Songbird (30 page)

Maddy thought it was wonderful, and said so.

The central heating was on full blast. Every room in the house was warm, bright and inviting. Brad told her how all three bedrooms had panoramic views over the countryside, not that she could see them now, as it was pitch dark — while from the kitchen window, apparently, the long, meandering brook was clearly visible, dancing its way through the valley.

“It’s the most beautiful place!” Maddy exclaimed. “I’m not a country girl born and bred, but I can understand how you fell in love with it all.”

As though he had known her all his life, Brad confided his great ambition. “I’ve been so busy just trying to survive, that things have gone wrong — but I will put them right,” he promised.

“I’m sure you will.” She had no doubts. “Especially as you seem so passionate about it.”

“I am.” He clenched his fist. “I must get the practices up and running again. When I was in my twenties, I went to veterinary college, got excellent grades and had a career all planned out. But then I went traveling across Europe, had an adventure or two, and somehow the time simply flew by. Then I met my wife. We saw this place, built up the practices, but when she died… I let them go to pot. And now here I am, with very little spare cash and spending all my time just trying to survive.”

“And was there never a time when you could use your veterinary skills?”

He went on, “the thing is, you need money and a barrage of customers to make it as a vet. One day though, I’ll clear the decks, pay the bills, and concentrate all my efforts on realizing my dream. In fact I’m already laying the foundations, in a small way.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Maddy admired his determination.

“It will be,” he said. “Lately, I let it be known locally that I’m a qualified vet, so now I’ve got a smattering of customers… it doesn’t pay though.”

“So, you do it for nothing?”

He winked at Maddy. “Not exactly,” he said. “Round here, we don’t do too badly. Y’see, it’s like this: we have our own special system. We barter.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I stitch a cut or two, and we get a cabbage or three, or I help a sheep through a difficult birth, and somebody makes us an apple pie. For now, it’s just a case of one neighbor helping another. Primarily I’m a farmer. I make money by growing crops, then I have my prime breeding flocks; in one season, I might get four hundred lambs, which I then sell on to the next stage.”

“And what does that mean?” Maddy was fascinated.

“It means I’m a softie,” Brad said with some embarrassment. “I can’t bring myself to fatten them up for the meat market, so I simply wean them and sell them on, to somebody less squeamish than me, who does what a meat farmer was born to do.”

He then picked up his coat and a flashlight, and asked Maddy to follow him outside. He guided her down the garden and through to the brook. Starlight sparkled on the water. “What do you think of my bridge?” he wanted to know.

“What bridge?”

“Over there.”

Just then, she caught sight of it; made from rustic wood and twisted branches, it spanned the narrowest part of the brook.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Maddy was mesmerized. This entire area was unbelievably magical, with ancient trees dipping their branches into the water, and the valley, lush and velvet, going away in the distance.

In all her life, Maddy thought she had never seen anything quite so beautiful. It took her breath away, made her forget her cares.

Cupping her elbow with the crook of his hand, Brad led her to a peculiar clump in the ground, where he shone the flashlight downward and drew aside the protective covering of newspaper. “See there — isn’t that amazing?”

“What am I looking at?” All Maddy could see was a remnant of newspaper and a mound of earth.

“Kneel down.” Squatting, he pointed and said, “Now… can you see?”

Maddy knelt and peered at the ground and saw a plant.

“Look deeper!” Brad shone the light right into the heart of the plant.

To her astonishment, Maddy saw a tiny, struggling, baby-green shoot coming right up through the middle. “Oh, yes! Now I see it. What is it?”

Reaching down, Brad covered the shoot over and drew her to her feet. “It’s a clematis,” he said reverently. “A magnificent climber. When we first arrived here, it was clinging to the side of the house, the only thing left alive. It was midsummer, and it had festooned the outside wall with huge pink flowers; its winding tentacles had worked their way in through the open windows, and it was almost as though it had taken over. Oh, and the perfume from the flowers was simply amazing!”

“So, how did it get down here?”

