Like Father, Like Son Read online

  ‘I’m sorry, Bernard. We’ll give this little ’un a good home, and she’ll want for nowt. If our lad gets in touch with us, I’ll tell him the outcome of his wanton ways. Give our condolences to Dora. We are so sorry to bring all these troubles to your home.’ Ada looked at the heartbroken man as he bowed his head and reached for the latch on the door. ‘Aye, well, you and Dora will fetch the boy up as your own, and hopefully nobody will remember any different in years to come.’

  Bernard opened the door and the cold northern wind and snowflakes blew around him.

  ‘Stop the night, man. You want nowt with walking back into Dent tonight.’ Edmund might have been angry with the situation he’d been put in, but he worried for Bernard’s safety.

  ‘Nay, I’m off. It’ll not take me long and I’ll not get lost. I’ve wandered these fells both man and boy. I know them like the back of my hand.’ Bernard shoved his hands in his pockets, nodded his head and stepped out down the lane, back the way he had come. ‘Take care of yourselves and, if you hear from your lad, let me know.’

  Edmund watched Bernard for as long as he could, but the blizzard began to wipe out any vision of him, and his footsteps, quickly and silently. He shook his head as he turned back into the warm kitchen. It was quickly being turned into a makeshift nursery, with milk warming in a pan on the fire, and a drawer being lined with blankets for the daughter that had been thrust upon them. ‘Nay, Ada, I thought we were too old for this.’

  ‘You’re never too old for a baby in the family. Besides, she’s our Danny’s – our blood. Now what should we call her? Amy? Betsy? Lily? I know. Polly, we’ll call her Polly, Polly of Paradise Farm, that sounds just right. Welcome to Paradise, Polly. I swear we will always be there to love you, and my lad will be made to do right by you, if we ever catch him.’ Ada kissed her new ward gently on the cheek. ‘Look at her, Edmund. She smiled, she knows she’s home.’

  Edmund grunted. ‘It’ll be wind, you daft old fool. She knows nowt yet.’

  Dora Dinsdale sat around the dying embers of her front-room fire. It was dark outside. She couldn’t even see to the other side of the dale, and the snow hadn’t stopped falling since Bernard had left the house. Where was he? He should have been back hours ago. Perhaps he had stopped over in Garsdale. The day had thrown enough at her, without having Bernard missing. Above her, in the middle bedroom, lay the body of her daughter; and next to Peggy, in the old cot that had once been hers, lay her son, unaware of the drama of the day and content, with his belly full of Jersey cow’s milk.

  Dora stopped a tear from falling. Where was Bernard? She pulled her shawl around her and put the guard around the fire, sleep calling her now to bed. She looked into her daughter’s room and gazed at the corpse of Peggy, her skin pale and opaque in the candlelight, her black hair cascading over her shoulders. She then went to the cot and picked up her grandson. ‘Come on, little man. You can’t help what’s happened. Come and share my bed until your grandfather arrives back.’ Holding him close to her, she prayed for Bernard’s safe return. ‘Please God, let him be safe.’ She then blew the candle out, before cradling the newborn baby close to her under the warmth of the bedclothes, sobbing herself to sleep.

  High upon the very top of Dent Fell Bernard Dinsdale clung to the ridge of limestone escarpment that dotted the skyline. The snow was whipping around him as he took every step gingerly and with care. He made his way on, towards what he knew to be the drystone wall that led down into the valley. Following the wall, he made his way back down into Cowgill.

  Exhausted and frozen, he made out the dark shape of the high barn in his top pasture. He’d take shelter there, and go the rest of the way in the morning. The smell of hay and tethered cattle hit his senses as he opened the barn door. The warmth from the cattle was welcoming. He closed the door quickly behind him and felt his way along the barn wall, to where he knew the hayloft to be. There he collapsed in a heap, pulling the dry, warm hay over him for warmth and cover. Down below he could hear the cows chewing on their cud, and the barn’s resident cat made itself known to him, and curled up next to him. He was home and alive. In the morning he would have to face the heartache of another day without his daughter, and grieve with Dora and the new baby. But for now he had to sleep. He’d deal with tomorrow’s sorrows with the break of day.

