The Journey (20 page)

T
he following day, Lucy’s week started all over again. Rising early, she had her wash and got dressed; then she made her bed and collected the child from his cot.

With that done she sat him in his chair at the table, made his porridge and while he plastered his hands and face with that, she burned herself a piece of toast which she covered in Joanne’s homemade strawberry jam. “Your Auntie Joanne makes the best jam in the world,” she told the child, who was far too busy licking his chubby fingers to pay attention.

“I need you to be on your best behavior,” she coaxed. “There’s work to be done in Long Field, harvesting the spuds, and it’s a case of all hands to the deck. The crop is ready to be taken in, Barney says. The plants have died off and the soil is good and dry.”

This would be her first close experience of working on the land, and she was really looking forward to it.

She glanced at the mantelpiece clock. “We need to be away from here by seven,” she took a great bite of her toast, “so eat up, little fella, then I’ll give you a drink and get you washed, and we’ll be on our way.” Reaching over the table she tickled him under the chin, and the little boy giggled. “Joanne said she would make up a picnic for when we stop to eat. We’ll have it down by the river, that’s what she said—and won’t that be lovely, eh?”

In fact, life itself was so wonderful these days, she could hardly believe her good fortune.

During the next half-hour, Lucy went about her chores; she cleared and washed the breakfast things while Jamie played, then took her son and washed him, made sure she had everything they needed, then strapped him into his pram and parked him outside on the path while she secured the cottage behind her.

Taking the bridle path up to Overhill Farm, she found the going hard; one minute she was pushing the pram and the next she was pulling it, until her arms ached from shoulder to wrist. But it was such a beautiful day, she didn’t mind a bit. Besides, little Jamie was in his element, laughing and chuckling, until he eventually fell asleep and all she could hear were the birds singing and the river bubbling over the boulders.

As they came through the spinney, the terrain became easier. Well-worn by travellers and locals alike, in parts the meandering walkway was rough and bumpy underfoot, but for the most part it was easy going. From the cottage to the farm, it took exactly twenty minutes; Lucy had timed herself on the first day.

“Joanne!” Waving as she approached the house, Lucy saw Barney’s wife hanging out the washing. “I’m not too late, am I?”

Waving back, Joanne took the wooden pegs out of her mouth. “The boys have already gone to the fields,” she replied. “Barney’s taken Susie into town for her hat-making, and he’ll come back straight after. We won’t be needed for a little while yet.”

She was finished with the washing. “My! You put me to shame!” she exclaimed. “You look lovely, Lucy. Bright and fresh as a daisy.”

It was true. Lucy did look very fetching in the long dark skirt and loose white blouse, worn to work in the fields, and something about the way she had swept her hair back into a thick plait made her seem almost childlike. “And look at me—hands red from rubbing the sheets in the dolly-tub, and hair all over the place. I must look terrible,” Joanne laughed ruefully.

“You don’t look any such thing!” Lucy would have none of it. She looked at Joanne with her sunkissed hair and those wonderful expressive gray eyes, and all she saw was beauty and goodness. “You always look lovely,” she said honestly. “It’s right what Barney says: you couldn’t help but look pretty, even if you’d just come up from the coal-mines.”

Joanne laughed. “That’s my Barney,” she said. “He looks at me through rose-colored glasses and can’t see the wood for the trees.”

“That’s because he loves you.” Lucy wondered if she would ever find that kind of love. “I’ve never known anyone love his woman, like Barney loves you.”

For a moment Joanne was silenced by Lucy’s profound words. “I love him the same way,” she quietly confessed. “Sometimes it frightens me, the way Barney believes we’ll always be together. The thing is, Lucy, when you’re part of each other, like me and Barney, there can never be a happy ending. Someone is bound to be sad at the end of it all.”

When she looked up, there was a kind of desolation in her gray eyes. “You see, when either of us is taken, the one left behind will be totally lost.”

Lucy was amazed at the depth of pain in Joanne’s voice, in her eyes, in her whole demeanor. “You’re neither of you going anywhere!” she declared stoutly, in an attempt to break the moment. “Not until you’ve made me enough strawberry jam to last me into old age, any road.”

