Larkrigg Fell (41 page)

Andrew closed the door on the last protesting relative. Ellen kissed Beth, scolding her firmly to keep her feet up, brushing aside her thanks as she went quietly off into the night.

‘By heck, they’d have stripped the place bare if they’d stayed another minute,’ said Billy. ‘Now what do we do?’

‘Don’t ask me.’ Andrew stood in the centre of the kitchen looking as if he’d been smacked in the face by one of the big stones off Larkrigg Fell.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Beth offered yet again. ‘Then we can talk, and start to work things out.’

But no matter how much they talked, and they did, long into the night, there seemed no solution. Seth’s superstitions had left them vulnerable and unprotected. There was nothing to stop the farm being put on the market, nothing to stop them from being evicted from their own home.

The very next day their worst fears were confirmed. Their solicitor told them that if indeed old Mr Barton had not made a will, and there was certainly no record of one, then the three brothers were each entitled to a fair share of the estate.

The good news was that the nieces and nephews were entitled to nothing. But that also included Andrew who, it seemed, had no rights either.

‘But I work on the farm. It’s my living.’

‘You were employed by your grandfather? He paid you a wage each week. Is that correct?’

‘Yes. We both of us got a wage. Dad and me did most of the work.’

‘That is not at issue here,’ said the solicitor, kindly but firmly. ‘The point is that you took no share in the farm’s profits. Neither of you.’

‘No. I doubt there were any, not much anyroad.’

‘Whether there were or not, Mr Seth Barton owned and ran Cathra Crag, officially, until the day of his death?’

Aye,’ agreed Billy. ‘He did the accounts, told us what he wanted doing, though we didn’t allus take any notice, and we got on with it. Never would let go of the reins wouldn’t the old fool, though he’s done less himself in this last year or so.’

The solicitor sadly shook his head. ‘Then I’m afraid there’s no way out. The farm must be broken up and sold, and the resulting sum equally divided between the three brothers. The only way of saving the farm for yourself, Mr Barton, would be if you were prepared to buy the other two out of their share.’

‘How could I do that?’

‘By taking on a mortgage, if you’ve no ready cash available.’ Billy’s face took on an expression of panic. ‘Eeh, no. I’m happy enough to retire. It’s my son here who it most affects.’

‘Then he would have to buy all three of you out.’

‘I couldn’t afford to do that. The farm couldn’t cover the payments,’

‘As I say, the end is inevitable. I extend my sympathies but this happens more often than you might think. Small farms are being sold up every week. It’s the modem way, I’m afraid. Cash in hand being considered more important than land. It’s very sad.’

‘Yes,’ said Andrew tightly. ‘It is.’

Andrew gazed on his wife, her sweet face scrubbed as clean as a child’s, snuggled beside him in the big feather bed and his heart ached. How he loved her. He’d known all along that she didn’t feel the same way about him but he’d felt that he had something to offer. A home, a farm, a good way of life. Now he had nothing.

‘It won’t make any difference to us,’ she said, reading his mind, and he heard the telling struggle to hide her fears in the quaver of her voice. ‘We’ll manage, same as we’ve always done.’

‘You’ll not fancy starving, I reckon.’

‘Don’t exaggerate, Andrew. You’ll find a job somewhere. And I too can work.’ Then she remembered the new life starting in her womb. ‘Well, soon as the baby’s born.’

‘Oh, stop it.’ He leapt from the bed and started to pace the small bedroom, feeling his anger rise hot and tight in his chest as he stormed back and forth, desperately seeking a solution. ‘I’ll not have a wife of mine with two bairns to take care of, working her guts out. What would you do? Take in washing?’

She giggled. ‘I could always go begging in the streets.’ But he wasn’t in the mood for joking tonight.

‘Don’t talk so damned stupid.’

‘Hush, keep your voice down. You’ll wake Will.’ She crept to the bottom of the bed, trying to catch his hand as he passed by on his endless pacing but he wouldn’t let himself be won over, kept twitching it out of her reach, pushing his fingers through his hair in restless agitation. Fear was hot in him. He’d lose her. Why should she sit in the gutter with him?

