Читать книгу Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection - Josephine Cox - Страница 43

EMILY WAS AT the kitchen window, showing her daughter the newly-fallen layer of snow. ‘It’s Christmas Day tomorrow,’ she told the bairn. ‘Last year it rained all day, but look there!’ Excitedly she held the infant higher so she could see. ‘Your very first white Christmas!’ Last year had been wet and bitter, with never a sign of snow.

Made curious by the delicate manner in which the robin tripped across the snow’s surface to leave its tiny prints there, Emily did not notice the laden milk-cart approaching.

But now, as the infant began squealing and struggling to get out of her arms, Emily looked up. ‘What’s wrong, eh?’ Following the direction of little Cathleen’s gaze, she saw him over the hedge: Danny Williams, the local milkman, his familiar head and shoulders bobbing up and down with the movement of the cart-horse as it plodded its way through the snow. ‘It’s Danny!’ Emily laughed out loud. ‘You saw him coming down the lane – that’s why you’re so excited!’

At that very minute the mantelpiece clock struck eight. ‘Right on time,’ she said. ‘I should have known.’

Having recently returned from three years away fighting in the Transvaal, Danny had left the Army to take over the milk-round from his retired widower father. The Williamses were a popular family hereabouts, and when Danny had collected milk from neighbouring farms, he always dropped in for a cuppa at Potts End. He and the horse both enjoyed the break. Dedicated and reliable, he was never known to be late.

‘Hmh!’ Emily smiled into her daughter’s eyes. ‘I do believe you’d rather see Danny than have a white Christmas.’ Nuzzling the infant’s mop of dark hair, she wasn’t surprised to see the joy in those bright blue eyes as they caught sight of Danny in his lofty seat. ‘Always pleased to see him, aren’t you, sweetheart?’ she asked, and the child’s spontaneous bubble of laughter was enough of an answer.

Over this past year, since Danny Williams had returned from South Africa, he and Emily’s child Cathleen had struck up a warm friendship. At first, Emily had been wary, but Danny’s natural humour and honest nature soon allayed her fears and won her over.

‘You’d best get down, while I put the kettle on.’ Lowering the child to the floor, she turned towards the range. ‘He’ll be wanting his cup of tea.’

‘Aye, an’ he’ll be wanting a muffin too, I’ll be bound.’ That was Aggie, having entered the kitchen from the adjoining room. ‘You see to the child,’ she suggested, ‘while I mek us all a brew.’

Tugging at her skirts, little Cathleen let her mammy know she wanted to go outside. ‘I can’t let you go out just yet,’ Emily chided. ‘We don’t want you squashed under the wheels of the cart now, do we, eh?’ The very thought sent shivers of horror through her.

Holding the child close, Emily took a moment to observe her. Cathleen was a year and nine months old now, and every minute spent with her was pure joy. It seemed astonishing to her that this darling little girl, with her laughing blue eyes and shock of dark hair, had been conceived out of fear and hatred.

At first, after a hard and painful birth, it had been impossible for Emily to accept her. For weeks afterwards, Emily had turned her back on the newborn, leaving Aggie to nurse, bath and cuddle the child. And that dear woman never complained. ‘You’ll tek to the bairn when you’re good and ready,’ she declared. ‘You see if you don’t!’

She was right because, little by little, Emily had come to realise that the child, like herself, carried no blame for what had happened. The miracle to Emily was that neither in physical appearance or nature, did Cathleen show any trait of the man who had forced himself on her mother.

Since that dreadful day, and for some reason known only to himself, Clem Jackson had kept his distance. That much at least Emily was grateful for. But if she had hated him before, she now loathed him with a vengeance.

There had been many times during the days and months following the rape when she had yearned for someone to confide in: her mother, her grandfather maybe. Even John, if he’d been here. Deep down though, she knew she could never tell anyone. Clem had threatened all manner of retribution if she so much as mentioned his name in the same breath as the child. And so, fearful of the consequences for her family, Emily had suffered the worst ordeal of her young life, without recourse to the comfort of being able to tell someone the truth of what had really happened.

At the pubs where he drank with his cronies, in his evil way, Clem had spread the word that John Hanley was the one who had got his niece pregnant, and soon it was common knowledge. Emily for her part neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead she kept her own counsel. The time would come when the truth could be told, she promised herself. When John came home, they would put the record straight together. That was what she believed, with all her heart. And yet, after two years and more without word or sight of him, she had no choice but to believe that John had deserted her.

Lizzie Hanley had taken umbrage at the rumours and no longer had any dealings with Potts End. Too proud to beg for news of John, Emily threw herself into her work, and made the child and her family her life.

The hatred and fear of Clem Jackson were always alive in her. But she was ever thankful that there was no sign of his character in little Cathleen; only a strong, brave heart filled with love and the joy of living, and a natural kindness that endeared the tiny girl to all who met her.

Inevitably, Emily grew to love and adore her – as did her grandad and Aggie, who quite naturally believed the child to be John Hanley’s. Never in her wildest nightmares did Aggie suspect that Cathleen’s father was her own brother, Clem. Since the tragic stillbirth of her son, and the disappearance of her husband, Aggie now took life as it came, and refused to overreact to something as natural as pregnancy, within or without a marriage ceremony. Children were gifts from God, to be cherished – that was her view, and she cared nothing for the opinion of others.

‘Danny!’ Cathleen’s small voice swept away Emily’s troublesome thoughts.

‘All right, sweetheart.’ Clutching the child to her, Emily looked out to return Danny’s friendly wave.

The two of them followed his progress up the lane. Because of the recent snowfall, the wheels made no sound on the ground, though the dozen or so milk-churns on the cart rattled and clanged as the horse picked his docile way towards the gate.

When at last both horse and cart came to rest, that great old cob straightaway began pawing the ground with his hoof. The smell of hay from the back made his stomach rumble. ‘Behave yourself now!’ Danny leaped down, his boots skidding in the soft snow. ‘Hang on, me ol’ darlin’,’ he told the horse. ‘You’ll get your breakfast, never fear.’

Unhooking a haybag from beneath the cart, he strapped it round the horse’s ears, whereupon that great gentle animal dipped his nose into the bag and began contentedly munching. He had earned his breakfast and meant to enjoy it.

By the time Danny tapped on the back door, Aggie was ready with a fresh brew of strong tea, and a plate full of home-made muffins. ‘The tea’s mashed!’ she said, beckoning him to the kitchen table. ‘Get that hot tea down you, son,’ she urged Danny as they all took their places. ‘By! You look frozen to the bone.’

