Emily, for they meant the whole world to him.
He thought back on his youth and smiled inwardly. He’d been a bit of a lad in his day, but had few regrets – except o’ course, it would be good to roll up his sleeves and bend his back to his work, but it wasn’t to be.
From the doorway, Aggie’s thoughts were much the same. She had known Thomas Isaac as a big strong man, and had seen his body become frail and slow. But though his strength was broken, his spirit was not. He still had an eye for the women and a sprightly story to tell. He had a good head of iron-grey hair, and the pale eyes carried a sparkle that could light up a room when he turned on the charm.
Lately though, since all their trials and tribulations, the sparkle had grown dim.
Like her daughter, Aggie cherished the ground the old fella walked on.
‘Are you still there?’ Looking up, he caught her observing him. ‘I’m still waiting on that biscuit.’
‘Coming right up, Dad,’ she promised, and hurried away.
Behind her the old man leaned back in his chair and shook his head. ‘You’ve a lot to answer for, son,’ he murmured. ‘When you took off, you left a pack o’ trouble for these lovely lasses, and no mistake!’
Through the scullery window Aggie saw her brother, Clem, and her heart sank. He was emerging from the outhouse, his huge black dog, Badger, skulking at his side; there was a look of murder on his face, and a shotgun slung over his shoulder. God Almighty, what was he up to now?
She went into the larder and, taking half a dozen biscuits from the tin, she placed them on a saucer and carried them in to the old man. ‘If you want any more, just give me a shout,’ she told him.
Instead of acknowledging the biscuits, Thomas jolted her by declaring in a worried voice, ‘There’s bound to be trouble, mark my words.’
She stooped to answer, her voice low but clear. ‘Why should there be trouble?’
He pointed to the window, where a young man could be seen pacing back and forth. ‘That’s young John Hanley, ain’t it?’
Following his gaze, she too saw John pacing back and forth, growing increasingly agitated. ‘He’s waiting to speak with Clem,’ she informed the old fella. ‘I’ve just been to fetch him.’
‘What does the lad want wi’ that surly bugger?’
She also had been a little curious when John turned up at the doorstep earlier. ‘He wouldn’t say,’ she shrugged. ‘Happen he’s after more work. He’s already finished that job our Michael started him on.’ She gave a cheeky wink. ‘He’s done a grand job an’ all. After eight months o’ breaking his back, he’s made both them wagons as good as new … they’re completely rebuilt from the bottom up, so they are. The hay-trailer is stronger than ever, the ladders are safe to climb since he replaced all the rotting rungs, and he’s repaired so much o’ the fencing.’ She paused, before going on quietly, ‘All the jobs Michael would have done, if only he’d been himself.’
‘Well, young John seems to know what he’s doing.’ The old fella’s feelings were too raw to get caught up in that kind of discussion. ‘The lad may not be the fastest worker in the world but, by God, he’s thorough – I’ll not deny that.’
‘Yes, but all those smaller jobs are finished now,’ Aggie said. ‘And I dare say he’ll be keen to get started on the old barn, just like Michael planned. It’ll be a secure job for him as well.’ She peered out of the window towards the dilapidated barn. ‘By! There has to be at least a year’s work there. Aye, that’s what he’ll be after, right enough … a steady run o’ work right through to next spring.’
‘Look, lass, yer mustn’t forget who’s holding the purse-strings,’ the old fella cautioned. ‘That miserable brother o’ yourn won’t part with a penny more than he has to. I mean, he only paid the lad for all his work ’cause he’d only just got here and wanted to mek a suitable impression.’
Aggie knew that but, ‘It won’t matter either way, if he doesn’t have John back to repair the barn,’ she remarked warily. ‘I imagine the lad can get work wherever he wants.’ She knew he had a good reputation. ‘They say as how he can turn a hand to anything.’
Thomas Isaac looked up. ‘Between you an’ me, lass, I reckon young John is after summat other than work.’
‘What’s on your mind then?’
He frowned. ‘If yer ask me, there’s summat going on,’ he ventured knowingly.
‘Oh? And what might that be then?’
He looked her in the eye. ‘Yer know very well,’ he tutted.
And it was true – she did. These past weeks she had been meaning to speak with Emily about the growing friendship between her and John, only work had got in the way. ‘You’re not to worry,’ she told the old fella. ‘Our Emily’s a sensible lass.’
‘She’s missing her da.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Fear, and a measure of anger rippled through her. ‘We’re all missing him. It doesn’t mean to say we’ll throw caution to the winds.’
‘Emily’s just a lass. She’ll be looking for someone to talk to … someone near her own age.’
‘I know that, Dad, and I’m sure that’s all the two of ’em will be doing – talking to each other. They’re just friends, after all.’
He took a deep breath. ‘Happen!’ That was all he had to say on the matter. But he could think, and what he thought was this: there was trouble brewing. He could feel it in his tired old bones.
Outside, Clem rounded the farmhouse and, coming face to face with the young man, demanded to know his business.
Though needfully respectful, John Hanley was not afraid of this bully. It showed in his confident stance, and in the way he spoke, quietly determined. ‘I came to have a talk with you, sir,’ he replied, ‘if you could spare me a few minutes?’
‘Oh! So you’ve come to ’ave a talk with me, ’ave yer?’ The older man regarded the other with derision, and a certain amount of envy. He saw the lean, strong frame of this capable young man, and he was reminded of his own shortcomings. The eyes, too, seemed to hold a man whether he wanted to look into them or not; deepest blue and fired with confidence, they were mesmerising.
‘It won’t take long, sir.’ While Clem took stock of him, John did the same of the older man.
He had no liking for Clem Jackson. Nor did he respect him, but he owed this bully a certain address, for it was Clem Jackson who appeared to have taken charge of things round here, including Emily. And it was Emily he had come about this morning.
Stamping his two feet, the older man impatiently shifted himself. ‘Get on with it then, damn yer!’ he instructed roughly. ‘Spit it out! I’m a busy man. I’ve no time to wait on such as you!’
Taking a deep breath, John said, ‘I’ve come to ask if you will allow me and Emily to walk out together?’
‘Yer what!’ Growing redder
