Lovers and Liars

Clambering up the ladder, Emily pulled herself into the hayloft and made for the far corner. Here, she reached up on tiptoe, her arm stretching into the roof, where the two great wooden rafters joined together. The small brown notebook clutched tightly to her chest, soon she was seated cross-legged in the hay, her eyes closed and her heart beating fast with excitement.

In her mind’s eye she could see every word written there, all her secret thoughts: the sorrow she had suffered when her Granny Clare had sickened from consumption and died, nearly breaking her grandad’s heart; the wrenching sobs she and her family had wept at the tragic loss of her darling baby brother. Some tears trickled down her rosy cheeks as she remembered little Michael, so pale and still, wrapped in her own baby shawl that couldn’t warm him … Then her tears dried as bitter resentment took their place – hatred for the man who soon after had invaded their lives. She had written about her love for her mammy, and her grandad, and prayed for her daddy, wherever he was.

In fact, all her life as it was, had been entered in the pages of that little book.

More recently she had confided of her growing love for John; of her hopes for the future, and even a little prayer that Clem would go away and everything would be all right again, just like it used to be.

After a while, she laid the notebook on her lap and gingerly eased it open. She needed to reread the last entry – to make sure she had not been dreaming.

Suddenly, a small, shuffling sound startled her. What was that!

With fear licking at her insides, she laid the book face down and shrank into the background. Was there somebody else here? she thought worriedly. Did someone come in just now?

A ray of early-morning sunshine crept in from the one window high up in the barn, and shone down on the page. A gentle wind blew against the old barn-walls, which creaked and groaned as if alive. And she heard the faint splash of a coal-barge wending its way along the nearby canal.

She glanced about, satisfying herself that there was no one there. ‘You’re beginning to imagine things,’ she told herself, but then was it any wonder, if her nerves were on edge?

Pushing aside her two plaits, Emily roved her gaze over the previous day’s entry and began to read it aloud.

Chapter 2

INSIDE THE FARMHOUSE, Thomas Isaac Ramsden waited for his daughter-in-law. He heard her come in through the back door, then a few minutes later he was relieved to see her enter the living room. ‘Here you are then, Dad.’ Aggie set the tray down on his lap. ‘There’s a nice cuppa tea in your favourite mug, and one of my raisin biscuits. You sit and enjoy that, while I go an’ hang out the washing.’

While she spoke she smiled down on him, the love shining in her blue eyes. ‘Later on, we’ll go for a gentle walk if you like?’ she offered. ‘It’s a beautiful day outside. The fresh air will do us both good.’

He nodded. ‘I can’t go far, lass,’ he reminded her. ‘Me old legs aren’t what they used to be.’ He carefully lifted his Coronation mug, which showed the new King, Edward VII, in his full-bearded glory, and took a grateful sup of the hot brew.

‘It’s all right, Dad,’ Aggie said. ‘We’ll just go as far as the orchard and back.’

He nodded appreciatively. ‘Happen once we’re there we can sit awhile on the bench.’ He took another long slurp of his tea.

‘That’ll be nice,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s do that then, shall we?’

‘Happen I can smoke me pipe?’

She smiled. ‘You allus do. To tell you the truth, Dad, I’ll be glad of a sit-down.’ She gave a low sigh. ‘Whatever we turn our hand to, me and Emily allus seem to be in a rush these days. There’s too much work, and not enough time to get it all done.’ Not so long ago, life had been so much easier, she thought. Her husband had still been here, and their new baby was growing in her womb. Potts End had been a joyful place then.

Lost in his own thoughts, Thomas merely nodded. ‘Where is Emily?’

‘Gone off by herself somewheres. You know what the lass is like – up at first light to do her chores, then away across the fields.’

‘She’ll be back though, won’t she?’ His eyes dimmed over. ‘She will be back?’

‘O’ course she will. Whatever meks you say a thing like that?’

‘Michael never came back, did he?’ He paused, then: ‘I miss him.’

‘We all miss him, Dad.’ Aggie’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘But he’ll be back.’

Cupping his ear, he asked worriedly, ‘What’s that you say, lass?’

She gave him her cheeriest smile. ‘I said … Michael will be back. You’ll see … some bright day, in the not too distant future, he’ll walk through that door and we’ll all be together again.’

On her words he looked up and smiled. It was a sad smile. Though he didn’t want to dash her hopes, he believed there was little chance of his son ever coming home. His heart ached for Clare, and he lifted the mug to his lips again.

