All the dear faces (45 page)

“
I see, so that's what was promised you?" and still Reed Macauley stood like he was some grey dove perched on her hand.

“
Aye, but I reckon ah've bin tricked an' ah don't like that."

“
In what way have you been tricked?"

“
Well . . ." Well he couldn't say really, if he was honest, especially with them great big brown eyes of hers looking at him as though what he had to say was of the greatest concern to her, and suddenly, he knew it was. She was concerned. It really mattered to her that Natty Varty was an honest man, with ethics which said he'd have no truck with a chap who carried on an adulterous relationship with a woman . . . well . . . like her. He'd known her all her life, ever since Joshua Abbott had lost that last lad of his and he'd realised, Joshua that is, that this little lass was all that he was going to have. No wonder she dressedherself in her father's clothes since the old man had used her like a lad since she was five or six. Worked her hard he had, but she'd always been sweet-tempered. Joshua'd not broken her, and what he'd taught her had stood her in good stead, but when Natty looked back to that day when it got round the valley that Josh Abbott's lass had gone off with some chap from a travelling company, he distinctly remembered thinking at the time, "and is it any wonder?
”

Now she was back, looking at him with the desperate entreaty he had once seen in the eyes of a young doe he had cornered up on Great Calva. There had been a fawn at her back, no more than a couple of hours old, and she wouldn't leave it, but her eyes, almost human, had looked like this woman's did! It was then, for the first time in his life, he changed his mind.

“
Won't you reconsider, Mr Varty? Mr Macauley and
."

“
Nay . . ." His anger flared. ". . . I want to know nowt about that. 'Tis nowt to do with me so . . ."

“
I was only going to say that ... "

“
Ah don't want ter know what tha' was going ter say so if tha'll tell me where tha' wants these besoms put I'll be off up to't coppice to see what wants felling."

“
Of course, Mr Varty. Leave the besoms by the sledge and I'll pack them later. I'm to be off to Whitehaven."

“
Aye, so I heard. Ah'll come with thi'. There's a tobacconist over there that sells tobacco I like . . ."

“
Oh no, Mr Varty, I can get it for you."

“
No, tha' can't. Tha'd only get wrong sort. Women knows nowt about tobacco."

“
That's true, Mr Varty."

“
An' tha' can call me Natty, Annie.
”

They both had a strong tendency towards hysteria, Annie and Reed, a great bubbling laughter which welled up inside them so that they turned to one another, clinging together, not in passion, but with the merriment, the foolish absurdity which comes when a great strain has ended. They were not laughing at Natty, though his paradoxical
change of direction, the sudden reversal of his antipathy towards her was comical in the extreme. It was his last words that amused Annie and it was relief that made Reed lean against her whilst great gales of laughter shook them both.

“
I don't know how I kept my hands from the old fool." "No, he's not that, Reed, but what was it do you think, that made him change his mind?
”

He put her from him. Not far, no more than six inches but enough to look down into her shining eyes.

“
Don't you know?" The turmoil of their bodies had subsided now and there was peace and a quality of honesty between them. "Don't you know what you have? You are beautiful Annie Abbott, but rarer than that is your absolute unawareness of your beauty. And not only your face is beautiful but so is your heart and soul. It shines through and when men look at it, men who recognise it, as I do, as Charlie Lucas did . . . oh yes, my darling, I realise now why he left . . . and as even an old man like Natty Varty does, there is nothing we would not do for you. Dear God, if only you would let me do it. Which brings me to the purpose of my visit. Do you still want that girl of yours to go to school? Ah, I see you do, well you can give me a glass of ale and sit beside me on the wall while we discuss it.
Chapter
25

The day before they were to set off for Whitehaven, the last day in September it was, Sally Garnett came running down the track from Upfell, her youngest in her arms, her face crimson, her pale brown hair in a tangle about her head and her plump figure, never given a chance to right itself between pregnancies, wobbling all over the place like a sackful of blown up balloons.

“
I can't stop, I've left Sammy in charge of little 'uns but he's only five himself and Alfie's a real handful. This is Aggie, I called her after me main."

