The Journey (4 page)

Fighting his way through the bleating animals, he partway filled the various troughs, then leaving the sheep to sort themselves out, he climbed the ladder to the hayloft, where he threw down four slices of hay, making certain that they landed far enough apart for everyone to get a fair share without too much argument.

Afterward, he stood at the barn door for a minute or two. Satisfied that the sheep were all feeding and seeming content, he went outside to the tap, filled the bucket with water, returned inside and emptied it into the two water-troughs. “That should keep you going for a while,” he told them. “Come the morning, I might let you loose in the fields.”

It was always a pleasure to set them free, for sheep were not indoor animals. Small-minded and built to eat, it was in their nature to nibble the pastures, get caught up in brambles and go lame at every opportunity.

With the sheep fed and set up for the night, he tramped off to the undercover pig-pens. Here he went through the same procedure, but with a different and coarser food, for pigs were gluttons and required bulk. Ben was always wary when surrounded by the porkers. Weighing upward of half a ton each, they were capable of doing a man some considerable damage if he got in their way.

The boars in particular were an angry sort when penned, as old Les was quick to point out to Ben at the first opportunity. “I once knew a man whose prize boar drove his tusks clean through the poor chap’s thighbone; crippled him for life, it did. So don’t go messin’ with them big bugger, ’cause if they don’t get yer with their tusks, they’ll have yer over and trample yer underfoot!” Les did not have to tell Ben twice. It was ironic that poor Les himself came a cropper soon after he’s issued that warning.

With the pigs happily burying their snouts in the troughs, Ben attended to the other animals; first the cows, then the chickens.

The cows were housed in the smaller of the two barns. The area had been divided up to provide eight large pens on one side and six on the other, with a birthing pen at the far corner. The beasts had more than enough room and as long as they were fed and watered and clean underfoot, they saw out the winter in comfort; though once the worst of the weather was over they, too, were always happy to be let loose in the fields.

The spacious chicken-house was a vast, open area, which gave the chickens ample room to run. At night they would either roost in the lower beams, or retire to the many small wooden houses set along either side of the walls. Sadly, some of the chickens fell prey to the odd fox who dared to burrow under the wire, which was dug in and around the entire perimeter. Thankfully it had not happened just lately, and Les kept a wary eye out for weak links in the netting.

A long while later, Ben made his weary way back to the farmhouse. At the door he kicked off his boots and overalls before going through to the parlor.

First, he made himself a cup of well-earned tea, then it was off upstairs for a much-needed bath. He’d lit the geyser to heat up the water long since. “I can’t be going to see the ladies smelling of pig manure and chicken-muck,” he told the dog, who simply laid over, gave a long, shuddering yawn and fell into a deep sleep.

In the bathroom he turned on the taps and let the bath fill while he stripped off. A few moments later he slithered under the water and lay there for awhile, luxuriating in the warmth and thinking of young Mary, with whose pretty lavender-blue eyes and the way her mouth turned up at the corners when she smiled …

A
t eight o’clock that evening, Ben arrived at the front door of Knudsden House. Standing on the top step of the little flight of stairs, he fidgeted nervously before reaching up and knocking briskly.

The door opened and Mary stood before him. His breath caught. Divested of her heavy winter coat, she was wearing a lilac-colored twinset and a pretty knee-length skirt. The slight from the hall and from her, too, dazzled him.

Fumbling, he brought out the bag from where he’d been hiding it under his coat. “I found this,” he said jerkily.

“It’s my mother’s! Thank you.”

The women had discovered the loss of the handbag once they’d arrived home. Fortunately, Mary had her own frontdoor key and could let them in. Arthur had offered to go and look for it, after searching the car and not finding it, but Lucy had said no, not to worry. She felt far too unwell for any fuss, and the bag would turn up somehow. People round here were honest men and women.

“Won’t you come in?” Mary asked now. “I expect Mother will want to thank you herself.”

Accepting her invitation without hesitation, Ben followed her through to the drawing room. “Is your mother all right? I mean, has she suffered any ill-effects from the fall?”

“She
says
she’s all right. With Mother, you’re never really sure.”

When Mary turned to smile at him, Ben felt foolish; like a shy young boy on his first date instead of a forty-year-old man of the world.

For what seemed the longest moment, she continued to gaze on him, her quiet smile reaching deep into his senses. Suddenly the smile fell away and, slowing her step, she confided in him.

“The truth is, since she fell in the churchyard, she hasn’t seemed well at all,” she whispered. “I’m worried about her.” Before she inched open the door, she confessed, “I wanted to call Dr. Nolan, but she won’t hear of it.” A sigh escaped her lips. “She’s so independent and stubborn like you wouldn’t believe. But I’m half tempted to call the doctor anyway.”

“There’s no use you whispering, my girl!” Lucy called out from the inner room. “I can hear every word, and there’ll be no doctor coming into this house!”

On entering the room, Mary was told in no uncertain terms, “If I needed a doctor—
which I don’t
—there is only one I would agree to seeing, and he’s living out his retirement in Liverpool. So we’ll have no more talk of doctors. Are you listening to me, Mary?”

Reluctantly, the girl nodded. “Mr. Morgan found your bag in the churchyard. He’s brought it back. I thought you might want to thank him yourself.”

“Mmm.” Her reproachful gaze rested on her daughter for a second or two before switching to Ben. “I love my daughter dearly, but she will fuss.”

“Only because she’s worried about you, I’m sure.”