Aggie read his thoughts and a pang of loneliness stabbed her heart. ‘Will you be all right if I go outside now?’ she asked.

‘O’ course I will.’ He looked surprised. ‘I’m not in me second childhood yet, you know!’

She laughed at that. ‘Don’t I know it!’ Humouring him, she wagged a finger. ‘By! I’ve yet to see the day when anybody can get one over on you!’

The old man pointed to his half-eaten biscuit. ‘I don’t suppose there’s another one o’ them going, is there? Or mebbe even a couple?’

Prompted by an impulse of affection, she kissed the top of his head. ‘Oh, I dare say there might be a couple more hiding in the larder.’

He gave her a little push. ‘Go on then!’ He grinned, a wide, uplifting grin that showed his surprisingly even teeth, of which he was very proud. ‘A poor old man could starve afore he got any attention round ’ere.’

‘Give over!’ She feigned shock. ‘You get more attention than anybody and well you know it, you old devil.’

‘Mebbe. But it’s another biscuit I’m wanting … that’s if you’ve a mind to fetch me one?’

Straightening up, she sighed, ‘If it’s a biscuit you’re wanting, then it’s a biscuit you’ll get.’ With that she marched off, only to pause at the door and look back on him.

Her heart was full to overflowing as she took stock of that dear old man, his head bent as he lost himself in private thoughts of days gone by. She and her father-in-law had a special kind of relationship, and she was grateful to have him in her life.

Thomas Isaac had no idea she was taking stock of him. He was thinking of his home and his life, and his heart was warmed. Once a big strong farmhand, he had worked his way up, and put money by, until one proud day, he could buy his own little farm. Potts End wasn’t big by anyone else’s standards, but it had been his, lock, stock and barrel, until he had signed it over to Michael and Aggie, and he had good reason to be proud of his achievement. Nowadays, he was too old and tired to pick up a spade, but there were other consolations in life, such as the smell of dew on the morning air, the special excitements of haymaking and harvest, and the sun coming up over the hills. And most of all, the sight of Emily running towards the cottage after one of her long ramblings. Although he missed his wife, Clare, a bonny lass until the consumption took her, he thanked God he had these two wonderful women in his life, Aggie and Emily, for they meant the whole world to him.

He thought back on his youth and smiled inwardly. He’d been a bit of a lad in his day, but had few regrets – except o’ course, it would be good to roll up his sleeves and bend his back to his work, but it wasn’t to be.

From the doorway, Aggie’s thoughts were much the same. She had known Thomas Isaac as a big strong man, and had seen his body become frail and slow. But though his strength was broken, his spirit was not. He still had an eye for the women and a sprightly story to tell. He had a good head of iron-grey hair, and the pale eyes carried a sparkle that could light up a room when he turned on the charm.

Lately though, since all their trials and tribulations, the sparkle had grown dim.

Like her daughter, Aggie cherished the ground the old fella walked on.

‘Are you still there?’ Looking up, he caught her observing him. ‘I’m still waiting on that biscuit.’

‘Coming right up, Dad,’ she promised, and hurried away.

Behind her the old man leaned back in his chair and shook his head. ‘You’ve a lot to answer for, son,’ he murmured. ‘When you took off, you left a pack o’ trouble for these lovely lasses, and no mistake!’

Through the scullery window Aggie saw her brother, Clem, and her heart sank. He was emerging from the outhouse, his huge black dog, Badger, skulking at his side; there was a look of murder on his face, and a shotgun slung over his shoulder. God Almighty, what was he up to now?

She went into the larder and, taking half a dozen biscuits from the tin, she placed them on a saucer and carried them in to the old man. ‘If you want any more, just give me a shout,’ she told him.

Instead of acknowledging the biscuits, Thomas jolted her by declaring in a worried voice, ‘There’s bound to be trouble, mark my words.’

She stooped to answer, her voice low but clear. ‘Why should there be trouble?’

He pointed to the window, where a young man could be seen pacing back and forth. ‘That’s young John Hanley, ain’t it?’

Following his gaze, she too saw John pacing back and forth, growing increasingly agitated. ‘He’s waiting to speak with Clem,’ she informed the old fella. ‘I’ve just been to fetch him.’

‘What does the lad want wi’ that surly bugger?’