‘Nay, I’m used to it,’ Danny assured her. ‘Mind you, it feels like there’s a bad night in the making. I noticed the hedges are beginning to stiffen with cold. Come dark there’ll be ice on the lanes, you can count on it.’

Aggie chided him, ‘And there’s you with only a thin jacket and muffler to keep out the cold. It’s time you got yourself a warm overcoat, my boy!’

‘Ever since Africa, I can’t stand to be smothered,’ came Danny’s reply. ‘As long as I keep working, I’ll be fine, so I will.’

Holding out his arms, he spoke to the child. ‘Is there a cuddle and a kiss to go with my tea and muffins?’ His gaze fell on Emily. In his heart it was her he wanted; her and the child both, for he had come to love them dearly these past months.

Releasing the child, Emily watched her go to him. She saw the affection in his kind grey eyes, and the way his ready smile enveloped Cathleen as they cuddled close. ‘Now this was worth waiting for,’ he joked. ‘Tea, muffins, and a pretty girl’s arms round my neck – what more could a man ask for?’ Again, his gaze fell on Emily, and knowing what was on his mind, she looked away.

Lately there had been warm stirrings in her heart for him and, for so many reasons, this frightened her.

For the next twenty minutes or so, they chatted about this and that: Danny told them how glad he was to be back in Salmesbury, and how he had never been certain he would enjoy the milk-round, but that now he was loving every minute. ‘We’ve got plenty of customers and they’re all a pleasure to serve. Besides, I reckon I’m privileged to be working in these beautiful surroundings. You get to appreciate your home patch, when you’ve been overseas for so long.’

Aggie had often wondered and she asked him now: ‘How does your father feel about you taking over the reins, so to speak?’

Danny laughed. ‘Oh, it’s still Father who holds the reins, I can assure you of that! There are days when I can’t do a single thing right. He’s always one step behind me – “do this, do that” … I never seem to please the old bugger.’ He chuckled. ‘All the same, he’s one of the best. They broke the mould when they made Bobby Williams.’

The love he had for his father was evident in the manner in which he referred to him, and the joy in his face whenever he mentioned his name.

Aggie spoke candidly about work on the farm. ‘It seems to get harder with every passing year,’ she groaned. ‘We can’t afford any hired help at the moment, and what with Dad’s rheumatism, and Emily having to tend the bairn, we can’t seem to keep on top of everything.’ She gave her daughter a warm smile. ‘Mind you, my Emily works every minute she can, bless her heart, and she never complains. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without her.’

‘It’s easier at this time of year, though – no crops or harvest to gather in?’ Danny knew all about the countryside and farming.

Aggie had to agree, but, ‘Winter is easier, yes. But as you well know, there are always things to do in preparation for the coming spring … animals to be tended and repairs done – as well as other jobs that need seeing to afore the season changes.’

Emily had her own opinions about that, and she aired them with a frown. ‘If certain people didn’t clear off whenever the fancy took them, there would be three pairs of hands to the pump, instead of two!’ They all knew who she was referring to.

‘If you ask me, the place is much happier when he’s not around anyway!’ Aggie put in. She had come to hate her brother with a passion that shamed her. Potts End Farm hadn’t been the same since his arrival. A shadow hung over them all.

Not for the first time, Danny offered his help. ‘I’m sure I can spare an hour or two each day to give you a hand,’ he volunteered. ‘I could take the weight off both your shoulders, if only you’d let me.’

Fearing the trouble that might cause, Emily intervened. ‘It’s not that we aren’t grateful, Danny,’ she started, ‘because we are. It’s just that,’ glancing towards the door, she lowered her voice, ‘it might not be appreciated in other quarters, if you see what I mean.’

‘I understand exactly what you’re saying,’ he answered softly, ‘but where’s the man himself, anyway?’ He’d expected to see Clem somewhere hereabouts. ‘Usually he’s in the field, checking them bulls of his, but there was nary a sign of him this morning.’

Terrified of the two great bulls that Clem had brought to the farm, Aggie confessed, ‘I’d feel a whole lot better if he was to take them back where he got them from. I believe he earns money from ’em but he never discusses the fees he charges for them to cover the cows. It makes my blood run cold to think little Cathleen could wander into that field at any time.’

Emily assured her that would not happen. ‘We always keep well away from there,’ she promised. ‘The very sight of those huge beasts puts the fear of God in me.’

Danny was afraid for them all. ‘Mind you keep well away,’ he cautioned. ‘I’ve seen lesser bulls go on the rampage and leave a trail of destruction in their wake, and them bulls out there are two of the biggest I’ve ever clapped eyes on.’ He shook his head. ‘Out and out killers, that’s what they are. Keep as far away as you can.’ The very thought of any of these three lovely women being hurt was like a knife to his heart.

For a time, they continued to talk about more pleasant things, such as the coming Christmas celebrations. ‘I’m sure Mother wouldn’t mind if you and your father joined us for Christmas dinner?’ Emily couldn’t stand for the two Williamses to be alone on Christmas Day. Danny was an only child, and poor Mr Williams would be facing his first Christmas without his wife.

‘Well, of course I don’t mind!’ Aggie was quick to assure them. ‘In fact, I was about to ask him the very same thing.’ Turning to Danny she said, ‘Do you think you could persuade your father to trust my cooking?’

‘Well, it’s got to be better than mine!’ he joked.

Emily was thrilled. ‘He’ll be company for Grandad too.’ She didn’t voice her more private thoughts, that having Danny here on Christmas Day would be a pleasant thing for them all. ‘Cathleen would be glad to have you here as well,’ she finished lamely.

‘I hope you’ll be pleased too,’ he remarked softly, and when she blushed to the roots of her light brown hair, both Danny and Aggie couldn’t help but notice.

Suddenly, though, Emily’s mind was filled with thoughts of John, and when the emotion became too much, she picked Cathleen up and excused herself. ‘I’ll be outside if you want me,’ she told Aggie.

In a moment she and the child were dressed against the winter cold. In another moment they were gone, and for Danny the room seemed terribly empty.

‘She’s a bit on edge lately,’ Aggie explained. ‘Every day she waits to hear from John, and every day she’s disappointed. It’s been over two years now, and there’s not been a single letter. It meks me hoppin’ mad to see what she’s going through, poor lass.’

Danny couldn’t understand it. ‘All I can say is, he must be mad. To have somebody like Emily waiting for you is every man’s dream.’

‘The child too.’ Aggie knew it had become common knowledge that John was Cathleen’s father. ‘Though, as far as I’m aware, he doesn’t yet know of his daughter’s existence.’