While he spoke, Ben was aware of how the room reflected Lucy’s personality. There was the solid furniture, reliable and stalwart, and then there was the color and vibrancy—in the curtains and the rugs. On following Mary into the room, he had felt her life all about him, in the lavish bright paintings on the walls, and the many figures, sculpted in china and pewter—some in the throes of embrace, others dancing, with arms in the air and feet atwirl.

They reminded him of Lucy herself; mature in beauty, yet very much alive.

“She’s no need to worry,” Lucy snapped. “I’m fit as a fiddle, thank goodness—always have been.” Her thoughts went back to her youth, to the time she’d gone astray, and the consequences that followed. Good times and bad, when life was lived to the full, when friends helped you through and nothing seemed to matter.
And then there was Barney.

Her heart grew sore at the thought of that wonderful man.

Mentally shaking herself, she told Ben, “That’s two kindnesses you’ve shown me in one day. So thank you again, young man.”

“It was the vicar who found it,” Ben explained. “I simply offered to return it.” He liked being called “young man,” though in truth, he was only about twelve years younger than Lucy, and indeed, had a grown-up daughter of his own. His feelings for Mary, however, were definitely not those of a father.

When he turned to smile at Mary, Lucy was quick to see the spark between them. “I dare say that’s because you wanted to see my Mary again.” Her face crinkled into that same mischievous smile he had seen at the churchyard. “Taken a liking to her, have you?” When she gave a naughty wink, he couldn’t help but grin, despite his bashfulness.

“Mother!” Mary’s face went a bright shade of pink. “What a thing to say! Don’t embarrass Mr. Morgan. I’m sure he was thinking no such thing.”

But Lucy took no notice. Addressing Ben, she put him on the spot. “Tell the truth and shame the devil, Mr. Morgan. You volunteered to return my bag because you hoped to catch a glimpse of Mary, isn’t that the truth?”

Ben laughed out loud. “Do you always see through people so easily, Mrs. Solomons?” It was strange, he thought, how easy he felt in her presence. “Yes, you’re right. I
was
hoping I might see her again.”

“There! I knew it!” Clapping her hands together with excitement, the older woman said triumphantly, “I knew he’d taken to you, Mary—didn’t I say so? And here you are—you haven’t even asked our guest if he’d like to join us for supper. Shame on you my girl!”

“Shame on
you
Mother, for embarrassing us both like that.” Even though she was elated by Ben’s admission that he had been hoping for a glimpse of her, Mary was so mortified she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Whatever would Ben think of her now? She hoped he would refuse the offer of supper and make some excuse to leave straight away.

Lucy’s instincts were meanwhile telling her that here was a good man, a fine husband for her daughter, if he were free. She had little doubt but that these two could make a fine, happy life together. Yes! Should anything untoward happen to herself in the near future, Ben Morgan was the very man to take good care of Mary, for he reminded her of Barney, in his smile and his manner.

Lately, she had been feeling very low in spirits and health, and Mary’s future had come to concern her deeply. Although Ben must be twice her daughter’s age, and would have his own story to tell about his life and the reasons for his arrival in Salford, he seemed a kind and honorable man. She had already noted the hint of sadness in his eyes, and his beautiful artistic hands, not yet roughened by farm-work. It was time to find out more about him. She would start with the most important question.

“Are you married?”

“REALLY, MOTHER!” Horrified, Mary sprang forward. “One minute you invite Mr. Morgan to supper, and the next you’re quizzing him about his private life. I’m sure he won’t stay a minute longer than he has to—and who would blame him?”

Over the past few years, there had been several young chaps who had shown an interest in her; to her dismay, Lucy had systematically sent them all packing. Yet there were good reasons for this: not one of them was good enough for her, Lucy said grimly, and had been proved right when each one had eventually shown his true colors.

“Nonsense! I mean no harm. I’m just being my usual, nosy self,” Lucy replied with a stay of her hand. “Besides, I should be old enough now to speak my mind without offending anyone. I’m quite sure our Mr. Morgan won’t mind. After all, we need to know the caliber of the man who’s crossed our path twice today.”

Addressing Ben she asked pointedly, “Are you offended by my questions?”

Ben shook his head. “I was married and now I’m divorced,” he said quietly. “Not the most pleasant experience of my life, I have to admit.”

“And have you children?”

“A daughter … Abbie.”

“And where is she?”

“Abbie lives in London, where she shares a flat with other young working people. I miss her, but she is due to come down to Far Crest Farm where I live, next week to spend a few days with me.”

“That’s enough, Mother!” Stepping forward as though to protect Ben, Mary told him, “You’re welcome to stay to supper, but you can leave right now if you want to, and I wouldn’t blame you. You see, Mother won’t stop asking questions until she knows everything about you.” The girl so much wanted him to stay, but it had to be his choice.

“That’s OK. I might even ask a few questions of my own, later,” he said.

Lucy laughed out loud. “Now then, young man. Will you stay or will you run?”

“I’ll stay.” His mind was already made up. “Thank you very much. Should I go home and change for the occasion?” He had an idea that Lucy Solomons might be a stickler for protocol.

He was wrong. “You look decent enough to me, so you can put that silly idea out of your head,” she said. “It won’t take Mary long to rustle up a meal for the three of us. Meanwhile, just make yourself at home.”

“If you say so.” It was a strange thing, but her brisk, authoritative manner was not offputting to him. His instincts told him it was all an act on her part. “I’m grateful to you both.” When he and Mary exchanged smiles, Lucy was thrilled. The more she saw of Ben, the more she liked and trusted him. He was the one for her daughter; she was sure of it.