She also had been a little curious when John turned up at the doorstep earlier. ‘He wouldn’t say,’ she shrugged. ‘Happen he’s after more work. He’s already finished that job our Michael started him on.’ She gave a cheeky wink. ‘He’s done a grand job an’ all. After eight months o’ breaking his back, he’s made both them wagons as good as new … they’re completely rebuilt from the bottom up, so they are. The hay-trailer is stronger than ever, the ladders are safe to climb since he replaced all the rotting rungs, and he’s repaired so much o’ the fencing.’ She paused, before going on quietly, ‘All the jobs Michael would have done, if only he’d been himself.’

‘Well, young John seems to know what he’s doing.’ The old fella’s feelings were too raw to get caught up in that kind of discussion. ‘The lad may not be the fastest worker in the world but, by God, he’s thorough – I’ll not deny that.’

‘Yes, but all those smaller jobs are finished now,’ Aggie said. ‘And I dare say he’ll be keen to get started on the old barn, just like Michael planned. It’ll be a secure job for him as well.’ She peered out of the window towards the dilapidated barn. ‘By! There has to be at least a year’s work there. Aye, that’s what he’ll be after, right enough … a steady run o’ work right through to next spring.’

‘Look, lass, yer mustn’t forget who’s holding the purse-strings,’ the old fella cautioned. ‘That miserable brother o’ yourn won’t part with a penny more than he has to. I mean, he only paid the lad for all his work ’cause he’d only just got here and wanted to mek a suitable impression.’

Aggie knew that but, ‘It won’t matter either way, if he doesn’t have John back to repair the barn,’ she remarked warily. ‘I imagine the lad can get work wherever he wants.’ She knew he had a good reputation. ‘They say as how he can turn a hand to anything.’

Thomas Isaac looked up. ‘Between you an’ me, lass, I reckon young John is after summat other than work.’

‘What’s on your mind then?’

He frowned. ‘If yer ask me, there’s summat going on,’ he ventured knowingly.

‘Oh? And what might that be then?’

He looked her in the eye. ‘Yer know very well,’ he tutted.

And it was true – she did. These past weeks she had been meaning to speak with Emily about the growing friendship between her and John, only work had got in the way. ‘You’re not to worry,’ she told the old fella. ‘Our Emily’s a sensible lass.’

‘She’s missing her da.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Fear, and a measure of anger rippled through her. ‘We’re all missing him. It doesn’t mean to say we’ll throw caution to the winds.’

‘Emily’s just a lass. She’ll be looking for someone to talk to … someone near her own age.’

‘I know that, Dad, and I’m sure that’s all the two of ’em will be doing – talking to each other. They’re just friends, after all.’

He took a deep breath. ‘Happen!’ That was all he had to say on the matter. But he could think, and what he thought was this: there was trouble brewing. He could feel it in his tired old bones.

Outside, Clem rounded the farmhouse and, coming face to face with the young man, demanded to know his business.

Though needfully respectful, John Hanley was not afraid of this bully. It showed in his confident stance, and in the way he spoke, quietly determined. ‘I came to have a talk with you, sir,’ he replied, ‘if you could spare me a few minutes?’

‘Oh! So you’ve come to ’ave a talk with me, ’ave yer?’ The older man regarded the other with derision, and a certain amount of envy. He saw the lean, strong frame of this capable young man, and he was reminded of his own shortcomings. The eyes, too, seemed to hold a man whether he wanted to look into them or not; deepest blue and fired with confidence, they were mesmerising.

‘It won’t take long, sir.’ While Clem took stock of him, John did the same of the older man.

He had no liking for Clem Jackson. Nor did he respect him, but he owed this bully a certain address, for it was Clem Jackson who appeared to have taken charge of things round here, including Emily. And it was Emily he had come about this morning.

Stamping his two feet, the older man impatiently shifted himself. ‘Get on with it then, damn yer!’ he instructed roughly. ‘Spit it out! I’m a busy man. I’ve no time to wait on such as you!’

Taking a deep breath, John said, ‘I’ve come to ask if you will allow me and Emily to walk out together?’

‘Yer what!’ Growing redder in the face, Clem screamed at him, ‘Yer devious little bastard! You’d best get from my front door, afore I blow you to bloody Kingdom Come!’ Beside him, Badger’s hackles were raised, and he growled low in his throat.

Raising the shotgun, Clem aimed it at John’s throat, his one eye trained down the barrel and his finger trembling on the trigger. ‘I’ll count to ten, and if yer not well away by then, yer’ll not be leaving on yer own two feet, I can promise yer that!’

With his heart beating fifteen to the dozen, John stood his ground. ‘We’re just friends, sir,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s nothing untoward between us. Only, I am very fond of her, and I know she’s fond of me, because she’s said so. But it’s all right and proper, sir. I respect Emily too much to harm her in any way.’