Danny would have given anything for the child to be his. ‘Wouldn’t his Aunt Lizzie have let him know – about the child, I mean?’

Aggie let her thoughts dwell on that for a while. ‘Happen she has. Happen she hasn’t,’ she said at length. ‘As far as I can tell, Lizzie’s not one for the writing. She’s the first to admit she’s a poor scholar, bless her heart.’

‘It all seems a rare mess an’ no mistake,’ Danny said reflectively. ‘She still wants him though, doesn’t she?’ Danny had waited in the wings long enough and lately wanted so much to declare his love for Emily. ‘I mean, she wouldn’t consider anyone else, would she?’

Aggie shrugged. ‘That’s not for me to say. If I were you, I’d be patient a while longer. But don’t give up,’ she advised knowingly. ‘I’ve seen how she smiles more when you’re around.’

‘Do you think so?’ Now it was Danny’s turn to smile. ‘Well, I never!’

When the teapot was empty and the muffins all gone, Danny thanked her. ‘I’ll be off to my work again now,’ he declared, and put his muffler back on.

Emily saw him from the bottom fence; she and little Cathleen had been watching the birds feed on the lard thrown out by Aggie earlier. There had been a clear space under the shelter of the barn-roof where the snow had not yet penetrated. It seemed all the birds in the air had swooped down on that one tiny spot, and were excitedly jostling for the juicy niblets.

‘Danny’s going,’ she said as the child pointed to the birds, her face a wreath of joy at their antics. ‘We’d best go and see him off, eh?’

With Cathleen in her arms, she made her way to the cart. ‘Away now, are you?’ she asked.

‘Wish I didn’t have to,’ he said. ‘I’d be more than content to stay here with you and the bairn, but I’ve got a living to earn.’

‘We’ll see you tomorrow though, won’t we?’ As soon as the words left her lips, Emily felt compelled to shift her meaning. ‘I mean … you will be able to persuade your father to come along, won’t you?’

‘Oh, I see!’ he teased her openly. ‘So you’ll not want me if I have to come along all on my own?’

‘Oh no!’ Now she really was embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean that, only it would be good for him and Gramps to get together and talk about old times, don’t you think?’

As the child opened her arms to go to Danny, Emily let her loose. In spite of her deeper love for John, it always did her heart good to see the honest love between Danny and her child.

With one strong arm, Danny held Cathleen on the rim of the cart. ‘When you’re bigger and your mammy allows me, I’ll take you off on my rounds – what d’you think to that, eh?’ He laughed out loud when the child gave him a wide, happy grin. ‘Oh, so you’d like that, would you?’

‘I’m sure she would,’ Emily remarked, ‘but that’s a long way off yet, so don’t get her hopes up.’ There were times when she felt she had to curb the growing bond between these two, and other times when she thanked the Good Lord for it.

Lifting the child once more into his arms, and content to let her entwine the strands of his hair round her tiny fingers, he asked Emily in a sincere voice, ‘Do you want to know what I think?’

Momentarily lost in thoughts of John, and how she would explain Cathleen to him, Emily was jolted back to the present. ‘Sorry, Danny,’ she apologised. ‘I was miles away.’

‘I can see that,’ he remarked softly. ‘I was just asking if you wanted to know what I really thought?’ He had no doubt but that she had been ‘miles away’ with John Hanley, but he made no mention of it. Instead he went on, in the same steady voice, ‘Just now you asked what I thought about the two old fellas getting together to talk about past times. And I’m trying to tell you that there are other things on my mind at the minute.’

‘What kind of things?’ She knew that he had special feelings for her. At first it had been a worry, but lately she had come to see him for the true friend he was, and had come to rely on that friendship; every minute he was here, she honestly enjoyed his company.

Right now though, she suspected he was about to try and deepen their friendship into something else – something she wasn’t ready for and probably never would be. Suddenly, she was on the defensive. ‘Please, Danny … not now, eh?’

‘All right, my beauty.’ He loved her too much to go against her wishes. ‘But I think you already know that it would make me the happiest man on God’s earth if you’d agree to be my wife. You could have whichever home you wanted … I’m not short of a bob or two.’ His gaze shifted to the child. ‘I could give this darling lass a name and a father … if only you’d let me?’

When instead of answering she cast her gaze down, he felt mortified. Taking her by the hand he apologised. ‘Aw look, I’m sorry … opening my big mouth yet again. I know I should keep my feelings to myself, but it’s so hard sometimes.’

Emily looked up. ‘I understand,’ she conceded. ‘But you know how it is. I’m John’s woman. I can’t change that, nor would I want to.’ Hard words but they needed saying.

He gave a sad little nod. Then his smile warmed her heart. ‘Forgive me, eh? Don’t have me shot if now and again I take the liberty of reminding you that I’m always here, if you ever need me.’

‘I know, Danny, and I’m very lucky to have a friend like you. You’re a lovely man, but instead of wasting your time on me, you should be looking for someone who is free to give you all the love you deserve.’

Danny’s gaze softened. ‘Don’t you understand?’ he murmured, taking a step forward. ‘As long as I live, I can never look in any other direction. The truth is, my beauty, if I can’t have you, then I want no one.’

Emily was cut to the core. ‘No, Danny! Please don’t talk like that. You were made for family life – for children and such. I don’t want to be the one who deprives you of that.’

For a long moment he looked at her, at that pretty face and those quiet brown eyes now scarred with sadness, and he couldn’t bear it. ‘Whatever decision I make, it’ll be my decision and no one else’s. You remember that, and remember this too. Other than you, there is no woman on God’s earth I want, nor ever will.’

Choking with emotion, Emily reached up and with the greatest tenderness stroked his face. ‘I’d give anything to love you as you deserve,’ she said, ‘but I’ve already given my heart away. I’m so sorry, Danny. Really I am.’

‘Ah, it’s me that should be sorry!’ Grabbing her hand he pressed it to his heart. ‘Do you forgive me?’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she said.

With a quick smile and cheeky wink, he confessed, ‘I can’t say I don’t wish you would change your mind, but I promise I’ll try and keep my feelings to myself from now on.’ Making the sign of the cross over his heart, he looked a sorry sinner. ‘Cross my heart, and may all the milk turn sour if I’m lying!’

At the sight of his eyes rolling heavenward and that naughty, twinkling smile, Emily burst out laughing. ‘You’re a devil, Danny Williams, so you are!’