The mood broke and Joanne laughed out loud. “If you like it that much, you’d best take another jar from the pantry.” She then threw the pegs into her big basket and placing it under her arm, she put her other arm through Lucy’s. “Come on, you.” Her smile was content. “The water’s already hot in the kettle, it’ll take but a minute to bring it back to the boil. We’ve time enough for a brew before we roll up our sleeves.”

In truth, both Joanne and Lucy had already had their sleeves rolled up these past two hours and more. All the same, it was nice to take time out for a cuppa and a chat, all girls together, and that was exactly what they did. “Bridget came to see me yesterday,” Lucy imparted, grinning at the memory. “You should have seen her, all done up in a new outfit and a hat like you could never imagine.”

Joanne took a gulp of her tea. “Got herself a fancy man, has she?” Joanne was a broadminded woman who respected Bridget for her kindness, and welcomed her, when other townsfolk looked down their noses at her.

“Seems like that.”

While they drank their tea and Jamie slept on, Lucy relayed the gossip and the two of them hoped that Bridget had found a man who would take care of her, for she was a good-hearted woman and not as young as she used to be.

Twenty minutes later, with both tea and gossip done, they set about the daily chores; Lucy seeing to the bathroom upstairs and making up the beds with fresh-laundered linen while Jamie “helped” her, and Joanne tackling the work downstairs.

Some short time later, with the house all spick and span, they made their way to the fields, where Barney and his sons were already halfway down the potato field. Armed with light forks, each of them earthed up the secret treasure of the potatoes, hidden beneath the rich soil. They were beauties—no sign of rot or infestation—and Barney was delighted. A bumper crop might cheer Mr. Maitland who had been looking very preoccupied of late.

“RONNIE!” Barney’s voice could be heard shouting instructions to the younger of his two sons. “Stop messing about and get on with it.” With the work piling up, Barney was in no mood for frivolous behavior. “We’ve the rest of this field to do yet!”

Unlike his father and brother Tom, Ronnie, free-spirited and happy-go-lucky, was too easily distracted. He would collect the potatoes in the barrow lined with sacking, then wheel it to the barn, where the crop was stored in the dark and cool, and on the way back, he’d lark about, talking to the horse in the next field and playing tricks on his brother.

“He’s a good lad,” Joanne remarked tolerantly as she and Lucy made their way to the men. “But he still has a lot of growing up to do yet.”

Thrilled to be here, Lucy soaked up the atmosphere. Her attention drawn every which way, she took it all in: Barney’s familiar figure bent over the long trench; the sunlight bouncing off the tines of the men’s forks; the seemingly endless skies, and the bright warm sunshine. Here, now, it was as though she and Jamie and Barney’s family were the only people in the whole wide world.

“Fine crop of spuds this year.” Having worked many seasons alongside Barney, Joanne spoke from experience.

As Barney took his turn with the barrow, he shouted, “Are you here to watch, or work?” He went away laughing. “You’re no good to me if all you’ve come to do is admire the scenery.”

“Cheeky devil!” Joanne yelled after him. “Another remark like that and you can do the spuds on your own, ’cause we’d rather be in Liverpool, strolling round the shops!”

Joanne and Barney could bandy insults without getting offended. It was part of their deep knowledge of each other.

The hours passed too quickly and every experience was new to Lucy. Working and laughing, stumbling in the trenches and clambering up again, getting into a rhythm with the digging, with the sun on her face and the cooling breeze a welcome relief. She wanted this day never to end.

“I’ll be glad when we stop for a break.” Joanne paused to wipe the sweat from her brow. “I’m all in.” She stroked Jamie’s hair as he squealed, pointing excitedly to a worm. They were surrounded by birds, swooping down as the tubers were earthed up.

A short time later and aching through every bone, Barney paused to stretch his limbs. Taking out his pocket-watch he glanced at the time. “Good Lord! Why didn’t somebody tell me it was nearly one o’clock?”

