Bitter Inheritance Read online

  ‘My problem has really been that nobody thinks I should keep the farm going by myself. My father died, you see. And I don’t know where he left our money, if there is any. Of course most people think that women are not able to run a farm on their own.’

  Emma nodded, but said nothing.

  ‘Your coming here made all the difference, Emma. With your money I was able to hire Joe to work for me and we bought more cows. I was almost desperate just before you came. It was true what people said, the work was too much for me. Too heavy.’ She could admit it, now that a solution had been found.

  ‘And is everything now going well, Sally?’

  ‘Well, there are still big problems. The farm is now owned by someone else and he’s trying to get rid of me.’

  Emma stood still in the lane, wanting a rest as they were walking uphill. Sally still had troubles, that was obvious. But she felt amazed that anything she did could help anybody, even by default. ‘I’d like to help you more, if I can. Obviously I can’t do much at the moment, although I feel much healthier, since you persuaded me to walk and to eat the right foods. You’ve done me a lot of good, Sally.’

  The next big hurdle was the birth and Emma was afraid. At school, she’d heard horror stories about women in childbirth, although the stories were whispered behind closed doors. No teacher ever mentioned such things, or allowed discussion of the human body and its development. But Sally was a farmer, she would probably know about it. The twilight deepened and the evening air was cold. Emma shivered under her coat.

  ‘Well, we could be friends. Let’s eat some of our meals together, and I’d like you to come into the parlour sometimes,’ said Sally firmly. ‘You can look through my books and – do you like music? I haven’t played the piano since Father died, but we used to love music.’

  Emma thought that Sally’s face changed expression so quickly, it was hard to keep up with her; she went from eagerness to sadness in a moment. It must have been hard for her, tired by gruelling farm work and living alone.

  ‘I used to play and sing when I lived at home. My parents died, too, both together, in a boating accident at Scarborough. But at the Bellamys I was never allowed to speak of them. And of course there was no music in that house.’

  Sally shook her head and Emma felt that she understood how barren her life had become.

  The cows went into the milking shed, each one to her accustomed place. How did they know where to go? Joe tied them, gently putting a chain around the neck and soon the shed was full of the sound of munching as the cows ate their evening hay. Emma lingered by the door, watching them. There was something soothing about contented cattle. In time, she thought, she might lose her fear of animals.

  That evening Emma was happier than she’d been for years, even though the birth was still looming. Sally put some logs on the sitting-room fire and they looked at books and leafed through music. And Emma surprised herself by sitting at the piano and playing a simple piece from memory. It was strange to be a person again, not an outcast. And not to be whipped. Perhaps she’d left that behind, forever.

  The weeks went by quickly as the days shortened. The factor called to buy Sally’s cheeses and pronounced them excellent, which was a source of pride. The cheese money was put in the Penny Bank.

  One morning, Sally came into the kitchen full of determination. ‘I would like you to come with me over the green to have a cup of tea with Martha, Mrs Dawson.’ She glanced at Emma, to see the effect of this drastic proposal.

  Sally had several reasons for the visit. Emma needed a change of scene, since the weather had kept her in the house for a week. And also Martha might be needed to help with the baby, and Emma had only met her very briefly once or twice.

  ‘Thank you, I know you mean well. But I’m very shy, especially….’ She looked down self-consciously. ‘It’s so long since I met anyone.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s time you did. Now, Martha’s had children and grandchildren and she’s a great friend. Get your coat, Emma, we’ll go now.’ I’m getting very bossy, Sally thought to herself as she pulled on her boots. It must be all the responsibility; just like Mama’s schoolteacher ways.

  A light powdering of snow had fallen on Thorpe, etching the houses and trees with delicate white. Part of the pond was frozen, but there was still water for the ducks to swim. The village was enjoying a quiet morning as the two crossed over to where Martha and George lived.

  ‘Doesn’t Thorpe look pretty in the snow? We skate on the pond when it really freezes over.’ Sally remembered skating with Robin in their carefree childhood days.

