Sing as We Go (2 page)

‘Now then, Buttercup,’ she greeted the animal cheerfully. ‘Let’s hope you’re in a good mood this morning.’ She patted the cow’s rump and then bent to her task.

‘Have you been putting ideas into her head? I wouldn’t put it past you,’ Jim growled as he sat down at the supper table, while his wife hovered at his side ready to place the plate of cold ham and pickles in front of him.

Edith cast a frightened glance at her daughter and then looked back at her husband. ‘I – I don’t know what you mean, Jim.’

‘ “I don’t know what you mean, Jim,” ’ he mimicked in a high-pitched, whining tone.

Kathy sat down on the far side of the table and picked up her knife and fork as she said calmly, ‘Dad threatened to turn me out, so I told him I’m going anyway.’

Edith’s eyes widened in terror and she dropped the plate she was holding. It fell to the floor and broke into four pieces.

Jim rose slowly to his feet and raised his hand as if to strike her. ‘Now look what you’ve done, you stupid, stupid woman.’

Kathy was on her feet at once and launched herself between them. ‘Don’t you dare lay a finger on her,’ she blazed. ‘It’s only because of her that I’ve stayed this long.’

Father and daughter glared at each other, but then, for once, Jim’s gaze was the first to fall away. Maybe he’d seen something – a new strength of resolve – in his daughter’s eyes. Perhaps he realized that if he pushed her just that little bit too far, she would carry out her threat. She would leave.

What Jim did not realize – could never have believed it – was that Kathy had already made up her mind. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but one day very soon, she really would go.

Two

‘You coming to church this morning?’

Amy Robinson’s merry face peered over the bottom half of the cowshed door. She leaned on the top of it and rested her chin on her arms to watch her friend finishing off the morning milking with Cowslip in the nearest stall. Amy’s dark brown eyes danced with mischief. The light dusting of freckles across her nose only accentuated her natural prettiness, but her light brown hair was as wild as ever. No matter what Amy did to try to tame her locks into a smooth, sleek style, the unruly curls escaped. Kathy glanced up, smiling. ‘Of course. Would I
ever
miss singing with the choir?’

Amy threw back her head and laughed aloud. ‘Choir? You call that a choir? Old Mrs Pennyfeather warbling off key. Mr Jenkins growling at the back and three cheeky little brats trying to look angelic but actually dreaming up their next prank to play on poor old Miss Tong.’

Miss Tong was the organist who was also the unofficial choirmaster – or ‘mistress’, Kathy supposed – until someone more proficient should apply for the post. But no one seemed to want the job and St Cuthbert’s motley choir struggled on to lead an ever-diminishing congregation at the Sunday services.

‘My darling girl – ’ Amy teased and adopted a lilting tone – ‘you’d have to go to Wales to hear a proper choir, look you, isn’t it?’ She mimicked the accent perfectly, for her maternal grandmother had been Welsh and Amy had spent a week’s holiday every summer on her granny’s farm in the heart of the Welsh countryside. Even now her face sobered and took on a dreamy, faraway look as if she were reliving those happy days.

Pulling her friend back to the present, Kathy asked quietly, ‘And how do you think the choir would manage without me?’

The question sounded arrogant and for a moment Amy blinked. It was so unlike her dearest friend to show even the faintest trace of conceit.

‘Oh, ’ark at ’er!’ she mocked. ‘God’s gift to St Cuthbert’s choir, a’ you?’

Pink embarrassment tinged Kathy’s cheeks. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said swiftly. ‘I – I didn’t mean it to sound the way it came out . . .’

Amy laughed. ‘I know you didn’t, you daft ’aporth.’ She pulled a comical face and gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘It pains me to admit it, but you have got the best voice of anyone, apart perhaps from little Charlie Oates. You wouldn’t think a little tyke like him could sing like an angel. Mind you, his voice’ll break. Yours won’t. You’ve got it for life. You’re a lucky devil, you know. Dad says my singing sounds like a frog croaking – and an injured one at that!’

For a moment, Kathy’s mouth was a hard line. ‘Lucky, am I? Well, I’ll tell you something, Amy. I’d swap places with you any day of the week, voice or no voice.’

Amy’s face sobered at once. ‘Aw, ducky, is your dad giving you a hard time about the other night?’

Kathy bit down hard on her lower lip to still its sudden trembling. She didn’t normally give way to self-pitying tears, but the concern in her friend’s tone touched her. ‘It’s not only that. It’s – it’s – Oh,
everything
! The way he treats me. I’m nothing more to him than a servant. An unpaid one, an’ all. I’ve a good mind to up sticks and go!”