At any minute, this madman might pull the trigger, or that hound might fly at his throat, but John felt compelled to say his piece. He and Emily had these strong feelings: in truth, they were growing to love each other in a way that only a man and woman could love. Now, it was time to put it all on a proper footing.

‘All we want is for the two of us to spend more time together … out in the open, without any shame.’

Oh dear Lord. John knew he was saying all the right things, only they seemed to be coming out all wrong. ‘Look, sir, I didn’t come here to cause trouble, and you mustn’t blame Emily. She doesn’t even know I’m here. I just wanted us to be together and not to be hiding like we do. And for that, we need your permission.’ He paused, at a loss. ‘I hope you’ll consider what I’m saying?’

He had been expecting the shotgun to ring out any minute. Instead it was suddenly swung high in the air and when it came down on his temple, he hardly felt the pain, although he stumbled backwards and fell down – and felt the wet, sticky blood trickling across his face.

As he crumpled to the ground, he received a second blow. Time and again the heavy butt of the shotgun rained down, dulling his senses and his thinking, until he knew that if he didn’t get up now, he would never get up again. But each time he made the effort, he was knocked back by another blow, or a kick of the older man’s heavy boot. Somewhere in his distant mind he could hear Jackson yelling obscenities, but the voice came from so far away, and his every bone jolted with the force of the beating.

Inside the farmhouse, Aggie had seen what was happening, and she ran to the door. As she flung it open, she saw with horror how John had scrambled back on his feet and was launching himself at Clem, his eyes blinded by the blood that was pouring down his head and face. ‘NO!’ Careering forward she tried to come between the two men but was driven back. ‘Stay out of it!’ she was told. ‘Unless you want some an’ all?’

But Aggie would not be stopped. Throwing herself between them, she screamed: ‘Leave him be! For God’s sake, Clem … you’re killing the lad!’

‘Out – of – my – way!’ With one mighty shove, Clem sent her sprawling to the ground. In a minute she was on her knees, her two arms round the young man, and her face upturned.

‘Kill him, and you’ll have to kill me too,’ she said, her eyes filled with hatred.

His answer was to reach out and drag her away, but she crawled back, fiercely protecting John with her own body. ‘I mean it, Clem. I won’t let you do it.’

‘I’ll do what I see fit. Get outta the bloody way!’

‘NO!’ She tried appealing to any sense of decency he might still have. ‘He’s just a boy!’ she cried. ‘Shame on you, hitting him with your gun … that’s a coward’s way!’

When at that moment John tried feebly to get up, she pressed the full weight of her body against his. ‘No!’ she hissed. ‘Stay down, John. Please! Stay down!’ She knew if he got up, it might be the last thing he ever did.

Eager to finish what he had started, Clem took a step forward. ‘LET HIM UP!’ Suddenly the muzzle of the shotgun was jammed into her side. ‘Let him up, or I swear to God I’ll finish the pair of you!’

‘No!’ Aggie knew, from the mad look in his eyes, that he meant every word. And still she wouldn’t budge. At the back of her mind she hoped and prayed that somewhere in that warped mind, he had a shred of compassion.

Instead he gave her a vicious kick that sent her flying. She coiled up, whimpering from the pain.

Enraged, John struggled to his feet and, staggering towards the older man, managed to send him backwards, but he was weak and hurt, and it was only a matter of seconds before he himself was at the receiving end again. Bloodied and dazed by the punishment he had taken, he found himself sprawled on the ground, with the shotgun pushed tight against his throat. ‘Yer pack a sizeable punch, an’ yer a hard man to put down, I’ll give yer that!’ Clem grudgingly admitted. ‘But it’ll do yer no good.’

Puffing and panting from John’s determined attack, he gave a harsh, mocking laugh. ‘Happen I shoulda took yer on, man to man. But I ain’t got time for all that. Not when it’s so much easier just to pull the trigger.’

The deadly click of the trigger-hammer being drawn back echoed against Aggie’s scream. ‘NO, CLEM … FOR PITY’S SAKE, NO!’

They didn’t see the old man as he sneaked out of the house. It was only when he was directly behind Clem that Aggie spotted him and her heart fell. Dear God! If Clem turned, her father-in-law wouldn’t stand a chance.

