The Winter Baby Page 6

  She felt relaxed in Sam’s company. He doesn’t affect me like Danny does, she thought. I suppose I was looking for love, but this is not the time or place. Sam treats me like a sister.

  As if he was reading her thoughts, he said suddenly, ‘Danny is hoping to mend the rift with Marion, you know, but she has a jealous nature.’

  ‘Surely she isn’t jealous of me? I’m not pretty like her, and my past life . . .’ She paused.

  ‘No,’ he said quietly, ‘you aren’t pretty; you’re beautiful, Kathleen. Your past is past, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want to know what you are unwilling to tell us.’

  ‘Are you . . .?’

  ‘Am I falling in love with you? Who knows – I certainly don’t. But I enjoy your company. I’m five years older than you, but you have more experience of life; you are already a mother, though you obviously aren’t grown up.’ He gently tweaked her hair. ‘You are very desirable, though,’ he said pensively, thinking, why on earth did I tell her that?

  ‘Why don’t you kiss me?’ she faltered.

  ‘Because one kiss wouldn’t be enough. Now let me tell you how we make bricks,’ he said briskly.

  She spotted a folded newspaper on the cluttered table. ‘I’d like to read the paper while I drink my tea.’

  ‘The news is a few days old, nothing interesting. I brought it along to light the fire.’

  There was something he didn’t want her to see, about the mystery in Croydon.

  The coroner reached his verdict. The woman, now identified as Mrs Viola D’Estrange, aged around sixty, was said to have died from natural causes, although she had unexplained injuries. Her male companion, in his forties, unnamed, attempted suicide after questioning, and is now confined in a secure hospital. The girl in the case, believed to be the niece of Mrs D’Estrange, is still missing. There is concern for her welfare as she was heavily pregnant at the time she disappeared.

  Sam crumpled the paper and tore a couple of sheets into shreds. He wouldn’t forget the words, he thought. He put the paper in the rusty grate and lit a corner of it. It flared up instantly.

  Kathleen watched, puzzled. Why hadn’t he added some wood to the brief blaze?

  ‘Shall I tell you how we make bricks?’ Sam asked eagerly.

  As he went on to explain the process, Kathleen snuggled up close to him, and he suddenly noticed that her eyelids were flickering. ‘Have I sent you to sleep? I apologise if you were bored.’

  ‘No,’ she said dreamily. ‘It’s just that I was wishing you would kiss me – oh, not in a romantic way, but you see, when I was a little girl, my father used to pick me up and hug me and kiss me whenever I was crying or sad, and call me his princess.’

  ‘Ah, so you need a fatherly kiss now and then?’ He stroked her cheek with a finger. ‘Well I don’t mind that, so long as you’re not thinking of marrying me – or Danny, who is far too immature.’

  He hugged her and then kissed her, but it was not a fatherly kiss at all. It left them both breathless for a minute or two. Sam was worried he had taken advantage of her vulnerability, while Kathleen couldn’t help thinking: if only it had been Danny . . .

  ‘Time to go home,’ Sam said unevenly. ‘There might be a surprise for you, I hope, if Mother’s managed to get Danny up and out of bed.’

  *

  Jessie looked keenly at Kathleen’s flushed face when they walked into the kitchen as she was dishing up stew and dumplings on to the dinner plates. ‘Your bedroom is ready for you,’ she said proudly. ‘Danny moved your bed and the baby’s things in there earlier. Did you have a good day?’

  Sam answered for them both. ‘A surprisingly good day, Mother. Kathleen knows how to make bricks now.’

  EIGHT

  After a cruel winter, it was a record year for sunshine from spring to a glorious summer. Crops ripened early in June, including the strawberries in Kent. The local pickers arrived soon after dawn; fruit picked then would be taken to Covent Garden market by horse-drawn spring vans for sale the same day.

  Young Heather was now sitting up, though not yet crawling, so Kathleen wheeled her pram along to the strawberry fields and parked it under the shade of a tree opposite her designated row. The lines of leafy green plants with their hidden bounty stretched as far as the eye could see.