“
Come in, Sally, oh, do come in and have some tea. Phoebe's in the dairy. We have a cow now, you know, and she says the place needs a good scrubbing out every day, just as though she hasn't done it once already today, and Cat's at school . . . Oh, yes, didn't you know? Oh, please come in and drink a cup of tea with me and let me tell you all about it. Here, let me take Aggie while you get your breath," and though the baby stank like a ferret, making Annie turn her head and think sadly of Aggie Mounsey and her passion for cleanliness, she took her from Sally's arms and tried to propel Sally into Phoebe's shining kitchen.

“
Oh no, I dassunt, Annie. He'd kill me. He'd kill me if he knew I was even speaking to yer. He's in a fearful temper . . ." and now, as Annie got a good look at her, she could see what Bert's fearful temper had done to his wife's eye. It was set in a deep purple socket and her cheek-bone seemed to stand out in a peak from the rest of her face.

“
Sally, come in. He's obviously away from Upfell or you wouldn't be here . . ."

“

“
Aye, market in Keswick . . ." Sally was getting her breath back now and she eyed the interior of the kitchen and the offer of a drink of tea with some longing.

“
Well then, he won't be back before dark . . ."

“
Ah knows that, but ah dassunt, Annie." Sally's terror of Bert's fearful temper evidently could not be convinced that even the distance between Browhead and Keswick Market would hide her from his wrath. "Ah've just come to tell thi' that he's livid about Natty Varty. Oh, Annie, I'm that frightened he'll do summat bad to thee, or to tha' farm or even that lass of yourn. He don't care how he goes about it, but he's right set on doing thi' a mischief. That's how I got this," fingering her swollen face. "I said no more than pr'aps he'd best be careful an' he landed me one that . . . well, tha' can see for thissen. He reckons tha' coaxed Natty away wi' . . . well, I'm too ashamed to tell thee what he said, an' Natty an' all . . . an old man! Bert . . . well, he knows about thee and him from up Long Beck. I'm sorry, lass . . ." putting a contrite hand on Annie's arm, watching as the soft creamy blush and the bright glow brought about by her own arrival at Browhead slipped away from her friend's face. "He says that any man what . . . Oh, Annie, lass, he reckons tha'll lie down for any man, an' it were then when he said that, that I spoke up and he clouted me."

“
Oh Sally, I'm so sorry, for you and for myself. Dear God, I've been with one man in my life, no more, and then I was a child, fourteen, ignorant, in love or so I thought. He said we were to be married . . . and for that one mistake I am to suffer this. Seven years, Sally and still they turn on me . . ."

“
Aye, love, ah know. Everyone's talking about yer an' that's all they'll do, but not Bert. He'll hurt thi', Annie. Can thi' not ask . . . ?" she tossed her head awkwardly in the direction of Long Beck and Reed Macauley. "Will he not protect thi'?"

“
Sally, there is nothing between me and Reed Macauley, nothing." Annie's words came through gritted teeth.

“
He'd like there to be though, wouldn't he, lass?" Sally spoke with a sad wisdom and Annie sighed.

“
Oh yes, Sal, he'd like there to be."

“
Buggers, the lot of 'em."

“
Oh, Sally, why won't they let me get on . . . ?"

“
I don't know lass, but I'd best get back. God knows what them lot's up to. But tha'll be careful, won't tha'. Watch out for Bert."

“
I'm to go to Whitehaven tomorrow with Natty." "Eeeh, whatever for?"

“
To sell my swills to the coaling ships. There's a good market there. I've sold them here and there, one or two at a time, but I reckon I could get rid of the lot in one go."

“
An' tha's leaving thi' lass on er own with only that girl with her?
”

Annie's face lit up for a moment.

“
No, that's what I wanted to tell you. Cat's gone over to . . "

“
Tha'd best tell em to lock t' door."

