Читать книгу Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection - Josephine Cox - Страница 21

‘YOU’RE THIRTY-NINE years of age and you still have the body of a young girl.’ Having climbed into bed, Barney leaned on his elbow and watched his wife undress. It wasn’t often she undressed in front of him; for some reason she preferred the light out, and whenever he came upon her naked, she would blush and hide, and scamper into bed. ‘You need never be ashamed of your body,’ he told her now. ‘You should be proud.’ His voice dropped to the softest whisper. ‘You’re very beautiful, Vicky. You always were.’

Having finished brushing her hair, she slithered into bed beside him. ‘I’m not beautiful,’ she protested, though with a smile. ‘You only think that, because you love me … like I think you’re handsome, because I love you.’

Tenderly he placed a finger over her lips. ‘No,’ then with his other hand he stroked a stray lock of hair from her eyes. ‘You really are a lovely-looking woman, my darling. You may not see it, but I do, and so does every other man who looks on you.’

‘Stop it, Barney.’ She went rosy with pleasure. ‘What will you say when I’m old and toothless, and bent like a willow tree?’

His answer was to take her in his arms and hold her as close as any man could hold the one he loved. ‘None of that would matter,’ he answered honestly, ‘because you will always be beautiful to me.’

In the halo of moonlight shining in through the window, she could see in his eyes the depth of his love for her, and she was deeply moved. ‘I love you so much,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I love our children and I love the life we lead, but it would not be the same without you.’

He could feel the tension in her body, and he was shocked. ‘Hey!’ Lifting himself up, he looked into her sad face and was afraid – not for himself, but for her. ‘You mustn’t talk like that. We have each other and, God willing, we’ll have each other for many years to come.’

‘Do you promise?’ she whispered. ‘Do you promise never to leave me?’

Barney saw the tears rising in her pretty eyes, and was deeply moved when one plump, watery tear spilled over her cheek. ‘I can’t promise,’ he answered, wiping away the tear with the tip of his thumb.

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not,’ he chided gently. ‘We none of us can see what the future holds.’

She tightened her grip on him. ‘You have to promise me, Barney.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Kissing her on the mouth, he wondered why she should ask him such a thing. ‘Why do you insist, when you know a promise of that kind is impossible?’ Fear squeezed his heart. Had she heard him in a coughing fit? Did she know how ill he had been feeling of late? Had Lucy told her about that day in the field, when she found him gasping for breath? And now Vicky was asking him to make a promise of this kind. He couldn’t do it. Nor could he voice his fears.

‘Promise me, Barney,’ she entreated. ‘Say you will never leave me, then I’ll be content.’

Gazing into her quiet eyes, in the space of a single heartbeat he saw his whole life there, and somehow suddenly, the fear he had felt began to ebb away. ‘I promise,’ he murmured. ‘If it’s in my power to be with you forever, then I will.’

‘There! That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ She smiled, and for no reason he could fathom, he was a man at peace with himself.

Cradling her face in his hands he kissed her long and passionately, and she responded with the nakedness of her body against his, rhythmically pushing against him then pulling away, until he rolled her beneath him and placing a gentle hand round each of her legs, he drew them apart.

There was no need of words; there was nothing to say that had not already been said a thousand times.

Wrapped around each other, they made such wonderful love; not as they had done many times before, with tenderness, but with a wild passion and a desperate, painful hunger that drove them into each other – almost as though they intended never to be separated.

And then it was over, when their bodies were aching and vibrant and the life-juices still flowing, they held onto each other. For the rest of their lives they would remember this night; when for the first and last time they made love as never before, and Vicky drew from Barney a promise which, he knew in his lonely heart, he could never keep.

Two days later, on a fine, breezy morning, Leonard Maitland boarded a liner for America.

‘I’ll be away for some time.’ An hour before setting off for the docks, he had called Barney to his office at The Manse. ‘I’m leaving you in charge as always, and should you encounter any problems, though I don’t imagine you will, you do know who to contact?’

‘Yes, I do, sir, thank you. I have his name and address.’ As ever, Barney was well organised.

‘Good man! As I already explained, the agent knows as much about my affairs as I do, and he’s well-placed to contact me in any event. I’ve arranged for the house to be taken care of, so there is no need for you to concern yourself about that. On the whole, I don’t envisage any problems.’

