All the dear faces (31 page)

“
What a circus we are. We only need a monkey and a parrot and we could have our own side-show at the fair," Charlie joked, his eyes sparkling into hers
.

The wind became more biting the higher they got and it was not long before Cat sought the shelter of the sledge and the blankets where, snuggling down with the kitten, they both fell asleep. The fells soared dramatically on either side of them, rising from the narrow green strips of the fertile dales on which, as they marched, they saw falcons spiralling, keeping an airborne eye on the flocks which sought the sweet herbs and grasses growing among the dark rocks. Narrow strips of order and productivity, where rowan-shaded becks ran and whitewashed farms capped with Lakeland slate nestled under craggy buttresses. Men tended sheep on a neighbouring peak, the dogs beside them silent and alert, and Annie breathed a prayer to safeguard her own new-born lambs from the scavengers which preyed on the weak and defenceless
.

Despite her misgivings about the weather, though it was cold, the wind, or so it seemed, coming straight from the plains of Siberia, the rain kept off and when night fell the farmwife who opened her door to their knock and whose husband was 'only in't back yard' she said, eyeing them suspiciously, relented when Cat smiled at her, her face beaming in the light which fell on her from the rushlight, the kitten in her arms mewing plaintively.

“
Tha' can sleep in' hay barn, Missus," she told Annie, whose strange and masculine garb was not immediately apparent in the light which fell from her doorway. "An' if tha wants some milk for t' bairn, tha's welcome to a pint or two from Buttercup. She's in t' barn now. Tha' can milk, I tek it?"

“
Oh, yes, and thank you. You are most kind." Annie smiled
.

The farmwife, somewhat taken aback by the way her caller spoke, smiled back, despite herself. They seemed a nice enough little family, taking the hired ram back to
Rosley, and it cost her nothing to let them sleep in the barn. They had their own blankets, they told her, and food, they said, but they'd be glad of a pan of hot water if she could spare it and very grateful for the milk they were.

“
Aye, well then, send tha' husband ower for t' water. Tha'll be snug enough in that hay.
”

Cat and Phoebe were asleep, curled together with
Blackie
and Bonnie and the kitten under one of the blankets. They had all washed in the basin of hot water, one after the other, a somewhat sketchy toilet, and Charlie said they would have to put up with him looking like a brigand since there was not enough for a shave. They ate cheese and bread, beef pies Phoebe, who was becoming a very handy cook, had made, pickles and draughts of warm creamy milk from the obliging Buttercup. There was to be no fire, of course. The farmer, on returning from the 'back yard', had been across to make sure about that, telling them so in his blunt, taciturn way. They seemed all right but you never knew with some of these tinkers and vagrants what sort of daft things they got up to. Not that his missus would allow such through the farm gate, never mind in the barn, but the sight of the peacefully sleeping children, the watchful dogs and the quiet husband and wife reassured him
.

But it was cold. There were cracks in the door of the ancient stone-built barn and the wind whistled constantly, a low whining which bit at the flesh and tore at the ears, and there was only one blanket left.

“
You have it, Annie. I'm as warm as toast in this hay."

“
No . . . no, Charlie, I won't have it. We can make a bed of hay and then lie back to back with the blanket over us. It's going to get colder in the night, I can tell, and we must keep warm . . ."

“
I am warm."

“
No, you're not. I can see you shivering from here." "No, you can't. Look I'll lie down next to the dogs and be as right as rain.
”

She looked astonished. "For God's sake Charlie. What
do you think I'm going to do to you whilst you're asleep? Seduce you? Don't be a fool. See, we'll lie with the others and you shall lie beside me and the blanket will cover us both."

“
I could share with Cat and Phoebe."

“
Dear God, man, don't be so ridiculous. Come over here and lie next to me. We shall all keep one another warm. It's the only way, Charlie." She tutted irritably and shook her head. "I don't know why I let the three of you talk me into this. It's far too cold to be sleeping out in the open . . ."

“
Hardly in the open, Annie." Charlie shuffled about in the hay next to her, leaving a gap of at least six inches between them.

