Red Sky in the Morning Read online

  ‘I took her the puppy. She – she was ever so pleased. I could tell. She’d got tears in her eyes. But pleased tears. Not sad tears.’

  ‘Had she, son?’ The man put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘I’m glad. The little chap’ll be company for her, won’t he?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ The boy was not convinced. ‘But it’s not the same as being with other people and having presents to open and a nice dinner and . . .’ His voice trailed away as he thought about their own day ahead here in the cosy farmhouse. It was a stark contrast to the draughty cottage and the meagre fare that Anna would be facing.

  Eddie patted his son’s shoulder again and said, ‘Run along. I’ll be down in a minute. I’ll see what I can do later.’

  The next few hours were spent happily. Even Bertha was delighted with the gift that Eddie had bought her, a warm dressing gown and cosy slippers. Luckily, she couldn’t know that, as she slipped them on and paraded around the parlour, his thoughts were not on her, but with the lonely girl in the cottage over the hill. Hidden in the barn were some clothes for her. Useful, serviceable clothes and not new, but his desire to see her face when he presented them to her, the delight he hoped to see in her expression was in the forefront of his mind. But he played the part of dutiful husband and doting father. The latter was not difficult, for Tony’s pleasure in the day was obvious and even Bertha had gone to a lot of trouble over the Christmas dinner. Goose and all the trimmings followed by Christmas pudding and brandy sauce.

  But all the time he was eating it, Eddie was wondering how he could take some to the girl. He didn’t guess that, as they sat side by side at the table, his son was worrying about exactly the same thing.

  In the afternoon Tony played with his new toys whilst Eddie helped Bertha wash up. It was the only day in the year when he lent a hand in the kitchen.

  ‘You’ve spent your morning cooking for us, love,’ he always said. ‘It’s only fair I give you a hand to clear up. Not much of a Christmas Day for you otherwise, is it?’

  Later, as Bertha played a noisy game of Snap with Tony, Eddie said, ‘I’d better nip out and check the animals. Feed Duke and Rip. I reckon they deserve a Christmas dinner an’ all.’

  ‘There’s some scraps on the side for the dog,’ Bertha said absently and then shouted loudly, ‘SNAP! You missed that one, Tony. You weren’t watching.’

  ‘Sorry, Mam,’ the boy mumbled and looked down again at the cards, but not before he and his father had exchanged a meaningful glance.

  This time it was Tony who shouted loudly, ‘SNAP!’ Now he was happy to pay full attention to the game for he knew from the look that his father was going to take a plateful of Christmas dinner to the girl.

  Seven

  In January the weekly ration of fresh meat for each person was cut yet further. And there were gloomy predictions that there would soon be a cut in the bread ration, with no hope of any increase either in eggs, bacon or fish.

  ‘You’d’ve thought they’d be increasing rations now, not cutting ’em further,’ Bertha grumbled. ‘The war’s been over two years come May.’

  But Eddie was more philosophical. ‘That’s one advantage of living on a farm,’ he told Anna later and winked conspiratorially as he smuggled more food to her without Bertha knowing. ‘Always a bit extra for us that no one need know about.’

  The girl was staring at him, a stricken look in her violet eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, lass,’ Eddie said hastily. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’

  As she turned from him, she lifted her hand in a gesture of reassurance. ‘It’s all right. It’s just . . .’ But she did not finish her sentence and moved away, leaving Eddie staring after her with a puzzled expression. He waited for her to turn back again, to say more, but no explanation was forthcoming.

  What on earth could he possibly have said to make that look of fear leap into her eyes once more?

  Eddie sighed. The lass was a mystery and no mistake.

  Towards the end of January, freezing weather gripped the whole country in its icy fingers. Power failures plunged towns and villages into darkness, whilst the temperature dropped lower and lower.

  Cackle Hill Farm had its own generator, but Eddie was concerned for the girl in the cottage. Every few days he took a bag of coal with him on his trailer, hidden beneath the feed for his sheep.

  Anna looked out of the cottage one morning to see a slate grey sky. She lifted her face and sniffed the air. Snow, she thought. There’s snow coming and a lot of it.

