Lovers and Liars Page 8

  A little surprised and bewildered, she made her way back into the outhouse, where she threw herself into the task in hand. It had been an odd thing to say, she mused. As though to shut it out, she filled her mind with thoughts of John. And, as always, the love for him was overwhelming.

  An hour later, Emily had finished. With all the washing hanging limp and bedraggled over the lines, she made her way to the shed where she collected an armful of kindling.

  That done she returned to the outhouse, where she made a bed of newspaper in the fire-grate; on top of that she laid the wood in a kind of pyramid. Next, taking a match from the mantelpiece, she set light to the paper.

  When that was all flaring and crackling, she took the smallest pieces of coal from the bucket and built another pyramid over the first. On her knees, she stretched a sheet of paper over the fireplace to encourage the flames, then watched and waited until the whole lot was burning and glowing; the heat tickling her face and making her warm.

  ‘That’ll soon dry it out,’ she murmured, clambering to her knees.

  Replacing the screen in front of the fire, she made her way out, carefully dodging and ducking the damp clothes as she went.

  Inside the scullery, Aggie had a brew of tea waiting for her. ‘All done, are you, lass?’ Taking off her long goffered apron and wearily lowering herself into the fireside-chair, Aggie laid back and closed her eyes. ‘Me back’s fit to break in two,’ she groaned. ‘I swear, there’s enough work in this farmhouse to keep an army on their toes! I’ll have to get the dinner going in an hour or so. It’ll be a simple meal, seeing as it’s Christmas Day tomorrow. I’ve got some cold beef and pickled onion with mashed potato, and tapioca wi’ bottled gooseberries for afters. What d’you reckon to that, lass?’

  Settling in the chair opposite, her tea clutched in her fist, Emily said, ‘It sounds lovely, Mam. Cathleen still asleep, is she?’

  ‘The bairn hasn’t moved a muscle since you went out,’ Aggie answered, opening one eye. ‘Looks like Danny’s worn her out.’

  Emily laughed. ‘He’s worn me out an’ all.’

  Detecting the underlying seriousness of Emily’s remark, Aggie asked pointedly, ‘Been on at you to wed him again, has he?’

  ‘He means well,’ Emily said. ‘And I dare say he would move heaven and earth to make me and Cathleen happy …’

  ‘But?’

  Emily knew all the old arguments. ‘But what?’

  Aggie answered exactly the way Emily had expected. ‘But your heart’s out there with John Hanley. I expect that’s what you told Danny?’

  ‘Yes, but he already knows it.’

  ‘I see.’ As ever, Aggie read the situation well. She also knew that in the end, someone was bound to get hurt.

  For a few minutes, the two women sat lost in thought, quietly listening to the fire roaring. The tassels on the chenille runner that covered the mantelshelf danced in the heat, and light reflected off the glass dome of the clock and the framed picture of Queen Victoria that Clare Ramsden had bought on a visit to Blackpool in 1885.

  After a while, Aggie asked, ‘How long are you prepared to wait, lass?’

  Emily had been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard the full question. ‘Wait for what?’

  ‘For John to come home?’

  ‘I wish I knew, Mam.’ Emily had asked herself that same question time and again, and still she wasn’t sure. ‘As long as it takes, I suppose.’

  ‘And how long is that?’ Aggie was concerned about her daughter’s wellbeing. She had seen her growing lonelier and quieter, and it cut her to the quick. ‘Are you thinking weeks, months …’ her eyebrows went up at the prospect. ‘Or do you mean to wait for years – is that it?’ Part of her acknowledged her own pain at Michael’s abandonment. She and Emily were made of the same strong clay: they could manage without their men, but that didn’t mean it was easy. And Emily was still young – she should be wed to someone who loved her and who could give her another bairn as company for Cathleen.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Emily admitted. ‘All I do know is that I love him with all my heart. When John left, he said he’d be back. I promised him I’d wait. And I will keep that promise.’

  Aggie pressed the point. ‘And will you wait until little Cathleen is two or three? Or will you wait until she starts playing with other children from the village – children who know what it’s like to have a daddy at home. And when she starts asking where her daddy is, have you got an answer ready, my girl? Tell me that.’

