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. ‘Well, darling, what’ll you have? I’m buying.’ He didn’t wait for an answer but beckoned John Teesdale over. ‘Gin for the lady, here!’
‘Maggie, are you all right?’ Jed asked.
‘Course I am. Just fine. This gentleman’s buying me a drink, aren’t you?’ She patted the man’s arm and smiled coquettishly up at him.
‘I’m right here if you need me,’ Jed said quietly.
‘Didn’t you hear the lady? She said she’s just fine. So leave her be. She’s with me, ain’t you, Maggie?’
She giggled. ‘For the moment. What’s your name, handsome?’
‘Donald. But the lads all call me Donkey.’
‘Donkey? Why?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know, darling, wouldn’t you like to know!’ The man threw his head back and guffawed. Jed had stepped back out of his line of sight, but was staying close by. He caught John Teesdale’s eye, who gave him a tiny shake of the head, as if to say, don’t be starting a fight in my bar. Sam Wrightson was watching him too, but Sam, he knew, would be the first to back him up if it came to it. Well, Jed was no troublemaker but Maggie was a neighbour, and a good one even if she was a little pushy at times, and he’d not stand by and see her get into trouble. If it was just harmless high spirits from the navvies that was one thing, but he was ready if any of them went too far.
‘Ooh, you naughty thing!’ Maggie said, giggling, as she gave the man a playful slap on his arm.
In retaliation he caught hold of her by both arms. ‘The lady likes it rough, does she?’
Maggie twisted herself free and took her drink from Teesdale. ‘Thanks, John.’ She turned back to the man. ‘Now, now, Mr Donkey, not that rough.’
It was enough for Jed. ‘You leave the lady alone,’ he snarled at the man.
‘Spoken for, is she? You never said.’ The man smiled slyly, and turned back to Maggie. ‘But I’ve paid for her drink, now. Which means she owes me. Come on, darling, how about a little cuddle, eh? Just a little cuddle for a hard-working man, eh?’ He pulled her towards him with one hand on her back and the other on her bottom.
‘Hey! Let go!’ she said, twisting to get herself free but he was holding her tight.
That was it. Jed tapped the man on the shoulder, and when he looked round swung a hefty right hook at him. The man’s head snapped backwards and blood began pouring from his mouth. He immediately hit back, but Jed was too quick for him and the blow merely glanced off his shoulder.
At once the other dam-workers were on their feet, piling in to their friend’s aid. Sam was on his feet too, and John Teesdale, six feet tall and muscly with it, lifted the flap on the bar, ushered Maggie behind it where she was safe, and stepped out to separate the fighters. ‘Come on now, gents, not in my bar.’ Between him and Sam Wrightson they pulled Jed away from the man, and the other dam-workers got their friend under control, with much jeering and shouting.
‘It’s all right, John,’
