Reach for Tomorrow (55 page)

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Authors: Rita Bradshaw

Tags: #Sagas, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: Reach for Tomorrow
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She might call it a sitting room but it was unlike any sitting room he had ever seen. The room was a large one, long but also wide, and its overall volume would have swallowed the whole downstairs of any house he had been in. The ceiling was oak-beamed, the walls newly whitewashed, and the mullioned windows in the side wall made him realize the house must be built on an incline. He could see rolling fields pastured by grazing cattle and sheep dipping down to a glinting river, and beyond that a wooded hillside from these windows, and the scene was very pleasing to the eye. The other two big windows overlooked the front garden and the farmyard where the car was presently parked.
 
The fireplace was a massive one and deep-set, its ornate surround of wood beautifully decorated with small individual carvings depicting animals, birds and flowers. The furnishings in this room were of good quality and at odds with the overall air of neglect he had seen so far, and he could imagine that once the thick heavy velvet drapes at the windows were pulled and the fire lit, the room would take on a tranquillity that would be very comforting to live in.
 
‘Do you like it?’
 
He was still standing in the doorway, and now he became aware that Rosie had turned a few yards into the room and was quietly watching him, and something in her face made his uneasiness return tenfold. ‘This room? Aye. There’s nothing not to like, is there?’
 
‘No, no there isn’t. And the rest of the house could be made like this and the farm become productive again. It would be a wonderful place to bring up bairns, don’t you think?’
 
He didn’t answer this but said instead, ‘And you say you know the owners?’
 
‘In a manner of speaking.’ Rosie walked across to a small occasional table under one of the leaded windows at the side of the front door and picked up a bundle of papers which was lying on it, next to a crystal fruit bowl which was empty. ‘But one of them not as well as I would like to.’ She walked over to him, handing him the bundle as she said, ‘These are yours.’
 
He didn’t say ‘Mine?’, he didn’t say anything at all, he just looked at her without moving. Rosie took his arm and drew him over to one of the armchairs. ‘Please look at them.’
 
Davey sat down, still without speaking, and carefully undid the ribbon holding the papers together. They comprised documents relating to the purchase of the farm and the furniture in this room, with further receipts detailing the pending acquisition of new equipment and other such matters. All the documents were in his name and Rosie’s. Even the car he had travelled in that day was in joint ownership.
 
He was quite unable to move.
 
The feeling that was gathering in the core of him was indescribable. It embodied all the beauty and colour he had ever seen, every note of music he had enjoyed, every soft word, every good and perfect deed that had gladdened his heart, and it was all the more poignant because he knew he had to let it go. Let her go.
 
‘What have you done?’ His voice was so low she could scarcely hear it.
 
‘I’ve sold everything.’ The words hung in the air. ‘The house in Roker isn’t mine any more, I’ve got to move out in a week’s time. I’m leaving it fully furnished except . . . except for Erik’s things which will come here. That’s the only other room I’ve had time to see to, the nursery. And the bonds and shares have all gone, and a good deal of the money. As well as the three men you just saw, who were the original workers here, I’ve hired another couple and . . . and the McLinnie brothers and Arthur. Even Robert is coming - his wife’s gone back to her mother’s and taken the child, Robert knows she’s had someone else for some time--’ ‘Rosie--’ ‘We will need some more men of course, but that will have to wait until the farm starts to make a profit. The three originals have been struggling for years to keep the place going for the last owner, but they assure me if we all muck in it will only take a couple of years to get the farm viable again with the new equipment and such. Oh, and there’s Ellen and her child. She’s coming too, and she’ll help me in the dairy and the house and--’
 
‘I’m not going to let you do this, Rosie.’
 
‘I’ve done it. Whatever you say now, whatever you do, this is partly yours, Davey.’
 