  Now as Emily glanced up her eyes were moist with tears. ‘I know what you’re trying to say, Mam, and I understand,’ she said brokenly. ‘I’ve been thinking of little Cathleen too, and the older she gets the more I worry. But I can’t marry Danny. As much as I like and respect him, and as much as I know he would look after us, I can’t bring myself to marry him, not when I still love John. I keep hoping that John is safe and well: I can’t stop thinking about him, Mam. He’s on my mind the whole time, night and day.’

  Wiping a tear, she finished, ‘Besides, Danny deserves better than that.’

  Aggie said nothing. Instead she sipped at her tea and wondered what would become of them all.

  Emily was grateful for the lull in the conversation. Only time would tell whether John would return, and if he didn’t do so soon, she would have to decide what to do. But it wouldn’t be easy, she knew that.

  The child’s waking cries shook them out of their reverie. But when the infant’s cries lapsed into a string of happy gobbledy-gook, Emily lingered a moment. ‘I’ve a good mind to go and see Lizzie,’ she revealed. ‘You never know. She might have word of John.’

  Aggie warned her, ‘Well, I hope the old bugger makes you more welcome than she did last time!’ she declared. ‘What! She wound you up so much you wouldn’t speak for a whole hour.’

  Emily remembered. ‘She was a bit … difficult, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmh!’ Aggie sat up. ‘Cantankerous, more like! Heaven knows what’s the matter wi’ her. Ever since her John went away she’s been as sour as a rhubarb pie without a morsel o’ sugar.’

  ‘She’s getting old, poor thing.’ Emily had a soft spot for Lizzie. ‘She suffers a lot from pain in her joints.’

  Aggie had little sympathy. ‘She’s too proud – won’t let anybody help her. You heard Danny say how he found her climbing a ladder to mend that hole in the thatch the other week. When he offered to do it for her, she told him to sod off – said that she wasn’t yet ready for the knacker’s yard!’ She wagged a finger. ‘If you ask me, you’ll do well to steer clear of the old battle-axe.’

  Emily was not deterred. ‘Why are you so hard on her, Mam? That’s not like you at all! Didn’t she used to be your friend?’

  Aggie blushed with shame. ‘Aye well, happen I might be a bit hard on her, but she’s been hard on you, and I don’t tek kindly to that.’

  There were times when Emily had the same stubborn streak in her as Aggie. ‘I still intend going,’ she decided. ‘I’m gonna pluck up my courage. I need to know if she’s heard from John.’

  ‘Even if she has, what meks you think she’ll tell you?’

  Emily was already at the door. ‘Why shouldn’t she tell me?’

  Just then the child began crying again. ‘That’s why!’ Gesturing towards the stairway, Aggie reminded her, ‘Lizzie refuses to believe the child is John’s. She thinks you’ve been up to no good with some other man, and that you’re trying to blame her nephew.’ She chuckled. ‘Mother hen protecting her chick, that’s what she is. My God! The way you feel about John, who else’s child could it be? The whole world knows it’s his, yet that old besom won’t have it no way!’

  Rolling her eyes to heaven she finished angrily, ‘It’ll be a damned good thing when he does come back. Then she’ll know well enough!’

  Emily remained silent, but was grateful when her mother did not notice the guilt and shame in her face. ‘I’d best be off now, Mam.’ Rushing off upstairs, she felt the tears smarting he
r eyes. She hated herself for deceiving her mammy. But the truth about little Cathleen’s beginnings was far more hurtful and damaging. She dreaded John’s reaction; for the hundredth time, she recalled that awful summer day, of such hope and happiness, ending in a darkness that had engulfed her for many a long month. Would he understand?

  A short time later, well wrapped up and carrying the child in a shawl-sling, Emily began the walk across the fields to Lizzie’s pretty cottage.

  On the way she stopped several times to put the child down; she held her hand and encouraged her to walk. But though Cathleen’s sturdy little legs stumbled a clear path through the snowy grass, they soon tired, and it wasn’t long before Emily had to carry her again. ‘You’re taking advantage of my good nature,’ she teased her breathlessly. ‘I reckon it should be you carrying me!’

  Just as Aggie had feared, Lizzie was not exactly pleased to see her. ‘What is it you want from me?’ Holding the door open just so far, she peered at Emily through suspicious eyes. ‘I’ve not heard from him, if that’s what yer after.’

