford by train and pay for lodgings for a few weeks till they earned their first wages and got on their feet. Later in the evening after Blanche had packed a few belongings into a bag she wrote to Mr Savill and to Mr Andrews, telling them that she was going away. She would post the letters on the way to the station, she said. Looking at Ernest as he stood packing some of his belongings, her attention was suddenly caught by Jacko who stood close to Ernest’s feet, clearly bewildered at all the unaccustomed activity. ‘Ernie,’ Blanche said, ‘what shall we do about Jacko?’

‘We’ll take him with us,’ he said.

‘Even on the train?’

‘Why not? Dogs travel in trains. They ride in the guard’s van. And I daresay they’ve got dogs in Bradford.’

They prepared for bed early that night, ready to make an early start. As they stood facing one another on the tiny landing at the top of the stairs, each carrying a lighted candle, Ernest said:

‘I’ll wake you at six-thirty. That’ll be time enough to get to the station.’

‘Yes.’

‘So you sleep well.’

‘You too, Ernie.’

He put out a hand, gently touched her cheek. ‘You’re a good girl, our Blanche.’

He gazed at her for a moment then leaned forward and awkwardly kissed her a peck on the cheek. It was such an unaccustomed gesture on his part that it took Blanche by surprise. She smiled and gave a little nod. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said, ‘we’ll take the first step, Ernie – towards our fortunes.’