He turned his head and looked up at her where she was standing by the side of his chair, and she saw his face was as white as lint. ‘No, it is yours. These mean nothing--’
 
‘You’re right, they don’t.’ She knelt down by the arm of the chair now, much as she had done with Zachariah years before. ‘Papers and documents don’t mean anything,
all
this doesn’t mean anything, not really. It was never
my
money, it was Zachariah’s, and even he held on to it lightly. It should be used, Davey, and to benefit everyone, and . . . and Erik and other bairns. Out here--’ She could not go on to say, ‘Out here we can be Rosie and Davey again and go back to how it used to be,’ because she knew there was too much water under the bridge for that, but said instead, ‘Out here we can have the life that you and Sam used to talk about. We can make a success of it for him too. If it makes you feel better, look on it as though you are in partnership with him through me, that we’re fulfilling what he wanted.’
 
‘Better?’ He made a swaying movement with his head and his voice was thick. ‘This is madness, lass. You’re committing yourself to years and years - a lifetime - of hard work when you could have taken it easy and never lifted a finger.’
 
‘It would drive me mad not to lift a finger.’ She sat back on her heels as she continued to crouch at the side of the chair. ‘I could never live like that, Davey. And Zachariah knew I wanted to move out of the town and find somewhere like this, and he was all for it. This way, with this farm, we can really make a difference, don’t you see? I first saw this place last year on one of my trips out and it put me off, it being so run down and all, but when I asked Mick’s advice and we started discussing facts and figures, I knew we could do it, Davey. You and me and the others together.’ She was gabbling in her need to make him see, and now she forced herself to stop, her heart pounding with the force of the emotion she was trying to contain. But he had to see, he did.
 
‘Don’t, Rosie.’ Her name was wrenched from him. ‘Don’t say any more. I can’t--’
 
‘
You can!
’ Her voice was fierce but she was fighting for everything she had ever wanted. ‘If I had been Sam you would have thought a partnership was all right, wouldn’t you? And surely you care about me as much as you did about him? It’s straight down the line, Davey - every stick of furniture, every beast on the farm, every blade of wheat in the fields, whether . . . whether you want me or not.’
 
‘Whether I want you . . .’ His voice was deep, guttural, and now the feeling was pouring out of him, melting the core of his being with its heat and strangling the words in his throat as he got to his feet.
 
She looked up at him, into his face, and something told her it was going to be all right. She had the strangest impression that Davey was surrounded by an aura of light in the moment before he touched her. Not a white light, but a warm pulsating radiance that made his face glow and his features blur. And then his arms were round her, crushing her into him as he smothered her face in wild burning kisses before taking her mouth with a hunger that was almost savage in its intensity.
 
Rosie could feel his heart racing, pressed as she was against the hard solid bulk of him, and she returned kiss for kiss, her breath sobbing in her throat. She had the sensation they were spinning in a place where time was not - it was another era, another dimension, and for a moment they were in the same skin.
 
‘You’re sure about this? You’re sure this is what you want? Absolutely sure, lass?’
 
And now she dared to say what she had always wanted to say. ‘All I have ever wanted is you. When I thought you were going to go away again--’
 
‘Oh, my Rosie, my love.’ He cut off her words with his mouth, pulling her into him as though he couldn’t get enough of her and muttering endearments against her lips, her cheeks, her hair, as they stood locked together in the centre of the room.
 
He was her world, her universe, he was every tomorrow she had ever wanted. ‘Davey, Davey, I love you. I love you so much.’
 
‘And I love you, Rosie. Do you hear me? I’ll love you to my dying day and beyond.’
 
Epilogue
 
On 31st January, 1933, on the day the papers were full of the news that Adolf Hitler, the flamboyant leader of Germany’s controversial Nazi Party, had been appointed Chancellor of the German Reich, a small notice appeared in the births column of Sunderland’s
Daily Echo
.
 
Connor
David and Rosie Connor of Becks Farm, Castletown, are proud to announce the arrival of twin sons on Saturday, 28th January, 1933. The boys, christened David Zachariah and Samuel Philip, are baby brothers for Erik James.
 
 

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