  2

  1903

  Polly strode out across the wild moorland that led to the valley of Mallerstang. She’d been sent to look at her father’s pregnant ewes, but the spring day had got the better of her and, instead of returning home, she decided to walk to the waterfall that gushed and fell at the head of the moody valley of Mallerstang. She knew it would be in full spate after the recent wet weather, and she couldn’t wait to see the force of the gushing white water falling over the grey of the hard granite rock into the pool below.

  Every footstep she took urged her on, with the smell of the earthy moorland peat filling her nostrils and a pleasant spring wind blowing her long dark hair. She stopped for a moment and breathed in the fresh moorland air and looked around her. How she loved to be up on the fell on her own, with not a soul in sight, and just the sound of the wind or the cry of a curlew or lapwing to break the silence. This was Polly’s idea of heaven. Indeed, if she was to die tomorrow, she’d want her grave to be on top of Wild Boar Fell, which was looming in the distance, dark and foreboding, with many streams and rivulets running down its sheer, dark flanks. Polly caught her breath and pushed on with her walk; she’d have to reach the waterfall soon, if she was to return home in daylight.

  Mallerstang was a narrow dale dotted with whitewashed farmhouses and walled pastures, running up to the sheer face of Wild Boar Fell and Mallerstang Edge. It was rich with legend, with stories of Dick Turpin jumping the deep gorge of Hell Gill on his trusty steed, Black Bess; and of the ghosts that walked Lady Anne’s Way, the ancient pathway that ran along the rugged fell top of Mallerstang Edge. Polly had heard them all, on the knee of her father, as they sat around the fire in the kitchen of Paradise Farm. She savoured every minute of the tales, as her father puffed on his pipe and her mother’s knitting needles clicked and her eyes got heavier as the night grew longer. Eventually she had to admit that she needed her sleep, before kissing her mother and father and then climbing the creaking stairs to her warm bed.

  She was nearly there now. The railway that followed the curve of the dale was in sight and soon she’d see the waterfall. She started running as she came off the rough fell land onto the road that led to the market town of Kirkby Stephen, stopping short of the road bridge and looking to her left, at the marvel of the waterfall. As she sat on a damp bank’s grassy mound, the water crashed and thundered down upon the wet, black, mossy rocks, and white spray covered the rushes at the edge of the river. Along its banks, marsh marigold was just starting to flower, along with some early forget-me-nots, and Polly thought how beautiful the blue and yellow of the flowers looked together.

  There, she’d got to her waterfall, she’d done what she’d wanted. Now to get home. It was a good three miles over rough moorland, and the sun was already beginning to sink. She stood up and turned quickly, only to see a young, dark-haired man sitting on his horse, watching her. How long had he been there, and what was he waiting for? Polly was unnerved. Why hadn’t he made himself known? She picked up her skirts, put her head down and didn’t dare acknowledge the dark gent as she walked past him.

  ‘Good afternoon. I’m sorry, did I startle you? I didn’t mean to. It’s just that it isn’t every day you come across a young woman sat next to a waterfall at the head of Mallerstang.’ Tobias Middleton smiled down at the young woman, who was obviously startled by his presence. ‘And such a beauty, too,’ Tobias added as he watched the young Polly blush.

  Polly didn’t dare look up at her admirer, knowing that he wasn’t just a local farm lad, by the way he spoke to her and the quality of the horse he was riding.

  ‘I’m sorry, how rude – I’ve forgotten my manners. Let me introduce myself
to you.’ Tobias walked his horse to Polly’s side, as she walked quickly past him, in a bid to get out of his gaze. ‘I’m Tobias. Tobias Middleton. I live at Grouse Hall, down in Garsdale. I’ve just been visiting my new tenant, across there in the farm they call Intake.’ Tobias pointed to the dark farmhouse nestling under the fell end. ‘And you are?’ He kept his horse moving with Polly’s quick pace, until she stopped in front of the stile that led her back onto the rough moorland.

  Polly was so close that she could smell the horse and the saddle leather, and hear the heavy snorting of the dapple-grey horse, which was her own height at its withers. She kept her head lowered as she listened to Tobias talking, knowing that she was vulnerable and on her own on the wild moorland, with no one else in sight. Her mother had always warned her to be careful with men and Polly was heeding her words well, although this young man sounded the perfect gent so far. She climbed the stile and then, with the safety of the stile between her and Tobias, looked up at him.