‘Seems to me you might decide you’ve got yourself a pretty poor bargain and pack your bags and go,’ he said, hating the bitterness in his own voice.

‘Go? Go where? Why would I do that?’

‘You might wish you’d married that fancy Italian instead.’ It was the first time either of them had mentioned Pietro in years, and only the very extreme distress Andrew was feeling had driven him to do so now.

Beth didn’t even flinch, though she was far too stunned to find a swift response.

He could feel her eyes upon him, yet nothing in her expression gave away what she was thinking. It came to her then on a rush of startling revelation, that whatever happened she would indeed stand by him. Life away from the farm would be hard enough, life without Andrew seemed too dreadful to contemplate. He was her husband, the father of her children. She’d grown used to his little ways, his stolid patience and painful pride. His need for her never failed to excite her, and she needed him. She got off the bed and went to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

‘Andrew.’ She always addressed him by his name, never darling, or love, or sweetheart. Yet there was real affection in her voice, and in the soft touch of her hand upon his cheek. ‘I’m going nowhere without you. Don’t tear yourself apart in this way. Haven’t we gone beyond such taunts?’

‘I don’t want your pity.’

‘I’m not offering any. Where you are, I must be. That’s what marriage is all about. I’m your wife, and proud to be so.’

Words with a ring of sincerity in them, yet to Andrew they were not enough. The image of Pietro lay between them still, like a sore rubbing against the bud of their happiness. Even Beth, sensing their inadequacy, stumbled on, making matters worse. ‘Whatever life throws at us, we must take with a smile, eh?’

‘And you got me, the booby prize.’

She kissed his chin, rough against her mouth as he hadn’t yet shaved. ‘You’re getting touchy again. I need you, Andrew.’

‘Do you?’ He stared fiercely down at her, and she laughed.

‘Of course I do. I can’t have this baby on my own, now can I?’

‘Happen that’s all you want me for, babies. All you ever wanted.’ Understanding that he was hurting, and desperate not to rise to this latest cruel barb, Beth rubbed her cheek against his, breathing in the familiar scent of him. ‘Happen I enjoy the getting of them,’ and was pleased to feel him relax against her, hear at last his soft chuckle.

After a moment he summoned up the courage to ask, ‘So you’ll stop on with me then?’

‘I reckon I might,’ she agreed, and he knew she was teasing him now, gently mocking his Cumbrian twang. But he could hear something more in her voice, a note which caused the blood to pound deep in his belly. He wanted her, needed her so much it hurt. Sometimes he woke in the night in a cold sweat, terrified she might have packed her bags and left him. He pulled her roughly to him, desperate to curb the ache in his groin as he cupped the hardening mound of her stomach with one gentle hand. ‘You might change your mind and leave me one day.’

‘I won’t. Not ever.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely certain.’

And as he kissed her, then carried her back to bed with a trembling urgency to make love to her until she cried out in ecstasy, in that moment of supreme fulfilment, Beth believed every word of that promise, with all her heart.

Chapter Twenty-Three

In no time at all a notice had appeared in the local paper announcing the coming sale of all stock and farming equipment at Cathra Crag, to be followed in due course, date to be announced, by the auction of the farm itself.

Billy put his head in his hands and groaned. ‘How will we face it?’

Beth waited for Andrew to say something, to make a decision as he usually did. But he remained silent, seated in Seth’s old rush chair by the fire, his hands hanging loose between his knees. He was the picture of a man in complete dejection, mourning for a way of life, not simply the loss of his job. She brushed back a lock of his hair with the tips of her fingers. What should she do? Beth had a sudden urge to turn to Sarah for comfort. But even a twin could let you down.
 

‘We’ll face this together,’ Beth said, lifting her chin and feeling a rush of adrenalin flow into her veins, knowing this was no time for weakness. ‘I’ll make a start on the house. You’d best begin by clearing out all those barns and sheds.’

Two pairs of eyes swivelled to hers.

