Читать книгу The Drowned Village - Kathleen McGurl - Страница 12

Chapter 4

JED

‘Stella, watch Jessie for me, will you?’ Jed called from the workshop, where he was trying to file down a piece of metal to make a replacement bracket for the seat of old Sam Wrightson’s tractor. Jessie, now that she could walk, was becoming difficult to look after when he was trying to work. While she’d been a baby he could put her in the playpen he’d made from chicken mesh, with a few toys, and she’d amuse herself. She’d always seemed happy enough as long as she could see him. But now, she refused to go in the playpen and if he put her in it she simply lifted one side of it up and crawled out underneath, giggling in that infectious yet infuriating way she had. And then she’d stand too close while he was welding, or start lifting tools off his bench to play with, or try to play hide-and-seek under the workbench. It was really not a suitable place for a small child to be.

‘Yes, Pa, coming.’ Stella was just home from school, thank goodness, and if she could keep an eye on Jessie for a couple of hours Jed would be able to get on with some work, until the light failed. He had electric light in the workshop, but was short of oil for the generator – what little he had needed to be conserved.

‘Come on, Jessie. Let’s go and look for tadpoles. Pa, we’ll be down by the lake. I won’t let Jessie get wet.’ Stella retrieved Jessie from the pile of oily dust sheets she’d been hiding in, and took her by the hand.

‘Be back in time for tea,’ Jed said.

‘All right.’ Stella and Jessie left the workshop, and Jed heaved a sigh of relief. He could get on uninterrupted at last. And he needed to. If he didn’t get some of his backlog of jobs finished he wouldn’t be paid. That would mean no more oil for the generator, no new clothes for Stella who was rapidly growing out of her school uniform, and no food on the table. Life was indeed hard. He still missed Edie with a pain that felt like an iron fist punching him in the gut. He’d promised her the girls would want for nothing. He would provide for them, no matter what it took.

‘Jed? Hello! I saw Stella go out with your little one, so I guessed you’d be on your own now. Let me make you some tea – I’m sure it’s about time you sat down for a rest.’ It was Maggie.

Jed sighed, and put down his tools. ‘I could do with a cuppa, it’s true, but I’ve not the time to sit down to drink it.’

‘Oh, you will. It’ll only be a few minutes. I’ll pop into your kitchen and make the tea then, shall I?’ Maggie didn’t wait for an answer, but went through to his cottage straight away. He continued working while she was there, feeling vaguely uncomfortable about her being in his home on her own, poking about in what he still thought of as Edie’s kitchen. But, he berated himself, she was only being kind and neighbourly. And he could certainly do with the tea.

She was back a minute later with a steaming mug, and a slice of fruit cake. He pressed his lips together. That cake had been a gift from Mrs Perkins at the village shop, and he’d been saving it for the girls’ tea. But if he told Maggie that, it would be admitting how much he was struggling.

‘Thank you.’ He took the mug and sat on a stool beside his workbench.

Maggie pulled a battered chair forward, brushed it off, and sat tentatively on the edge of it. ‘Any time. I’m here for you, you know. Anything I can do to help.’

Take Jessie for a few hours each day, Jed thought, but he’d tried that once when Edie was sick and it hadn’t worked out. Jessie hadn’t taken to Maggie, and she’d ended up bringing the tantrumming child back to him after only an hour, saying she was uncontrollable. ‘Thanks, Maggie.’

She smiled, patted her hair, and pulled her chair a little nearer him. ‘Remember, any time you need anything, anything at all, you know where I am.’

‘Thanks,’ said, again. ‘Actually, Maggie . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘I just need some time to get on with my work. Stella’s taken Jessie out for an hour or so, and I need to get this piece finished for Sam Wrightson’s tractor seat, and at least one of those bicycle repairs done, and the knife-sharpening for Mrs Perkins, before they come back.’

‘But it’s already five o’clock. Surely it’s time to stop work for the day? We could go across to the Lost Sheep for a drink while they’re out.’

He shook his head. ‘No, Maggie, I really must get this work done now.’

‘Oh, well. Later, perhaps? When the little one’s in bed? Your Stella can babysit.’

‘I might be in the Sheep for a pint later,’ he said. It was Friday after all, and it had been a tough week. With Stella home all weekend he could catch up on his work then.

