The Penny Bangle (6 page)

She found him staring out across the yard, swaying his great, horned head from side to side. Poor old thing, she thought, he was no doubt wondering what had happened to his breakfast. What a life, kept cooped up on his own. He probably wouldn’t mind a bit of company now and then.

The bull was a lot bigger than the cows, but not enormous, and he stared at Cassie with a cow’s brown, gentle eyes. Looking at those soft, dark eyes, she found she wasn’t scared. So, opening the stable door, she went inside to fill his manger with the feed.

‘Come on, old man, it’s breakfast time,’ she said. She saw him put his head down, saw the light glance off his horns.

She never knew what happened next.

Cassie became aware of someone slapping her very lightly on the face, first upon her left cheek, then her right.

A voice was calling out her name, telling her to wake up, Cassie, and it sounded pleading, anxious, angry, worried, frightened, all at the same time.

She blinked, opened her eyes, and saw that Robert Denham was glaring down at her, and that he was frowning furiously. He was more angry than she’d ever seen him yet. But there was something else in those dark eyes. Something even more alarming than his obvious fury.

‘You stupid, idiotic girl!’ he cried. ‘What in the world possessed you? What were you bloody doing, letting out the bull?’

‘I – I was going to feed him,’ whispered Cassie, who was feeling nauseous now. She must have bashed her head upon the cobbles. She could feel a lump, and it was getting bigger by the second. The frosty morning light had shattered into a hundred thousand little splinters, and they cut into her eyes. ‘It – it was my turn.’

‘You clot, who told you that?’

‘I – Frances said – ’

‘Frances!’ bellowed Robert, and a moment later she came running from the cottage, closely followed by Stephen and his mother.

‘What’s wrong with Cassie?’ Frances asked.

Robert glared up at her, his dark eyes hard and very bright. ‘Why did you tell Cassie she had to feed the bull?’ he shouted, making Frances tremble. ‘You were trying to get her killed, was that it?’

‘No, it was a joke.’ Frances was chalk white. ‘Rob, you know she’s scared of cows. I didn’t think she’d go in with the bull.’

‘You didn’t think at all!’ cried Robert. ‘God, I’ve had enough of you,’ he muttered. ‘I’m sick and tired of all your bloody moods. You’re a liability, and – ’

‘Robert, that’s enough,’ snapped Mrs Denham, as she hunkered down. ‘Where does it hurt you, Cassie?’ she demanded, in a much more gentle tone of voice. ‘Listen to me, can you feel your feet?’

‘My – my feet?’ Cassie blinked. The light still hurt her eyes. But she found she could wriggle all her toes. ‘My f-feet are fine.’

‘Your arms?’ said Mrs Denham. ‘Come on, let me see you shake your fingers. Do it now!’

Cassie thought about it for a moment, but then she did as she was told. ‘I don’t think I’m hurt,’ she whispered. ‘It – it’s just my head, and I feel sick.’

‘All right, Robert, help her up,’ said Mrs Denham crisply. ‘Stephen, don’t just stand there like a half-wit, go and catch the bull. He’ll be half way to Dorchester by now.’

Robert slipped his arm round Cassie’s waist. She groaned, but he was gentle and helped her to sit up. He let her rest a moment, and then he supported her while she rose unsteadily to her feet.

‘I’m sorry, Cassie,’ Frances whispered as she came round to Cassie’s other side and put a steadying hand under her elbow. ‘But I didn’t think you’d be so silly – ’

‘Shut up, Fran, all right?’ Robert glared at Frances balefully. ‘You’ve had it in for Cassie from the start.’

‘I haven’t!’

‘Yes, you have! Ever since that evening in the pub, when I told you we’d got a new land girl, and she was blonde and pretty, you’ve tried to make things difficult for Cassie.’

‘Robert, that’s not true!’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Fran, you can’t deny – ’

‘Do stop bickering, the pair of you!’ Mrs Denham pushed her son away. She slipped her arm round Cassie. ‘Let’s get you inside and sitting down,’ she said. ‘Robert and Frances, come and eat your breakfast, then get on with your work.’

Cassie took a hesitant step forward, leaning heavily on Rose Denham’s arm.

Robert watched them go inside the cottage. He was feeling sick himself. His heart was hammering, he was shaking, and he wanted to shake Frances Ashford too, until her eyeballs rolled around her stupid, thoughtless head.

I’m just in shock, he told himself. Anyone would be in shock if they had found a girl lying on the cobbles, pale as death. All I need now is half a pint of coffee. Then I’ll be fine again.

But he found he couldn’t stop trembling, and the bitter taste of dread and panic was making him feel ill. He didn’t trust himself to think about how he might feel if Cassie had been badly injured, or if – God forbid – Cassie was dead.

He’d been so determined she should go. But now he was determined she should stay. He didn’t know quite why, but told himself it was because he had a high opinion of anyone prepared to have a go. Cassie found farm work hard, exhausting, even terrifying, but stuck at it, all the same.

‘Rob, are you okay?’ Stephen walked into the farmyard, leading a confused and rather sulky-looking bull, which seemed more than ready to go back to its stable for its breakfast.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ said Robert.

‘You’re shaking,’ Stephen told him. ‘You need to go and sit down.’

‘I told you, I’m all right.’

Cassie sat by the range all morning, feeling ill and dizzy. Mrs Denham had tucked a blanket round her, and put a glass of water by her side and told her to take sips. But she wasn’t offered any food.

Cassie dozed, opening her eyes occasionally to watch Mr Denham writing in his stock book, or Mrs Denham peeling heaps of vegetables, cutting up great slabs of meat and making floury dumplings.

Mr Denham didn’t seem very well today, she noticed. He was rather breathless, and his colour wasn’t good.