‘Thank you for your trust.’ Over the years Barney had come to like and respect this man who was his employer. ‘Rest assured I’ll do my best to keep the farm running smoothly.’

‘I know you will,’ Leonard declared. ‘You took excellent care of my interests when I was last in Boston. And now I must get off. I have a long journey ahead of me.’

Barney walked with him to the taxi, Leonard carrying his bag and briefcase, and Barney following with his portmanteau. ‘Have a safe voyage,’ he said as Leonard climbed into the vehicle. ‘I hope your trip goes well.’

‘Oh, so do I, Barney!’ Leonard declared. ‘So do I!’ Gesturing for the driver to move out, Leonard caught sight of Vicky as she walked towards the river. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. If only Patricia was more like her, he thought, he would be a much happier man.

Seeing the taxi, Vicky waved, her face wreathed in a smile.

His heart warmed and with her face in his mind, Leonard took the smile with him, all the way to Boston, USA.

‘Well, it seems Mr Maitland went away at the right time.’ The whole family were gathered round for Sunday dinner – a grand affair with the table sagging beneath the weight of a partly-sliced beef-joint, a ham shank ready for the carving, various deep dishes of crisp-roasted and boiled potatoes, cabbage, carrots, and a pile of Yorkshire puddings the like of which Lucy had never seen before.

There were also two large boats of meat-gravy and a dish of homemade horseradish sauce, a particular favourite of Lucy’s.

‘What makes you say that, Dad?’ That was Susie, seated next to him and already helping herself to a slice of beef.

‘Because the weather’s on the change,’ Barney explained. ‘Once the cold wind starts coming in from the north, you can expect to see winter on its tail.’

Vicky tapped the back of Susie’s hand. ‘Don’t start eating yet.’

She gave Barney a reminding nod, and he immediately roved his gaze across each person at the table in turn; when they were suitably attentive, he folded his hands together, bowed his head and started Grace. ‘We thank the good Lord for a healthy harvest, and for the food we are about to eat. God bless friends and family.’ He looked up, and already the dishes and plates of food were being passed round.

‘Well!’ Vicky tutted. ‘That was a short Grace.’

‘No matter,’ her husband replied, shovelling a heap of cabbage onto his plate. ‘It was sincere, and we’re good and ready to eat the fruits of our labour while they’re still hot.’

‘Why has Mr Maitland gone to America?’ Susie was curious.

Barney passed Lucy the potatoes and gave his daughter one of his impatient looks. ‘You must have asked that question a hundred times or more,’ he chided. ‘The answer is the same as it was before – we don’t know. What’s more, it’s none of our business.’

Still she persisted. ‘It must be something important, because that’s twice he’s been this year.’

Rolling her eyes, Vicky smiled at Lucy, a smile that said, ‘Wait until your son starts asking questions and you don’t have the answers to give, it’ll drive you crazy.’

‘Well?’ Susie was like a dog with a bone.

‘Well, what?’ Thomas asked, his mouth full of part-chewed meat.

‘Don’t speak with your mouth full!’ Vicky reprimanded. ‘We none of us want to see what you’re eating, thank you.’

Lucy loved having Sunday lunch with the Davidsons. This was a real family, with arguments and conflicting opinions, and questions without answers, and even half-chewed mouthfuls of meat. ‘I think Susie’s right,’ she said, glancing at the girl. ‘Mr Maitland must have important business to tend, or he wouldn’t have gone away again so soon.’ She hastily rescued a potato that was about to fall on the floor from Jamie’s teaspoon. The little boy was quite good at feeding himself now, but he was staring goggle-eyed at Tom’s antics and wasn’t paying attention. Lucy hoisted him straight. He was sitting on the high chair they had made him, and was in his element.

‘But why did he go the first time?’ Susie played with her Yorkshire pudding, spinning it on the end of her fork and nibbling at the crusty bits.

‘Hey!’ Ronnie leaned towards her. ‘If you don’t want that bit of pud, I’ll have it.’ Having already demolished three, he still had an appetite like a lion.

‘You will not pass food from plate to plate!’ Vicky declared, getting out of her chair. ‘There are half a dozen more in the oven. I’ll fetch them.’ Which she did, with Ronnie stealing one away on the prongs of his fork before she even got to the table.