‘Well now, will ye look at that!’ Hugging the child into his chest, he swung her round. ‘We made your mammy laugh. Isn’t that something, eh?’ Plonking a quick kiss on Cathleen’s forehead, he handed her back to Emily. ‘I’d best get on, or I’ll have my father breathing down my neck when I get home!’

With one easy movement, he swung himself onto the cart. The great churns were stacked behind him. From the foot of the cart Emily watched him stow the nosebag and pick up the reins. It was a privilege to have him about, she thought, and these days, with no word from John, she desperately needed someone to talk to. Danny was a kind-hearted, honest sort of a bloke, and she respected him enormously. Up to now though, that was as far as her feelings went.

Danny, though, had fallen for her straight away, ever since he’d returned to the village. Twice he had asked her to wed him, and twice she’d refused. All along she had been honest with him. She didn’t love him, she explained, and never could, not in the way she loved John.

But little Cathleen loved him, and sometimes, in the dark of night when sleep eluded her, Emily would look at her darling child and the doubts would creep in yet again. Should she put the child first and give her a proper daddy who would love and care for her? Should she give up on John, who now seemed to have given up on her? Was she being unfair to her mammy by denying Danny the chance to be a son-in-law to her, and a father to Cathleen? Right from the start, Aggie had taken to Danny. And it was painfully obvious that little Cathleen adored that good man. What’s more, her daughter would probably love to have a younger brother or sister.

Sometimes, Emily believed she was being selfish in putting her own feelings before those of her loved ones. And yet, how could she give herself in marriage to someone she didn’t love in that way? So many questions. So many doubts, haunting her through the long, sleepless nights.

But then, when morning came the questions faded beneath her steadfast love for John.

She couldn’t deny she had grown fond of Danny, and it pained her to keep rejecting him, but what choice had she? In her deepest heart she had always believed John would come back. She believed it now, and would go on believing it, until all hope was gone.

Right now, there were three men in her life: her old grandfather, who had bad days and good days, but was always a kind and loving man; then there was Clem Jackson, whose presence was like a dark blanket over the sun. If only he’d go! No one wanted him here at Potts End.

And then there was Danny! A gem of a man, wasted in his affection for her, but nothing she could say would make him see that.

‘Some of this milk came from old Daisy at Glebe House Farm,’ he was telling the wide-eyed Cathleen. ‘Up at four every morning she is, waiting first in line, bellowing her head off, to have her bursting udders emptied into this here churn.’ Wiping the tip of his finger round the rim of the churn he sucked on it and rolled his eyes. ‘A gift from the heavens, that’s what it is!’ he sighed.

Winking at Emily, he leaned towards the child, his voice a magical whisper. ‘It’s what all the stars in the sky are made of. That’s what makes ’em twinkle so bright.’

His eyes grew wider with amazement. ‘Do you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if all the little children in the world were made with Daisy’s milk. That’s why their pretty little eyes twinkle and shine. Daisy mixed the magic into her milk and when the Good Lord made the children, He gave them each a little sip.’

Lowering his voice he shifted his gaze to Emily. ‘He must have given some to your mammy too, because whenever I’m near her, all sorts o’ wonderful magic begins to happen.’

For the briefest of minutes, there was an awkward pause between them. Emily didn’t know quite what to do or say, and Danny longed to take her in his arms and kiss her until she came to love him the way he loved her.

But then he realised he had almost spoiled the moment, so returning his attention to the child, he pointed to the little pools of spilt milk on the floor of the cart. ‘Will ye look at that! You know what that means, don’t you, eh? Well, I’ll tell ye. It means the cat will have it, and give it to the kittens, and that’s why the kittens are able to see in the dark. I bet you didn’t know that, eh? I bet you didn’t know it was Daisy’s magic milk that made all the cats see in the dark?’

Emily laughed. ‘Give over, Danny Williams! What should we do with you, eh?’

As his gaze fell on her upturned face, he was about to say, ‘Marry me, that’s what you should do with me.’ Instead, he laughed with her. ‘It’s true!’ he protested. ‘Daisy herself told me – and she’s never lied to me before.’

Now, as he poured a small measure of milk into the palm of his hand and gave it to a stray cat who had grown wise to his daily treat, the tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of Emily’s mouth. There was no denying he brought a measure of sunshine and joy into their lives, she thought. With that mop of wavy dark hair and those laughing grey eyes he had such charm and sincerity, and a way that instantly endeared him to both animals and children alike.

In fact, throughout the village of Salmesbury she knew of no one who had a bad word to say about him. There were plenty of lasses who fancied him, though.

Suddenly, Danny hopped down from his seat. ‘I’ve yet to pass the time o’ day with your old gramps,’ he reminded Emily. ‘That’s if your mammy doesn’t mind?’

‘I’m sure that’ll be fine.’ Emily was glad he wasn’t rushing away, though time was wasting and she would soon have to get on with her own work. There were so many chores still to be done, it left little time for socialising. ‘He’s always glad to see you,’ she said. ‘You leave him chuckling every time, and we’re all grateful for that.’

He gave her a sideways glance. ‘The village clown, that’s me.’

Emily was horrified, and put him straight at once. ‘You’re nothing of the sort! You’re a warm, intelligent man who’s full of the joys of life, and somehow you always manage to make a person feel good.’ Smiling up at him, she told him from the heart, ‘It’s a real gift you have, Danny. And you seem to be the only one who doesn’t realise it.’

When he smiled back, it was a free and easy smile that spoke volumes. ‘So, there’s hope for me yet, is there?’ His words carried a mixed message and Emily was quick to pick up on it. So, instead of answering, she hastened her steps and got to the farmhouse door before him.

His voice followed her. ‘So there’s no hope – is that what you’re saying? Aw, you’re a wicked woman, Emily Ramsden, a wicked, wicked woman!’ He feigned desperation. ‘Aw, come on now. Give us a kiss and we’ll say no more.’

Suppressing her laughter, Emily rushed inside, and almost fell in the sitting-room door.

‘Good God, lass!’ On her knees, Aggie had been cleaning out the fire-grate, and as she looked up, the small shovelful of cinders tumbled to the hearth. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ By now, Emily had dropped the child on the sofa and was heartily chuckling. ‘What’s tickling you, eh?’

Composing herself, Emily explained. ‘Danny’s behind me. He wants to see Gramps before he leaves.’

Aggie smiled knowingly. ‘Oh, I understand. And I suppose he’s been weaving his magic on you and the bairn, has he?’

‘You could say that,’ Emily answered. ‘Sometimes I wonder if he’s not mad as a hatter.’