  ‘How many sheep have you got?’ she asked Eddie later when he came on the tractor with bales of hay for his flock.

  ‘About fifty. Why?’

  ‘I reckon we’re in for some snow, Mr Appleyard.’

  Eddie glanced at the laden sky and then at the girl. ‘Aye,’ he agreed, marvelling at her knowledge. ‘I was thinking the same mesen.’ Just who was this girl, he was wondering, and where had she come from? She was certainly knowledgeable about the countryside and about farming. The image of her hedge-laying was in his mind. She was looking about her now, glancing over the sheep, which were grazing with placid contentment unaware of the threatening weather. Eddie was sure that the girl was thinking the same thing he was – his flock ought to be under cover before the snow came. It was the most animated he had seen her, the most conversation they had had. Even over the hedging, she had not been quite so interested, so concerned, so – alive!

  He smiled, thankful to see the change in her. ‘Call me “Eddie”. Everyone does. Meks me feel old to be called “Mester Appleyard”.’ For a brief moment she looked uncertain, as if, suddenly, her growing trust in him had been threatened. He saw her glance at him and he couldn’t mistake the suspicion in her eyes. And something else too. Could it possibly be fear? Hastily, he added, ‘Only if you want to, of course. Mebbe I ought to call you “Miss Woods”. But to hear mesen called “Mester Appleyard”,’ he went on, trying to make a joke of it, ‘meks me think me dad’s come back.’

  Her expression lightened a little and there was even the ghost of a smile as she said softly, ‘No, no. “Anna” is just fine . . .’ There was a long pause before she added almost inaudibly, ‘Eddie.’

  ‘Now, about these sheep,’ Eddie said, deliberately changing the subject, his gaze roaming over the nearby slopes, ‘we could be in real trouble if the snow comes. We’re due to start lambing any time.’

  Horrified, Anna stared at him. ‘As early as this?’

  Eddie nodded. ‘I usually plan it to start in February, with a batch of about twenty.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Then I can get them to market by late June or early July when the prices are good. The rest lamb in March and April. Those lambs get the clean grazing, the new grass that year. Then I can sell them any time I want or keep a few to add to my own flock.’

  Anna smiled and began to say, ‘That’s what—’. She stopped and bit her lip. Sensing her thoughts were again turning to a troubled past, Eddie tactfully hurried on. ‘They lamb outdoors unless the weather’s bad, then, I take them down to the barn. But as soon as the lambs are strong enough, I bring ’em back to the field.’ He paused and then laughed wryly. ‘Course, some of ’em are awk’ard beggars and drop too early. That’s when we end up in your cottage.’

  ‘It must be a busy time for you,’ she murmured, her eyes still with a faraway look.

  ‘Tony helps when he can.’ He laughed. ‘I forget sometimes just how young he is. He’s a good lad.’

  ‘Mm, I can see that,’ Anna murmured. She did not ask if Bertha ever helped for she’d guessed the answer.

  ‘Mebbe’ – Eddie was glancing worriedly at the sky and thinking out loud – ‘I ought to get as many as I can of the flock down to the yard. I can’t get all fifty under cover, but at least they’d all be in one place.’

  ‘It’d certainly be better than them getting buried in the snow out here. We’d never find them. And when those that are due start lambing—’

  ‘I’ll bring Rip and Tony up tomo
rrow and we’ll start rounding them up. One day off school won’t matter.’

  ‘There’s no need to keep him off. I can help you.’

  Eddie nodded. ‘All right then, lass. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.’

  ‘Eddie,’ she said suddenly, as he began to climb back onto his tractor, ‘leave me your crook, will you?’

  He eyed her speculatively. ‘Course I will. But what do you want with it? I mean, you didn’t ought to be tugging about with sheep. Not in your . . .’ His voice trailed away, but when he glanced briefly towards her stomach she understood. ‘Now, promise me you won’t.’

  Touched by his concern, she smiled, though as always the smile scarcely reached her eyes. The deep sadness in them was something that haunted Eddie Appleyard even when he was not with her.

