Larkrigg Fell (43 page)

‘I think they’re wonderful. How clever you are.’

‘I’ve sold quite a few and hope to sell more. It’s proving to be quite a good living.’

‘So you did make it after all. Oh, Tessa, I’m so pleased for you. You deserve some good luck.’ Beth hugged her friend and her thoughts flew to her own abandoned scheme, a bundle of half-finished moccasins stowed away in a box somewhere.

‘I’ve made contact with several galleries who display them for me,’ Tessa was saying. ‘I’d love my own studio though. That’s the only problem with the bungalow. Great for Jonty’s wheelchair, but small.’

‘Well, I think these are wonderful.’

Tessa sat back on the sofa and curled her feet under her. ‘So, what about you? What’ve you been up to? Besides producing babies.’

‘Looking after three men, and moving house.’

‘OK, point made.’

‘As a matter of fact…’

‘What?’ Tessa laughed. ‘Don’t turn shy on me, not after all these years.’

Beth brought out the tiny moccasins she’d been working on. ‘These are only for practice, to see if they’re any good.’

‘Oh, they’re lovely. So cute. There must be a market for these.’

‘I did think about it. But then with the baby, and the problems at Cathra Crag, they got forgotten. Now, like you, I’ve no space.’

‘And also like me, you’re desperate for a bit of extra cash.’ Beth gave a wry smile. ‘Thank you Sarah.’

The two girls stared at each other and the idea was born in both their heads in the same instant. ‘Broombank. You don’t think Meg would let us use one of her barns, do you? Tessa asked.

‘I had exactly the same thought.’

A surge of hope, and by the time Tess left they’d mapped out the first steps they would take to get the project rolling, assuming they could persuade her to rent them some space.

When Andrew returned that evening and wearily told her that the job had already gone, Beth was partly relieved, because of the distance involved, yet more anxious than ever. ‘Oh, Andrew. How will we manage?’

‘We’ll manage because we have to manage,’ he said, a sharp bitterness in his tone. ‘I’ll go and get the dole, or unemployment benefit, or whatever it’s called. Like everyone else.’

‘Can’t you take one or two of those part-time jobs,’ she tried again, her voice tentative and coaxing.

‘Sacrifice my skills and my pride you mean?’

‘We can’t afford pride.’

‘I can’t afford to keep a family on part-time pay, particularly when I have to spend half the wages on petrol travelling to wherever it is, for no more than a few hours’ milking. It’s not economic, Beth.’ Spoken with such bitterness his hurt was almost tangible.

She felt desperation claw at her throat. ‘Oh, if only we hadn’t lost Larkrigg Hall, everything would be perfect then, wouldn’t it?’

She saw at once her mistake as his face closed with that familiar tightness. Then he reached for the jacket he’d only just taken off with jerky, angry movements. ‘I wouldn’t know, would I? It wasn’t my inheritance, so nowt to do with me.’

‘I didn’t mean…’

There was cold fury in his eyes now. ‘Aye, you did. You blame me for all of this mess.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘You can’t help comparing your life now with what you once had. You’ve never stopped mooning for the loss of that house. Even Cathra Crag wasn’t really good enough for you, was it?’ His voice was rising as he made no attempt to stem his anger.

It came almost as a relief to Andrew to let it out, since it had simmered for weeks now, not least during the humiliation of standing, cap in hand, begging for work and being turned away. He should have rung up first, of course, to save himself the expense and bother. Only he’d thought he stood a better chance face to face, man to man. How wrong can you be?

‘No clogs in your kitchen. Not for you my mother’s mangle. You must have electricity. New curtains and rugs. Vacuum cleaners and washing machines. Everything old must be thrown out and replaced with new or your own stuff from your precious Larkrigg.’

‘Your twisting everything. I only wanted to make the house cosy for us.’

‘All you wanted was to spend. Make us bankrupt, same as you did with Larkrigg. Even I was only second best. You made that very clear, right from the start.’