“
Don't argue, Charlie, and for heaven's sake, come a bit closer. Even if you don't feel the cold, I do, and I'd be glad if you would put your back against mine. There .. . that's it, now isn't that better?"

“
Indeed . . ." Charlie's voice was strange and muffled but Annie, with his warm back against hers and already half asleep, did not hear it
.

The darkness was as thick and as black as pitch when she awoke, and as she opened her eyes to stare into it, she was aware, in that confused moment between sleeping and waking, that something was wrong. The warmth which had enveloped her and soothed her to sleep was no longer there. In its place was a feeling of tension, of great strain, of a presence taut and strung up, with an emotion she did not recognise. An unknown presence which alarmed her. She was aware that Charlie was still there, the warmth of him just out of reach, but from him came a sensation of . . . of . . . of what? What was it? Anger, was that it, or was it pain?

“
Charlie, what is it? Is something wrong?" she said softly, not wanting to wake the others. Charlie did not answer. She turned towards him, putting out her hand to touch his shoulder and was shocked to find it rigid, unmoving, almost ready to flinch away she would have thought had the idea not been so ridiculous.

“
Charlie? Are you ill?" She sat up and leaned over him, but with an oath he sprang up and without speaking a word, stumbled towards the flimsy barn door. In the corner Buttercup shifted, then lowed softly.

“
Charlie? What's the matter?" She was about to stand up and follow him, for surely there was something wrong. Charlie was so good-humoured, smiling and sweet-tempered with never a cross word for anyone. Too lighthearted by far, she sometimes thought. So careless about life and the serious consideration one must take of it, that she was often irritated. So what was troubling him now that he could not even respond to her anxious concern?

“
Really, Annie, cannot a gentleman answer a call of nature without explaining what he is about?" His voice from the dark was flippant as he opened the barn door. "Now go back to sleep, there's a good girl, I won't be long.
”

He was not there when she awoke to the dawn chorus of the birds which nested in the trees about the farmhouse, but when she stumbled to the barn door there he was walking back from the farmhouse with a pail of water.

“
Good morning, lazy bones," he said smilingly, none of the tension she had sensed in him during the night apparent now. "I've been up for half an hour. You were sleeping like babes, all of you, even
Blackie
and Bonnie declining to come with me so I went and begged some water from our benefactor. She even gave me this," and with an endearing grin, he produced an enormous jug brimming with tea.

“
Charlie, you angel."

“
I know," Charlie's impish smile changed to one of smugness. "That's why she gave it to me, I suppose, because she knew I was not your ordinary sort of a fellow. She could not resist my charm."

“
I don't blame her. Now if Buttercup could spare us a drop of milk . . ."

“
Just what I was thinking, but as I got the tea, don't you think it's only fair that you should get the milk?" They were both laughing when Cat and Phoebe peeped
from their nest of hay and blankets. The kitten blinked its wide eyes and the dogs wagged their tails, and it was as though the strange moment in the night, if indeed anything strange had happened in the night, might never have been
.

They reached Rosley Hill by mid-afternoon, the great multitude of those who were on the same road as themselves, and indeed on every road leading to the fairground, cheerful and excited, most of them, for this was the greatest event in their humdrum year. The actual grounds of the fair covered forty acres. It would be another fifteen years before dealers bought their cattle straight from the byre, but in the meanwhile this was where the drovers displayed them for sale and not only cattle but sheep and horses as well
.

They could hear the sound of the brass bands as they approached the fairground, a spirited 'oom-pa-pa' which lifted the head and squared the shoulders and infected those who heard it to step out in a grand style, just as though a procession were under way. The Drover's Rest was surrounded by a hurrying mass of men, some seeking a bed for the night, which was, of course, impossible, others doing a bit of business, shaking hands on a deal, or shaking their heads in refusal. There were horses tethered in the inn yard, the stables being as full as the beds. Carts and carriages vied for position with donkeys, ponies and any four-legged beast that could carry or pull a load to this great fair and market. Stalls were set up on the roadside, those belonging to pedlars and housewives for whom there was no longer any room in the actual fairground, the housewives selling eggs and gingerbread, the pedlars shouting of gauze from Italy, ribbons and lace from France, hats and caps, cloaks, brooms, beehives and baskets. Whips cut the air as horses were driven along the track with no concern for those in their path, the quality, who on this occasion rubbed shoulders with ruffians, jumping out of their way with the same alacrity
.

