“Shut up, Derek!” Lois burst out. “We’ve got to trust them.” She thought of Keith Simpson, moving into action straight away, full of reassurance. He would have told Cowgill by now and Lois was glad of that.
Silence fell between them. Her mother had got Douglas and Jamie and had said she would keep them for the night. They had been excited about staying with Gran in the middle of a school week and had gone off cheerfully. Now there was nothing to say. The silence lengthened and when the telephone rang, both of them jumped up and rushed to answer it.
“Hello! Is that you, Josie?” Lois had got there first and Derek was holding her fast, his ear as close to the receiver as it would go.
“Mum?” The voice was faint, but it was unmistakeably Josie. “Mum, I’m all right.”
“Where are you, Josie? Tell me where you are and we’ll come and get you.” Derek nodded violently, clinging on to Lois in his anxiety to hear Josie’s voice.
“No, I’m all right. Melvyn’s looking after me…” Lois could hear his voice, but not the words.
“Josie, listen to me,” she said. “It’s not legal for him to take you away. He’ll be in big trouble if you don’t tell us where you are this minute.”
“I don’t know where I am,” said Josie, and Lois could hear tears in her voice.
Oh God, what could they do? “Don’t ring off,” she said. “Whatever you do, don’t ring off!”
“I’m a bit frightened, Mum…” Melvyn’s voice in the background again, but once more Lois couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“Put Melvyn on the phone,” she said, and then wished she hadn’t. She wanted to hold on to Josie, if only through the telephone line. It was her only hope.
“‘Lo, Mrs Meade. Don’t worry. I’m looking after her. Give her a few days of good Yorkshire air and she’ll be right as rain in no time.” His voice sounded firm and controlled, although not threatening.
“Where are you?” she said. “My Uncle Ned’s farm,” he said, with no apparent effort at concealment. “Near Skipton. Lovely country here. You can come up too, if you want.”
“He’s not right in the head,” muttered Derek. “Give us the phone. What’s the address?” he said.
“Stone House Farm, Easedale,” said Melvyn. “But she’ll be OK. I’ll look after her,” he repeated.
“You’d better,” Derek said.
They had another talk with Josie, tried to reassure her and without saying what they were going to do next, finally and reluctantly put down the telephone. Derek marched into the hall and got his coat.
“Come on,” he said. “Bring the map and we’ll be up there in two hours. Hurry up, gel,” he added. “Sooner we get there the better. And don’t bother ringing your police pal. We can settle this without them.”
¦
Josie awoke to the sound of doves cooing loudly outside the window and for several moments had no idea where she was. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. The bed was iron-framed and somebody had some time ago painted it white and gold. The gold was chipped here and there, revealing black metal beneath, and the boss of roses in the centre of the headboard showed traces of a virulent salmon pink, also peeling. The mattress she sat on was lumpy and now as she looked around her she saw that everything in the tiny room was old, scratched and unsteady. But it was clean. Mum would notice that straight away.
Last night came back slowly to her as she shook the sleep out of her head. Melvyn had found sheets and blankets and together they had made up this narrow bed. He’d made sure she had everything she wanted (except her mother and that was what she wanted most) and had disappeared, saying he would see her in the morning, when they would go for a lovely long ramble over the moor. The last thing she remembered was thinking that she’d never get to sleep in this strange and lonely place.
She slipped out of bed and went over to the window. The sun was up, and everything glistened with hoar frost. It was like fairyland. The nearest thing to it Josie had seen was the Christmas display in the shopping centre. But this magic transformation stretched as far as her eye could see. The farmyard below was swept clean and, like an illustration in a children’s book, a horse’s head peered out over the top of a stable door. As she looked out, the horse whinnied and plumes of steam came from his flared nostrils into the frosty air. Beyond, she could see a grassy meadow and tall, bare trees. The grass sparkled, and every bare branch bore a miraculous coating of shining, glittering frost. She struggled with the window catch, and managed to open it, gasping at the inrush of sharp, cold air. When she got used to the icy clearness of it, she took deep breaths and found herself smiling.
