Friendship's Bond by Meg Hutchinson Page B

had come to see might well be inside that chapel or yet in the house at its rear; but neither building would see her enter. Leah stood resolutely on the narrow footpath. Sooner or later someone would come or go from chapel or house, someone who could tell her if either held Thomas Thorpe.
     
    So many of them had said the same thing, spoken so nearly the same words it might have been rehearsed.
    Butter she had first carefully weighed then fashioned into four-ounce blocks was placed neatly on a well-scrubbed wooden board. Ann carried the whole across to the cold cupboard set on one wall of the dairy.
    ‘ I don’t be a wantin’ of you comin’ no more . . . ’
    Hard as stones the words had seemed to strike at her.
    ‘ . . . y’ can be a tellin’ Leah Marshall should ’er be wantin’ to sell ’er butter an’ cheese then ’er’ll ’ave to be a deliverin’ of it ’erself .’
    She had attempted to ask the reason, to ask had she in some way annoyed the woman and if so to offer apologies, but the door had slammed shut before the chance was given.
    Bewildered, she had moved to the next house only to meet with the same sharp ultimatum. ‘ I don’t be a wantin’ of you comin’ no more .’
    What had she done wrong? Many times she had asked herself that question while walking back to Leah’s house, going over again in her mind the previous deliveries to those women, yet try as she might, she could not recall any incident which might have given rise to the animosity which had greeted her today.
    Ann stared blindly at the interior of the cupboard where butter set along its shelves gleamed like golden drops of summer sun.
    ‘ I won’t be a tekin’ of no more lessen it be fetched ’ere by Leah ’erself .’
    ‘ Don’t you go a comin’ ’ere no more . . . ’
    ‘ If’n Leah don’t fetch it ’erself then ’er can find another to send it wi’ cos I don’t want you a comin’ of this ’ouse no more! ’
    ‘But why? Please tell me what I have done,’ Ann answered out loud. ‘If I have displeased you . . .’
    ‘You’ll certainly displease Leah should you hold that cupboard open much longer.’
    ‘Alec, the women they—’ The words died as Ann saw who it was at the entrance to the dairy.
    ‘Not Alec I’m afraid, but then neither am I the bogeyman, at least I hope that isn’t how you see me.’
    ‘No, no. I . . .’ Ann stared at the figure outlined by the glow of setting sun.
    ‘Glad to hear it.’ Edward Langley smiled.
    ‘I’m sorry, I was thinking of . . .’
    Of what? Even from that distance he had seen the dread sweep across the face of the girl who had instinctively backed against the wall and whose fingers clutched white against the board laden with butter portions. Something definitely had Ann Spencer feared. Or should that be some one ?
    ‘Here,’ he smiled again, covering the awkward pause left by Ann’s unfinished sentence, ‘let me help with getting that lot into the cold cupboard. I’m not afraid of hobgoblins or things that go bump in the night but when it comes to Leah Marshall and her butter, then I admit to being a real coward. I’d sooner face the Kaiser and the whole of his army than stand in Leah’s path should her dairy be threatened so let’s tuck this batch away before she comes to check everything is as it should be.’
    As it should be! Ann turned the phrase over again and again, each time wondering how Leah would react to being told of what had transpired on today’s delivery round, when so many customers had said they would only buy if Leah herself brought the butter and cheese. Would Leah place the blame with her? It had to be something she had done, but what?
    ‘Phew!’ Closing the cupboard door on the last of the butter Edward laid aside the board then made a play of mopping his brow. ‘Safe from the wrath of the tyrant!’
    ‘Oh, an’ just who be the tyrant you be safe from!’
    ‘You!’ Edward’s reply rang along the lime brick walls. He