‘Oh aye, lass, he is mad,’ her mother agreed. ‘Mad on you and the bairn, that’s what.’

Afraid she and her mammy were about to get into a deeper conversation, Emily changed the subject. ‘Is it all right then, if I take him up to see Gramps?’

‘That is, if it’s no trouble.’ Danny came to the doorway.

‘It’s no trouble at all, and well you know it,’ Aggie chided. ‘What! Tom Isaac would never forgive me if I let you leave without seeing him.’ Pointing a blackened hand towards the stairs she told Emily, ‘Go on then, lass. Take him up, and take the child with yer. Your grandad’s been asking after her.’

While Aggie continued with cleaning out the grate, Emily climbed the narrow winding stairs to the upper part of the farmhouse. Behind her came Danny, who insisted on carrying little Cathleen, who all the way entwined his hair round her tiny finger, until he feared she’d soon have it out by the roots. But he didn’t mind. In fact it gave him a comforting, fatherly feeling.

The old fellow must have heard them tramping up the stairs because when they entered his room, he was already struggling to sit up. ‘Easy now, Gramps!’ Rushing forward, Emily helped him get comfortable. ‘How’s that?’ Plumping up the bolster, she made sure his back was properly supported. ‘Comfortable, are you?’ Aggie had lit a fire in the little grate earlier, and the small bedroom was warm.

‘Stop fussing, woman!’ Visibly thinner, his face deeper-lined by the passage of time, Thomas still had fire in his eyes and a sharp tongue when needed. But now as he spoke to the child, his eyes softened and his arms opened to take her. ‘An’ what ’ave you been up to, young ’un?’ he asked with a crinkled smile. ‘Been out there feeding the birds, ’ave yer?’

Danny put the child into his arms, where she sat for a while, looking up at the old man and chuckling at whatever he said, even though she didn’t really understand half of it.

A few moments later when he seemed to tire, Emily gently collected Cathleen into her arms. ‘You and Danny have a chat,’ she suggested, ‘while I go and make you a brew.’ She knew how much he loved to be alone with Danny, when the two of them would talk about things only men appreciated.

‘Aye, go on then, lass,’ he replied. ‘An’ see if Aggie’s got any o’ that bread-puddin left an’ all.’ He licked his lips. ‘By! Your mammy meks the best bread puddin in the whole world!’ He pointed to Danny. ‘While you’re at it, lass, you’d best fetch your young man a helping an’ all.’

Being referred to as Emily’s ‘young man’ put a smile on Danny’s face, but Emily made a mental note to correct her grandad’s thinking once Danny was gone.

‘I wouldn’t say no to another cuppa, but I’m full o’ those tasty muffins,’ Danny said politely, rubbing his tummy appreciatively.

With Emily out the door, Danny told the old fella, ‘That was wicked of you.’ He wagged a finger. ‘You know very well I’m not her young man.’

Thomas gave a sly little chuckle. ‘Mebbe not. But you’d like to be, wouldn’t you, eh?’

‘You know I would,’ Danny told him.

‘And have you asked her?’

‘I have. Time and again, on my knees, on my feet, and even once with my face covered in Cathleen’s chocolate.’

‘So what did she say?’

‘What she always says.’

‘I see.’ The old man nodded knowingly. ‘She’s still hankering after John Hanley, is that it?’

‘She loves him, that’s why.’ Danny envied John that kind of love, especially when he’d been away so long and in his opinion didn’t deserve such loyalty.

The same thoughts invaded the old fellow’s mind. ‘Where the devil is that young scoundrel, that’s what I’d like to know!’

Danny could see how the old man was in danger of getting too excited. ‘That’s not for us to know, and not for me to comment on,’ he said guardedly.

The old man didn’t agree. ‘Ah, well now, that’s where you’re wrong!’ he declared. ‘That young bugger will get the length o’ my tongue if he ever does come back, I can tell you! What kind of a man is it that gets a young girl with child, then goes off to Gawd knows where and never a word in over two years.’ His voice shook with anger. ‘Like my own cowardly son, he’s run for his life, that’s what he’s done. By! They’d neither of ’em best come back to these parts in a hurry, because they’ll ’ave me to deal with, I can tell yer!’

‘Take it easy, Tom.’ Afraid he was working himself up to fever pitch, Danny changed the subject. ‘I’ll tell you what though,’ he said, ‘I reckon you’d give anybody a run for their money, eh? What!’ Clamping a hand over the old man’s now clenched fist, he feigned admiration. ‘You’ve a fist like a hammer. They tell me you were a bit of a fighter in your time, is that right?’

‘Oh, aye!’ Tom’s proud old eyes were alight with memories. ‘They said I were one o’ the best street-fighters around. It got so they couldn’t get any man to stand against me. It were a shame, but once the police got on our trail, we had to move into ’fficial premises. After that it all got too organised like. Above board and proper, if yer know what I mean? All Queensberry rules and regulations.’ He shook his head woefully. ‘It were never the same after that.’

Danny knew the story well. ‘I’ve heard it from my da time and again,’ he revealed. ‘He loves to talk about it; raw fighting in the back alleys and such. “Skin and blood up the walls and bits o’ flesh under the feet,” that’s how he puts it. Then how it changed when the authorities took over. Mind you, according to him, there was corruption by the bucket-load, even in higher places!’

The old man nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh aye, that’s true enough. By! There were some bad buggers behind the scenes. The old way were the best though – big money changing hands at the drop of a hat; men facing up to each other on impulse, bare-backed and wound up so tight they’d fight till they dropped. I’ve known men go down and never come up again, and others would walk away and leave ’em there. No rules nor regulations then. No ropes nor bells. Just bare knuckles and raw courage.’

Danny chuckled. ‘Men were men and to hell with all the rigmarole!’

Thomas Isaac smiled, his heart heavy with nostalgia. ‘They were the good days,’ he mused. ‘Days when you knew who your friends were and if called on, you’d put your own life on the line for a mate.’

Danny saw the tears gathering. ‘There are still men like that,’ he told him. ‘Although mebbe they’re not so thick on the ground.’

‘Mebbe!’ The anger returned. ‘But there’s more evil bastards than there are good ’uns!’ Lowering his voice, he said vehemently, ‘There’s one bugger right ’ere under this roof. If I were twenty years younger, I’d do for him tomorrow, so I would!’

Danny nodded his understanding. ‘I know who you mean,’ he said quietly. ‘But there’s nothing to be gained by tormenting yourself.’

‘Aye, I know that.’ The old man glanced at the door again. ‘By! He’s a bad bugger, is that one though!’