  ‘I’d just feel better if I had one,’ she answered, neatly evading giving her promise and knowing he would not deny her request.

  Eddie reached into the trailer behind his tractor and handed her his shepherd’s crook.

  ‘This isn’t your only one, is it?’ she asked softly, running her hands lovingly up and down the polished wood.

  He laughed. ‘Lord, no. I’ve two more and Tony’s even got his own little one. I had it specially made for him.’

  Anna closed her eyes and sighed, and when she opened them again Eddie was startled to see tears brimming. Her voice was husky as she said, ‘That’s nice.’ Then swiftly, she turned away.

  As he drove up the track, Eddie was filled with acute sadness, yet he didn’t quite know why. Every so often something was said or something happened that seemed to remind the lass of her past – something that brought tears. He wished she would open up, that she would tell him more about herself. He sighed. There was nothing more he could do except look after her – no matter what it cost him.

  As he drove into the yard and climbed down from his tractor, he saw Bertha standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her bosom. Scowling, she shouted, ‘And what’s so interesting up yon track, might I ask?’

  As he walked towards her, he forced a smile. ‘Me sheep,’ he said and added mildly, ‘Any tea in the pot, Bertha love?’

  The snow came that night. It began stealthily, falling innocently enough at first and clothing the world in a thin, white sheet.

  The following morning Eddie, Anna and Rip rounded up thirty-three sheep and drove them down to the farmyard, though Anna was careful to stay out of sight of the house. Another ten wandered down to the cottage of their own accord and sheltered near the walls or beneath the trees. By dinnertime the snow was coming thick and fast.

  ‘There’s still seven missing,’ Anna panted, leaning on her crook and screwing her eyes up against the huge flakes that settled on her face. They clung to her hair and covered her shoulders.

  ‘You go in now, love. You’re beginning to look like a walking snowman. You’ll be soaked through.’ He didn’t refer to the day he had found her and brought her home, yet it was in both their minds. She had changed even in that short time. Now she had a home, she was warm and well fed. Now she was able to laugh and retort, ‘So do you.’

  Beside them, Rip shook himself vigorously, the snow from his coat showering them both with even more.

  ‘We must find them,’ Anna insisted as her thoughts returned to the missing animals.

  ‘Me an’ Rip’ll keep looking, but it’s pretty hopeless in this lot. We can’t see more than a few yards in front of our noses, never mind trying to see sheep across the field. If it’d only stop snowing, we might have a better chance.’

  ‘But seven,’ Anna said, ‘that’s a lot to lose.’

  ‘I know,’ Eddie said soberly, ‘but think of all those we’ve saved. Besides, they might be all right if it stops soon.’

  They both glanced at the sky and then at each other, but neither spoke. They didn’t need to. The sky was so heavy with snow that it was almost like the dusk of evening even though it was only midday. They both knew that the snow would keep coming until it was ankle deep, then up to the knee and, finally, almost too deep for anyone to wade through. They were facing day after day of blizzards that would shroud the countryside and bring transport, movement of any kind, to a halt. The lanes and then the roads would soon be impassable and only tractors or vehicles with heavy chains on their wheels would be able to move anywhere. Children from outlying areas would not get into the village school. Isolated farms and houses would be snowed in and would have to rely on their own food stores.

  That first evening, when Eddie returned, wet through, aching in every limb and disconsolate because he had not found even one of his missing sheep, Bertha was already fretting. ‘I’m going to be trapped ’ere, not knowing if me sister’s alive or dead.’

  ‘I’ll take you into the town on the tractor, love, if it gets that bad and you’re worried about her,’ Eddie offered.

  His wife’s retort was scathing. ‘Spect me to ride on that thing? I’d be a laughing stock.’

  ‘Nobody’s laughing, Bertha. We’ll have to get about as best we can.’

  ‘Aye well, you’re all right, aren’t you? You can still get into town of a Wednesday.’ She leant towards him, wagging her finger. ‘Only thing is, Eddie Appleyard, you can’t drink like a fish no more, ’cos the tractor won’t know it’s own way home like that poor old pony.’