“One day, we had to go into Bedford town center to sort out bathrooms and such,” he explained. “I left strict instructions with the builders that they were not to touch the climber, that it was to be kept safe, until I could deal with it. But when we got back, the foreman had gone to lunch and his young mate had ripped it out by the heart and chucked it on a bonfire he was building. It had lain in the sun for hours, so by the time I got to it, the sorry thing was dried to a crisp. There was little hope of it surviving. Anyway, I cut off the root, planted it, watered it, and hoped for the best.”

He pointed to the spot. “For months it lay dormant out here, with no sigh of life, and I thought we’d lost it for sure. But the other day, I checked on it, and lo and behold, even though it’s the wrong time of year, I found that new shoot. At first, I thought it might belong to another plant — a weed that had got in or something, but when I investigated further, it was definitely a shoot from the old root. It’s like a miracle, Sheelagh — the first in a long, long time. So, with tender loving care, and a helping of luck, it might yet climb the house again.”

Maddy found it very easy to be in his company even though she found it strange being addressed as “Sheelagh.” But it was imperative that she kept her identity a secret. “I’m sure the plant will flourish,” she told him.

Here was a big, able-bodied man, with work-soiled hands and an appetite for hard graft. And yet, somewhere in his makeup, he had this reservoir of tenderness and love… for his home, his son, his clown of a dog, and this ugly clump and its tiny newborn shoot, which against all odds, he had rescued from extinction.

“Come on then!” He was already moving her on. “You’re shivering. You’ve seen the house and the land, and now, you need to see your accommodation. Then we’ll go back in and have some supper.”

Maddy had wondered where she was to sleep, but hadn’t liked to ask. She had assumed that she’d be in one of the farmhouse bedrooms, but Brad hadn’t said anything, so she had bided her time.

The “accommodation” turned out to be a small house standing a short distance from the main property. It had two bedrooms, a pretty, if tiny, kitchen, and a fenced-off garden with a swing, and a lagoon of fruit trees. “This was my foreman’s house,” Brad explained. “I think you’d better spend tonight in the spare room at the house, if that’s all right, as I need to put the heating on for you and air the bedding.”

“Have you no staff at all now?” Maddy asked.

“Well yes, there’s John. He keeps the machinery in tiptop condition. Then there’s Liz, who comes in every morning to milk the cows and collect the eggs. Oh yes, then there’s old Malcolm, who earns a bit of money, pottering about the gardens here. And of course, there’s Timmo, the shepherd. I can work from dawn to dusk, and go for nights on end without sleep, but no man is able to tend three or four hundred sheep, without help of sorts.”

He took a moment to assess his situation. “I still haven’t replaced my foreman though. Tom was a good man. I’ll be hard pressed to find one like him.” Bringing his gaze to bear on Maddy, he went on, “His wife Joan took care of young Robin when he wasn’t at school, and did all my paperwork. She also cooked, cleaned, and generally kept me sane.” He studied Maddy’s reaction. “Do you think you could pick up where she left off, Sheelagh?”

“If she could manage the work,” Maddy said stoutly, “then I don’t see why it should be too much for me.”

Brad gave a long sigh of relief. “You’re a woman after my own heart.” He put the heating on in the small house, flicked on the fridge and gave her a grin. “I hope you’ll be very happy here. And now, let’s go back to the warm and have a pot of tea.”

Back in the kitchen of the main house, Maddy followed Brad’s every move as he put some sausages under the grill, chopped up some cold boiled potatoes to fry, and laid the table. Without asking, she fetched out other things they would need, and found the mugs, sugar and milk for the tea. The smallest of smiles drifted over her face as she thought how absolutely normal and genuinely friendly Brad was; unlike any other man she had known, apart from Jack. Unfortunately, living the life of a club singer had not often afforded her the company of men like Brad.

They had tea, they enjoyed their meal, and they chatted further about farming and general topics, and now the conversation shifted to a more personal level. “Do you have family, Sheelagh?” Brad asked.

Maddy thought of Ellen and Grandfather Bob, and of her own son, Michael, and her heart was wrenched with pain. “No.” Her answer was quick and decisive. “No family.” Even now she was afraid to confide in anyone; even this man, whom she instinctively trusted.

When she saw how taken aback he seemed by her curt answer, she quickly assured him, “Sorry. It’s just that my parents both died, and I am an only child. It’s okay, though. It’s not uncommon.”