She flinched as if he had struck her. ‘Don’t say such a thing.’

‘Why not? It’s true.’

‘I refuse to quarrel with you. You’re only lashing out at me because you didn’t get the job. I know I should have checked Sarah was paying the mortgage on Larkrigg, but that’s all water under the bridge now. As for Cathra Crag. I loved that farm, and Seth and Billy. I only wanted to make a comfortable home for us all.’ Tears stood proud in her eyes but not for the world would she let them fall.

He flung open the door. ‘It’s easy for you to talk. But you made me feel uncomfortable. Look how long you made me wait to make our marriage a proper one. Not until you’d decided you wanted a bairn, no doubt.’

‘Oh, Andrew.’ All other words choked in her throat.

‘If Cathra Crag wasn’t good enough, God knows how long you’ll put up with this hell-hole. You should have waited for your beautiful Italian, instead of settling for a peasant. Now you’re a peasant too.’

The slam of the door echoed in her heart long after he had gone.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘It was the most appalling row.’ Beth was sitting in her living room with her head in her hands, Tessa seated quietly by her side. Baby William played happily with his bricks on the rug, piling them up so he could knock them down again. ‘He just stormed off and I haven’t seen him since.’

‘When was that?’

‘Yesterday.’

A long thoughtful silence while Tessa considered this unwelcome news. ‘Andrew is a proud man. Always was. He’ll come back as soon as he’s sorted himself out.’ Then more briskly, ‘As for you, you have this new baby to think of. Worrying is not allowed. Getting upset will do you no good at all. And when Andrew does return, don’t comment on his absence or you’ll start a new row. Jonty has had some dreadful times these last few years, some really dangerous mood swings, but he’s calm now and has reached a sort of contentment. And he adores James. They are great pals.’

Beth managed a smile. ‘I can see he loves you. He rarely takes his eyes off you.’

‘Andrew loves you.’

‘Yes.’ She met Tessa’s compassionate gaze. ‘Sometimes I wonder how on earth I would manage without his love.’

Andrew came home later that afternoon. He looked grubby and rumpled, as if he’d slept rough somewhere. Probably in a barn at Cathra Crag, if she was any judge. But Beth took her friend’s advice and didn’t ask.
 

The next weeks proved every bit as difficult as she had dreaded. He searched desperately for work, but came up with nothing. He helped Meg and Tam out when they were hard pressed, did what part-time work he could find, but none brought in much money and he absolutely refused to take any for helping out at Broombank.

‘I’ll not take charity.’

No matter how much Meg insisted it wasn’t charity if he was working, Andrew insisted you didn’t make money out of family, not in his book.

Beth sailed through her pregnancy, as usual, spending hours each week chatting over her plans with Tessa. Those afternoons were a happy relief in a way, since Andrew showed no interest in their project. She found his reaction disappointing.

It hurt her badly to see her husband diminished by his lack of success. He seemed to shrink in upon himself with each passing week, and it worried her greatly. She felt that all she could do was to keep him well fed and try to raise his spirits. Neither of which was easy with the small income they had coming in.

One evening she placed a steaming plate of roast pork and vegetables in front of him, sat William in his high chair and settled to eat her own meal while helping the toddler negotiate his spoon from dish to mouth without losing too much food on the way. She glanced at Andrew as he made no move to start eating.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘How come we can afford meat?’

‘I bought it cheap,’ she lied, fingers crossed beneath the table.

‘I thought the butcher’s van had stopped calling?’

‘Why should it? Eat up, love, before it goes cold.’ Meg had given her the pork that afternoon, when she and Tessa had called to run through some details. Not that Andrew must know that. ‘Tessa called today,’ she said brightly, changing the subject.

‘Seems she’s never away.’

‘She likes to show me her wonderful paintings.’

He picked up his fork and toyed with the meat, tender and succulent in a rich gravy.

Stubborn fool, Beth thought. The smell of it must be making his mouth water.