“Hi! Did you sleep OK?” It was Melvyn, dressed already in jeans and a thick jersey, below in the yard. He was grinning at her, and Josie pulled her nightdress tightly around her.
She nodded. “It’s great!” she said, gesturing widely with one arm. “Never seen anythin’ like this!”
“Get dressed, then,” called Melvyn. “Breakfast’s ready. Uncle Ned’s gone into town to get chicken feed. We can go for a walk later…get some of this air into you.”
He made her sound like a flat tyre, she thought, but she splashed freezing cold water from a jug on a wash stand over her face and hands and got dressed quickly. She looked around the room, wondering what to do with the dirty water in the flowery china basin. A strange-looking bucket stood under the washstand. It had a lid with a hole in the centre, and, hoping it was the right thing, she carefully tipped the water into the sloping sides of the lid. It disappeared with a gurgle and she reminded herself to empty it later. By now she desperately wanted the lavatory and ventured out into the narrow dark corridor outside her bedroom. One or two doors opened into bedrooms with similar beds, but bare of everything except lumpy mattresses. None of them was a lavatory. Blimey! What did the rest of them do?
“Josie?” It was Melvyn at the foot of the stairs. “Come on, I’ve boiled you an egg.” She rushed downstairs and with her legs crossed asked him urgently where she should go.
“Down the yard,” he said with a grin.
“What?” shrieked Josie, unsure of whether Melvyn was joking or not.
“Down there.” He pointed to a small, slate-roofed hovel at the far end of the yard. “Used to be a two-holer,” he said. “But it’s a proper one now.”
Not waiting to ask him what a two-holer was, Josie ran down the yard, nearly came a cropper on the slippery cobbles, and bolted herself in the hovel with relief. It was clean, and hanging on a nail was a farming magazine, which Josie realized was in lieu of a toilet roll. The shiny paper did not do a very good job, but she had a tissue in her pocket, and that helped. She emerged again into the sunlit yard and began to walk back towards Melvyn, who stood waiting for her at the kitchen door.
How did he get to be so grown-up? she thought. Not once had he wavered, or seemed unsure, during their journey north. And after that call to Mum and Dad, he’d put his arm around her and taken her back to the house. She’d seen that Uncle Ned was a wizened, but friendly old man and soon Melvyn had suggested they go to bed. She had felt a moment’s panic, but then he’d led her to the little room with a single bed and she knew that she wasn’t expected to share his. She knew her parents would be here sooner or later, but had been quite glad they hadn’t turned up in the middle of the night. Probably on the way right now.
The smell of toast wafted across the yard towards her and she felt hungry. She ate a boiled egg and three pieces of toast and butter – butter like she’d never tasted before – and felt good. Mum and Dad knew where she was, Melvyn was not pushing her to do anything she didn’t want to do, and outside that door was an amazing world of space and light, and just the sounds of birdsong and the cackling of hens from the yard.
“Come on, then, gel,” said Melvyn. He handed her a pair of old Wellington boots. “These look about right for you,” he said and helped her pull them on over a pair of thick socks that smelt of dog. One of the spaniels was jumping about in excitement, barking sharply.
“Shall we take the dogs?” Josie said. “Where’re the leads?”
“Leads?” said Melvyn. “They don’t need no leads.” He led the way across the yard and out into the field through a heavy gate. The spaniels ran on ahead, their paws leaving a trail on the frosty grass. Suddenly Josie was laughing, not at anything in particular, but just in delight at the beauty of it all. She skipped along beside Melvyn, trying to keep up with his long strides.
He looked at her and smiled. “That’s right, Jose,” he said, and reached for her hand.
¦
It had been a difficult task persuading Derek not to set off for Yorkshire straight away.
“How are we going to find this farm, right in the middle of nowhere, in the dark?” Lois had argued.
“I’ll find it,” Derek had replied grimly. They had quarrelled violently, then, with Lois bringing up all the old anger. She said irrationally that if she hadn’t been so shocked about him and Gloria, with her mind distracted away
