Читать книгу Sarah’s Story: An emotional family saga that you won’t be able to put down - Lynne Francis - Страница 12

The weather turned while Joe was away. The early promise of summer was washed away in week after week of rain. The farmers were in despair as their crops failed to prosper and began to rot in the fields. Cows and sheep huddled together, taking whatever shelter they could. As time passed with no sign of the rain abating, their owners were forced to drive them back to their winter quarters, worrying all the while about whether they could afford to feed them for the rest of the year.

Sarah, although not oblivious to the weather, was unaffected by the misery around her. She was too wrapped up in her own private longing, which created a purgatory all of its own. She had no knowledge of when Joe might return, but also no knowledge of how and when to find him if and when he did. She trudged through the mud on errands for Ada, returning each time with skirts soaked and muddied and boots that had barely dried out before her feet must go into them again for another journey.

After the first week of rain, people ceased to notice it, enduring it instead with a kind of stoical despair. The weather gave Sarah an excuse to be abroad – head down, shawl drawn over her hair and face – without it being remarked upon. She was sustained in her forays outside by vivid memories of her own glimpse of summer, coloured by her two encounters with Joe. She revisited the meetings time and again, until every word and every nuance were etched on her memory. The one thing she couldn’t bring to mind was what he had said about his return. Was it a week? A month? Had he even given any indication? She simply couldn’t remember.

So Sarah made a point of making detours on her journeys to come back via Tinker’s Way, this being the only fixed location in her encounters with Joe. It felt as though it was the one place where she might happen on him again. Yet after only a week she was forced to abandon this. Two fields ran along the edge of Tinker’s Way, both set on hillsides, and the run-off turned the track into an increasingly muddy morass. At first Sarah had stuck to the grassy edges of the track, persevering in her quest, until these, too, became consumed by mud, at which point she had to admit defeat. Tinker’s Way was impassable and she was going to have to settle with the knowledge that, although she didn’t know where to find Joe, he knew where to find her.

In the end, Joe did find Sarah, just when she was least expecting it. She’d taken advantage of a break in the weather to hang out some washing in the garden, keeping her fingers crossed that the wind, which had accompanied the sunshine, wouldn’t simply push in yet more black clouds. She was busy calculating whether it was worth washing more of the pile of dirty linen, which had grown considerably during the rainy spell, when she was seized around the waist from behind and a hand was clamped over her mouth.

‘Sssh!’ a male voice whispered in her ear and Sarah, heart beating fit to burst, found herself spun around and face to face with Joe.

‘Joe! When did you get back?’ Sarah immediately glanced behind her, back towards the house, fearful that her grandmother would spot her. As she had hoped, the billowing sheets hid them both from view.

‘Just last night,’ he said. ‘And Sarah Gibson was the first person I wanted to see.’

Sarah blushed and bit her lip. ‘How did you get into the garden?’

‘Over t’wall.’ Joe indicated the sizeable dry-stone wall that ran along one edge of the garden. ‘I’ve been waiting out here a while for thee.’

His smile lit up his eyes, just as Sarah remembered, and she felt a huge wave of relief and happiness wash over her. He was back, and he’d come straight around to find her.

‘You mustn’t stay here,’ she said, common sense taking over. ‘If my grandmother sees you, there’ll be trouble.’ She glanced anxiously once more over her shoulder.

‘Later then,’ Joe said. ‘This a’ternoon. I’ll wait by Two-Ways Cross.’ He named a crossroads familiar to Sarah, one that she passed regularly on her way into Northwaite. Then he was gone, vaulting over the wall with ease, before she could gather her wits and reply. She could hear him whistling as he headed away back towards Northwaite.

Sarah struggled to fulfil her household duties that morning. She was glad of the washing, which gave her an excuse to be in and out of the house, for her hands were shaking with nervous excitement and Ada would surely have remarked upon it otherwise. As she had half-expected, the clouds blew in again by late morning and Sarah hastily gathered the washing back in. As she shook it out in the kitchen and found a place for it to dry near the range, the rain came down heavily once more.