Danny let it be known, ‘I wish there was something I could do, but there isn’t, more’s the pity.’

As always, the old man had the answer. ‘Marry the lass, then it’ll gi’ you the right to be rid of him.’

Danny shook his head. ‘I can’t marry her against her will, Tom, and well you know it.’ One way or another he believed he’d got the full picture of what was happening here at the farm. ‘And even if Emily did agree to marry me, it isn’t as simple as all that, is it?’

The old man knew that was only too true. ‘Happen not,’ he conceded. ‘The truth is, that bastard’s got us tied up every which way.’

‘Don’t lose heart, though,’ Danny counselled. ‘Folks like him will always come undone in the end. Be patient. It’ll all come right, you’ll see.’

Every time he and the old man were alone together, the matter of Clem Jackson came up. It was a torture to the old man, and apart from offering money, Danny couldn’t see how he might interfere where his offer of help had already been rejected.

The old man seemed to read Danny’s mind. ‘If you and our Emily were wed, it would put a spoke in his wheel. You could find out things. You’d have a certain right, d’yer see?’

With a careful choice of words, Danny had to stop it right there. ‘We’re not wed, Grandad, and, unfortunately, not likely to be. So it might be best if we don’t get down that road. Let’s leave it at that, eh?’

In fact, they had little choice, because now Emily was back, with a tray containing a dish of cold bread pudding and two mugs of tea. ‘I hope you are ready for this, Gramps,’ she said, her quick smile lighting up the room. ‘Mam’s given you a helping and a half, although she says it’s a funny sort of a breakfast.’ She set the tray down before making good her escape. ‘Mam’s baking and Cathleen’s asleep. I’ve got a pile of washing bubbling in the copper, so I’d best be off.’ With that she was across the room and out the door.

‘I’ll pop in and see you before I leave!’ Danny called out, and from somewhere down the stairs came a muffled reply.

‘Ask her while she’s up to her armpits in soapsuds,’ the old man suggested with a wink.

‘You won’t give up, will you?’ Danny laughed. And neither will I, he thought.

Because, as sure as day followed night, he would keep asking Emily to be his wife, until in the end she had to agree.

Ten minutes later, feeling all the better for this break, Danny called in on Emily as he had promised.

The girl was not up to her armpits in soapsuds, as the old man had predicted. Instead she had already lifted the clothes out of the copper boiler with the wooden tongs and was in the middle of rinsing them in the big sink. The small stone outhouse was thick with steam erupting from the copper, and Emily’s face was bright pink from the heat.

‘Here, let me do that!’ Dodging the many clothes-lines stretched criss-cross from one end of the outhouse to the other, Danny made his way through to her.

As Emily fought to wring out a huge bedsheet, he took hold of it and without effort fed it through the mangle and then folded it and draped it over the line. He looked at the growing mountain of damp clothes on the wooden drainer. ‘Do you want me to stay and help?’ he asked hopefully.

She thanked him, but, ‘You get off now and finish your rounds,’ she suggested graciously. ‘I’ve almost done here.’

He hid his disappointment. ‘These bedsheets weigh a ton when they’re wet,’ he remarked.

Knowing he would linger all day if she encouraged him, Emily was adamant. ‘I’m used to it,’ she said. ‘If I had help, I’d lose the routine and it would only take longer in the end, if you know what I mean?’

Grudgingly, but with a ready grin, he bade her goodbye. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then?’

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said. And that was the truth.

Coming to the door of the outhouse, she waved him away. You’re persistent, I’ll give you that, she thought kindly. Somewhere, there’s a woman who would give her right arm to be your wife. I’m sorry, Danny, but it’s not me. Without even being aware that she’d been thinking it, the words fell out. ‘More’s the pity.’

A little surprised and bewildered, she made her way back into the outhouse, where she threw herself into the task in hand. It had been an odd thing to say, she mused. As though to shut it out, she filled her mind with thoughts of John. And, as always, the love for him was overwhelming.

An hour later, Emily had finished. With all the washing hanging limp and bedraggled over the lines, she made her way to the shed where she collected an armful of kindling.

That done she returned to the outhouse, where she made a bed of newspaper in the fire-grate; on top of that she laid the wood in a kind of pyramid. Next, taking a match from the mantelpiece, she set light to the paper.

When that was all flaring and crackling, she took the smallest pieces of coal from the bucket and built another pyramid over the first. On her knees, she stretched a sheet of paper over the fireplace to encourage the flames, then watched and waited until the whole lot was burning and glowing; the heat tickling her face and making her warm.

‘That’ll soon dry it out,’ she murmured, clambering to her knees.

Replacing the screen in front of the fire, she made her way out, carefully dodging and ducking the damp clothes as she went.

Inside the scullery, Aggie had a brew of tea waiting for her. ‘All done, are you, lass?’ Taking off her long goffered apron and wearily lowering herself into the fireside-chair, Aggie laid back and closed her eyes. ‘Me back’s fit to break in two,’ she groaned. ‘I swear, there’s enough work in this farmhouse to keep an army on their toes! I’ll have to get the dinner going in an hour or so. It’ll be a simple meal, seeing as it’s Christmas Day tomorrow. I’ve got some cold beef and pickled onion with mashed potato, and tapioca wi’ bottled gooseberries for afters. What d’you reckon to that, lass?’

Settling in the chair opposite, her tea clutched in her fist, Emily said, ‘It sounds lovely, Mam. Cathleen still asleep, is she?’

‘The bairn hasn’t moved a muscle since you went out,’ Aggie answered, opening one eye. ‘Looks like Danny’s worn her out.’

Emily laughed. ‘He’s worn me out an’ all.’

Detecting the underlying seriousness of Emily’s remark, Aggie asked pointedly, ‘Been on at you to wed him again, has he?’

‘He means well,’ Emily said. ‘And I dare say he would move heaven and earth to make me and Cathleen happy …’

‘But?’

Emily knew all the old arguments. ‘But what?’

Aggie answered exactly the way Emily had expected. ‘But your heart’s out there with John Hanley. I expect that’s what you told Danny?’

‘Yes, but he already knows it.’

‘I see.’ As ever, Aggie read the situation well. She also knew that in the end, someone was bound to get hurt.

For a few minutes, the two women sat lost in thought, quietly listening to the fire roaring. The tassels on the chenille runner that covered the mantelshelf danced in the heat, and light reflected off the glass dome of the clock and the framed picture of Queen Victoria that Clare Ramsden had bought on a visit to Blackpool in 1885.