‘She sells them, you know, and is quite sure I could sell my baby moccasins.’ Beth risked a laugh. ‘We talked about it all afternoon. Meg is all for it. Says we can use one of the old barns for workshops. We could divide it up, maybe let units to other craftspeople. Tam is looking into the question of planning permission for us.’ She chattered on about advertising and finding customers while hunger finally won and Andrew stolidly ate his dinner, as was his wont. When he had finished, he got up and began to pace about as if he hadn’t the patience to sit still. Beth stopped talking, mid-sentence.

‘What do you think then?’

‘About what?’

‘About this workshop idea.’

He went to stand and glare into the empty fire grate, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched. ‘Why ask me? You seem to have it all settled.’

She stifled a sigh of irritation. He wasn’t himself, and she really must make allowances. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’

‘Suit yourself what you do. It’s your life. Only don’t forget that bairn you carry.’

‘As if I would. It’d only be part-time anyway.’

He turned to her, his face calm. ‘You don’t need to work at all, if you don’t want to. I’ve found a job,’ he said, quite out of the blue. She was so thrilled and relieved her whole body jerked. ‘Really? Where? What is it? Why didn’t you tell me the minute you walked in?’

‘You were too wrapped up in yourself, as usual.’ The way he avoided her eyes told Beth that he knew this to be unfair so she swallowed the words that sprang to her own defence. ‘It’s in the stores at Bramley Engineering.’

She set down her knife and fork and stared at him, appalled. ‘ Bramley Engineering?’

‘That’s right. I hand out tools and nails and rivets and stuff when they need them.’

‘Not on a farm then?’

‘No,’ he said, irritation creeping back into his voice. ‘Not on a farm. I’ve told you, there’s no decent farm work to be had. We can’t live on a bit of part-time milking here and there. I won’t struggle. I have my pride.’ He glanced at her face, gone pale with distress, and guilt washed through him like a great hot tide. Look what he’d brought her to. Right down in the gutter with him, begging scraps of pork off Broombank to put on his table. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t bring in enough for such treats.

‘I ate Meg’s bloody roast pork but we’ll have no more of it. Not now I’m a working man again. I’ll buy me own in future, thanks very much. Go on, don’t sit there with your mouth drooping, eat up, you need your strength too, for the new baby.’

But her appetite had quite gone. ‘You’re going to work in a factory,’ she said, and his voice rose in temper now.

‘Aye, a factory. What of it? We need the money.’

‘But…’

‘Don’t start, Beth. Don’t start.’ And pulling on his coat and cap he strode to the door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Down to the Broomdale Inn. A bloke can go out for a pint, I suppose, to celebrate finding a job?’ And he went, closing the door quietly behind him, a consideration which did nothing to ease her disquiet.

On the first day of February, 1983, Beth gave birth to a daughter, Emily, named after Andrew’s mother. For the first time in weeks she felt as if they were a family again. She saw the pride and joy in Andrew’s eyes as he bent over the baby and when he leaned over the bed to kiss her she put her arms about his neck and held him close for a moment. ‘We’re lucky, aren’t we?’

‘In some things,’ he said, and she felt a tremor, almost like fear. It seemed so difficult to reach him these days, but she had no wish to start an argument, not now when her breasts were swollen with milk and her heart filled with love for their child.

Perhaps Andrew thought the same for he kissed the tip of her nose, as he had once used to do. For a second they looked deeply into each other’s eyes and something inside of Beth stirred. She’d missed him. She’d missed those moments of intimacy they’d once enjoyed. He hadn’t come near her for months, partly because of the pregnancy but also because of the atmosphere which had grown between them, like a canker. Perhaps he’d be more cheerful now Emily was born, and they had regular money coming in.

‘I’ll be myself again soon,’ she told him.
 

‘Good,’ he said softly, and they shared a tremulous smile. Sighing with pleasure, Beth kissed him. Everything was going to be all right, she could feel it.