‘I do hope this doesn’t last,’ Ada said. ‘I’ve promised Mrs Shepherd that she will have her remedy this afternoon and it looks as though you will get drenched yet again.’ She looked out at the rain and let out a long sigh.

‘No matter,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve become used to it.’ She made an effort not to appear too cheerful or eager at the prospect of venturing out, whilst silently thanking Mrs Shepherd for giving her the excuse she needed to see Joe.

By the time dinner was eaten and the plates cleared away, the rain had eased a little but threatening clouds promised yet more to come.

‘I’ll take shelter if it comes on too hard,’ Sarah said, preparing her grandmother for a possible delayed return. She departed swiftly, heart beating fast at the prospect of seeing Joe. But he was nowhere to be seen at Two-Ways Cross, and although she waited a while, walking up and down to see whether she could observe his approach, she didn’t like to loiter too long. Wondering what might have kept him, and feeling very disconsolate, she made her way to Mrs Shepherd’s house, declining her offers of refreshment with the excuse that she’d like to get back home before the rain came on.

Sarah hurried back through the streets of Northwaite, slowing her steps as she passed The Old Bell. Was it possible that Joe was in there, oblivious to the passage of time? She had no way of finding out; entering would be inconceivable, and loitering with the intention of asking a departing customer whether Joe was there would likely cause a scandal. The door swung open and she peered in, but could make out little of the interior other than figures huddled at the bar, so she put her head down against the rain, which had resumed, borne on a driving wind, and headed back towards home.

At Two-Ways Cross she paused again. After a few moments she could hear whistling, faint at first but drawing ever closer along the road she had just traversed. Her heart leapt. ‘Joe,’ she thought, and sure enough he strode into view shortly after.

‘Well, lass, a’ thought it were you in Northwaite just now.’

She could smell the ale on his breath, but told herself that since he’d been forced to bide his time before meeting her, then of course it was likely he would be in the tavern. She was expecting a kiss but instead he seized her hand and pulled her through a gate leading into the field beside them.

‘We’ll be drownded like rats if we don’t take shelter,’ he said, taking her hand to guide her through the sticky, slippery mud – made even worse by the passage of hooves of cattle – towards the barn, which provided a trysting place less attractive than the deer pool, but no less welcome.

Joe stamped his feet and waved his arms to drive the cattle out into the field to allow them access. The cows had sheltered glumly under a tree at first but then edged back, gathering around the door and bumping into each other as they jostled for space, the breath from their nostrils hanging in the damp air.

As soon as Joe had Sarah safe within the barn, laid on the straw, he fell on her like a man ravenous. She felt a sense of disappointment that he hadn’t wooed her and coaxed her, followed by a feeling of detachment from the situation. Afterwards, he was silent, head turned away from her, and she thought he had fallen asleep. Just when she was beginning to feel that she couldn’t bear the weight of him a moment longer he turned towards her.

‘So, hast thou missed me?’ he said, stroking the side of her face and allowing his fingers to linger as he moved to caress her body. Finally, she felt the stirrings of the feelings that had both sustained her and tormented her over the last few weeks. He trailed his fingers across her belly, then laid his hand flat on it. He looked at her questioningly.

‘With child?’

She shook her head, willing him to go on with his exploration of her.

He bit the flesh on the back of her hand lightly, gazing at her all the while, then grazed her shoulder with his teeth. She shivered and he stopped.

‘Ist thou cold?’

Sarah shook her head again. The weather was chilly for a July day, sodden and damp with rain as it was, but her skin burned. She reached her hands up around his neck and pulled her down to him.

‘If it’s a baby you’re wanting, then you must do something about it,’ she whispered.

He was kissing her more gently now and Sarah was barely aware of the scratch of damp straw against her skin, but a thought she wanted to express kept rising to the surface even though her whole being wished to be simply swept along on a tide of pleasure.

‘You must marry me,’ she murmured.

Joe paused and pulled away to look at her. Had she been too bold? Sarah wondered. Had she made a mistake in voicing this thought out loud, a thought that had taken root and nagged away at her all the time he had been gone?

‘Aye, well, happen I must,’ he said, and fell to kissing her again so that Sarah barely knew whether she had heard him aright.