  Emily reasoned with her. ‘I don’t want us to be enemies, Lizzie. Please may I come inside?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To talk, that’s all.’

  The woman scowled. ‘We’ve nowt to talk about.’

  Sensing a weakening, Emily persisted. ‘Please, Lizzie. I’ve carried little Cathleen nearly all the way here, and my arms are aching. Besides, we’re both thirsty.’

  Glancing from one to the other, Lizzie saw how the child was smiling at her, and it touched her troubled old heart. ‘All right, but only for a minute. Yer can have a rest and a drink, then I’ll thank you to leave.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Either come in or stay out. It’s too damned cold to be standing here all day with the door wide open!’

  With a muttered apology, Emily darted inside. She waited until the other woman shut the door. ‘Go on!’ Gesturing for Emily to go ahead, Lizzie told her, ‘You’ve been here with John often enough to know the way by now.’

  Feeling uncomfortable under Lizzie’s scowl, Emily led the way to the back-parlour.

  Lizzie followed her in. ‘Sit yersel’ down,’ she ordered. ‘Now then, what does the infant want to drink?’ She gave a grudging look at the beautiful little girl, and deliberately closed her heart against any feelings of warmth.

  ‘A drop of milk would suit fine,’ Emily answered as she sat down in the big squashy chair by the fire. ‘Thanks, Lizzie.’

  ‘And I expect you’ll be wanting a cuppa tea, will yer?’

  Emily nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes, I’d love one. If that’s all right?’

  The old woman grunted. ‘I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t!’ With that she disappeared into the scullery, only to return a few minutes later with a mug of milk for the child, and a drop of lukewarm tea for Emily. ‘It’s only been made a few minutes,’ she explained, ‘but it’s warm enough to thaw your bones.’

  Emily took a sip from the teacup. It was all she could do not to grimace, for the tea was like dishwater. ‘It’s fine, thanks, Lizzie,’ she lied handsomely.

  ‘Fine or not, it’ll have to do!’ retorted the woman. ‘I don’t intend mekking a fresh pot just yet.’ Pointing an accusing finger at Emily’s feet, she tutted, ‘Look at the state of your feet! By! They must be frozen.’ Emily’s two ankles were bright pink. ‘Good God, lass! Have yer no decent shoes to yer name?’

  Instinctively pulling her thick skirt over her feet to hide them, Emily told her, ‘I don’t seem to feel the cold, and besides, I didn’t walk through the snow just now. I came along by the hedges. I’ve got a pair of boots at home but I can’t stand to wear them. I thought you knew that?’

  ‘Hmh!’ Scowling her disapproval, Lizzie told her, ‘I might know it, but that don’t mean to say I think it’s right.’ Waving her hand in a gesture of impatience, she reminded Emily, ‘You said you were thirsty. So drink up and be off with yer. I’ve other things to do than sit here wasting time with the likes of you.’

  Emily had to say it. ‘Why have you turned against me, Lizzie?’

  ‘You know why!’

  ‘Is it because of John?’

  The woman glared at her. ‘It’s not so much because of John, as what you’ve told folks.’ She shifted her gaze to the child. ‘John’s been branded with being the father of this little ’un.’ Now as she stared Emily in the eye, her gaze hardened. ‘It’s a lie and well you know it. John would never have got you with child and then run off. He thought too much of you to do that!’

  Emily defended herself. ‘I was not the one to spread that rumour.’

  ‘Huh! Well, somebody did, because it’s common knowledge now.’

  ‘Lizzie, can I ask a question?’

  ‘Yer can ask if yer like, but I might not answer.’

  ‘Have you heard from John lately?’

  The old woman shook her head. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t.’

  Emily’s heart sank. ‘I haven’t heard a single word since he’s been gone.’

  ‘Huh! I’m not surprised. He’s probably heard you’ve given yourself to some other man and tried to lay the blame at his door. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he never sets foot in these parts again, thanks to you!’

  Emily was cut deep by what Lizzie had said. ‘I never gave myself to anyone!’ she protested. ‘It’s John I love. There’s never been anyone else for me, and never will be.’

  ‘Liar!’

  Emily shook her head. ‘No, Lizzie. It’s true. John has always been the only one.’