  Jessie would check on the baby from time to time; she didn’t pick the fruit herself, but organised the army of pickers and the trays of strawberries awaiting collection. Danny and Sam carried these and loaded them when the big vans arrived. Jessie had a notebook and pencil in her pocket. The pickers’ tally must agree with her diligent counting.

  Heather wore a sunbonnet and a muslin dress to protect her from sunburn, but as an added precaution, Jessie advised Kathleen to smear cold cream on the baby’s exposed limbs. Kathleen mused that her own fair complexion was more in need of protection, for Heather’s plump, dimpled cheeks were a peachy shade. She also had beautiful brown eyes. Kathleen could not acknowledge to herself why this must be.

  Heather played happily with her teething rattle and soft toys and watched proceedings. The youngsters who came along with their mothers liked rocking the pram and making the baby gurgle with laughter. Jessie noted the remains of a strawberry that one of the children had obviously given the baby. Heather had sucked the juice, which had dribbled down her front, then thrown it overboard, like her toys, which her small admirers retrieved constantly.

  When a break was called, Kathleen returned to give Heather a drink of water and a hard-baked rusk, for her front teeth were about to erupt. Kathleen herself drank from a bottle of cold tea, made without milk and sugar. She enjoyed the fresh taste of the new Typhoo Tea that Jessie had decided to try.

  The pickers lay about under the hedges that bordered the strawberry rows. Kathleen spotted a familiar face – Marion, her hair glinting gold in the sun. She’d shortened her skirt by pulling the excess material through and above her belt, and Kathleen could see her shapely legs and dimpled knees. And here I am in these grubby breeches, she thought with a pang, one of Danny’s baggy old shirts with the sleeves rolled up, the ankle boots I wore when I came here, with my hair tied back like a horse’s tail and this awful straw hat that Danny says he’ll give to the donkey later . . .

  Tucked under her arm was a cushion covered in sacking, on which she shuffled along what seemed an endless row of plants. She loved the sensation of parting the foliage and discovering the fruit clustering in the cool shade beneath. The redder the berry, the sweeter the taste, she’d discovered. She had eaten her share of them, hoping she was not observed. The experienced pickers were already halfway up their second row; they didn’t crawl, but went swiftly between the plants, bending their backs to the task, picking the berries with a skilful twist of the stem. The little green cap must remain, or the strawberry was not acceptable. ‘Hello, Kathleen, how are you?’ Marion asked pleasantly. ‘I didn’t recognise you at first. Surprised to see me? Danny and I are together again, as you know. I am allowed home from my job to help with the picking, which I do every year.’

  Kathleen had not been aware that Danny was reconciled with his first love, as he paid her scant attention nowadays. This saddened her, because she no longer felt close to him, or as though she could cling to him as she had when she first arrived. Sam was a different matter; he treated her as if she were a younger sister, but she couldn’t forget that moment of unexpected passion the first time she had visited the brickworks. This had not been repeated. She suspected that Jessie had spoken to both her sons.

  As Kathleen made her way back along her row with her basket, she glanced back and saw that Danny had arrived after attending to the early morning stable duties. He helped Marion to her feet and the pair embraced briefly before they returned to their respective tasks. He’s ignoring me, she thought sadly. I was a fool to think he had feelings for me, but I miss him. He was my confidant; I can’t tell things to Sam the way I could to Danny.

  Danny shaded his eyes with a hand as he sca
nned the rows until he saw Kathleen moving slowly along on her knees, searching for the best berries. He sighed. She must think I was never attracted to her, he thought, but I must be aloof because I was forced to choose between her and Marion. The trouble is, I can’t stop thinking about Kathleen and wondering what might have been, but I have to do the honourable thing by Marion. I hope Kathleen hasn’t been hurt too much by all of this.

  A newcomer arrived and stood looking at the pickers as they worked. It was Doc Wiseman, box camera in hand. The girl in the next row to Kathleen said, ‘Turn your head and smile! He takes pictures of the strawberry pickers every summer for the local paper.’

  ‘I don’t know if I can stand up. My knees are really sore in spite of the cushion,’ Kathleen said faintly.

  ‘Oh go on – I see Danny’s girl is posing for him already!’

