barred his way. ‘Was it because of the lass?’
John nodded.
She sighed knowingly. ‘I’ve seen it coming. You and the lass, making up to each other like a pair o’ young doves. Oh yes, I’ve seen trouble brewing for some weeks now.’ She looked up at him. ‘Aw, look now! You’re both too young to be getting serious.’
‘I love her.’ His voice dropped to the merest whisper. ‘I always will.’
Again she gestured to his wounds. ‘Looks to me like you’ve been warned off.’
He gave a little smile. ‘You could say that.’
‘Does young Emily know you’ve been beaten because of her?’
‘Not yet.’ He limped back to the chair, but he didn’t sit. Instead he leaned against the arm. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be told soon enough.’
‘This is not good, son.’ Though she was his aunt and not his mother, Lizzie had called him ‘son’ from the first day he was given into her care at the age of five. He had made her life a happy one, but now she was deeply worried. She wagged a podgy finger. ‘Happen the two of you had better stay away from each other for the time being?’
John appreciated her concern, but this was something he had to deal with in his own way. ‘Leave it to me, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘You know I’ll do the right thing by her.’
The old dear was penitent. ‘Oh lad, I didn’t mean to interfere, and o’ course I know you’ll do the right thing … but it’s got me worried, what with Clem Jackson calling the tune at that house, and now you coming home in this state. There’s things here that I don’t much care for … bad things! Just you be careful. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘You’re not to worry.’ Laying his two hands on her shoulders, he promised, ‘Like I say, I’ll deal with it.’
And for the moment, as he climbed the narrow stairway to his room, she had to be content with that.
Concerned that she might have missed him, and wondering if she’d made a mistake about the time or the place, Emily made her way home.
Aggie saw her coming. ‘Where’ve you been, lass?’ That was always her first question whenever Emily returned from her wanderings. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’
Emily glanced at the mantelpiece clock, surprised to see she’d been away for almost two hours. ‘I’ve been down by the brook,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I didn’t realise I was gone so long.’
Aggie wondered whether she should tell her about John being here, and how Clem had beaten him with the butt of his gun. Deciding there was really no way out of it, she went straight in. ‘Lass, I want to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.’ She smiled. ‘But then you allus do.’
Going to the larder, she took down two china beakers and a jug of home-made sarsaparilla covered with a muslin and bead cloth to keep away the flies. She half-filled the beakers with a measure of the dark brown liquid, and handing one of them to Emily, she urged, ‘Sit down for a minute, lass.’ She pointed to the rocking-chair by the window, where she herself had been sitting only a few minutes since. At the same time she drew up another chair close by. ‘We need to talk, you an’ me.’
Emily did as she was told, and when she was seated, she asked curiously, ‘What’s wrong?’ She only had to look at her mammy’s face to realise there was trouble of some kind, and it didn’t take long for her to realise it must have something to do with Clem Jackson. If ever there was any trouble round here, you could depend on him being at the centre of it.
Seating herself opposite, Aggie looked her daughter in the eye. ‘It’s about you and John,’ she said quietly. ‘It seems you’ve been keeping me in the dark, and because of it, Clem’s got his back up. And now, this very morning while you’ve been away, there’s been a right set-to. I’m sorry, lass, but I’m none too pleased.’ She gave the girl her sternest stare. ‘Happen none of this would have come about if you’d been open with me from the start!’ Though she adored Emily, she didn’t take kindly to her keeping secrets from her.
Emily was taken by surprise. ‘What do you mean, trouble?’ she asked worriedly. ‘What kind of trouble?’
‘The worst kind. Even Grandad got himself involved.’ When Emily opened her mouth to ask after the old man, Aggie put up a staying hand. ‘It’s all right,’ she assured her. ‘The silly old fool didn’t get hurt, thank God, but it could have been very different.’
‘I’m sorry, Mam.’ Emily knew she should have confided in her, but she hadn’t known herself how serious were her feelings for John. Not until last night, when he took her in his arms and made her feel like the most important person in the whole wide world. ‘I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.’
Brushing aside her apology, Aggie needed to know: ‘How far has it gone with you and John?’
Emily was embarrassed by her mother’s question.
‘Well, child? Answer me. You and John – how far has it gone atween you?’
‘We haven’t done anything wrong, if that’s what you mean!’
‘So, what are your feelings? I need to know.’
Emily blushed bright pink. ‘I think I love him, Mammy.’ She allowed herself a shy little smile. ‘I want to be with him all the time, and when we’re apart, I feel so lonely.’ Pausing to remember how it was whenever she was with John, Emily admitted, ‘I’ve never felt like this before.’
If Aggie had been concerned before, she was even more so now, for she had seen the look in Emily’s eyes, and it gave her a jolt. She had long thought of her daughter as just a lass, but now she knew that the ‘lass’ was fast becoming a woman, with all the complications that went with it. So, she loved young John, did she? Or she thought she did. In her opinion, Emily was still far too young to be getting serious like that, and she said so in no uncertain terms.
While Emily listened with horror, Aggie told her about John and Clem, and how the two of them had fought like tigers. ‘John stood up to him, I’ll give him that. By! He took such a beating … but he kept coming back for more. Look, lass, I want you and John to stop seeing each other,’ she finished. ‘Afore there’s murder done.’
Her words fell on deaf ears, however, because Emily was already out of the door and running like the wind, over the fields towards the rise, to the cottage – and John.
On his way back to the barn, Clem Jackson glanced up to see Emily fleeing across the fields. ‘She’s probably heard how I trounced that young feller-me-lad,’ he grinned. ‘It’s wild she is!’ He chuckled. ‘A wild beauty that needs a bit o’ taming.’ He had long fancied himself as the one to do the ‘taming’. These past months, the girl had seemed to blossom. He spent hours just watching her. It gave him such secret pleasure.
Climbing the ladder to the hayloft, he dumped his bag of tools and began to examine the faulty winding mechanism that winched heavy sacks of potatoes and other items up to the door at the top of the barn. He threw a bit of the chain up to lie out of the way on the crossbeams, and as he did so, a small notebook fell into the hay at his feet.
‘Hello,
