The Girl from the Tanner's Yard

he was quite a bit older than her and more worldly-wise, she quite liked him. He was handsome and, if it wasn’t for the limp he had, he’d be physically attractive. More so than poor, shy Archie; he’d always be just a friend, much loved but nothing more. Although even Archie was better than the scowling, moody Thomas Farrington. God forbid that she ever had to marry him; he was getting more and more odd by the day, and the lads in the yard had warned her that he was fixated upon her, which she knew to be true, as she often caught him looking at her in a strange way. It was better that she set her sights on Alex Braithwaite, the son of the owner of the quarry, no matter what her father thought of her chances. But in the meantime she’d work hard for Adam Brooksbank, when her family allowed. She could dream for now, but dreaming was all it would be, as she set about tidying the kitchen table and pacifying both of her young siblings.

That evening Adam made his way down from the moorside. He ached all over and was tired after drystone walling for the best part of ten hours. He was looking forward to seeing the welcoming face of Lucy, and to warming up by the fire that he knew she would have lit, along with eating whatever she had concocted for his supper. She might not have been with him long, but he already valued her company and the running of his small household. He stopped short of the yard gate and noticed that there was no smoke rising from the chimney of the farmhouse, and the cow in the bier was making a fearful noise.

Where was Lucy? He shouted her name as he entered the house he’d left early that morning. The fire was unlit and nothing had been touched since his departure, so she’d not been at her work today. No wonder the cow was sounding distraught; she was in need of being milked, and she would be in pain. Adam swore as he pulled his knapsack off his shoulder and looked around him, before storming out of the house. Damn the girl – had she left him high and dry, just as he was beginning to enjoy her company and appreciate the work she did for him?

He stomped across the yard and opened the cowshed door, pulling up the milking stool as he placed the wooden bucket underneath the wild-eyed cow, then he relieved the pressure from the over-full udder by milking her. ‘Shush now, lass. I don’t know what’s become of the maid, but she’s let both me and you down, and I’ll want to know why in the morn.’ Adam put his head on the side of the cow and milked her steadily, leaving her fed and content as dusk fell over the farmyard. Tomorrow, if Lucy did not appear, he’d go and pay a visit to Providence Row and the flay-pits and see what had kept her. He stood outside the long, low farmhouse and watched as lit candles and oil lamps started to appear in the windows of the houses in the valley below, twinkling and shining like magic along the moor and valley sides. He found himself wishing, and hoping, that nothing had befallen Lucy Bancroft. It was not in her character to let him down, of that he was sure. Something must be wrong, and if she did not show her face first thing in the morning, he’d find out what, and why she had not worked for him that day.

10

The morning broke dark and sullen, with rain coming down so hard that Adam had to run from the shelter of the cowshed to the warmth of the farmhouse kitchen. Once again Lucy had let him down and he had to light his own fire, make breakfast and milk the cow, without a word coming from either her or any of her family. It was out of character, he thought, as he hung his oilcloth coat up behind the kitchen door and went to make himself warm again next to the fire.

He looked out of the window as he warmed his hands next to the flames. It was a sod of a day, that was for sure – typical spring weather, just what always came about the week before Easter and during the festive period itself, or so it would seem. Nevertheless, it would not bother him; he could keep himself dry and not be worried by the rain for the next day or two. And he could always find young Archie an inside job, mending the hayloft in the adjoining barn, or whitewashing and mending one of the old, derelict outhouses ready for a pig, which he aimed to rear and fatten for bacon later in the year. He would, however, dress for the weather once again and go down to Providence Row and the flay-pits and call on the Bancrofts. If Lucy had decided against working for him, then he’d need a new maid. He’d have thought better of her if she had told him herself that she no longer wished to be in employment, instead of having to go and find out for himself.

He swore quietly under his breath and decided that rather than get wet again later in the day, he would visit Lucy now. He’d give her a piece of his mind; the least she could have done was be civil with him and tell him, if she no longer wished to work for him. Adam grabbed his still-dripping coat and set out to walk down the rutted track. There was no joy sitting astride a drenched horse in this weather; better that he walked the half-mile or so down to Lucy’s home.

The wind and rain blew across the valley, making the moorland rushes and grasses bend in the strength of the powerful gusts. Adam swore