  ‘So, yer still claiming the child is John’s, are yer?’ By now Lizzie was on her feet and staring down at Emily with quick, accusing eyes.

  Emily stood up. ‘No, Lizzie, I’m not claiming that.’

  ‘Oh, so now you’re saying the child is not John’s? By! Your story changes by the minute.’

  ‘Please. Listen to me.’ Emily confessed to as much as she dared. ‘I’m telling you now. Little Cathleen is not John’s, and I never said she was. I want you to believe that.’

  But Lizzie was past listening. ‘I’m not about to believe anything you say, young lady. Besides, I thought I asked you to leave?’

  Emily had things to get off her chest before she left. ‘I swear to you, Lizzie, John has always been the only man I love, and he still is. But if he doesn’t want me, I’ll understand and accept it.’

  ‘Will yer now?’ In spite of her harsh retort, Lizzie was moved by the sincerity in Emily’s voice, and when the tears welled up in the girl’s eyes, she was half-inclined to believe her. But there was still the question. ‘If, as you say and I know, the child is not John’s, then whose child is she?’

  For one mad moment it was on the tip of Emily’s tongue to blurt out the awful truth, about how her uncle had attacked her in the barn and got her with child. But then she thought of her mother and grandfather and the consequences of her words. And she could not take the risk of the truth leaking out. ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie. I can’t tell you,’ she finished lamely.

  The other woman’s moment of compassion melted away in the heat of anger. ‘No, o’ course yer can’t!’ Stepping back, she flung open the door. ‘Yer can’t tell me, because it’s too shameful. But I know well enough what happened! While John were away yer went with some man – that’s the sorry truth, ain’t it? And now yer too ashamed to give up his name, or to admit that you could hardly wait until my John’s back were turned afore yer went behind the cowsheds with somebody else. And now yer come here and tell me that John is the only man you ever want.’ Disgust trembled in her voice. ‘You’re a disgrace, that’s what you are.’

  Emily tried to calm her. ‘But it’s true, Lizzie. And I need John now, more than you could ever know.’

  The other woman laughed out loud. ‘Well, o’ course you do! You need him to raise another man’s child – a child that belongs to Danny Williams, I shouldn’t wonder. God knows he’s at the farm often enough, hanging about, trailing after
yer like a dog on a lead. Oh, don’t think it ain’t been noticed! And now you’ve had your little fling, you’ve got your sights set higher than a milkman. You need a father for the child, some fool to take care of you, and I dare say you reckon our John will come home a rich man. Well, I’m on to you, lady! And I will not let my John take the blame for what some other man’s done. You’re a shameful little hussy, and John is best rid of yer.’

  She took a step forward. ‘If you’ve come to find comfort here, I can tell yer now, you’ll get none! So be off with yer, and yer bastard child, afore I tek it on meself to throw you out!’

  Sensing the troubled atmosphere, and frightened by the woman’s anger, little Cathleen began to wail.

  Shocked to the core by Lizzie’s vicious outburst, and especially shaken by her belief that Danny was Cathleen’s father, Emily picked up the crying toddler, wrapped her in the shawl, and took her leave.

  In the circumstances, it was all she could do.

  As Emily and the child disappeared over the snow-covered brow of the hill, Lizzie moved away from the window and for a time just stood there, her head bowed into her hands and her whole body shaking.

  A moment later, she had dropped into the chair and was sobbing aloud. It had been a bad thing she’d done in throwing mother and child out into the cold like that. Such harsh behaviour went against her nature.

  But as far as she could tell, Emily had given her no choice.

  Chapter 5

  STRIDING ALONG THE ship’s deck, John made a handsome figure. Taller than when he had first joined the Merchant Navy, he had filled out to become a man of substance. His dark hair was longer; his skin browned by the changing of seasons in the two years and more that he had travelled the high seas. Now, back in Liverpool docks, with money in his pocket and a considerable sum put by, he showed a confidence that had grown with every pay-packet.

  ‘Where might you be off to, looking so full of yourself?’ Leaning over the railings, the fat, bearded Captain puffed on his pipe and gave John a wink. ‘From the look on your face, I’d say there was a woman involved somewhere along the way?’ He gave another, cheekier wink. ‘Is she worth it? That’s what you need to ask yourself.’