Danny deserves better than that.’
Aggie said nothing. Instead she sipped at her tea and wondered what would become of them all.
Emily was grateful for the lull in the conversation. Only time would tell whether John would return, and if he didn’t do so soon, she would have to decide what to do. But it wouldn’t be easy, she knew that.
The child’s waking cries shook them out of their reverie. But when the infant’s cries lapsed into a string of happy gobbledy-gook, Emily lingered a moment. ‘I’ve a good mind to go and see Lizzie,’ she revealed. ‘You never know. She might have word of John.’
Aggie warned her, ‘Well, I hope the old bugger makes you more welcome than she did last time!’ she declared. ‘What! She wound you up so much you wouldn’t speak for a whole hour.’
Emily remembered. ‘She was a bit … difficult, that’s all.’
‘Hmh!’ Aggie sat up. ‘Cantankerous, more like! Heaven knows what’s the matter wi’ her. Ever since her John went away she’s been as sour as a rhubarb pie without a morsel o’ sugar.’
‘She’s getting old, poor thing.’ Emily had a soft spot for Lizzie. ‘She suffers a lot from pain in her joints.’
Aggie had little sympathy. ‘She’s too proud – won’t let anybody help her. You heard Danny say how he found her climbing a ladder to mend that hole in the thatch the other week. When he offered to do it for her, she told him to sod off – said that she wasn’t yet ready for the knacker’s yard!’ She wagged a finger. ‘If you ask me, you’ll do well to steer clear of the old battle-axe.’
Emily was not deterred. ‘Why are you so hard on her, Mam? That’s not like you at all! Didn’t she used to be your friend?’
Aggie blushed with shame. ‘Aye well, happen I might be a bit hard on her, but she’s been hard on you, and I don’t tek kindly to that.’
There were times when Emily had the same stubborn streak in her as Aggie. ‘I still intend going,’ she decided. ‘I’m gonna pluck up my courage. I need to know if she’s heard from John.’
‘Even if she has, what meks you think she’ll tell you?’
Emily was already at the door. ‘Why shouldn’t she tell me?’
Just then the child began crying again. ‘That’s why!’ Gesturing towards the stairway, Aggie reminded her, ‘Lizzie refuses to believe the child is John’s. She thinks you’ve been up to no good with some other man, and that you’re trying to blame her nephew.’ She chuckled. ‘Mother hen protecting her chick, that’s what she is. My God! The way you feel about John, who else’s child could it be? The whole world knows it’s his, yet that old besom won’t have it no way!’
Rolling her eyes to heaven she finished angrily, ‘It’ll be a damned good thing when he does come back. Then she’ll know well enough!’
Emily remained silent, but was grateful when her mother did not notice the guilt and shame in her face. ‘I’d best be off now, Mam.’ Rushing off upstairs, she felt the tears smarting her eyes. She hated herself for deceiving her mammy. But the truth about little Cathleen’s beginnings was far more hurtful and damaging. She dreaded John’s reaction; for the hundredth time, she recalled that awful summer day, of such hope and happiness, ending in a darkness that had engulfed her for many a long month. Would he understand?
A short time later, well wrapped up and carrying the child in a shawl-sling, Emily began the walk across the fields to Lizzie’s pretty cottage.
On the way she stopped several times to put the child down; she held her hand and encouraged her to walk. But though Cathleen’s sturdy little legs stumbled a clear path through the snowy grass, they soon tired, and it wasn’t long before Emily had to carry her again. ‘You’re taking advantage of my good nature,’ she teased her breathlessly. ‘I reckon it should be you carrying me!’
Just as Aggie had feared, Lizzie was not exactly pleased to see her. ‘What is it you want from me?’ Holding the door open just so far, she peered at Emily through suspicious eyes. ‘I’ve not heard from him, if that’s what yer after.’
Emily reasoned with her. ‘I don’t want us to be enemies, Lizzie. Please may I come inside?’
‘What for?’
‘To talk, that’s all.’
The woman scowled. ‘We’ve nowt to talk about.’
Sensing a weakening, Emily persisted. ‘Please, Lizzie. I’ve carried little Cathleen nearly all the way here, and my arms are aching. Besides, we’re both thirsty.’
Glancing from one to the other, Lizzie saw how the child was smiling at her, and it touched her troubled old heart. ‘All right, but only for a minute. Yer can have a rest and a drink, then I’ll thank you to leave.’ She opened the door wider. ‘Either come in or stay out. It’s too damned cold to be standing here all day with the door wide open!’
With a muttered apology, Emily darted inside. She waited until the other woman shut the door. ‘Go on!’ Gesturing for Emily to go ahead, Lizzie told her, ‘You’ve been here with John often enough to know the way by now.’
Feeling uncomfortable under Lizzie’s scowl, Emily led the way to the back-parlour.
Lizzie followed her in. ‘Sit yersel’ down,’ she ordered. ‘Now then, what does the infant want to drink?’ She gave a grudging look at the beautiful little girl, and deliberately closed her heart against any feelings of warmth.
‘A drop of milk would suit fine,’ Emily answered as she sat down in the big squashy chair by the fire. ‘Thanks, Lizzie.’
‘And I expect you’ll be wanting a cuppa tea, will yer?’
Emily nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes, I’d love one. If that’s all right?’
The old woman grunted. ‘I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t!’ With that she disappeared into the scullery, only to return a few minutes later with a mug of milk for the child, and a drop of lukewarm tea for Emily. ‘It’s only been made a few minutes,’ she explained, ‘but it’s warm enough to thaw your bones.’
Emily took a sip from the teacup. It was all she could do not to grimace, for the tea was like dishwater. ‘It’s fine, thanks, Lizzie,’ she lied handsomely.
‘Fine or not, it’ll have to do!’ retorted the woman. ‘I don’t intend mekking a fresh pot just yet.’ Pointing an accusing finger at Emily’s feet, she tutted, ‘Look at the state of your feet! By! They must be frozen.’ Emily’s two ankles were bright pink. ‘Good God, lass! Have yer no decent shoes to yer name?’
Instinctively pulling her thick skirt over her feet to hide them, Emily told her, ‘I don’t seem to feel the cold, and besides, I didn’t walk through the snow just now. I came along by the hedges. I’ve got a pair of boots at home but I can’t stand to wear them. I thought you knew that?’
‘Hmh!’ Scowling her disapproval, Lizzie told her, ‘I might know it, but that don’t mean to say I think it’s right.’ Waving her hand in a gesture of impatience, she reminded Emily, ‘You said you were thirsty. So drink