‘But – but if you go away – ne’er mind the choir – what would your poor mam do without you?’

Kathy sighed. ‘I know. I’ve only stayed this long because of her. Because he’ll take it out on her if I do leave.’

‘Does – does he – hit her?’

Kathy bit her lip. ‘He did once. She dared to answer him back about something. I don’t know what. I was only ten and I wasn’t actually in the room when it happened. I – I heard it though. Through the bedroom wall. She had a black eye for weeks.’

‘Has he ever hit you?’

Kathy laughed wryly. ‘Oh yes. With his belt. The last time was two years ago.’ Kathy smiled at the memory, but it was a bitter smile. ‘He hadn’t realized how strong I’d grown with working on the farm. And I snatched the belt from his hand and told him that if he ever tried it again, I’d go. I meant it. And he knew I did.’

‘But
can
you leave home? You’re not twenty-one for another two years.’

‘Well, he’d have a job to carry me back physically, wouldn’t he? And first,’ she added pointedly, ‘he’d have to find me.’

No more was said, but Amy went home without the usual cheery smile on her face. ‘What’s up with you?’ her brother, Morry, greeted her. ‘Lost a shilling and found a farthing?’

Tears started in Amy’s eyes.

At once, Morry put his arm about her. ‘Hey, Sis, what’s the matter?’

‘Oh, Morry, it’s Kathy,’ Amy blurted out as the tears now trickled down her cheeks. ‘She – she’s talking about leaving home.’

Morry’s round, gentle face was grim. ‘Well, I can’t say I blame her. Living with that ol’ devil. But where would she go?’

Amy shook her head. ‘She didn’t say. I – I expect she doesn’t trust me. And – to be honest – I can’t blame her. You know what a blabbermouth I am. And if she does go, she doesn’t want
him
to be able to find her.’

‘Mm.’ For a moment, Morry was thoughtful. ‘I’ll have a word with her. See if there’s anything I – we can do.’

Amy scrubbed away her tears and glanced up at her brother. ‘You could ask her to marry you.’

Morry didn’t answer. He just smiled quietly.

‘Maurice, lad. Nice to see you. Come away in. I’ll get the missis to mek a cuppa. Or would you prefer a beer? And a piece of ’er currant cake.’ Jim Burton’s laugh was humourless, with more than a hint of cruelty in it. ‘Or mebbe you’d prefer to give that last one a miss, lad. My missis’s baking’s not a patch on your mam’s.’

Morry gave a weak smile, not sure how to respond. Jim’s attitude towards his wife always made the young man feel uncomfortable. ‘No thanks, Mr Burton. I – er – just wondered if Kathy was about, that’s all. I – er – thought we could walk to church together.’

He felt the older man’s eyes searching his face keenly. ‘Ah, yes, well now . . .’ Jim Burton’s mouth was stretched into an unaccustomed smile. ‘She’s getting ready. I’ll call her down.’

‘No need, Mr Burton. I’ll just wait. She’ll not be long. She’s never late for church.’ He stood awkwardly in the middle of the yard, twirling his cap through nervous, slightly sweaty hands.

‘Well, at least come into the kitchen, lad. It’s cold to be standing out here.’

Reluctantly, Morry followed the man into the farmhouse kitchen. He’d much preferred to have waited out in the yard, however cold it was.

‘Maurice is here, Edith. Mek the lad a cuppa.’

The thin, worried little woman hurried forward. She smiled at Morry, but the young man could see that though her smile for him was genuine, it did not touch her sad eyes. The thought sprang immediately to his mind: what would this nice little woman do if her daughter – her only child – left home? Maybe that was the way to touch Kathy’s heart if . . .

‘Hello, Maurice,’ Edith Burton was saying. ‘Come in. Sit down while I—’

But at that moment there were footsteps on the stairs and Kathy burst into the kitchen. ‘I’ll have to go, Mam, I’m late—’ She stopped short. ‘Oh, hello, Morry. What are you doing here?’

‘He’s come to walk you to church,’ Jim Burton cut in and there was a warning note in his voice that said: Now, you be nice to this lad. He’s the one I want as my son-in-law.

Kathy managed to quell the involuntary shudder that ran through her. She didn’t want Morry to sense her revulsion. He was a lovely lad, but – not for her. She loved him dearly, but only as she would have loved a brother. She could never – would never – see him as a husband. As a lover! But, smiling brightly, she crossed the red tiled floor and linked her arm through his. ‘Come on then, Morry. Best foot forward. You know the choir can’t start without me. Bye, Mam . . .’