After a while, Aggie asked, ‘How long are you prepared to wait, lass?’

Emily had been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard the full question. ‘Wait for what?’

‘For John to come home?’

‘I wish I knew, Mam.’ Emily had asked herself that same question time and again, and still she wasn’t sure. ‘As long as it takes, I suppose.’

‘And how long is that?’ Aggie was concerned about her daughter’s wellbeing. She had seen her growing lonelier and quieter, and it cut her to the quick. ‘Are you thinking weeks, months …’ her eyebrows went up at the prospect. ‘Or do you mean to wait for years – is that it?’ Part of her acknowledged her own pain at Michael’s abandonment. She and Emily were made of the same strong clay: they could manage without their men, but that didn’t mean it was easy. And Emily was still young – she should be wed to someone who loved her and who could give her another bairn as company for Cathleen.

‘I don’t know,’ Emily admitted. ‘All I do know is that I love him with all my heart. When John left, he said he’d be back. I promised him I’d wait. And I will keep that promise.’

Aggie pressed the point. ‘And will you wait until little Cathleen is two or three? Or will you wait until she starts playing with other children from the village – children who know what it’s like to have a daddy at home. And when she starts asking where her daddy is, have you got an answer ready, my girl? Tell me that.’

Now as Emily glanced up her eyes were moist with tears. ‘I know what you’re trying to say, Mam, and I understand,’ she said brokenly. ‘I’ve been thinking of little Cathleen too, and the older she gets the more I worry. But I can’t marry Danny. As much as I like and respect him, and as much as I know he would look after us, I can’t bring myself to marry him, not when I still love John. I keep hoping that John is safe and well: I can’t stop thinking about him, Mam. He’s on my mind the whole time, night and day.’

Wiping a tear, she finished, ‘Besides, Danny deserves better than that.’

Aggie said nothing. Instead she sipped at her tea and wondered what would become of them all.

Emily was grateful for the lull in the conversation. Only time would tell whether John would return, and if he didn’t do so soon, she would have to decide what to do. But it wouldn’t be easy, she knew that.

The child’s waking cries shook them out of their reverie. But when the infant’s cries lapsed into a string of happy gobbledy-gook, Emily lingered a moment. ‘I’ve a good mind to go and see Lizzie,’ she revealed. ‘You never know. She might have word of John.’

Aggie warned her, ‘Well, I hope the old bugger makes you more welcome than she did last time!’ she declared. ‘What! She wound you up so much you wouldn’t speak for a whole hour.’

Emily remembered. ‘She was a bit … difficult, that’s all.’

‘Hmh!’ Aggie sat up. ‘Cantankerous, more like! Heaven knows what’s the matter wi’ her. Ever since her John went away she’s been as sour as a rhubarb pie without a morsel o’ sugar.’

‘She’s getting old, poor thing.’ Emily had a soft spot for Lizzie. ‘She suffers a lot from pain in her joints.’

Aggie had little sympathy. ‘She’s too proud – won’t let anybody help her. You heard Danny say how he found her climbing a ladder to mend that hole in the thatch the other week. When he offered to do it for her, she told him to sod off – said that she wasn’t yet ready for the knacker’s yard!’ She wagged a finger. ‘If you ask me, you’ll do well to steer clear of the old battle-axe.’

Emily was not deterred. ‘Why are you so hard on her, Mam? That’s not like you at all! Didn’t she used to be your friend?’

Aggie blushed with shame. ‘Aye well, happen I might be a bit hard on her, but she’s been hard on you, and I don’t tek kindly to that.’

There were times when Emily had the same stubborn streak in her as Aggie. ‘I still intend going,’ she decided. ‘I’m gonna pluck up my courage. I need to know if she’s heard from John.’

‘Even if she has, what meks you think she’ll tell you?’

Emily was already at the door. ‘Why shouldn’t she tell me?’

Just then the child began crying again. ‘That’s why!’ Gesturing towards the stairway, Aggie reminded her, ‘Lizzie refuses to believe the child is John’s. She thinks you’ve been up to no good with some other man, and that you’re trying to blame her nephew.’ She chuckled. ‘Mother hen protecting her chick, that’s what she is. My God! The way you feel about John, who else’s child could it be? The whole world knows it’s his, yet that old besom won’t have it no way!’

Rolling her eyes to heaven she finished angrily, ‘It’ll be a damned good thing when he does come back. Then she’ll know well enough!’

Emily remained silent, but was grateful when her mother did not notice the guilt and shame in her face. ‘I’d best be off now, Mam.’ Rushing off upstairs, she felt the tears smarting her eyes. She hated herself for deceiving her mammy. But the truth about little Cathleen’s beginnings was far more hurtful and damaging. She dreaded John’s reaction; for the hundredth time, she recalled that awful summer day, of such hope and happiness, ending in a darkness that had engulfed her for many a long month. Would he understand?

A short time later, well wrapped up and carrying the child in a shawl-sling, Emily began the walk across the fields to Lizzie’s pretty cottage.

On the way she stopped several times to put the child down; she held her hand and encouraged her to walk. But though Cathleen’s sturdy little legs stumbled a clear path through the snowy grass, they soon tired, and it wasn’t long before Emily had to carry her again. ‘You’re taking advantage of my good nature,’ she teased her breathlessly. ‘I reckon it should be you carrying me!’

Just as Aggie had feared, Lizzie was not exactly pleased to see her. ‘What is it you want from me?’ Holding the door open just so far, she peered at Emily through suspicious eyes. ‘I’ve not heard from him, if that’s what yer after.’

Emily reasoned with her. ‘I don’t want us to be enemies, Lizzie. Please may I come inside?’

‘What for?’

‘To talk, that’s all.’

The woman scowled. ‘We’ve nowt to talk about.’

Sensing a weakening, Emily persisted. ‘Please, Lizzie. I’ve carried little Cathleen nearly all the way here, and my arms are aching. Besides, we’re both thirsty.’

Glancing from one to the other, Lizzie saw how the child was smiling at her, and it touched her troubled old heart. ‘All right, but only for a minute. Yer can have a rest and a drink, then I’ll thank you to leave.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Either come in or stay out. It’s too damned cold to be standing here all day with the door wide open!’

With a muttered apology, Emily darted inside. She waited until the other woman shut the door. ‘Go on!’ Gesturing for Emily to go ahead, Lizzie told her, ‘You’ve been here with John often enough to know the way by now.’

Feeling uncomfortable under Lizzie’s scowl, Emily led the way to the back-parlour.