  Sally looked at Emma as they got to the door and saw that the girl was trembling slightly, either from fear or the cold. ‘We won’t stay long. And George is away delivering turnips, I saw him go down the Ripon road. So there’s only Martha here. Don’t be shy, lass!’

  To Sally’s relief, the visit went well. Martha offered sensible advice, from her own experience, about pregnancy and Emma’s composure soon came back. In some ways Emma seemed such a child and yet she’d shown amazing maturity, standing up to Aunt Bertha. Sally smiled as she thought about it.

  ‘You’ll have spring-cleaned the bedroom, I expect?’ Martha peered over her glasses and Sally felt young and inexperienced, faced with one of the greatest of life’s emergencies. ‘And you’ve got a rubber sheet and plenty of big jugs for boiled water, and a lot of towels? These days they say you should boil all the towels and such and leave them in a bag, to keep out the infection. Germs, I think they call them.’

  Emma’s pale face went even whiter and Sally tried to jolly her along. ‘It’s only a natural process, after all! And with me and Martha to look after you, and the doctor when we need him, there’s nothing to worry about. We’ve got a washstand in the room, of course and we have a little table that the doctor said would be good for the ether apparatus.’ In the circumstances Sally didn’t like to mention the baby, and Emma seemed indifferent to it, but they had a few baby clothes ready for the new arrival.

  Sally began to feel a little less anxious; Emma was not going to be a problem. But she still had the Radfords at the back of her mind and she was forming a plan of attack. There had been no reply to Sally’s letter to her landlord and weeks had gone by. ‘I’m worried about it,’ she confessed to Martha. ‘Heaven knows what Sol is telling him. I really think that I must go over to see Mr Radford very soon. If I can tell him what we’re doing with the farm face to face, he might see reason. But – I don’t like to leave Emma, she’s due any day now.’

  Martha cleared the teacups and said gently, ‘Well, now Emma knows me, I can keep an eye on her. I’ll pop in during the day. Isn’t that right, lass?’

  Emma smiled her thanks. ‘Don’t worry, Sally, I will be quite safe with Martha calling in.’

  ‘And,’ Martha continued, ‘George ought to go with you. It’s a long way to Radford’s and the weather’s uncertain. It could snow again and you know what the moor’s like: deep drifts, and they don’t find you until spring!’ Again the grim moorland smile.

  ‘George might be needed to fetch the doctor from Kirkby,’ Sally reminded her. ‘It’s only two miles, but that’s a long way in an emergency.’ She was quite determined to go the next day. There was very little snow after all, and Jed the horse was quite used to winter conditions. Better to get it over with, before Emma’s baby arrived.

  Back at the farm, Sally told Joe what she intended to do. He leaned on his shovel, not so shy now and even more likely to give advice. ‘My, that’s a long way! Nearly to Pateley. It’s more than ten mile off, I reckon, where Mr Radford lives.’

  ‘Tell me how to get there, Joe.’

  ‘Nay, miss, weather’s none too good. Er – would you like me to drive you?’

  Sally shook her red curls. ‘Joe, you’ll have to milk the cows and if I’m not back in time, feed the sheep and the poultry. Can you pour the milk into the setting pans for me?’

  Joe nodded, somewhat reluctantly. Then he put down his shovel an
d bustled off. Five minutes later, the trap was out in the yard, being given a clean and polish. The brass lamps were buffed. Jed was thoroughly groomed; Jed was a good-looking animal, with a chestnut coat that shone because Joe often slipped him a few extra oats.

  The process took a long time; even the harness was treated with neatsfoot oil. Sally had tried to keep the outfit reasonably clean and the harness was always oiled as a safety measure to keep it from cracking, but it obviously wasn’t up to Joe’s standard.