  ‘I’m Polly Harper, from Paradise.’ She looked up at the dark-haired rider. He was smiling down at her, and his dark eyes shone with interest as she stood her ground behind the stile.

  ‘I should have known that, aptly, you come from Paradise, Miss Harper. I never expected to meet an angel on top of Mallerstang Fell, but it seems I have.’ Tobias grinned. He knew she meant Paradise Farm, although he couldn’t help but tease.

  ‘I meant Paradise Farm and, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way. My parents are expecting me back home.’ Polly realized that Tobias was playing with her and decided that, no matter how handsome he was, she was best to make her way home.

  ‘Indeed, it will soon be dark, and you don’t want to be wandering up here by yourself. Can I offer you a ride home, up here on Bess, for she’ll quite easily hold two?’ Tobias held his hand out to Polly.

  ‘No, thank you, I’ll make my own way home. It doesn’t take me long through the fields.’ Polly turned, picking up her skirts, and started walking back across the tufted red-and-brown moorland grasses on her way home, not looking back at Tobias, who was watching her.

  ‘Goodbye, Polly of Paradise. Perhaps I’ll see you again soon?’ Tobias shouted at the dark-haired beauty who had taken his eye, smiling as she struggled to walk between the tufted, boggy grasses. She belonged on the moorland, with her long, dark hair and her eyes of blue – like the pool of the waterfall that she had been looking into. His mother had introduced him to some beautiful women, but never one that had taken his eye like this young farm girl. He kicked the sides of his horse and cantered down the road, watching the disappearing form of Polly running down the fell side.

  Polly ran as if her life depended on it, stumbling and reeling between grassy tussocks and peaty bog pools, until she knew she was safe and a good distance from Tobias. He sounded and looked the perfect gentleman, and she mused gently over his flirting with her, as she walked quickly down the greener fields of the valley floor. He did have devilishly good looks, with his collar-length jet-black hair and high cheekbones, and he was obviously a man of wealth, if he owned a farmstead at the top of Mallerstang, as well as his own. Nevertheless, she realized just how foolish she’d been, wandering so far from home on her own; he could easily have raped her, and left her for dead on the bleak moorland, without anyone knowing where she was. Panting with haste, she reached the farmyard gate and untied the twine that held it closed.

  ‘Where have you been trailing? Your mother’s been worried to death, thinking something’s happened to you.’ Edmund Harper stood in the doorway of his barn, puffing on his pipe, waiting for Polly to return from looking at his sheep. ‘I walked up around the top pasture – not a sign of you – so I want to know where you’ve been? It’s coming in dusk; another half-hour and it’ll be dark.’

  As if to verify his words, a blackbird trilled its evening song and hurried into a safe nesting place in the nearby white-budded blackthorn bush for nightfall.

  ‘Sorry, Father. It was such a grand day, I decided to walk over into Mallerstang. It’s been the first decent day’s weather we’ve had for weeks.’ Polly’s cheeks were flushed. She knew both her mother and father would have been wondering where she was, and she felt nervous as she explained her walk to her father, who seemed to be in a mood.

  ‘Aye, well, while you’ve been trailing, that old ewe with the spotted face began to lamb, and she’s lost both lambs. I found them dead behind the pasture wall. You can’t have looked after them that well.’ Edmund looked hard at the lass he’d grown to love like his own daughter. She was nearly a woman now – too old to be told the truth, and for her to know that she was their granddaughter, and not their daughter.

  ‘I couldn’t see her, Father. I know which one you mean. She’s always stubborn and stamps her feet when you move her anywhere. I thought you must have moved her into another field.’ Polly was distraught, for she must have missed the stubborn animal.

  ‘Aye, well, she was just behind the wall, in the corner away from all the rest. You should have known they always find a quiet spot to lamb in. I thought I’d told you that?’

  ‘You did. Sorry, Father.’ Polly could feel tears welling up, at the thought of two dead lambs because of her wandering feet.