When they were a good distance down the lane from the farm, walking briskly both to keep warm and to arrive at the church on time – already the church bell was tolling through the frosty morning air – Morry could contain himself no longer.

‘Amy says you’re leaving.’

Kathy sucked her tongue against her front teeth to make a tutting sound of exasperation. But it was a good-natured expression. She rolled her eyes heavenwards as she said, ‘Oh, that sister of yours! Can’t keep a secret for love nor money, can she?’

‘She was upset, Kathy. She was in tears.’

At once, Kathy was contrite. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her. It’s just – it’s just – oh, Morry, I’ve got to go. I can’t stand it any more.’

The young man was silent, his dark eyes full of sorrow. ‘We don’t want you to go, Kathy.
I
don’t want you to go.’ He stopped suddenly and stepped in front of her, bringing her to an abrupt halt. He caught hold of her arms. ‘Kathy – please – don’t go. Stay. Stay and – and marry me.’

Kathy’s mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. She stared at him with wide blue eyes. When, after a few seconds, she found her voice, the words came out all wrong.

‘What’s he said to you? What’s he promised you?’

For a brief moment, puzzlement clouded Morry’s eyes, to be replaced, as understanding dawned, by hurt. ‘Oh, Kathy – how can you think that of me? Don’t you know how much I love you? Don’t you know I’ve always loved you? For as long as I can remember.’

Now there were tears in Kathy’s eyes as she reached up and cupped his round face between her hands. ‘I’m sorry. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. You’re a lovely, lovely man and I love you dearly – as a friend. But – but – Morry, I’m not in love with you. Not in that way. Not to
marry
you. I – I’m sorry, but I never could be.’

His kind face was creased with disappointment, but, strangely, there was no surprise, no shock or disbelief in his expression. Instead he sighed heavily and nodded, ‘I – I thought as much, if I’m honest.’

‘And we’re always honest with each other, Morry, aren’t we?’ Kathy said softly. ‘We’re still friends, aren’t we?’

Morry managed a weak, but genuine, smile. ‘Oh, yes, Kathy, I’ll always be your friend, no matter what.’ Catching hold of her hands and gripping them tightly, he held them close to his broad chest. ‘Whatever happens, Kathy, whatever you do, always remember that I’m your friend.’

Kathy’s voice was husky as she whispered, ‘I will, Morry. I will.’

It was not the ‘I will’ that Morry longed to hear her say, but it would have to do.

With a sudden, old-fashioned gesture of courtesy that was way out of character, Morry raised her cold, chapped fingers to his lips and kissed them. ‘Good. And now we’d best start running. The bell’s stopped.’

*

‘So – did he ask you then?’

‘Ask me what?’ Kathy kept her voice calm but avoided meeting her father’s eyes as she ladled potatoes onto his plate.

‘To wed him, of course?’

The spoon trembled a little in her hand as she felt her mother’s timorous glance. Kathy pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she carried on serving both her mother and herself with vegetables.

‘Well?’ Jim Burton snapped. ‘Are you going to answer me, girl?’

‘He did ask me, yes.’

‘And?’

‘I – I refused.’

‘You – did – what?’

A sudden calm settled over Kathy. Whatever her father might say – or do – no matter however much he ranted and raved, she knew her answer had been the right one. ‘I refused him,’ she repeated, but bit her lip as, out the corner of her eye, she saw her mother tremble and the colour drain from her face.

‘You refused him? Have you gone mad, girl?’ Jim Burton rose slowly to his feet, his dinner forgotten.

Without warning, he raised his right arm and struck her on the left side of her face. Kathy dropped the dish she was holding. It smashed to the floor, spilling hot potatoes across the tiles. She stumbled and almost fell, but managed to regain her balance by clutching the edge of the table.

‘Jim—’ Edith pleaded, but he waved his hand in dismissal and the cowed woman shrank back into her chair and shrivelled into terrified silence.

‘Now you listen to me, girl—’ Jim wagged his fore-finger into Kathy’s face. ‘You get yourself over to the Robinson place this minute and you go down on your knees if necessary and you beg him to forgive you and you ask him to take you back.’

Kathy stared into her father’s eyes, seeing him – really seeing him – for the first time. Not any longer as her father, the man who, though strict and dominating, must be honoured and obeyed, but as the man he really was: cruel and self-centred, without an ounce of love or compassion in his embittered soul. Though the side of her face was stinging, she gritted her teeth and determined not to put her hand up to it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had hurt her. But the physical hurt was nothing compared to the ache in her heart.