  Seeing all this activity, Sally realized that Joe was right. People judged you by how you looked and a smart pony and trap would imply a tidy farm. And as Joe kept reminding her, ‘A tidy farm’s a prosperous farm.’ She would wear her good coat and gloves and she and Jed would make an early start. It was good to look smart, but as Emma pointed out, it was bound to be cold on the moor. ‘I’ll wear the old driving cape of Father’s and my good coat underneath,’ Sally decided.

  The long-awaited letter arrived the next day and it made Sally even more determined to pay a visit to her landlord. She only hoped she wouldn’t fizz too much when they came face to face.

  Dear Madam,

  I do not enter into philosophical debates with tenants.

  The tone of your first letter, which the second has hardly ameliorated, was astonishing. You forget your place, madam, and your youth.

  You obviously have no respect for your elders, or understanding of business conventions, and the deference due to the owner of a property, of which you are – for the moment – the tenant.

  I am far too busy to visit Thorpe and will rely on my agent’s reports, which as previously stated, are most unfavourable. And so is my estimation of your capabilities.

  Refer to my previous letter, the terms of which still stand. I hope this is the end of the matter.

  Yours faithfully,

  Oliver Radford

  In spite of her anger Sally smiled grimly at this letter. Mr Oliver Radford seemed to take a perverse pleasure in writing the most hostile and offensive letter that he possibly could devise, unless it were written with a stark humour. Some of the High Side characters had just that kind of mind. The spiky black writing, jabbed on to the page, drove the point home.

  What on earth had she done? Sally wondered, to make this man hate her so much? It would be most interesting to meet Mr Radford and she no longer felt afraid. She felt like telling him what was what, using the longest words she could find. A philosophical debate about women and their capabilities was just what he needed to set him straight.

  The next day was cloudy but rather warmer and the snow in Thorpe had melted, although they could still see patches of white on the moorland. Promising to take extreme care, Sally set off as early as she could, Jed trotting proudly along the Kirkby lane as though he knew the errand was important. Sally went through Kirkby and took the moor road, enjoying the unusual feeling of freedom and the sensation of speed. Much as she loved Badger’s Gill, it was good to get away for a few hours just for a change.

  Snow had drifted on the moor, filling ditches and banking up behind stone walls, and up here the air was colder, but the roads were clear. Low clouds hung over the highest ridges and the November sky looked as though more snow was possible. A horseman came towards her, a familiar shape and Sally felt the familiar flutter when she saw that it was Robin. His saddlebag was stuffed with papers.

  ‘Hello Sal, what are you up to? I’ll ride a mile or two with you.’ And he turned his horse’s head and came alongside.

  ‘I’m off to see the landlord, Robin. To ask him for the tenancy. I really want to stay at Badger’s Gill.’

  The young man grinned at her and shook his curly head. ‘We must be complete opposites, lass. All you want is to stay at Thorpe, while all I want is to get away!

  That’s why I do the errands for Father, like this one today. Got me out of the village for an hour!’

  Sally stared straight ahead between her horse’s ears, in shock. ‘I never knew that you wanted to leave, Robin. Are you unhappy or something?’ He’d always seemed so carefree, it was hard to believe.

  ‘Well, I’ve been here all my life, except for school. I want to go off and have adventures, see a bit of the world! But I don’t talk about it at home. They want me to farm with them for ever. Or of course I could go into law like Father, and advise all the old farmers on their legal problems and how to sue their neighbours. It upsets the family to think that I might leave. That’s why I’ve never mentioned it to you.’

  ‘And what do you really, really want?’ She looked at him briefly and slowed the horse down.

  ‘Shall I tell you? Don’t say a word, it would upset Ma and Pa. I want to set up a farm of my own in Australia. To achieve something myself, instead of tagging along with the family! The twins will still be here, the folks can manage without me. I’m trying to find out how to go about it. I think you can still get cheap land in Victoria. It’s all forest, you have to clear it yourself. And I’ve a little money of my own that Grandfather left me.’

  Sally swallowed. ‘And are you planning to take anyone with you? A wife, perhaps?’ It was the first time she’d asked him about his future plans.

