Ferdie!’
Using the cover provided by a collection of old carts, maderedundant by the increasing use of tractors, Hester reached the rear of the barn and began making her way round it towards the yard. The telephone, the farm’s only communication with the outside world, was attached to a wall just inside the large opening to the barn’s interior. Historically, the telephone had only ever been used in emergencies during the Land Army’s occupation. Now that Dave, Hester and Thurza were the lone occupants of the lower farm, it remained, for that reason, connected.
Ferdie raised his head just high enough for him to peer carefully over the low wall. He saw Norman Clark approach the farmhouse door. After beating on it with his closed fist he rattled the latch without effect and stepping back and lowering a massive shoulder, charged it. His heavy frame juddered with each impact but the solid oak resisted him once, twice and a third time. In that moment Ferdie had seen Hester slip round the corner of the barn and vanish into its shadowy interior. By now, he calculated, the loud telephone bell in the yard of the upper farm would be demanding attention. Someone would hear it, cross the yard, lift it from its hook and answer it. Mabel, his missus perhaps. Winnie, or possibly Gwennan. Or Mr Jack or even Roger Bayliss himself.
The ringing continued. Roger Bayliss heard it from the farm office. Mabel Vallance, pegging her washing on the line at the side of her cottage, heard it. Eileen, in the Bayliss kitchen, filling jam jars with bramble jelly, heard it, Winnie, sorting eggs, heard it but everyone thought that someone else would answer it. Dave Crocker, his cartload of copping stones loaded and ready for the descent to the lower farm,heard it as he flicked the reins across Prince’s glossy shoulder, turned the animal’s head towards the entrance to the lane and gee’d him forward. On the far side of the yard Mr Jack was checking the water in the idling engine of the tractor while the strident sound of the unanswered bell continued to bounce off the farmyard walls. Dave hesitated. Then he leapt off the cart and sprinted back, across the yard, reached the phone, grabbed it off its hook and then was gaping at the news his wife was giving him. Crossing the yard he shouldered Mr Jack aside, hauled himself onto the idling tractor, slammed it into gear and shouted to his boss, who had just emerged from the farm office.
‘’E be there, Mr Bayliss, sir,’ he bellowed. ‘Norman Clark! ’E be down to the Lower Farm with Hes and the baby … an’ on’y Ferdie to help ’em!’
Mabel, once Hodges and now Vallance, blanched at this news.
‘Keep an eye on my babies!’ she yelled at Eileen, who had appeared at the Bayliss’s kitchen door. ‘That Norman fella’s got my Ferdie!’ She hauled up her skirt, swung a short, plump leg over the crossbar of the farm bicycle and wobbled off to the head of the steep lane.
Chapter Three
Norman Clark stepped back from the farmhouse door. He stood, slightly breathless from the exertion of his assault on it, swearing under his breath, rubbing his shoulder and searching the empty yard. Then, from the open door of Hester’s cottage came the whimper of a young child. Thurza, bored with her golliwog, wanted her mother. As her cries grew more demanding and Norman turned towards the sound, Hester broke cover and ran from the barn, across the yard towards her cottage, knowing Norman would have seen her and would pursue her. Without looking back she reached her door, slammed it behind her, locked it and shot the bolts. She knew she was not safe. Neither her door nor her windows were robust enough to withstand Norman Clark. Calculating that it could not be many more minutes before her husband arrived back at the lower farm, she lifted Thurzafrom her playpen and stood, waiting tensely in the middle of her kitchen. If Norman attacked her locked front door she would escape through her scullery into
Using the cover provided by a collection of old carts, maderedundant by the increasing use of tractors, Hester reached the rear of the barn and began making her way round it towards the yard. The telephone, the farm’s only communication with the outside world, was attached to a wall just inside the large opening to the barn’s interior. Historically, the telephone had only ever been used in emergencies during the Land Army’s occupation. Now that Dave, Hester and Thurza were the lone occupants of the lower farm, it remained, for that reason, connected.
Ferdie raised his head just high enough for him to peer carefully over the low wall. He saw Norman Clark approach the farmhouse door. After beating on it with his closed fist he rattled the latch without effect and stepping back and lowering a massive shoulder, charged it. His heavy frame juddered with each impact but the solid oak resisted him once, twice and a third time. In that moment Ferdie had seen Hester slip round the corner of the barn and vanish into its shadowy interior. By now, he calculated, the loud telephone bell in the yard of the upper farm would be demanding attention. Someone would hear it, cross the yard, lift it from its hook and answer it. Mabel, his missus perhaps. Winnie, or possibly Gwennan. Or Mr Jack or even Roger Bayliss himself.
The ringing continued. Roger Bayliss heard it from the farm office. Mabel Vallance, pegging her washing on the line at the side of her cottage, heard it. Eileen, in the Bayliss kitchen, filling jam jars with bramble jelly, heard it, Winnie, sorting eggs, heard it but everyone thought that someone else would answer it. Dave Crocker, his cartload of copping stones loaded and ready for the descent to the lower farm,heard it as he flicked the reins across Prince’s glossy shoulder, turned the animal’s head towards the entrance to the lane and gee’d him forward. On the far side of the yard Mr Jack was checking the water in the idling engine of the tractor while the strident sound of the unanswered bell continued to bounce off the farmyard walls. Dave hesitated. Then he leapt off the cart and sprinted back, across the yard, reached the phone, grabbed it off its hook and then was gaping at the news his wife was giving him. Crossing the yard he shouldered Mr Jack aside, hauled himself onto the idling tractor, slammed it into gear and shouted to his boss, who had just emerged from the farm office.
‘’E be there, Mr Bayliss, sir,’ he bellowed. ‘Norman Clark! ’E be down to the Lower Farm with Hes and the baby … an’ on’y Ferdie to help ’em!’
Mabel, once Hodges and now Vallance, blanched at this news.
‘Keep an eye on my babies!’ she yelled at Eileen, who had appeared at the Bayliss’s kitchen door. ‘That Norman fella’s got my Ferdie!’ She hauled up her skirt, swung a short, plump leg over the crossbar of the farm bicycle and wobbled off to the head of the steep lane.
Chapter Three
Norman Clark stepped back from the farmhouse door. He stood, slightly breathless from the exertion of his assault on it, swearing under his breath, rubbing his shoulder and searching the empty yard. Then, from the open door of Hester’s cottage came the whimper of a young child. Thurza, bored with her golliwog, wanted her mother. As her cries grew more demanding and Norman turned towards the sound, Hester broke cover and ran from the barn, across the yard towards her cottage, knowing Norman would have seen her and would pursue her. Without looking back she reached her door, slammed it behind her, locked it and shot the bolts. She knew she was not safe. Neither her door nor her windows were robust enough to withstand Norman Clark. Calculating that it could not be many more minutes before her husband arrived back at the lower farm, she lifted Thurzafrom her playpen and stood, waiting tensely in the middle of her kitchen. If Norman attacked her locked front door she would escape through her scullery into
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