Archam.
‘Nothing that a cosy night by the
hearth can’t solve, Miss Violet. Don’t you lose sleep over it.’ He
pulled the lamb close to his chest as he spoke and her legs became limp. She seemed calm
all of a sudden; she knew her keeper. ‘See you back at the house, Pete.’ He
tipped his cap at him and Pete nodded back. We watched him complete his journey to the
bottom of the Down and turn into the farmyard. Mrs Archam would be happy to have a lamb
by the fire for the evening: the flock was as precious to the pair of them as
children.
‘I discovered where the Sheltons were
keeping their pig,’ I told Pete, once Mr Archam was out of earshot. He kept quiet,
eyes watching the flock. I caught myself craving his gaze – dark and unflinching – and
tried to quell my disappointment when he didn’t look up as I spoke. ‘It was
behind the dresser – they covered a hole in the wall with wallpaper, would you believe
it?’
‘You shouldn’t tell me that, Vi.
It’s Mrs Shelton’s business.’
‘No, she showed me. And she said I
could tell you.’ I drew a breath. ‘Actually, she invited both of us for a
pork dinner on Saturday.’
Pete frowned. ‘That’s
kind.’
A gust of wind caught my skirt and I rushed
to pin it to my knees. ‘I thought you’d be more pleased.’
‘It’s just that I’m
busy.’
‘But you will come, won’t
you?’
‘No, Vi … I mean, it’s
difficult. I’m … Mr and Mrs Archam need me.’
As we reached the neck of the hill he busied
himself with the flock so that they clung together more tightly. I tried to meet his eye
but he would not look up from the field beneath his feet.
‘It’s all right,’ I
faltered. ‘Annie will be just as pleased to come.’
At the crossroads, I turned in the opposite
direction to the farmhouse, knowing he would not follow or call after me. Clouds
blossomed and parted, and the light grew in intensity – the final swelling of the sun
before dusk. The brightness – as sudden as a gasp – made me wish for shade but there
were no trees for a mile, only the Downs. I felt exposed, as if the sky had witnessed
everything. As soon as I had rounded the corner and was out of Pete’s sight, I
ran, red-faced, down into the valley.
The church was dark inside; I could sense
the cool balm of the walls without touching them. All the light was shut out except for
six shafts that fell in pillars across the nave. I settled myself in a side pew beneath
the west window. The church was empty except for the dust that drew slow circles inside
each line of light. In Imber, where every building had a dual purpose, where even houses
doubled as barns for lambs, it felt rare to have a space so completely void of toil,
movement and activity. And yet, somehow, I needed it, returning, as the other villagers
did, to its quiet whenever I felt out of sorts. Only in the church could I still myself
for long enough to feel as immutable as the vast expanse of the Plain outside.
From my place in the pew, I heard a shuffle
in the base of the tower. I crossed to the back of the nave and found Father sorting a
pile of bell ropes. He always punctuated his days with physical jobs like this one. Such
was the pleasure he took in caring for the church that he refused to appoint a verger.
It was only later,once we had left Imber and I came across other
well-read men, that I realized how rare this was – to take as much trouble over fixing a
bell as he would over writing a sermon.
‘Hello, Violet.’ My father did
not need to look up from the ropes to know who had entered. He was familiar with my
steps – my incapacity for stillness. ‘Come and help me with these,’ he
gestured to the ropes, ‘and tell me what’s the bother.’
I crossed the floor of the tower and delved
my hands into the pile, selecting a rope to untangle from the rest.
‘Mrs Shelton offered Pete and me a
pork dinner but Pete won’t come with me,’ I blurted, the problem shrinking
even as I voiced
‘Nothing that a cosy night by the
hearth can’t solve, Miss Violet. Don’t you lose sleep over it.’ He
pulled the lamb close to his chest as he spoke and her legs became limp. She seemed calm
all of a sudden; she knew her keeper. ‘See you back at the house, Pete.’ He
tipped his cap at him and Pete nodded back. We watched him complete his journey to the
bottom of the Down and turn into the farmyard. Mrs Archam would be happy to have a lamb
by the fire for the evening: the flock was as precious to the pair of them as
children.
‘I discovered where the Sheltons were
keeping their pig,’ I told Pete, once Mr Archam was out of earshot. He kept quiet,
eyes watching the flock. I caught myself craving his gaze – dark and unflinching – and
tried to quell my disappointment when he didn’t look up as I spoke. ‘It was
behind the dresser – they covered a hole in the wall with wallpaper, would you believe
it?’
‘You shouldn’t tell me that, Vi.
It’s Mrs Shelton’s business.’
‘No, she showed me. And she said I
could tell you.’ I drew a breath. ‘Actually, she invited both of us for a
pork dinner on Saturday.’
Pete frowned. ‘That’s
kind.’
A gust of wind caught my skirt and I rushed
to pin it to my knees. ‘I thought you’d be more pleased.’
‘It’s just that I’m
busy.’
‘But you will come, won’t
you?’
‘No, Vi … I mean, it’s
difficult. I’m … Mr and Mrs Archam need me.’
As we reached the neck of the hill he busied
himself with the flock so that they clung together more tightly. I tried to meet his eye
but he would not look up from the field beneath his feet.
‘It’s all right,’ I
faltered. ‘Annie will be just as pleased to come.’
At the crossroads, I turned in the opposite
direction to the farmhouse, knowing he would not follow or call after me. Clouds
blossomed and parted, and the light grew in intensity – the final swelling of the sun
before dusk. The brightness – as sudden as a gasp – made me wish for shade but there
were no trees for a mile, only the Downs. I felt exposed, as if the sky had witnessed
everything. As soon as I had rounded the corner and was out of Pete’s sight, I
ran, red-faced, down into the valley.
The church was dark inside; I could sense
the cool balm of the walls without touching them. All the light was shut out except for
six shafts that fell in pillars across the nave. I settled myself in a side pew beneath
the west window. The church was empty except for the dust that drew slow circles inside
each line of light. In Imber, where every building had a dual purpose, where even houses
doubled as barns for lambs, it felt rare to have a space so completely void of toil,
movement and activity. And yet, somehow, I needed it, returning, as the other villagers
did, to its quiet whenever I felt out of sorts. Only in the church could I still myself
for long enough to feel as immutable as the vast expanse of the Plain outside.
From my place in the pew, I heard a shuffle
in the base of the tower. I crossed to the back of the nave and found Father sorting a
pile of bell ropes. He always punctuated his days with physical jobs like this one. Such
was the pleasure he took in caring for the church that he refused to appoint a verger.
It was only later,once we had left Imber and I came across other
well-read men, that I realized how rare this was – to take as much trouble over fixing a
bell as he would over writing a sermon.
‘Hello, Violet.’ My father did
not need to look up from the ropes to know who had entered. He was familiar with my
steps – my incapacity for stillness. ‘Come and help me with these,’ he
gestured to the ropes, ‘and tell me what’s the bother.’
I crossed the floor of the tower and delved
my hands into the pile, selecting a rope to untangle from the rest.
‘Mrs Shelton offered Pete and me a
pork dinner but Pete won’t come with me,’ I blurted, the problem shrinking
even as I voiced
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