Too often these days he lay awake for hours fretting over the future. ‘I’ll be off to the pub then, lass. You know where I am if you need me.’ The pub was less than fifty yards up the lane from the cottage, so he had no qualms about leaving the girls on their own.
‘We’ll be fine, Pa. I’ll be off to bed at the end of this chapter anyway.’ Stella yawned, then reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Night-night.’
He gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. What a good daughter he had! She’d taken on so many responsibilities since Edie’s death, and yet nothing seemed to faze her. She was so grown up, and yet still able to play as a child should, with Jessie or her schoolmates.
Before going to the pub he walked to the other end of the lane, where, on the edge of the village, was his father’s tiny cottage. He tapped on the door but did not wait for an answer – Isaac was a little deaf and more often than not, asleep beside his fireplace. The door led straight from the lane into the front room, which was both kitchen and sitting room. Behind it, at the back of the cottage, was a bedroom, and outside in the yard, a privy.
As usual, Isaac was sitting in his armchair, head tilted back, snoring loudly when Jed entered. He gently shook the old man awake, then banked up the fire.
‘All right there, Pa? Have you had your dinner?’
‘Aye, nice bit of lamb stew. Maggie brought it, bless her.’
Jed raised his eyebrows at this. Was this another of Maggie’s attempts to get into his good books, or just an example of neighbourly kindness to an old man? ‘Good of her. Was it nice?’
‘Aye. Could have done with a pudding, after. You’re not looking after me enough, lad. All day here, on my own, and only for Maggie coming in I’d be starving by now.’
‘I’m here now, aren’t I? And if you hadn’t eaten already I’d have fetched you something.’
Isaac grunted. ‘Nowt but a crust of bread and cold mutton, no doubt. Ah well, ’tis the lot of the old to be neglected. Suppose you’re off to the pub now. Never mind me. I’ll sit here a while and smoke my pipe afore I haul myself into my bed.’
Jed ignored the grumbling. Isaac had been a long-time widower, and as he’d aged he’d become more and more grumpy. No matter what people did for him, he’d always complain it wasn’t enough. Jed finished banking up the fire, made his father a cup of tea and fetched him his pipe and tobacco. ‘There, now. You have all you need. I’ll look in on you tomorrow – I’ll bring little Jessie up to see you at lunchtime.’
Isaac smiled toothlessly. ‘Ah, the little pet. Yes, you bring her. She loves her old grandpa, does that one. Well, if the Lord spares me till the morning, I’ll have her bonny face to look forward to.’
At least that had cheered Isaac up a little. And Jessie did seem to like him – she’d always climb onto the old man’s lap and cuddle up, stroking his beard. Jed checked there was nothing else he could do, then bade his farewell. Time to get himself on the outside of a good pint, he thought. He knew that sooner rather than later, Isaac would have to give up living alone in his little cottage. He’d have to come to live with Jed and the girls. They could turn the little parlour, rarely used since Edie’s demise, into a bedroom, as Isaac would not be able to manage the stairs. Then Jed would be at his father’s beck and call, and there’d be even fewer opportunities to get his work done. But Isaac was his father, and he’d take care of him, no matter what. God, how he needed that pint now!
The Lost Sheep was busy that evening. Good, Jed thought. Less chance of Maggie cornering him, if there were plenty of other people about. He was more than happy to spend time with her in a group, but on her own she was just too pushy for his liking. It was only a month since Edie had been buried. It wasn’t right to be seen with another woman. Especially one that he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in.
Sam Wrightson was standing near the bar, and Jed went straight over to join him, ordering himself a pint of ale from the landlord, John Teesdale. ‘Evening, Sam. Busy tonight, isn’t it?’
‘Aye. Some of the navvies from the dam-building are in. That lot, over there –’ Sam jerked his head backwards to indicate a group of men who’d clearly already had a few pints. ‘You fixed my tractor seat yet?’
‘Yes, the part’s all ready for you. Bring your tractor to me tomorrow and I’ll fit it for you.’
‘Good. Fed up of that seat swivelling round. Tricky to drive forward when you find yourself facing backwards. Well, cheers.’ Sam held his glass aloft. Jed chinked his own against it, then took a long pull of it. In the corner, the dam-workmen were beginning to sing raucously, one of them standing on a stool to conduct the others.
‘They’re having a fine time,’ Jed commented.
‘Aye. Teesdale’s keeping an eye on them, though. Word is they caused trouble the other night, up at the King’s Head. Landlord there threw them out and banned them for a fortnight. That’s why they’ve come down here.’ Sam eyed the gang warily. ‘They’ve a cheek, though, turning up here, when it’s their work that’s going to be the death of our village.’
‘They’re just doing their job,’ Jed replied.
‘That’s as maybe, but they should do their drinking elsewhere.’
Jed nodded vaguely. ‘Aye, maybe so.’
Sam wasn’t letting go of his theme. ‘Pub feels different with them here, too. Doesn’t feel right. Listen to that singing, if you can call it that. Caterwauling, more like. Not what we normally have in the Lost Sheep.’
‘Everything’s changing, Sam. We’ve only to get used to it. ’Tis all we can do.’
Sam snorted. ‘I’ll not get used to it. I’ll be moved out of Brackendale afore I’m used to it.’
‘You got somewhere to go?’ Jed raised his eyebrows. People were beginning to move out, and he knew he should start looking for jobs and accommodation elsewhere, but his heart hadn’t been in it. Not since Edie died.
‘Fingers in pies, Jed. Fingers in pies. Nothing definite.’ Sam sighed and looked around him. ‘Just hope Teesdale stays till the end, and keeps this place open.’ He stepped smartly sideways to avoid being jostled by one of the dam-workers. ‘Hope he bans this lot before then, any road.’
‘Hard to believe though, isn’t it? That all this will be gone? I were born here. So were you, Sam. So was my pa. Generations of us Walkers, in Isidore’s churchyard. Only my Edie over in Glydesdale. But all our history, our community, everything, will be gone, underwater, just so the people of Manchester can run their taps.’ Jed shook his head sadly. ‘Hard to believe.’
‘Ah, Jed, lad. You’ll find someplace else. And in time, some new lass to take Edie’s place.’
‘No one’ll take Edie’s place, ever,’ Jed said firmly.
Sam put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Aye, I know, I don’t mean like that. But you’ll move on, marry again, find someone to help take care of those girls of yours. You’ll be all right, in the end.’
‘’Tis true I need help with the girls. With Jessie, anyway. She’s a right handful. Sometimes I don’t know . . .’ Jed broke off from what he was saying as the door opened and Maggie arrived. She’d obviously taken pains with her appearance – wearing a silky pink dress that swished about her legs as she moved, a matching silk flower tucked in her hair over her ear, and bright red lipstick. He stood to welcome her, to usher her over to where he and Sam were sitting, but before she spotted him in the throng one of the dam-workers called out.
‘Well, look what we have here, boys! Nice! Very nice indeed!’ The man’s companions joined in with catcalls and whistles. Maggie blushed, smiled, and sashayed over to the bar.
Jed stepped forward to offer to buy her a drink and thank her for having taken Isaac a meal, but the dam-worker was there first. He was shorter than Jed, but stocky and muscular.