As Vicky sat down to resume her meal, Barney was explaining to his daughter, ‘You see, sweetheart, we didn’t make a big thing of it at the time, so you probably didn’t know, but Mr Maitland’s old grandfather passed away earlier in the year, and he had to go out and see to things.’

Susie was indignant. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked petulantly. ‘I’m not a baby to be protected.’

‘I know that,’ Barney apologised. ‘But it isn’t the sort of thing you like to talk about, is it?’

Susie shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘It doesn’t bother me.’

Ronnie intervened. ‘So why did you cry your eyes out when your pet rat passed away?’

‘That was different.’ Susie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Bobby was my friend.’

‘Of course he was, and of course you cried.’ Barney gave Ronnie a warning glance, before returning his attention to his daughter. ‘Mr Maitland was upset about his grandfather too. Only when it’s a person, there are things to be done … legal documents, matters o’ that kind. That was why he went to America last time. As to why he’s gone this time, I don’t really know, but I suspect it might have something to do with his grandfather’s estate. Y’see, Mr Maitland was brought up in Boston. He spent most of his youth there after his parents died, and from what he told me, he loved every minute.’

Having finished his first course, and patiently waiting for his pudding, Thomas addressed his father. ‘From what I remember, you said his grandfather had hundreds of acres of land and a great, sprawling farmhouse?’

‘That’s right,’ Barney replied, setting his knife and fork together and letting out a long sigh of satisfaction.

Ronnie spoke up. ‘I’ve often wondered why he would leave the place if he loved it that much.’

‘For an adventure?’ That was Lucy. ‘I’ve always wanted to see the world. Maybe Mr Maitland felt the same when he was younger, so when he got the chance, he took it?’

That sparked another question from Ronnie. ‘How old is he now?’ he asked Barney.

‘I’m not exactly sure.’ Barney cast his mind back to when Leonard Maitland had confided many things in him. ‘He’s not much older than me – forty-three, forty-four maybe.’

‘Crumbs!’ Susie groaned. ‘That’s ancient.’

While Lucy laughed, Vicky feigned indignation. ‘Hey, young lady! I’ll have you know, me and your father are still young at heart.’

Barney laughed out loud. ‘We’ve aching limbs, a bad back and corns on our feet, but like your mammy says, we’re still young at heart.’

Everyone laughed, including Jamie, which made them laugh more. The jam pudding and custard was served by Susie and her mother, and afterwards there was the luxury of a Sunday glass of homemade wine each; all except for Susie, who moaned and complained and still got only a quarter of a glass. ‘Just enough to wet your whistle,’ Barney advised firmly. ‘Give it another year and if you’re lucky, you might be allowed half a glass.’

When the meal was over and the women were clearing away, the men went for a tour of the farm, discussing their plans to prepare the fields for winter.

‘There won’t be too many more days like this,’ Barney said, looking up at the cloudless skies. In a fleeting thought, he wondered how many more days he would have. So far he had managed to carry out his work without anyone suspecting the truth, but deep down in his soul he believed there was something badly wrong with him.

Lately, his only concern was the family. If anything happened to him, what in God’s name would it do to Vicky? Dear Lord! It didn’t bear thinking about, so he pushed the thoughts from his mind.

Maybe when all was said and done, there wasn’t anything wrong that could not be put right, but the uncertainty was there, mainly because he still hadn’t been back to the doctor.

On a different issue, yet with the bad thought ticking away in the back of his mind, he turned to his younger son, Ronnie. ‘It’s time you learned the farming inside out, son.’

‘I already know the farming,’ Ronnie argued. ‘I’ve helped you since I were a little lad, Dad, just like our Tom. I’ve helped you bring in the harvest and led the sheep in for shearing, and I’ve walked that many times behind the haycart and made that many sheaves, I’ve lost count.’

Thomas intervened. ‘Dad means real farming.’

Ronnie laughed. ‘I thought that’s what I’d been doing.’

‘And you’re right,’ Barney agreed, ‘but there’s still much more for you both to learn.’

‘Such as what?’

‘Such as knowing the tractor inside out, every bit and bolt, how the engine works, how it should sound when running, and being able to put it right when it goes wrong. Then there are the implements, knowing which to use and when.’ He went on, ‘When the sheep are brought in for the shearing, you stay with them. You talk with the shearer and watch the job is done properly, and when he’s not able to get here at the right time, you shear the blessed things yourself, or the maggots will eat them alive.’

