Lovers and Liars

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!’