Lizzie followed her in. ‘Sit yersel’ down,’ she ordered. ‘Now then, what does the infant want to drink?’ She gave a grudging look at the beautiful little girl, and deliberately closed her heart against any feelings of warmth.

‘A drop of milk would suit fine,’ Emily answered as she sat down in the big squashy chair by the fire. ‘Thanks, Lizzie.’

‘And I expect you’ll be wanting a cuppa tea, will yer?’

Emily nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes, I’d love one. If that’s all right?’

The old woman grunted. ‘I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t!’ With that she disappeared into the scullery, only to return a few minutes later with a mug of milk for the child, and a drop of lukewarm tea for Emily. ‘It’s only been made a few minutes,’ she explained, ‘but it’s warm enough to thaw your bones.’

Emily took a sip from the teacup. It was all she could do not to grimace, for the tea was like dishwater. ‘It’s fine, thanks, Lizzie,’ she lied handsomely.

‘Fine or not, it’ll have to do!’ retorted the woman. ‘I don’t intend mekking a fresh pot just yet.’ Pointing an accusing finger at Emily’s feet, she tutted, ‘Look at the state of your feet! By! They must be frozen.’ Emily’s two ankles were bright pink. ‘Good God, lass! Have yer no decent shoes to yer name?’

Instinctively pulling her thick skirt over her feet to hide them, Emily told her, ‘I don’t seem to feel the cold, and besides, I didn’t walk through the snow just now. I came along by the hedges. I’ve got a pair of boots at home but I can’t stand to wear them. I thought you knew that?’

‘Hmh!’ Scowling her disapproval, Lizzie told her, ‘I might know it, but that don’t mean to say I think it’s right.’ Waving her hand in a gesture of impatience, she reminded Emily, ‘You said you were thirsty. So drink up and be off with yer. I’ve other things to do than sit here wasting time with the likes of you.’

Emily had to say it. ‘Why have you turned against me, Lizzie?’

‘You know why!’

‘Is it because of John?’

The woman glared at her. ‘It’s not so much because of John, as what you’ve told folks.’ She shifted her gaze to the child. ‘John’s been branded with being the father of this little ’un.’ Now as she stared Emily in the eye, her gaze hardened. ‘It’s a lie and well you know it. John would never have got you with child and then run off. He thought too much of you to do that!’

Emily defended herself. ‘I was not the one to spread that rumour.’

‘Huh! Well, somebody did, because it’s common knowledge now.’

‘Lizzie, can I ask a question?’

‘Yer can ask if yer like, but I might not answer.’

‘Have you heard from John lately?’

The old woman shook her head. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t.’

Emily’s heart sank. ‘I haven’t heard a single word since he’s been gone.’

‘Huh! I’m not surprised. He’s probably heard you’ve given yourself to some other man and tried to lay the blame at his door. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he never sets foot in these parts again, thanks to you!’

Emily was cut deep by what Lizzie had said. ‘I never gave myself to anyone!’ she protested. ‘It’s John I love. There’s never been anyone else for me, and never will be.’

‘Liar!’

Emily shook her head. ‘No, Lizzie. It’s true. John has always been the only one.’

‘So, yer still claiming the child is John’s, are yer?’ By now Lizzie was on her feet and staring down at Emily with quick, accusing eyes.

Emily stood up. ‘No, Lizzie, I’m not claiming that.’

‘Oh, so now you’re saying the child is not John’s? By! Your story changes by the minute.’

‘Please. Listen to me.’ Emily confessed to as much as she dared. ‘I’m telling you now. Little Cathleen is not John’s, and I never said she was. I want you to believe that.’

But Lizzie was past listening. ‘I’m not about to believe anything you say, young lady. Besides, I thought I asked you to leave?’

Emily had things to get off her chest before she left. ‘I swear to you, Lizzie, John has always been the only man I love, and he still is. But if he doesn’t want me, I’ll understand and accept it.’

‘Will yer now?’ In spite of her harsh retort, Lizzie was moved by the sincerity in Emily’s voice, and when the tears welled up in the girl’s eyes, she was half-inclined to believe her. But there was still the question. ‘If, as you say and I know, the child is not John’s, then whose child is she?’

For one mad moment it was on the tip of Emily’s tongue to blurt out the awful truth, about how her uncle had attacked her in the barn and got her with child. But then she thought of her mother and grandfather and the consequences of her words. And she could not take the risk of the truth leaking out. ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie. I can’t tell you,’ she finished lamely.

The other woman’s moment of compassion melted away in the heat of anger. ‘No, o’ course yer can’t!’ Stepping back, she flung open the door. ‘Yer can’t tell me, because it’s too shameful. But I know well enough what happened! While John were away yer went with some man – that’s the sorry truth, ain’t it? And now yer too ashamed to give up his name, or to admit that you could hardly wait until my John’s back were turned afore yer went behind the cowsheds with somebody else. And now yer come here and tell me that John is the only man you ever want.’ Disgust trembled in her voice. ‘You’re a disgrace, that’s what you are.’

Emily tried to calm her. ‘But it’s true, Lizzie. And I need John now, more than you could ever know.’

The other woman laughed out loud. ‘Well, o’ course you do! You need him to raise another man’s child – a child that belongs to Danny Williams, I shouldn’t wonder. God knows he’s at the farm often enough, hanging about, trailing after yer like a dog on a lead. Oh, don’t think it ain’t been noticed! And now you’ve had your little fling, you’ve got your sights set higher than a milkman. You need a father for the child, some fool to take care of you, and I dare say you reckon our John will come home a rich man. Well, I’m on to you, lady! And I will not let my John take the blame for what some other man’s done. You’re a shameful little hussy, and John is best rid of yer.’

She took a step forward. ‘If you’ve come to find comfort here, I can tell yer now, you’ll get none! So be off with yer, and yer bastard child, afore I tek it on meself to throw you out!’

Sensing the troubled atmosphere, and frightened by the woman’s anger, little Cathleen began to wail.

Shocked to the core by Lizzie’s vicious outburst, and especially shaken by her belief that Danny was Cathleen’s father, Emily picked up the crying toddler, wrapped her in the shawl, and took her leave.

In the circumstances, it was all she could do.

As Emily and the child disappeared over the snow-covered brow of the hill, Lizzie moved away from the window and for a time just stood there, her head bowed into her hands and her whole body shaking.

A moment later, she had dropped into the chair and was sobbing aloud. It had been a bad thing she’d done in throwing mother and child out into the cold like that. Such harsh behaviour went against her nature.

But as far as she could tell, Emily had given her no choice.