Chapter 8 -part i

[girlyswot]

Author's note: sorry not to have posted for a couple of days - real life essay crisis.  Anyway, I'm giving you two chapters today to make up!

Mrs Marlow and her second daughter rarely felt the need to chat over the breakfast table when there were just the two of them.  Rowan usually had a pile of post to wade through, just occasionally emitting a groan or sigh to indicate its contents.  Her mother generally preferred the morning paper, carefully checking the home and foreign news for items that might be of interest to her husband, then skimming the social pages before ending with the crossword.

 

But on this particular cold January morning, Rowan's correspondence was quickly dealt with and, there being nothing urgently requiring her attention elsewhere, she stayed to engage her mother in conversation, punctuated by cryptic clues.

 

'What have you got on for the rest of the day?' enquired Mrs Marlow.

'I ought to check that ewe later this morning.  Accounts,' she grimaced.  'Then an NFU meeting over at Streweminster this evening.  Quotas.'

'Will it be terribly dull?'

'Prob.  Still one feels one ought to show willing.  Else how can one complain when it happens and they say we never knew you all minded so much.'

'I've invited Karen over for coffee.  About elevenish.  If you'd like to be around.'  Mrs Marlow trod cautiously, knowing that relations between her two elder girls remained somewhat strained.

Rowan nodded briefly.

'I'd better get moving then.  See you later.'

 

Karen, now twenty-five, six years earlier had married a forty-one year old widower with three children.  She never showed sign of regretting her promising academic career nor resentment at being tied to her three step-children - Chas, Rose and Phoebe, respectively fifteen, sixteen and eleven - but her life had taken on a mundane routine of school, homework, uniforms, dinners which rarely interacted with Rowan's milking,  ploughing and harvesting.  When the others came home it was less noticeable but when there were just the two of them, they behaved as if no more than civil acquaintances.

 

When Rowan arrived back at the house, she found Karen already sitting at the kitchen table opposite her mother and a large home-made cake between them.

'Hullo Rowan.'

'Hullo Kay.'  She went to wash her hands before helping herself to a large slice of the cake which was chocolatey and gooey.  'Jolly good cake.  One of Mrs Bertie's?'

Karen replied evenly, 'One of mine, actually.'

Rowan looked at her in admiration.

'You've improved.  Must be all that practice feeding Chas.' 

'Doesn't seem to be working.'  Suddenly they both grinned, in shared appreciation of Karen's feeble Home Ec. attempts while at school and Chas's legendary huge appetite and skinny frame.

'How are the kids?' Rowan asked politely.

'Fine, I think.  Fob seems to be settling in a bit better.'  Fob had joined her sister at Colebridge Girls’ Grammar in September.  A stocky, stubborn child, Phoebe rarely made friends and when she did they were always boys.

'Oh,' Karen started fumbling in her handbag.  'Edwin said, when you next write to Nick, could you put this in.'  She passed an envelope across to Rowan which was promptly stuck into the mirror on the mantelpiece next to one which bore Patrick's handwriting.  'Has anyone heard from her lately?'

Mrs Marlow shook her head.  'Not since Christmas.'

'It does seem extraordinary that she should be half way round the world coping perfectly well single-handed when Lawrie can barely manage for a week in London without some crisis or other requiring assistance,' remarked Rowan.

'Not that extraordinary.  I've always thought Nick was really about three years older than Lawrie.  Just like you and me.'  Karen looked across at her younger sister who raised an ironic eyebrow.

'How was the sheep, darling?' intervened Mrs Marlow.

'Not good.  Actually I ought to phone the vet in a minute.  She'll have to be put down.'

'Oh dear.'

'Look, Ro, before you go.  I was going to suggest…  Why don't we go out for a drink tonight?  Just down to the village.  Edwin's been working late every night at the moment so he can babysit without any trouble.'  Karen sounded nervous and uncertain of her sister's response to this olive branch.

'Can't tonight.  Meeting.'  Rowan considered.  'Thursday any good to you?'

