choice, won’t I?’ Eliza retorted. Her gramfer winced, clutching at his chest so that she wished she hadn’t spoken so brusquely. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, patting his shoulder. He smiled at her sadly through rheumy eyes.
‘Just think on, Eliza. Clem passes by their cottage most days. Happen he’ll not wait around for a hurdy ’ead like you to make up her mind.’ Eliza grimaced at the reference to her wild red tresses. Although her grammer had insisted they were one of her best assets, she considered them the bane of her life. ‘Still, I’ve no right to expect you to stay here. I’m quite capable of lookin’ out for myself,’ he declared stoutly.
‘Oh Gramfer, there’s no need, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,’ she assured him. Even as she uttered the words her heart was sinking lower than the uppers of her well-worn boots as she saw her dream disappearing. But he’d looked after her since she was born and it was obvious that the loss of his beloved wife, along with years of being out in all weathers, were taking their toll. Not that he’d ever admit it. However, she loved him dearly and it was now her turn to care for him. Summoning a smile she patted his hand, and eyes suspiciously moist, he turned away.
‘Fire’s smokier than ever this night,’ he grunted.
Giving him time to collect himself, Eliza pondered on her future. Perhaps when her gramfer had had time to adjust, and the outstanding order from Longstones was fulfilled, she could go and see the school mistress, ask if she’d consider re-engaging her for a few hours a week. Their humble home wouldn’t take long to clean, apart from those cursed cobwebs, she thought watching them swaying like filmy ribbons of lace in the draught from the chimney.
‘Nearly forgot,’ Gramfer said, smiling as she refilled his mug and sat back down beside him. ‘Mrs Finch’s darter’s expecting and she’d like you to make one of them virtue rattles for her future grandchild. Over the moon she is. Must be nice to have something to look forward to,’ he smiled, his features softening. Eliza smothered a sigh, all too aware of where his thoughts were taking him.
‘Well that is good news,’ she agreed.
‘And everyone’s rallying round to help. Parsonage Farm have placed an order for ten sparrow traps,’ he added. ‘Not only that, Longstones are fed up with them shoddy laundry baskets Old Gliddon supplies and have transferred all of their orders to us. They’ve customers all over the county so that should put welcome coppers in the coffers. I only hope we’ve enough withies to keep us going until we harvest the new ones in December. Perhaps we could start early. I’ll check the leaves come mornin’.’
‘In that case we are both going to have a lot to do so we’d best have an early night. Good night Gramfer, try and get some sleep,’ she said quickly as she bent and kissed his whiskery cheek.
‘Night Eliza. Clem’s a fine man and thinks the world of you. But he won’t wait for ever.’
Up in her room, breath spiralling in puffs before her, Eliza quickly changed into her calico nightgown. Too cold and dispirited to give her hair more than a cursory brush, she dived beneath the covers of the iron bedstead, pulling the patchwork cover right over her head. Her dream of resuming her position at the school had disappeared almost as soon as the idea had occurred, for now it seemed she was going to be busier than ever. Closing her eyes tightly to stop the tears escaping, she hardly heard the birds scrabbling in the old thatch above her or the mice scratching in the walls.
‘Oh Grammer, why did you have to die?’ she sobbed.
Next morning with the sun promising to break through the mist, Eliza determined to give their living room a thorough clean. She smiled, recalling her grammer’s fierce pride in keeping the place spick and span. Tidy house, tidy mind, had been her mantra.
Brushing the cobwebs from the beams, she thought back over the previous night’s discussion. It had been a shock to discover her grandparents hadn’t always lived here and she wondered what their lives had been like in Bridgwater. If her gramfer didn’t look too downcast when he came in for his midday meal, she would ask about it. Talking about the past might be good for him, she thought, dragging the rush mat outside and throwing it over a bush.
Snatching up the beater she gave a fierce thwack sending dust and ash rising into the air, coating the golden leaves grey. A sudden gust of wind shook the branches, dislodging the mat. Eliza cursed as a cloud of the smitch blew back into her face and clung to her curls. No wonder her grammer always covered her head with a mob cap, she thought giving another whack.
‘Hey, watch what you’re doing,’ a voice shouted.
‘Sorry Clem,’ she called, grinning as he coughed and thumped his chest. ‘That’ll teach you to sneak up on me.’ He snorted then turned to face her, his expression changing to one of mirth.
‘You’re blacker than a beast from the bogs,’ he hooted.
‘And you don’t look so good yourself,’ she giggled, pointing to the dirt clinging to his clothes. ‘What are you doing back so soon?’
‘George sent a message for me to fill your stack. Reckons weather’s on the turn,’ he replied, unloading turves of peat from his trow that was lying perilously low in the water. Eliza stared up at the sky, cobalt blue now that the mist had lifted.
‘That’s odd. It looks to me like this good weather’s set to last,’ she replied.
‘He doesn’t usually get things wrong,’ Clem muttered pushing his cloth cap to the back of his head. ‘By the way, here’s the money for the carrots and potatoes,’ he said, diving into his pocket and handing over a few coins.
‘You haven’t taken your cut,’ Eliza reminded him. ‘We are meant to be business partners after all.’
‘Mrs Gill’s sent an order for onions and turnips, and Ma’s short of some too, so if I can take her a few, that’ll square things.’
‘Deal. You can dig them up while I fill the sacks. Then I really must get on with making those baskets. I don’t think Gramfer realises how difficult it will be for me to fit everything in, for he’s accepted yet more orders.’
‘We’d best get on then,’ Clem replied, following her round to the higher ground at the back of the cott where the vegetable plot stretched halfway across their field to the orchard. Clem looked thoughtful as he took up the fork and began lifting the vegetables. Eliza was loading the pungent onions into the hessian sacking, when he turned to her.
‘This ground is very fertile and your vegetables are in demand. I know you’re busy but have you thought of extending the plot for next year? It would give you more income.’ And more work, Eliza thought, though there was no denying the extra money would be useful.
‘Seeing as it’s your bright idea, you can help me dig it over next month. After you’ve helped me pick the apples,’ she grinned, nodding towards the laden trees beyond.
‘You’re a slave driver, Red, do you know that?’
‘Bit of hard work never hurt anyone, and think of all those scrumptious pies and crumbles,’ she quipped, knowing his fondness for puddings.
‘You win, as always,’ he sighed. ‘Now, before you find me another job, tidy up here while I unload the rest of the peat,’
