The Wedding Cake Tree by Melanie Hudson Page B

take a seat ten feet or so back down the hill out of the wind, took off his rucksack, removed our coats that had been purposefully placed on the top, and laid them out on the deep, damp heather. He passed me his fleece again.
    ‘ It’s easy to chill down in the breeze, even in May,’ he said. ‘You ought to put this around your shoulders.’
    ‘ What about you? I can easily put my coat on instead of sitting on it.’ I tried to insist but soon gave up. He draped the fleece around my shoulders.
    We sat side by side taking in the view across the valley. Perhaps delaying the inevitable, Alasdair pointed out features of interest across the Dale.
    After five minutes I loo ked across at Alasdair and said, ‘It’s okay, you can give me the letter now. I’m ready.’
    He handed me two envelopes. One said, ‘Open me first,’ and so I did.
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    Penhill
     
    Hello , My Love
     
    I can imagine you enjoying a clear and bright spring day. The sky will be a hazy light blue and there will be a slight breeze down in the Dale, but at the top of the hill the wind will blow slightly stronger – am I right? I do hope so. It’s impossible to guess how often I have sat exactly where you are now, at the top of the zigzag path, above the crags.
     
    As I told you, my parents were sheep farmers from Yorkshire. They scraped a decent enough living at Bridge Farm, which is situated on the outskirts of a village called West Burton. You can’t see the farm from where you’re sitting as it’s over the moor to the west of the hill. It’s a beautiful place, Grace, particularly in the spring. Mum would plant up pots of tulips for a spectacular spring display, and her immaculate roses always won ‘best in show’ at the village hall – I wish I’d paid more attention to how she managed to obliterate black spot! It all sounds idyllic perhaps, but I can tell you the reality of sheep farming is not all duck ponds and fresh bread. My parents were hard working and tough – you had to be tough to make it through a Dales’ winter in those days. Back then, any offspring from farming stock were unlikely to have a proper childhood, well, not one you would associate with. Children were put to work, in some capacity or another, as soon as they were old enough to be useful. Our situation was no different except my parents were not fortunate enough to have a son to share the chores, they had two girls instead. Yes, you have an aunt, she’s called Annie, and according to Grimes she still lives at the farm.
     
    After Annie was born my parents tried desperately for another child, but no baby came. Then, out of the blue years later, yours truly happened along. My sister is eight years my senior and there is no question that she had, in the early years at least, a much harder life. She was more like hired help than Mum’s daughter while I, on the other hand, was the pretty little child with golden hair. I was encouraged to take my studies seriously while Annie was expected to devote her time to running the farm. I had pretty clothes and a dolls house but I don’t believe Annie had any of that. Needless to say, Annie and I were never close, and it’s no exaggeration to say that over the years she grew to despise me.
     
    I would try to get into her good books, follow her around, try to help, but she had absolutely no interest in me. It sounds as though she wasn’t loved, but nothing could be further from the truth. What I’m trying to say is she had different expectations placed upon her.
     
    And then there was this boy, Ted. He was the eldest son from a neighbouring farm. Ted and Annie were inseparable during their early teens, always out and about with the dogs, or fixing tractors – Annie was such a tomboy. I confess I was always a little jealous of their friendship. On my sixteenth birthday I had a party at home. I made a special effort to look glamorous – older. What with my party dress and a little makeup, I suppose it was