‘Aye,’ Billy said, voice doleful. ‘I reckon you’re right but it won’t be easy. There’s stuff in there that’s not seen the light of day for generations. Anyroad, clearing out barns isn’t going to solve anything.’

‘It’s a start,’ Beth said brightly. ‘We’ll take it one day at a time, right?’

When Billy had gone she turned to her husband. ‘You can start by looking through the situations vacant, and I’ll go and talk to gran. She might know of a cottage we could rent.’

It was a surprise to them all, no less Beth herself, the strength she developed and pumped into her menfolk during the following weeks. Was this the same girl who had been left devastated at the altar, who dithered and succumbed to her sister’s every whim? Was this the girl who was so concerned with offending said sister, that she’d sacrificed the man she loved for her sake?

Now Beth seemed to be the sort of woman who lured a man to her bed by devious means and now, it seemed, could rise to a crisis without a moment’s hesitation. She smiled, and baby Will grinned back at her, showing his front teeth.

‘Perhaps I’m growing up, at last,’ she said, ‘or growing immune to disasters.’ And lifting her child into her arms, nibbled his ear, making him squeal with delight.

Beth found them a cottage to rent on Quarry Row, arranged for an estate agent to take Billy around a selection of flats in Kendal, and refused, point blank, to allow either man to be depressed.

‘We must look on this as a new challenge. This isn’t the first home I’ve lost,’ she reminded them, defiantly bright. ‘So I’m an expert on the subject.’

‘Getting to be a bad habit, eh?’

Beth grinned. ‘Apparently so. Perhaps I’m the jinx here. Oh lord, that can’t be true, can it?’ Her grey-blue eyes opened wide with such horror that for the first time in days, Andrew actually laughed.

‘Don’t start getting superstitious on me.’

Beth giggled. ‘Or neurotic? I’ll go back to my kitchen and pack dishes. Only, can you please take care of William for a few hours?’ Andrew grimaced. ‘I’ve a lot to do. A tractor to strip down and grease. I can’t have a bairn toddling round.’

Beth sighed, straining against the tiredness of early pregnancy. ‘If we are to have any refreshments at all for this sale, I’d best get cracking this very afternoon. I need help, Andrew, and there’s no one else, is there?’

‘Don’t make a fuss,’ he said, a sourness creeping into his tone. ‘It’s not a party.’

‘Billy would want it all to be done properly, in the time-honoured way. He won’t want his friends and neighbours to think we’re mean hearted. Now, Will?’

‘I could take him for an hour mebbe.’

‘That’s not very much. Hardly enough time to roll out the pastry.’

‘Put him down for a sleep then.’

‘He’s had two already while I finished emptying the loft and took the rubbish down to the tip. He’s bright as a button. Look at him.’ William was sitting on the lawn watching a ladybird climb a stalk of grass. At fourteen months he was a sturdy little boy, already walking and taking an interest in everything about him. He held up a clover and showed it to Beth in delight.

‘Very pretty, darling. No, not in your mouth. Please, Andrew? I’ve only two days left to get everything ready. And I can’t ask Meg to have him every time I’m stuck. He practically thinks he lives there already, he’s been so often recently. And she’s at the auction mart today.’

‘Two hours, maximum,’ he grumbled. He knew he’d piled a lot of work on Beth’s shoulders these last weeks, but he’d spent most of it searching for work. But despite hours in the phone box, and visiting every farm he could think of who might be in need of a man, the story was always the same. A bit of part-time milking here, the odd day with sheep there, but no full time work to be had for love nor money, and Andrew was not in the mood for compromise.

‘Two hours will have to do then.’ Beth knew it wasn’t that he didn’t love his son, quite the opposite. He was a man on the edge. ‘You’ll find something soon,’ she consoled him, as she had a dozen times before. ‘Or you could always take a couple of those part-time jobs. Temporarily.’

He glowered at her, his face pinched and pale. ‘I hope I won’t have to sink to that level. I’m a skilled farmer, not a two-bit labourer.’