11
Lucy had been back working for Adam for the last three days. Her mother was recovering nicely and was managing to look after her youngest two, while her father went about his business as usual. The weather had improved and the warmth of a spring day shone down on Black Moss. The lower fields of the farm were beginning to be filled with the smiling faces of white daisies and golden-coloured celandines, while underneath the more sheltered hedges, primroses and violets were starting to flower.
‘I love this part of the year. Summer is coming and everything is starting to look fresh and green.’ Lucy stood on the front step of the farmhouse, after shaking the tablecloth free of crumbs when Adam had finished his dinner. ‘Just smell that fresh air. I wish it smelled like that down home. Sometimes my stomach retches with the stink. I’ll be glad I’m working up here this summer, because the smell gets worse with the heat.’
‘I told your father to move – it would be better for all of you, in my eyes.’ Adam looked across at the young lass who had taken his home to heart.
‘He’ll never do that; it’d cost too much. Although I have heard him muttering about digging some new drains down into the river, so that the yard isn’t such a puddle. So your words have not fallen entirely on deaf ears.’ Lucy sighed. ‘I’d love to live away from the flay-pits, somewhere like this. Although I’ve noticed that when the wind is blowing a certain way, you can still smell them, even as far up the moor as here.’ She walked into the kitchen and folded the tablecloth, then placed it in the kitchen table’s drawer.
‘He’ll pollute the river then. But I suppose it would be better for all of you. Now, I’ll away and see how Archie is getting on. He’s made a start on some of the gaps in the walls in the top pastures. I’ll soon be able to get some sheep and their followers in another month or two, and then my work will have started and I’ll no longer be the man of leisure that I feel I am now.’ Adam pulled on his jacket.
‘You are not a man of leisure – you are forever busy. The difference to this place is unbelievable, since you arrived. It’s a true home now. There’s always something being done to improve somewhere, sir.’ Lucy knew that her master worked hard and was proud of his home.
Adam smiled. He’d have to start to earn some money with his stock and his land, as his army savings wouldn’t last forever and his father did not leave him that large a fortune, although he was richer than most of his neighbours. The sooner the old place was in shape, the better. He aimed to go to the spring fair at Denholme to buy himself a flock of sheep with lambs, to earn him some income in the autumn.
‘I’m going to see your friend “Old Moffat” later today. He’s got some chickens for sale. So we will soon have hens in the yard in the morning. It’s apt that it’s Easter tomorrow and that I’m bringing chicks onto the farm. I’m going to place them in the coop that I made while it was pouring down last week. Now on Sunday you don’t usually work for me, but tomorrow being Good Friday, I’d expect you still to come, although I’m willing to let you have Easter Monday off. I’m not a religious man, but I do respect other people’s beliefs, and perhaps you need to be with your family on that day.’ Adam stood in the doorway.
‘Chickens at Easter will be lovely. Susie would love to see them,’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘Thank you for giving me Monday off, sir. I’ll be able to do something with my brothers and sisters and take some pressure off my mother. She says that she’s alright, but I know she’s just saying that; she looks really weary.’
‘She’ll have to look after herself and take care not to overreach herself with tasks. Why don’t you bring your sister and the baby to see the chickens? I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere, and it seems that I am not to have any visitors. I was hoping a dear friend, Ivy Thwaite, might have written to me, replying to my letter I sent her quite a few weeks ago, but it seems that she has not had time yet.’ Adam’s face clouded over. He was hoping that Ivy was alright, and was more than a little concerned at not receiving news from her.
‘She’ll write soon, I’m sure, sir. I would like to bring the two youngest to see the chicks – it’s very kind of you to ask us. And thank you for giving me both the Sunday and Monday off. My mother will want us to go to on Sunday. Although I hate going, it’s expected of us.’ Lucy pulled a face; she loathed attending and walking up the hill to the church at Denholme in her finest. And the Sunday service was so long, when she could be doing so much else with her time. The only good thing was that she could smile and flirt over the pews with Alex Braithwaite from the quarry, or perhaps the youngest son of the Bucks, if they were in residence at their home in Denholme, and not in Wales.
‘No, you won’t be getting me to church, either. I’ll go and tell the Lord my sins up on the moor. Now I must go. Poor Archie is all on his own, and he’ll be thinking I’ve deserted him.’ Adam walked out of the farmhouse