“
Bert wouldn't hurt Phoebe, Sally. He's no quarrel with her and Cat's gone to . .
“

But Sally was sidling away, unconcerned now with anything but her agitated need to get back to Upfell and her children. She had tied Alfie and Emma to the legs of the heavy kitchen table but she wouldn't put it past her Sammy to have released them, and God only knew what devilment or danger the four of them had got up to. Dear Lord, but she missed her mam. She wouldn't have this shiner if her main had still been alive. He wouldn't have dared lift a finger to her, not with Aggie Mounsey at his back, the rotten sod, but he'd been that incensed when Natty Varty had left, not saying where he was off to since Natty Varty was not one for blurting his business to anyone. Natty had not been settled ever since her mam died, Sally knew that. And when Bert had found out where Natty had gone, well, she and the children had cowered in the barn for more than two hours until he'd slammed out of the kitchen and set off in the direction of The Bull. He'd abused her
something awful when he got back, no doubt putting her in the family way again, and that was when he blacked her eye. Oh, God . . . Mam ..
.

Annie and Natty were gone five days. They had walked the shortest route, dragging the sledge round the top of Bassenthwaite lake and up and over the top of High Side, bypassing Cockermouth, crossing the river Cocker and spending the night at the Beehive Inn below Deanscales. On across Dean Moor and High Moor in an almost direct line until they reached Whitehaven. They were lucky. There were many coaling ships and tramp steamers tied up in the harbour and by the end of the third day they had sold all their swills, though short of going from door to door, the besoms, in any number were not wanted. Annie was uneasy. Sally had put a worm of disquiet in her mind and the whole time she and Natty were away, she had the strongest compulsion to do everything on the run, longing to tell customers to hurry and make their minds up as they dickered between this swill or that or should it be three or half a dozen? One man on the harbour had wanted to discuss a bit of business, saying he would take as many of Annie's swills as she could get across to him. His ship called at Liverpool, Belfast, Greenock and many other ports where the colliers docked, and he was sure he could sell them for her if they could agree on a price, he said. There was no disparagement in his eyes or voice, or in those of his crew, at the sight of her strange rig-out, for these were men who had been to the far-flung outposts of the British Empire in their time, and though they eyed her long trousered legs and soft bowler hat somewhat curiously they were accustomed to seeing stranger sights than her. She was a bonny lass or would be underneath those baggy jacket and trousers and the unflattering man's hat she wore, but that was nothing to do with them. Besides, the old man she had with her was sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued and gave the impression he'd take his sturdy shepherd's crook to any man who looked sideways at him, or her
.

She and Natty had got on quite well together, she haddecided. It seemed he had taught himself to read when he had worked on the estate of some wealthy landowner just on the border between Cumberland and Scotland, in his youth. There had been broadsheets left about in the kitchen and being a resolute lad with little to say to his fellows, he had puzzled it out until he could decipher the squiggles on the paper. The Glasgow Herald had been his master's particular favourite, costing the exorbitant sum of fourpence halfpenny, and the young man Natty had grown into had become used to that one newspaper, looking out for copies wherever he went. He read everything printed in it from advertisements of cottages to let or for sale, the doings of the County Sessions, the finance accounts of the treasury, reports from the House of Lords, notices to shippers and passengers on sailing vessels and even an account of Her Majesty's Drawing Room held at St James's Palace. But anything of a political nature was bread and butter to him and he liked to discourse on it to anyone sensible enough to listen. Not many were, not of his acquaintance, but he found a ready listener in Annie Abbott.

“
That were a right sad do about Peel," he said shortly, right out of the blue on their first morning together. They were passing through the wooded area just north of Bassenthwaite Lake. The sun had ventured forth in a last effort to prolong the autumn but it was cold, sharp with the feeling of the winter to come. The oaks and alders, the willows weeping into the water were fast losing their leaves and the woodland floor was rich with a spongy layer in every shade from the palest cream to the darkest red, through which tiny saplings were reaching up to the light, thick as spring snowdrops. There was a cascade of silvered water running down the beck into the lake and propping up a drystone wall over which Natty clambered as spry as a boy was a huge and noble old yew tree. Natty's dog pattered at his heels. He had no name. His eyes never left Natty and it needed only a movement of Natty's hand or the click of his fingers, perhaps just a turn of his head and the dog knew exactly what was required of him. Annie
had left
Blackie
and Bonnie for company with Phoebe.