Mrs Denham didn’t exactly make a fuss of him, or treat him like an invalid. But, as she went about her work, as she walked in and out, she would touch his shoulder, and he would sometimes catch her hand and hold it for a moment, and both of them would sigh.

Cassie wondered what was wrong with him, if it was serious. He didn’t do much work around the farm at any time, unlike Mrs Denham, who worked hard all day.

By late morning, Cassie felt less dizzy. She knew that she was getting better when the smell of cooking stopped making her feel ill, and made her hungry.

‘How are you feeling now?’ asked Robert, when everyone came in to wash and have their mid-day meal.

‘A lot better, thank you,’ Cassie told him.

‘Good,’ said Robert, crouching down so that their eyes were level, and to Cassie’s surprise he almost managed to crack a smile.

She looked at him, into his eyes. She saw herself reflected there. She remembered he’d told Frances she was pretty. ‘I’m sorry I was so stupid,’ she told him.

‘Oh, don’t fret about it,’ Robert said, and suddenly he smiled properly.

It changed his face completely. It made him look as friendly and as likeable as Stephen. But there was something else there too, something irresistible, and Cassie knew she’d have to watch it now, or she would be in real trouble.

‘Get Cassie to the table, Rob,’ said Stephen, sitting down himself and sawing off a hunk of bread. ‘Come on, Fran, cheer up. You didn’t kill her this time, even though you tried.’

Chapter Four

‘It wasn’t true, you know, what Robert said.’

Frances was wheeling her bike across the yard the following evening, ready to go home. She and Cassie had worked very hard that day, doing all their usual jobs, and cleaning out the calf stalls and polishing all the horses’ tack, as well.

Cassie was feeling more or less all right again, except for the still-tender bump on the back of her head, and that was going down.

When she’d got up that morning, she’d insisted she was fit for work. She knew this had surprised and pleased the twins. She had long suspected they thought she was a layabout, a lazy city slacker. Well, she would show them, she’d decided – and she had, even though she ached all over and had bruises everywhere, even though she’d had to make a superhuman effort to get up and out of bed.

‘What wasn’t true?’ she asked.

‘What Robert said about me having it in for you,’ said Frances, going red.

‘Oh, Fran, don’t worry about Robert!’ Cassie grinned. ‘Miserable so-and-so, he’s mean to everybody, you know that. Listen, you’ve been great.’

‘I jolly haven’t!’

‘Yes, you have, you’ve taught me such a lot, and you’ve been so patient with me when I’ve mucked things up. I was daft, to go in with the bull. I won’t do that again.’

‘You mind you don’t,’ said Frances. ‘Where’s Steve tonight?’ she added, looking round.

‘He’s gone to bed,’ Cassie replied. ‘Mrs Denham came out just now and told me. She said he was looking rather green, and she was afraid he’d have a turn. He sometimes gets them when he’s had a shock, she said, and I shocked everybody yesterday! So she’s sent him up to sleep it off.’

‘Poor Stephen,’ whispered Frances, and Cassie saw her redden again, and suddenly it all clicked into place – the moods, the sarcasm, the touchiness.

‘You like Stephen, don’t you?’ she said gently.

‘I like both the twins,’ said Frances, but she turned away from Cassie’s gaze. ‘I’ve known them for ages, Cassie, ever since we moved here, and they’re family friends.’

‘But you like Stephen best. So, that first night, when Rob went on ahead of me and Steve and told you I’d arrived, and then we came into the pub, and we were laughing, you decided – ’

‘What would
you
have thought?’ demanded Frances. ‘Rob came in all cross and said they’d sent some slinky glamour girl to work at Melbury, that she looked like the bloody fairy on the Christmas tree, and wouldn’t be any good at milking cows, he’d bet his life on it. I had the very devil of a job to cheer him up and make him smile again. Then you two came in giggling at something, you were blonde and pretty, and Stephen had his arm around your waist – ’

‘You idiot, Stephen had been stopping me from falling in the mud. My shoes weren’t made for tramping across fields.’ Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Frances,’ she said kindly, ‘I’m not pretty. I’m pasty, short and skinny. My hair’s the colour of dirty straw. It’s certainly not blonde.’

‘But you’re not a big fat pudding, are you?’ Frances was busy picking at the rubber on her handgrips. ‘Mummy’s always going on at me, saying she can’t imagine how she produced a lump like me, when she’s so slim and dainty. She says I’m fat because I’m far too greedy, and I ought to diet. But I get so hungry when I’m working on the farm, and it’s not as though I’m always stuffing, but Mummy watches every single mouthful, and – ’

‘Oh, Fran, don’t be ridiculous. You have a gorgeous figure. The men all fancy you – you know they do!’ Cassie looked at Frances earnestly. ‘I’d give anything to have your English rose complexion, your beautiful white teeth, your lovely, long dark hair. Look, we can’t stay out here chatting now. We’re going to freeze to death. But can’t we be friends?’

‘If you want friends like me,’ said Frances bleakly. ‘If you’re that desperate.’

‘Mother of God, I’m desperate, believe me,’ Cassie told her, grinning. ‘Go on, Fran, you’d better get off home. Or else your mum will think a German airman came swooping down and grabbed you.’

She held out her right hand. ‘Shake?’ she said, and – after a short moment’s hesitation – Frances shook.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘We’re friends.’

The letter which arrived the following morning changed everything again.

Soon after Cassie had arrived in Melbury, Robert had gone into Dorchester to have his medical, and a few weeks later he was told he’d been passed fit. He’d be going back on active service, to have another bash at getting killed, as Stephen put it.

Cassie didn’t want to think of Robert getting wounded, much less getting killed. She didn’t want to like him, but she did. She didn’t want to dream about him, but he walked into her dreams regardless, and made himself at home inside her head.