  ‘She’s much better looking than me,’ Kathleen said dolefully. ‘I’m not sure I want folk to recognise me dressed like this.’

  ‘They don’t give our names,’ the girl assured her.

  Kathleen stretched her aching back and saw Doc coming along the row ready to take their picture. Maybe the newspaper readers will think I’m a boy, she thought hopefully.

  Danny followed him up. He helped Kathleen to her feet and stood between the two girls. ‘You tower over them, Danny; put a hand on each of their shoulders – young ladies, display your baskets of strawberries.’ Doc encouraged.

  Someone else was rustling along the row towards them. ‘Wait for me, Doc!’

  As Marion approached the group, Danny moved back so she could stand in front of him between the two other girls. His arms encircled her waist. It was an intimate gesture.

  Kathleen heard him whisper to Marion, ‘Let your skirts down or your mother will be shocked when she sees the photograph.’ Marion likes to be the centre of attention, Kathleen thought ruefully

  ‘I really came along to tell you all it’s time to go home,’ Danny said. ‘We pack up at one o’clock, as any fruit picked once the vans have gone cannot be kept until tomorrow. Mother said feel free to take your final basket home to your family; we’ll see you at five a.m. tomorrow,’ he added to the other girl. ‘I’m going to check on the horses now, Marion; they went into the paddock first thing. Would you like to come with me? Then I’ll take you home.’

  They went across the rows in a zigzag fashion towards the stables and the field beyond. Their laughter drifted back to the little group. Kathleen couldn’t help thinking that as the horses were outside, the two of them would be able to have a roll in the hay. After all, when you were young and eager, and no one else was around . . . It was never like that for me, though, she thought. I was a prisoner in that place.

  She walked alongside Doc Wiseman; they could see Jessie waiting for them with Heather. Kathleen pushed the pram while Jessie went ahead.

  ‘You look a different girl; happy, Kathleen,’ Doc told her.

  She smiled. ‘Due to hard work – I’ve got muscles now – and good food, Doc.’

  ‘My dear, it is love that has made you bloom.’

  Kathleen blushed and said impulsively, ‘You’re wrong if you think it is one of Jessie’s boys – it seemed that way at first; however they treat me like a sister.’

  ‘I was referring to the love you have been given by Jessie. She knew nothing about you, but she took you into her home and cared for you.’

  ‘You took your time,’ Jessie greeted them. ‘Will you join us for dinner, Doc? It’ll be salad and stuffed tomatoes; we have a glut of those now.’

  ‘Thank you, the right fare for a hot day,’ he said. ‘I wonder, will Danny be back later? I wish to discuss something with him; you also, Jessie.’

  Jessie sighed. ‘Who knows? Time means nothing when you are, shall I say, smitten?’

  Kathleen lifted the baby from the pram and went to her room to see to her, and to have a quick wash in cold water before she shed her working clothes and changed into a frock. All my clothes once belonged to Mary, she thought, and I’m grateful for them, but when I get my strawberry money, I’ll buy a dress that fits me.

  ‘Well, Heather, are you ready for your bottle?’ She gave the baby a kiss. ‘Jessie says you look more like me now you’ve grown some hair on your head, and I’m glad.’

  *

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Danny murmured as he rolled away from Marion in the hayloft.

  Marion reached out to him again – she was ecstatic, not upset. ‘Now you’ll have to marry me, Danny Mason!’ She had unbuttoned her blouse herself, and for the first time he had been allowed to caress her bare flesh and they had thrown caution to the winds.

  He didn’t answer that; he detached himself once more, and helped her down the loft ladder. She encouraged me, he thought, but that’s no excuse.

  ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said. ‘Your mother will be wondering where on earth we are.’

  ‘She’ll know,’ Marion said. ‘Mothers always do.’

  *

  Mrs Amos didn’t ask why Marion looked dishevelled, saying merely, ‘Come in, both of you. Better have a wash before you sit down to lunch. At least the food didn’t spoil as it’s a cold platter today, what with this heat.’

  Danny said awkwardly, ‘Mother will wonder where I am . . .’