  ‘Aye, well, I was young once and all. I couldn’t resist a spring day, either. She’s getting a bit long in the tooth now, anyway. I doubt she’d have had milk for twins. Come on, let’s away in to your mother. She was going frantic wondering where you were.’ Edmund knew the lass hadn’t wilfully neglected her duties; she knew his flock as well as he did and was a good hand with the sheep.

  ‘You two will be the death of me. You never tell me where you are going or how long you’ll be. I swear there’s gypsy blood in the pair of you!’ Ada folded her arms and stared at both Edmund and Polly. ‘Just look at the state of your skirt, our Polly. It’s mucked up and drenched around the hem. When are you going to grow into the lady that I so wanted?’

  Polly put her head down. She knew she was a disappointment to her mother, not bothering with the finery expected of a young woman, but she couldn’t stand the simpering ways of some of her so-called friends. The way they acted and talked about the latest fashions, and who was courting whom, didn’t interest her in the least.

  ‘It’s all your fault, Edmund Harper. You’ve brought her up like a lad. She’s never been away from your side since the day she was born.’ Ada slammed down the dinner plates as she laid the table for the evening meal. She was angry with worry; if anything had happened to Polly, she wouldn’t have known what to do with herself. There was already a gaping hole in her heart, from when Danny had walked out of her life, never to be heard of again. She wasn’t about to lose his daughter, Polly.

  ‘It’s best she’s independent, lass. We aren’t the youngest couple in t’ dale. If owt happens to either of us, she can look after herself. Besides, you’re as bad, woman – you’ve taught her how to run a house. She’ll be right when we’ve both gone.’ Edmund pulled up his chair to the table and took off his cap, throwing it onto the floor next to his feet.

  ‘I don’t know why you both think you are going to die. You’re not that old. Besides, I might find a love of my own – someone who’ll love and look after me – then I’ll not be yours to worry about.’ Polly’s thoughts flitted to Tobias Middleton’s smile and his teasing words.

  ‘You’ll not find a man that wants you, looking like a wild woman and with a streak of bog peat from one lug to the other,’ laughed Ada. The lass obviously didn’t know that her face was as black as the chimney-back.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Old Tim, the tinker that comes with his pots and pans every summer, might take her, Mother.’ Edmund leaned back in his chair and grinned, as Polly rushed to the mirror next to the back door.

  She was horrified. Had her face been that dirty when she’d been talking to Tobias? He must have thought her a common peasant.

  ‘You could have told me earlier that my face was filthy,’ shouted Polly as she scrubbed
the dirt off it with a wetted end of her mother’s tea-towel.

  ‘We did!’ both Edmund and Ada said together.

  ‘And now my tea-towel is a black ’un.’ Ada shook her head. ‘Come and sit and have your supper, and then you can wash up for me. I’m jiggered tonight. While you’ve been out wandering I turned both feather beds over and gave them a good shake. Your father and me had started to roll into the middle of ours, with not much padding under us, so they needed a turn.’

  ‘You should have waited for me, Mother. I’d have helped you shake them.’

  ‘Nay, you are right. At least they are fresh, with clean sheets and blankets on them tonight.’ Ada spooned the mashed potato onto the three plates, and then added slices of newly fried bacon. ‘I’ve only made an easy supper tonight, so don’t fret.’

  ‘I’ll have a day about the house tomorrow, Mother. Do you want me to clean the brasses or bake a pasty?’

  Polly felt guilty, for her mother looked pale. She shouldn’t have made her worry.

  ‘There was me, thinking you’d happen like a trip into Hawes tomorrow. It’s market day, and I could do with seeing if anyone’s got a pet lamb to suckle onto the ewe you missed lambing.’ Edmund mashed his potatoes with the back of his fork, before pouring milk over them, a habit Polly could not quite get used to. He didn’t dare look up at Ada or Polly, because he knew it was an offer that Polly would not want to refuse.

  She said nothing. She swallowed her first mouthful of supper and waited for her mother to comment.

  ‘Well, I suppose that’s thrown pasty-making out of the window, because a trip into Hawes with your father wins every time. Am I invited on this trip, or is it just the “men” of the household?’ Ada pushed her plate to one side, with her supper hardly eaten.