Maggie smiled wolfishly, and once more patted her neatly waved blonde hair. ‘I shall see you there, then,’ she said. She stood up, brushed down the back of her skirt, and leaned over Jed to kiss his cheek. Her blouse had a couple of buttons undone, and he averted his eyes to avoid seeing straight down the front of it.

‘You’re blushing!’ she said, with delight. ‘It was only a peck on the cheek, you silly man!’ She flounced out of the workshop, stopping at the door to waggle her fingers at him. ‘See you later!’

He let out a huge sigh. Well, at least now he could get on at last. He finished his tea, took the uneaten slice of cake back through to the cottage, and continued working until Stella came home with a tired but happy Jessie.

After tea, when Jessie was fast asleep and Stella ready for bed but snuggled with a book beside the kitchen stove, Jed fetched his cap and jacket. He was tired, but a pint would help him sleep. Too often these days he lay awake for hours fretting over the future. ‘I’ll be off to the pub then, lass. You know where I am if you need me.’ The pub was less than fifty yards up the lane from the cottage, so he had no qualms about leaving the girls on their own.

‘We’ll be fine, Pa. I’ll be off to bed at the end of this chapter anyway.’ Stella yawned, then reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Night-night.’

He gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. What a good daughter he had! She’d taken on so many responsibilities since Edie’s death, and yet nothing seemed to faze her. She was so grown up, and yet still able to play as a child should, with Jessie or her schoolmates.

Before going to the pub he walked to the other end of the lane, where, on the edge of the village, was his father’s tiny cottage. He tapped on the door but did not wait for an answer – Isaac was a little deaf and more often than not, asleep beside his fireplace. The door led straight from the lane into the front room, which was both kitchen and sitting room. Behind it, at the back of the cottage, was a bedroom, and outside in the yard, a privy.

As usual, Isaac was sitting in his armchair, head tilted back, snoring loudly when Jed entered. He gently shook the old man awake, then banked up the fire.

‘All right there, Pa? Have you had your dinner?’

‘Aye, nice bit of lamb stew. Maggie brought it, bless her.’

Jed raised his eyebrows at this. Was this another of Maggie’s attempts to get into his good books, or just an example of neighbourly kindness to an old man? ‘Good of her. Was it nice?’

‘Aye. Could have done with a pudding, after. You’re not looking after me enough, lad. All day here, on my own, and only for Maggie coming in I’d be starving by now.’

‘I’m here now, aren’t I? And if you hadn’t eaten already I’d have fetched you something.’

Isaac grunted. ‘Nowt but a crust of bread and cold mutton, no doubt. Ah well, ’tis the lot of the old to be neglected. Suppose you’re off to the pub now. Never mind me. I’ll sit here a while and smoke my pipe afore I haul myself into my bed.’

Jed ignored the grumbling. Isaac had been a long-time widower, and as he’d aged he’d become more and more grumpy. No matter what people did for him, he’d always complain it wasn’t enough. Jed finished banking up the fire, made his father a cup of tea and fetched him his pipe and tobacco. ‘There, now. You have all you need. I’ll look in on you tomorrow – I’ll bring little Jessie up to see you at lunchtime.’

Isaac smiled toothlessly. ‘Ah, the little pet. Yes, you bring her. She loves her old grandpa, does that one. Well, if the Lord spares me till the morning, I’ll have her bonny face to look forward to.’

At least that had cheered Isaac up a little. And Jessie did seem to like him – she’d always climb onto the old man’s lap and cuddle up, stroking his beard. Jed checked there was nothing else he could do, then bade his farewell. Time to get himself on the outside of a good pint, he thought. He knew that sooner rather than later, Isaac would have to give up living alone in his little cottage. He’d have to come to live with Jed and the girls. They could turn the little parlour, rarely used since Edie’s demise, into a bedroom, as Isaac would not be able to manage the stairs. Then Jed would be at his father’s beck and call, and there’d be even fewer opportunities to get his work done. But Isaac was his father, and he’d take care of him, no matter what. God, how he needed that pint now!

The Lost Sheep was busy that evening. Good, Jed thought. Less chance of Maggie cornering him, if there were plenty of other people about. He was more than happy to spend time with her in a group, but on her own she was just too pushy for his liking. It was only a month since Edie had been buried. It wasn’t right to be seen with another woman. Especially one that he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in.