  ‘Nonsense. I’ll be round to see her shortly, as I hope you’ve got some good news for me?’ She exchanged a glance with Marion, and they both smiled.

  At that moment, Danny realised that what had just happened between him and Marion must have been with Mrs Amos’s encouragement. He was trapped. What could he do except say, ‘Yes, Marion and I intend to be married.’

  ‘As soon as possible, just in case,’ Marion said, sounding triumphant. ‘If Mother will give her consent, as I’m under twenty-one.’

  ‘I shall be glad to do so. You will have to go back to your job when the strawberry season is over and work a week’s notice. I will discuss a date with Mrs Mason – September sounds right, eh?’

  Danny had to make something clear before it was too late. ‘It’s always been understood that when I got married, my wife and I would live on the farm – after all, Mother needs me, and I have the stables to consider.’

  ‘I will miss Marion, but I’ve had help with the poultry while she has been away and I think I can manage, though I might need a contribution now and then to the bills.’ Mrs Amos looked meaningfully at Danny. He was relieved. For a moment he’d thought she would announce her intention of moving to the farm with her daughter. He realised that he was trapped in any case.

  *

  ‘Oh, you’re here at last,’ Jessie greeted him. ‘Doc Wiseman was here, but he had to leave for an appointment. He says can you call in on him one evening; he has something important to ask you.’

  Danny sounded subdued. ‘I’ll see him soon, but not tonight, Mother. I have other things on my mind.’ He looked over at Kathleen, with her baby in her arms. She had combed out her hair and wore a pretty summer dress. I’m a fool, I know that, he thought, but now it’s too late. Suppose I’ve put Marion in the family way?

  ‘Were the horses all right?’ Kathleen asked. ‘I missed them today.’

  He nodded. ‘Mother, I need to tell you something, but I’ll get cleaned up first.’

  ‘I think I can guess what it might be, Danny,’ Jessie said quietly. ‘I’ll come up to your room in ten minutes.’

  *

  At the end of the first week, there was excitement when the strawberry pickers opened the local paper to see the photographs taken by Doc Wiseman.

  Kathleen was relieved; her new friend Isobel was right. The caption simply read: A BUMPER CROP OF STRAWBERRIES! And below that: SOME HAPPY PICKERS! Her eyes were drawn to the couple in the middle: Danny and Marion.

  She had shed a few tears that night, after hearing the news about the forthcoming marriage, and was glad she no longer shared Jessie’s bedroom. She realised that the trauma she had been through had made her desperate to find someone to love and care
for her. Now that her emotions had stabilised, she was aware that she was not ready for such a relationship yet. She was not even sure which brother she cared for the most. However, Danny was now out of bounds.

  Danny had had his chat with Doc Wiseman and had come home very excited. ‘Doc wants to join me in my venture at the stables. He’s saved a lot of money over the years and wants to invest in a couple more good horses – he believes in me, Mother!’ he said to Jessie.

  ‘So do I, son,’ she said quietly. ‘Is Marion pleased?’

  He bit his lip. ‘I haven’t told her yet, she’s too busy with the wedding plans.’

  The following week, Kathleen was at home with Heather after working hard all morning, and was resting on the couch when Jessie answered a knock on the door. She called out to Kathleen, ‘A surprise visitor for you!’

  Kathleen was trembling as she wondered who on earth it might be. She laid the sleeping baby down and wedged a cushion beside her, in case she rolled over and slipped off the couch. Bob twitched an ear, alert even when he appeared to be asleep nearby.

  A tall woman clad in grey stood in the hallway. For a long moment she said nothing, then she held out her arms. ‘Kathleen! I know your name now. I recognised your picture in the paper; my husband spotted that the photographer was an old friend of ours, Dr Abraham Wiseman, so he got in touch with him and discovered that you were here. I have worried about you ever since you went off in that awful weather – I thought I should have taken you home with me that night, even though we are a houseful – but here you are, safe and sound, with a beautiful baby, and I want to give you a big hug!’

  ‘The minister’s wife,’ Kathleen said faintly, relieved that it was not another face from the past. Then her knees buckled and she fell to the ground.