The fairground was a heaving, seething confusion of men, women and children, many of the men there to do
business, naturally, but the rest bent on having the best time of their lives. In one corner, a fiddler and a man with a tin whistle played a lilting merry tune and Cat and Phoebe stared spellbound as those who were able danced the 'Cumberland Square Eight', the 'Long Eight', the 'Ninepins Reel' and the 'Circassian Circle'. Country dances which brought forth loud whoops of excited merriment, much twirling and whirling with many a lad glimpsing more than he should of his lass's ankles and sometimes, as she was swept from her feet, her drawers. The tent beside the dancing and which held the circus was so well attended the barker was begging people to be patient since they would all get in eventually and in the meanwhile, why did they not view the 'slack-wire balancing act', 'the pig-faced lady' or 'the hairy man' from Morocco who were absolutely free
.

Charlie stopped to watch the Pugilists who were displaying their skills in a ring set up for them, accepting bets from any amateur who fancied his chances against them.

“
I could take that chap on," he said to Annie, his eyes bright with that look of anticipation a man assumes at the thought of pitting himself against another. Annie was doing her best to keep her eye on Cat and Phoebe, who were like a couple of sleepwalkers who have wandered into some fairy-tale dream and are mesmerised by it. They moved, hand in hand, their mouths gaping, their eyes wide and marvelling, as they studied the spectacles on every hand, marionettes and musicians, singers, rope dancers, coconut shies and a great sad shambling bear, its muzzled face anguished, as it did its best to dance to the pipe of a gypsy's whistle.

“
No, you couldn't Charlie. They're fighting with bare fists, " Annie answered tartly.

“
But they're betting a guinea, Annie. I've done a bit of bare knuckle fighting in my time. I'm sure I could beat him."

“
You, Charlie?" Annie eyed Charlie's lean frame disbelievingly.

“
Yes, I fought at my own weight of course."

“
Well he's not your weight, Charlie Lucas. Look at him. He weighs twice as much as you, besides you haven't a guinea to bet with, and if you had, I wouldn't let you."

“
That fellow's going to try."

“
More fool him, then," and fool he was for the fight was short, crude and bloody, the stalwart young country lad who had climbed into the ring being carried out by his fellows with a face like a piece of raw meat
.

The dogs were bewildered and alarmed by the press of people, anxiously doing their best to divide themselves between Cat and Phoebe, who, in their eagerness not to miss a single exhibit, forged ahead of Annie and Charlie who were studying stalls on which there were for sale such marvels as shepherds' bells and leather gaiters, bridles, saddles, whips and padlocks and saws. A travelling salesman, standing on the tailboard of the cart in which his weary horse was still harnessed, begged them to try his 'Balm of Gilead' which would cure them of all that ailed them from warts to the coughing sickness
.

A musical farce was being performed by a company of players in another tent. The Spoiled Child was its title and Annie was carried back quite ferociously to those precarious months she had spent with . . . with . . . My God, she could not even remember his name, the name of the man who had fathered her lovely child. The thought horrified her for surely she should carry not only his name but the picture of him inside her for ever? But no matter how hard she tried, she could not bring him to mind. Charlie's hand held hers for they were in great danger of being separated as they moved across the track which led from the gate to the camphouse where many of the drovers and dealers had a bed. Behind it was the gigantic grazing ground in which were enclosed the plunging, bellowing cattle and through which ran a stream. Even the valley bottom below the hill was crowded with beasts, the air filled with the grunting and squeaking of pigs, the bleating of sheep, the cries of hawkers, with shouts and oaths and whistles
.