‘That’s right!’ Thomas exclaimed. ‘The first time I saw a sheep with its back half-eaten, I didn’t know what it was. I never knew maggots could get into the fleece and eat away the flesh.’

Ronnie’s mouth fell open. ‘God! That’s awful!’

‘So, that’s another thing you’ve learned.’ Barney took out his pipe and lighting up, began puffing away. ‘They’ve to be dipped and they’ve to be sheared. It’s a cycle and if it goes out of rhythm, something suffers somewhere along the way.’

He blew out a halo of smoke. ‘You’ll both make good farmers, if that’s what you want. But there’s still much to be learned. There’s the wintering, and ordering of foodstuff, and keeping up with what’s new. Then there’s the paperwork, oh aye! Yon paperwork will keep you up till the early hours, and when that’s done, it’s time to get up for the milking.’ He sighed deeply and pulled on his pipe. ‘It’s not like a job most other poor devils do – if they can get it – where you clock on in the morning and clock off again at night.’

He looked from one to the other. ‘You work with the land and the animals; you’re controlled by the seasons.’ He smiled contentedly. ‘It’s hard work and by, it takes it out of you, but I swear to God you’ll never find a better way of life.’ Taking his pipe out, he paused, before saying in a serious voice, ‘I can’t tell either of you how to live your life and I wouldn’t dream of doing that. It might be that you don’t want to work for Mr Maitland and stay here in Comberton. You’re both my sons and I’m proud of you, but you must spend your lives the way you see fit.’

‘I’ve already decided what I want to do.’ Thomas had been giving it some serious thought lately. ‘At first I wasn’t so sure, but now I am: I want to make farming my life. I want the kind of life you and Mother have had.’

Barney was thrilled. ‘I’ll not deny we’ve had a good life, me and your mother …’

Ronnie interrupted with a quiet smile. ‘With many more years to come yet, eh, Dad?’

Taken aback by Ronnie’s remark, Barney felt his heart turn over. ‘Aye, lad, that’s right … many more to come yet.’ God willing, he thought. God willing.

‘And I’m the same.’ Like Thomas, Ronnie had missed the look of regret in his father’s eye. ‘I want to farm an’ all. Winter or summer, it’s a great way of life.’

Barney was filled with emotion, that his two sons had seen such contentment in his own life that they wanted the same for themselves. ‘I’m glad,’ he answered gratefully. ‘It were allus my wish that the two of you would follow in my footsteps. But it had to be your decision, not mine.’

Just then, Lucy and Vicky arrived to join them, little Jamie toddling between them.

Barney grabbed hold of Vicky’s free hand. ‘Is there any o’ that elderberry wine left over from dinner, sweetheart?’

‘Half a bottle.’ Vicky instinctively squeezed his hand. ‘Why?’

His face beamed up at her. ‘’Cause we’ve summat to celebrate, that’s why.’ He gestured towards his sons. ‘You and me have talked long and often, wondering whether the boys might take up the farming as a way of life, and tonight, they’ve given me their answer.’

When Barney’s smile widened, Vicky gave a little squeal of excitement. ‘Oh Barney! So they want to be farmers, like their dad?’ With moist eyes and a smile hovering between tears and laughter, she ran to hug them. ‘Oh, I’m so glad!’ And now the tears came. ‘We did think you might eventually decide to go out into the big, wide world and do summat different, but oh, we did hope …’

Ronnie held onto her a moment longer. ‘If you’re gonna start crying, we might have to change our minds. Stop it, Mam, you’re scaring the little ’un.’

Laughing, she scooped Jamie up and said to Lucy, ‘We’ll go and get the kettle on, shall we, and dig out the wine again.’

‘Good idea.’ Lucy went up to the two young men and gave them each a kiss. ‘It’s wonderful news.’

Back in the big farmhouse kitchen, with everyone sitting comfortably, Barney filled the glasses and Vicky handed them round. ‘A toast!’ Barney raised his glass. ‘To a fourth generation of the Davidson farmers.’

He thought with pride of his father and grandfather, and the ones who had gone before, all contented men who had lived well into their eighties. And now, his own two sons were to carry on the tradition.

His sense of pride was mingled with regret.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever see the next generation; his own grandchildren. That would be the greatest thing.

Somehow, though, his instinct told him that he was not destined to live the long life of his forefathers.