'Yes, I expect so.  Yes.  Good.  Come round when you're ready and we'll walk down together.'

 

The NFU meeting was as dull as Rowan had expected it to be.  The only woman farmer in the room and a good twenty years younger than the average, she nevertheless found herself at ease among these men after the official bit was over.  She could hold her own in conversation about the relative evils of the CAP, foot and mouth and the weather, though she was constantly made aware that her six years experience counted for almost nothing.  She knew she was still learning and this was as good a chance as any to get the advice she knew she needed.

She was making her way for the exit at a respectable nine forty-five when she heard someone call her name.

'Hey!  Rowan.'  He was tall, as blond as Rowan herself, with duck-egg blue eyes and a sprinkling of freckles even in January.  She couldn't remember his name though she knew they had been introduced earlier.

'Hullo.'  She waited, wondering what he wanted.

'Leaving already?'

'Early start.  And it's a bit of a trek home for me.'

'Yes.  Absolutely.  Oh well.'  He looked disappointed.

'Why?'

'Oh nothing.  I just wondered if you'd care for a quick drink, you know.  But I quite see about the early start.'

She smiled, not quite knowing why.  'I could probably manage a quick one.'

'Really?  Terrific.  I'll just grab my coat.'

She waited for him by the door.

'But before you buy me that drink, you'll have to tell me your name again.'  He laughed.

 

His name was Thomas.  He was a dairy farmer from Troughton, a village outside West Wade.  He drank a pint of bitter and looked impressed when Rowan asked for whisky and refused ice or soda.

'So, tell me.  Was it a childhood ambition?  Or happy accident?'

'Accident.  My cousin was killed.'

'Oh, God, I'm sorry.  Feet straight in.'  He looked genuinely sorry.

'It's alright.  It was years ago now.  Anyway, Jon died and Father suddenly inherited Trennels.  Father's in the Navy, he'd just been promoted Captain.  So's Giles, my elder brother.  No-one wanted them to quit.  I couldn't think of any reason why not me.  So I persuaded them to let me leave school.'  His eyebrows shot up.

'How old were you?'

'Seventeen.  Don't look so shocked.  The old farm manager was supposed to be there for a couple of years to get me started.'

'Supposed to be?'

'Yes, well, Mr Tranter had a stroke seven months later.  So then it was just me.'

'But you'd grown up there?  You'd seen how things worked?'

'Grew up in London.  Summers at Trennels before the war.'

'Wow.  And you're still in business?'

She smiled.  'Just.  Like everyone else.'

'And… do you enjoy it?  I mean it sounds pretty much like you were pressganged into it before you'd a chance to make up your mind.  And it's not the kind of job you can just forget about when you get home in the evenings.  If you don't love it I can't imagine what it's like.'

'I don't love it exactly.'  She paused, not used to such introspection.  'I think it matters.'  She reddened faintly.  'There've been Marlows at Trennels since the Conquest practically.  It'd be so awful to be the one who failed.  Who couldn't leave it for the next generation.'

'Wow.  That's some motivation for getting up at five in the morning to clamp mangold-wurzels.'

'We don't grow mangold-wurzels any more.'  She grinned.  'So, why you?'

'Family.  Dad retired a couple of years ago.  I'd always planned to come home and take over, so I did.'

'Home from where?'

'Australia.  Canada.  The States.  South America for a bit.  Working my way, mainly on farms.  Getting experience.  Having a lot of fun.  Breaking hearts on three continents.'  He finished his pint.  'Come on, you'd better get back to those mangold-wurzels you don't grow any more.'  He walked Rowan back to her car though she insisted there was no need.

'Every need.  I'll call you.  Night!'  He waved and walked off, leaving her wondering what that had all been about.

*****

 

It was such ages since Nicola had been within hail of any other boat that she spent some time just watching the R.N. destroyer before turning to adjust her course to avoid the wash.  When she turned back, she was astonished to see a lugger making its way towards her.  She hauled in and waited for it to approach.

... continued in part 2.