Sam Wrightson was standing near the bar, and Jed went straight over to join him, ordering himself a pint of ale from the landlord, John Teesdale. ‘Evening, Sam. Busy tonight, isn’t it?’

‘Aye. Some of the navvies from the dam-building are in. That lot, over there –’ Sam jerked his head backwards to indicate a group of men who’d clearly already had a few pints. ‘You fixed my tractor seat yet?’

‘Yes, the part’s all ready for you. Bring your tractor to me tomorrow and I’ll fit it for you.’

‘Good. Fed up of that seat swivelling round. Tricky to drive forward when you find yourself facing backwards. Well, cheers.’ Sam held his glass aloft. Jed chinked his own against it, then took a long pull of it. In the corner, the dam-workmen were beginning to sing raucously, one of them standing on a stool to conduct the others.

‘They’re having a fine time,’ Jed commented.

‘Aye. Teesdale’s keeping an eye on them, though. Word is they caused trouble the other night, up at the King’s Head. Landlord there threw them out and banned them for a fortnight. That’s why they’ve come down here.’ Sam eyed the gang warily. ‘They’ve a cheek, though, turning up here, when it’s their work that’s going to be the death of our village.’

‘They’re just doing their job,’ Jed replied.

‘That’s as maybe, but they should do their drinking elsewhere.’

Jed nodded vaguely. ‘Aye, maybe so.’

Sam wasn’t letting go of his theme. ‘Pub feels different with them here, too. Doesn’t feel right. Listen to that singing, if you can call it that. Caterwauling, more like. Not what we normally have in the Lost Sheep.’

‘Everything’s changing, Sam. We’ve only to get used to it. ’Tis all we can do.’

Sam snorted. ‘I’ll not get used to it. I’ll be moved out of Brackendale afore I’m used to it.’

‘You got somewhere to go?’ Jed raised his eyebrows. People were beginning to move out, and he knew he should start looking for jobs and accommodation elsewhere, but his heart hadn’t been in it. Not since Edie died.

‘Fingers in pies, Jed. Fingers in pies. Nothing definite.’ Sam sighed and looked around him. ‘Just hope Teesdale stays till the end, and keeps this place open.’ He stepped smartly sideways to avoid being jostled by one of the dam-workers. ‘Hope he bans this lot before then, any road.’

‘Hard to believe though, isn’t it? That all this will be gone? I were born here. So were you, Sam. So was my pa. Generations of us Walkers, in Isidore’s churchyard. Only my Edie over in Glydesdale. But all our history, our community, everything, will be gone, underwater, just so the people of Manchester can run their taps.’ Jed shook his head sadly. ‘Hard to believe.’

‘Ah, Jed, lad. You’ll find someplace else. And in time, some new lass to take Edie’s place.’

‘No one’ll take Edie’s place, ever,’ Jed said firmly.

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Aye, I know, I don’t mean like that. But you’ll move on, marry again, find someone to help take care of those girls of yours. You’ll be all right, in the end.’

‘’Tis true I need help with the girls. With Jessie, anyway. She’s a right handful. Sometimes I don’t know . . .’ Jed broke off from what he was saying as the door opened and Maggie arrived. She’d obviously taken pains with her appearance – wearing a silky pink dress that swished about her legs as she moved, a matching silk flower tucked in her hair over her ear, and bright red lipstick. He stood to welcome her, to usher her over to where he and Sam were sitting, but before she spotted him in the throng one of the dam-workers called out.

‘Well, look what we have here, boys! Nice! Very nice indeed!’ The man’s companions joined in with catcalls and whistles. Maggie blushed, smiled, and sashayed over to the bar.

Jed stepped forward to offer to buy her a drink and thank her for having taken Isaac a meal, but the dam-worker was there first. He was shorter than Jed, but stocky and muscular. ‘Well, darling, what’ll you have? I’m buying.’ He didn’t wait for an answer but beckoned John Teesdale over. ‘Gin for the lady, here!’

‘Maggie, are you all right?’ Jed asked.

‘Course I am. Just fine. This gentleman’s buying me a drink, aren’t you?’ She patted the man’s arm and smiled coquettishly up at him.

‘I’m right here if you need me,’ Jed said quietly.