To everyone’s relief he called for a break, at the same time taking the opportunity to slide his arm round his wife’s waist and give her a resounding kiss. “I’m proud of the three of you,” he told Joanne, Lucy and Jamie. “I might even go so far as to say you’re as good as the men …” At that moment he saw Ronnie throw himself down some way off, to lie flat under a tree. “And maybe better than most,” he added with a light-hearted groan.

Ronnie was the first to answer. “Not bad,” he said airily. “It took Lucy a while to get the hang of it, but she got there in the end.”

“They did well.” Thomas gave his dad a knowing wink. “In fact, they did so well, I reckon us men should go home and leave them to it. Come on, Jamie.”

“You mind we don’t leave
you three
to it.” Joanne rose to their teasing. “Here.” She thrust a greaseproof pack of sandwiches at each of them. “These should quieten you down.”

Everyone took off their sacking aprons and quickly sluiced their hands with water from a big enamel pitcher, before sitting down and unwrapping their lunch.

The break, though short, was a pleasure, not only because they were famished and the thick sandwiches filled with cheese, ham and pickle were delicious, but because the company was pleasant and the day glorious. “What about you, Lucy?” Barney addressed Lucy who had fed the child and was now preparing his drink. “Have you enjoyed your first-hand experience of market-gardening?”

“It’s tiring,” Lucy admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever ached so much in all my life, but oh yes, Barney, I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed it.” She cuddled the child. “Jamie’s enjoyed it too,” she said fondly. “Though he didn’t like being strapped in his pram for most of the time.”

“Well, I’m proud of you,” Barney said, and without hesitation the others echoed his sentiments.

With the food all gone, Ronnie and his brother went for a quick dip in the river, to wash the dust and grime from their backs. “Don’t be long,” Barney called after them. “We’ll need to work till dark as it is.”

Shortly afterward, Joanne followed with the plates and cutlery. “I’ll give these a rinse in the water,” she told Lucy. “I don’t fancy the flies plaguing us all the way home.”

Left alone with Lucy and the child, who had dozed off, Barney helped to clear the picnic things away. “How are things,” he enquired, “really?”

“Things are fine, thank you, Barney.” Though she had good friends in Bridget and the girls, Barney and Joanne were the only people she could really talk to; especially Barney. He had such a way with him, naturally attentive and caring, that Lucy felt she could tell him anything.

“So, did you do the right thing in moving out to the cottage?” Looking tired and worn, he leaned against the tree.

“It was the best thing I ever did, and it’s all thanks to you and your family,” she answered.

Taking a rag out of his trouser picket, Barney wiped the sweat from his face. “And you’re content, are you, working at the house with Joanne, and laboring in the fields under an Indian Summer sun?” he grinned. “Seems to me, we’ve thrown you in at the deep end.”

Lucy smiled. “Oh Barney, I’m more than content. I don’t know how I can ever thank you both.”

“No thanks necessary,” he answered softly. “Just to see you smile like that, and know you’re settled—that’s more than enough.” Barney looked down on her and thought what a lovely woman she was.

“You and Joanne, you can’t know what you’ve done for me,” Lucy persisted. “I’ve never been so happy.”

“It’s only right that you should be happy.” In a fit of coughing, he turned away, scarlet in the face. Lucy passed him a cup of water. When the coughing fit passed, he addressed her again, his voice still a little hoarse. “You worked well today, lass.” He didn’t look round. “I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

“Barney, can I talk to you?”

The young woman’s anxious voice caused him to swing round. “Of course you can. What is it?”

Hesitating, she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s nothing—I’m sorry.” Suddenly it seemed foolish to voice what was in her mind.

Concerned, he came to kneel beside her. “Come on, tell me, love. What’s wrong?”

Lucy looked at him, at his strong, kind face and the endearing look in his eyes and she opened her heart to him. “I’m afraid, Barney … so afraid.”

“What d’you mean? What have you to be afraid of?” His expression hardened. “That bugger Trent isn’t back again, is he, because if he’s bothering you …”