  ‘Not so fast, my girl! I’m not ready for matrimony yet. And I’m sure the life will be a bit rugged at first. Too rough for a woman. But tell you what, bairn, when I get the farm organized I’ll be looking round for someone like you!’ He beamed at her.

  ‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Jed made his own way up the road, as Sally stared at Robin.

  ‘Oh, you know, somebody who’s not frightened of hard work, and likes getting dirty and all that.’ Robin waved a hand airily. ‘Somebody who doesn’t care about pretty dresses and doesn’t worry at all about how she looks. That’s what I’ll need. A worker!’

  You don’t know me very well young man, thought Sally. The image he had of her was disappointing and she was hurt. But not devastated. Robin was just insensitive, when she thought about it. Marcus, to take an example, would never have said something like that. But it was no use thinking of Marcus either, except as an antidote for yearning after Robin. There would be no future with Robin for her; she could see that even more clearly now. He would probably find a sturdy Australian girl to marry, and if he did come back to look for his old friend Sally it wouldn’t be for love, but for convenience.

  ‘Goodbye, Robin!’ He turned back to Kirkby and she waved as he left, riding out of her life, it seemed. And this time I mean it, she thought. He’s too – what is it? Too practical for me. There is no romance in Robin.

  Sally set herself to think of the business in hand. They passed the Drovers’ Inn on the top of the moor, a sort of dividing line between Wensleydale and Nidderdale. There were a few horses tied up outside and Jed snorted at them as he passed. They were now in foreign country, on the other side of the hill.

  ‘Now, how shall I talk to Mr Radford? Politely but firmly, I suppose.’ Jed cocked an ear as though he were listening and trotted on. ‘I’ll begin by asking him what he wants from a good tenant and that will give me a clue about what to say. And then I’ll ask him whether it matters who farms the place? Surely all that matters is the land and whether the buildings are falling down?’

  As she drew nearer to Nidd Grange, the Radford headquarters, Sally began to feel slightly nervous. So much was at stake! And the tone of those letters was so hostile, she couldn’t really hope for a good reception. Although if the letters were the expression of a rather sardonic humour after all, he might appreciate a spirited reply. Either way, she would know more when she met this ogre. She reminded herself that she too was a High-Sider, with the fierce Viking ancestry that seemed at times to surface all these centuries later. She could stand up to a Radford!

  Sally turned carefully off the main Pateley road and went down a winding track, as Joe had instructed. Far below was the green valley of Nidderdale, with the River Nidd shining here and there and the bulk of the Pennines rising at the far side. The Radford farms were spread out over the n
earer hillside, and Sally could see a large stone house with an immense stable yard, gardens, orchards and long barns. Some of the land went down to the river, while the higher slopes merged into the moorland. It was an impressive sight. By the time she rolled into the stable yard Sally was feeling very small indeed, perched up on the trap trying to look adequate, if she couldn’t look smart. Jed pulled up and stood quite still, very obedient and on his best behaviour.

  A groom appeared and looked up at her appreciatively. ‘Tidy outfit, that, miss. What can we do for you?’ He held a hand out for the reins and tied them to a rail. The trap cleaning had been a good idea; it had impressed this young lad, for a start, even though it wasn’t quite the racy type of trap that the doctor drove and that usually impressed young men. Feeling rather better, Sally smiled at the man.

  ‘I’d like to see Mr Radford, please. He doesn’t know me, but it’s rather important.’

  ‘Sorry, miss, boss is away in York this week, on business. Young boss is coming over some time, just to keep an eye on us.’ He gave a sly grin. ‘But, of course, we don’t know when.’

  NINE

  Sally felt her heart drop down to her boots. She was bitterly disappointed; her head drooped and she felt like crying. All this way and he wasn’t at home! ‘Oh, dear.’ She hadn’t thought of that possibility.

  ‘There’s a farm manager in that office, over there. Mr Hill, he is, you could see him instead. I’ll keep an eye on the pony for you.’ And he gallantly helped Sally down from the trap.