  Eddie turned away without replying. There was no talking to the woman sometimes. He couldn’t believe that she had not noticed by now – and he certainly wasn’t going to remind her – that he had not come home drunk, not once, since the night he’d brought the girl home. He had kept his silent vow of abstinence, but Bertha hadn’t even commented on it.

  In the cottage, Anna didn’t mind the weather. In fact, it made her feel more secure. No one could reach her now. No one would find her hidden away in a snow-covered cottage near the wood. And she had all the supplies she needed. In the weeks since Christmas she had built up a woodpile in the next room and, thanks to Eddie, she had a good store of tinned food in the larder. She and the puppy would be fine – the only thing that concerned her was Eddie’s sheep.

  Gently, young though he was, Anna had begun to train the puppy. She would whistle softly in different tones and different pitches and repeat the words of instruction that the shepherds used. When he grew bigger and spring came, then she would take him into the fields and teach him properly.

  But sometimes the tears overcame her and she buried her face in his soft coat, remembering that other dog called Buster who had been hers in that other life.

  The following morning Anna looked out to see a white world outside her window. But, for the moment, the snow had stopped falling. After a hasty breakfast, she pulled on her warmest clothes and the wellingtons Eddie had brought her.

  ‘Now you stay here, warm and cosy by the fire,’ she said to little Buster, who, sensing that he was going to be left alone, whimpered. ‘It’s a pity you’re not bigger like . . .’ she began and then faltered, blinking back sudden tears. Then she added bravely, ‘You could be a great help today.’

  With a final pat, she opened the front door. Normally, she used the door from the kitchen, but today she had another idea. At once a deluge of snow that had drifted against it during the night fell in and it took the girl several precious minutes before she could get the door closed again and then begin to dig a path away from the cottage.

  ‘This is worse than I thought,’ she muttered, resting on her spade for a moment. Digging away the snow was hard work and the ever-increasing bulge of her stomach hampered her. But the thought of the sheep buried out there in the fields spurred her on. ‘Worst of it is,’ she muttered to herself, ‘they’re such silly creatures. They might not be together. They could be anywhere.’ But her words were spoken fondly. She had a great affection for sheep and it was this that was making her disregard her own safety – even the well-being of her unborn child – in an effort to save the rest of Eddie Appleyard’s flock.

  First, she dug her way
round to the back of the cottage, to find the sheep huddled against the back wall of the cottage, their long coats matted with snow.

  ‘You poor things, you do look miserable. Come on, let’s get you in the warm.’ Grabbing hold of the nearest one, she began to lead it round the side of the building and in through the front door and pushed it into the empty ‘parlour’ of the cottage. Two had followed her of their own accord and, with three similar trips, she soon had all the sheep under cover. She counted them. Ten. Yes, she had been right. Somewhere on the snow-covered hills were seven more. Already the little room looked crowded, but Anna was determined to find the others and bring them to safety.

  ‘Now for the difficult bit,’ she murmured, taking up the crook and plodding round to the front of the cottage.

  Snow was falling again, but only light, small flakes. Even though the sky looked laden, at the moment she could still see across the fields. Anna scanned the slopes. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her way through the deep snow towards the side of the field. Sheep tended to look for shelter and when the snow began the hedgerows would be the most likely place to find them.

  She had unearthed two by the time she heard a shout and looked up to see Eddie, Tony and Rip struggling to reach her.

  ‘I thought – you promised me . . .’ Eddie panted as he neared her, ‘that you wouldn’t do this.’

  For the first time Anna laughed aloud throwing back her head, the joyous sound echoing around them. For a moment, Eddie and Tony stood looking at her and then, unable to stop themselves, they laughed too.

  Anna was shaking her head. ‘I didn’t actually answer you.’ Then she looked at him with an expression that was almost coy. ‘But I expect you’re used to being obeyed.’ And she nodded towards Tony.

  Eddie smiled, but there was a wry twist to his mouth now. ‘By Tony, yes. Well, most of the time.’

  He looked at the two bedraggled sheep standing miserably in the snow. ‘I’m surprised they’re still alive.’