Thankfully, Clem was far too intent on training his eye on John, so that when he did hear a movement behind him and felt the cold sharp end of the shotgun thrust into his neck, it was too late. ‘You ain’t the only one who knows how to use one o’ these!’ Thomas Isaac chuckled. ‘I expect you thought I were too old and past it to shift outta my rocking-chair?’

Shocked and frightened, Clem began to plead. ‘Now then, Grandad, don’t do anything silly. Put the gun down.’

But the old fella had no intention of doing that, as he told Clem in no uncertain terms. ‘I can’t see yer hammer that young man into the ground, without doing summat about it.’ He slowly raised the shotgun, until it was level with Clem’s forehead. ‘Happen I should just blow yer ugly ’ead off, right now.’

Fearing for his life, Clem stretched his arms up. ‘All right, all right! What d’yer want from me?’

‘I want you to leave the lad alone!’

Searching for a way out of a bad situation, Clem appealed to him. ‘Open yer eyes, man! Can’t yer see the young scoundrel’s got a yearning for the girl? That’s what he’s ’ere for … to ask if the pair of ’em can couple up. Is that what yer want for yer granddaughter … to be tekken advantage of by this young thug?’

Thomas pursed his lips in thought. ‘I don’t reckon John has any such thing in mind, but even if ’e did want to see our Emily, then I’d say that was for her mammy to deal with, wouldn’t yer agree?’

‘If yer say so.’ It galled him to kow-tow to the old man.

‘I do say so.’ Thomas saw how Aggie was helping John to his feet. ‘Ain’t that right, Aggie, lass?’ he asked pointedly. ‘Anything to do with our Emily is first and foremost your business?’

She nodded. ‘Leave it now, Dad. It’s all right.’ She feared he might well have taken on more than he could handle. ‘I’m sure Clem knows the score, now you’ve spelled it out.’

She considered asking him to go back inside but it would have been of no use. From somewhere – she didn’t know where – her father-in-law had gathered enough strength and courage to come out and fight for his loved ones – and what right had she to interfere? No right at all, she decided, with a little burst of pride.

All the same, just now she had seen Clem eyeing the old fella with a cunning look on his face. And it worried her. One way or another, she needed to get them all back inside and out of harm’s way. ‘Come on now, Dad,’ she urged. ‘Give me a hand to get John inside, will you?’

Unfortunately her little ploy came too late, for just then, while her father-in-law was observing young John’s sorry plight, Clem made a sudden move that took everyone by surprise. With the cry of a madman, he lunged forward to wrench the shotgun out of the old fella’s hands. ‘Yer never learn, do yer?’ he snarled. ‘I should empty this barrel into yer dozy skull.’

Proud and defiant, the old man looked him in the eye. ‘You don’t frighten me,’ he declared. ‘I’ve had more experience of bullies in my life than you’ll ever know, and they’re allus brought down, somehow or another.’

Clem laughed aloud at his show of defiance. ‘Hmh! So, yer reckon you can bring me down, do yer?’ With a poke of his finger in Thomas’s bony ribs he jeered, ‘An’ how do yer plan to do that, might I ask?’

The old farmer shook his head. ‘I don’t know yet,’ he answered, ‘but I’ll find a way in time. Right now, you’ve got the upper hand – but it won’t allus be like that.’

‘Really?’ Leaning forward with his face almost touching that of the old fella’s, the younger man demanded, ‘Got some money tucked away, ’ave yer? Manage without me, can yer?’

‘I wish to Gawd I had got money behind me!’ the old man replied harshly. ‘You’d soon be on yer way, an’ no mistake!’

Clem merely laughed. ‘All show and gab, that’s what you are. Go on! Get outta my road!’ With a hefty push he sent Thomas Isaac toppling backwards, into the wall. ‘As for you … !’ Grabbing Aggie by the arm, he wrenched it up behind her back, making her almost faint with the pain.

Blood pouring from his wounds, the injured youth took a step forward as if to go for Clem yet again. ‘Take your hands off her!’ His mouth was so swollen he could hardly spit out the words.

‘Or what?’ Clem jabbed at him with the shotgun. ‘Look at yer!’ he jibed. ‘By! Yer can hardly bloody stand.’

‘I can stand up to you any day.’ Squaring up, John clenched his fists. ‘Come on. I’m ready when you are!’

‘I would stop while the going’s good,’ Clem warned him angrily. ‘I haven’t got time for games.’ Turning his attention to Aggie, he ordered her to, ‘Get that old fool inside, and stay outta my sight, the pair of youse.’ Jerking a thumb to John, he suggested fiercely, ‘I’ll deal with this young thug!’