He gave a long, sorry sigh. “Forgive me. It was a clumsy question.”

Her smile put him at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”

He glanced at the bag she had brought with her. “If you need to collect anything from your previous place, I’ll take you there. Just say the word.”

Pointing to the holdall, she laughed, rather sadly. “That’s it. My whole life is in that bag.” Including my precious photos of little Michael and Ellen, she thought. And of myself, in another life. She sorely missed the singing; the crowds and the applause. It was as though she had dreamed it all, and now the dream was over.

He said not a word. Instead he looked long and hard at her, wondering what a personable young woman like Sheelagh Parson was doing traveling the country with just one bag, and such a desperate need for work and lodgings that she would go with a stranger, like himself.

“I’m glad we found each other,” he said quietly. “I need someone like you, and you obviously need a roof over your head…” When it seemed she might reply, he stopped her with a gesture. “No, Sheelagh. Don’t say anything. Just remember, you have work, and a home here, for as long as you want.”

That said, his dark eyes smiled down mischievously. “Mind you, if our Donald catches you slacking, he’ll have you out on your ear before you know what time of day it is!”

It was ten
o’clock the next morning, and Maddy had nearly finished cleaning the farmhouse kitchen. She had started at eight, after an early breakfast with Brad, and now only had the floor to wash. The place gleamed — it had been a pleasure to put this lovely room to rights. February sun streamed in through the windows as she filled a metal pail with hot water and began to rummage in the cupboard under the sink for some Flash, a scrubbing brush and some J-cloths.

Just then, she heard a loud rat-tat at the front door, and as Brad had left to go on his rounds of the farm, she wiped her sweating face with the hem of the old pinnie she was wearing and went to open it.

A tall woman stood there, with a hand on the shoulder of one of two young boys. One, the image of Brad, looked surprised to see her. “Hello,” he said. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s in the yard,” Maddy told him, then added, “Do come in, everyone. My name is Sheelagh Parson, and I have come to work for Mr. Fielding. You must be Robin,” she said to the lad, “and this must be your friend Dave and his mother. How do you do?”

The woman gave her a curious but not unfriendly glance, introduced herself as Susan Wright, and walked inside with the boys. An excited Donald came rushing in, barking and jumping up at them, and the lads made a big fuss of him, much to the women’s amusement.

Robin turned to Maddy and said, “Sheelagh, next week I’ll be eight! His cheeky freckled face, which had been thoroughly licked, was flushed with pride.

“Well!” Smiling, she said, “I think that’s wonderful. Are you having a party?”

“I don’t know — I haven’t asked my dad yet. I hope he remembers to get me a birthday cake.”

Maddy’s heart went out to him. “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we? And now, why don’t I put the kettle on? Would you like a cup of tea, Mrs. Wright?”

“Oh, call me Sue. And yes, I’d love a cup of tea. These two have fair worn me out this morning. We’ve already been swimming but it’s made no difference to their energy. I’ll be glad when half-term is over and they go back to school!”

The boys were making for the back door. “Bye!” called Robin. “Dave and me are going round the fields with Donald. Back soon!” On hearing his name, Donald was leaping up and down at the back door, yapping loudly and his tail going fifteen to the dozen.

“Just hark at that racket.” Sue was a woman in her early forties; she had the kind of smile that puts you at ease straight off. “And those two will no doubt be up to all kinds of mischievous tricks.”

“Such as what?” asked Brad, coming in through the back scullery and taking off his boots. His ready smile betrayed a father’s pleasure in the antics of his only son.

“You might ask!” Sue declared. “One minute they’re off climbing every tree in sight, and the next they’re sat on the edge of the brook — with their feet in that freezing water and their trousers wet to the knees.” She rolled her eyes to heaven. “They’re like a couple of jack-in-the-boxes — I can’t keep up with them.”

“Would a cup of tea help?” Brad asked, but the kettle was already coming to the boil.

“Sheelagh is already making us one,” Sue said, then added wickedly, “I hope there’s a chocolate digestive to go with it — although I know you keep them well-hidden.”

Brad made a startled face. “Shame on you, Sue! When have I ever hidden away the chocolate biscuits?”