‘Didn’t you hear the lady? She said she’s just fine. So leave her be. She’s with me, ain’t you, Maggie?’

She giggled. ‘For the moment. What’s your name, handsome?’

‘Donald. But the lads all call me Donkey.’

‘Donkey? Why?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know, darling, wouldn’t you like to know!’ The man threw his head back and guffawed. Jed had stepped back out of his line of sight, but was staying close by. He caught John Teesdale’s eye, who gave him a tiny shake of the head, as if to say, don’t be starting a fight in my bar. Sam Wrightson was watching him too, but Sam, he knew, would be the first to back him up if it came to it. Well, Jed was no troublemaker but Maggie was a neighbour, and a good one even if she was a little pushy at times, and he’d not stand by and see her get into trouble. If it was just harmless high spirits from the navvies that was one thing, but he was ready if any of them went too far.

‘Ooh, you naughty thing!’ Maggie said, giggling, as she gave the man a playful slap on his arm.

In retaliation he caught hold of her by both arms. ‘The lady likes it rough, does she?’

Maggie twisted herself free and took her drink from Teesdale. ‘Thanks, John.’ She turned back to the man. ‘Now, now, Mr Donkey, not that rough.’

It was enough for Jed. ‘You leave the lady alone,’ he snarled at the man.

‘Spoken for, is she? You never said.’ The man smiled slyly, and turned back to Maggie. ‘But I’ve paid for her drink, now. Which means she owes me. Come on, darling, how about a little cuddle, eh? Just a little cuddle for a hard-working man, eh?’ He pulled her towards him with one hand on her back and the other on her bottom.

‘Hey! Let go!’ she said, twisting to get herself free but he was holding her tight.

That was it. Jed tapped the man on the shoulder, and when he looked round swung a hefty right hook at him. The man’s head snapped backwards and blood began pouring from his mouth. He immediately hit back, but Jed was too quick for him and the blow merely glanced off his shoulder.

At once the other dam-workers were on their feet, piling in to their friend’s aid. Sam was on his feet too, and John Teesdale, six feet tall and muscly with it, lifted the flap on the bar, ushered Maggie behind it where she was safe, and stepped out to separate the fighters. ‘Come on now, gents, not in my bar.’ Between him and Sam Wrightson they pulled Jed away from the man, and the other dam-workers got their friend under control, with much jeering and shouting.

‘It’s all right, John,’ Jed said. ‘I’ve no wish to wreck your bar. Just want to keep Maggie safe, is all. Come on, Maggie. I’ll take you home. We’ll not be back here again unless John bans those navvies. Come on, lass.’ He put a protective arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the pub, to more jeering from the workmen.

As soon as they were outside and in the street Maggie turned to him and flung her arms around his neck. ‘Oh Jed, thank you! I shouldn’t have flirted, but he seemed nice to start with. And –’ she sighed and looked away for a moment before returning her gaze to his – ‘I suppose I thought if I made you jealous you’d take more notice of me. Well, that worked! But I hope you aren’t hurt?’

He peeled her off him, and flexed the fingers of his right hand. The knuckles were red and swollen. ‘No, I’m not hurt. Nothing that won’t heal, any road.’

She leaned in towards him, once more reaching up to put her arms around him, but he took a step backwards. ‘Maggie, don’t. I mean, I’ll walk you home, see you’re safe, but it doesn’t mean anything.’

She stepped away and glared at him. ‘Why did you fight for me, then?’

He shrugged. ‘I’d defend any woman against a thug like that.’

‘So I’m nothing special to you?’

‘You are a beautiful woman, a kind neighbour, and I am proud to call you my friend,’ he replied, speaking softly. He sighed. ‘You’re a good woman, Maggie Earnshaw. You’ll make someone a fine wife some day. But not me, Maggie. My heart belongs to Edie, and always will. I’m sorry.’

She drew in her breath sharply, and gave him a look that would sour milk. ‘There’s no need to walk me home,’ she said, turning away from him, her head held high. He watched her walking away, up the lane, towards her home on the edge of the village. He followed at a discreet distance, in case any of the men came out of the pub, until he saw her enter the door of her cottage. With a sigh he walked back to his own home, avoiding passing the pub. With luck, Teesdale would ban the dam-workers and stick to custom from the village. It had always been enough for him in the past. But the past was gone, and everything was changing now.