Part 4 (1/2)

The admission was sad, and she said, comfortingly, ”Well, it doesn't matter. Are you going to our farm?”

He nodded. ”I suppose I'm going to see your father.”

”Oh, are you?” Her smile spread into a great welcoming beam. ”Oh, I'll take you.”

”Thanks.”

Tomorrow was again forgotten. Hopping and jumping over the puddles and on and off the gra.s.s verge,

she led the way back to the farm, chattering to her new, sober-looking acquaintance all the while. But when, within a short distance of the yard, she found he wasn't following her, she stopped and turned to see him standing staring towards the farmhouse, whereupon she offered proudly: ”That's our house.”

He looked at her, then asked slowly, ”Doesn't. . . doesn't Mr. Lord live here?”

”No, not yet. His house isn't ready, but it soon will be. Look, there-it is, on the hill . . . look!”

He followed her finger, and then said briefly, ”Show me where I'll find your father.”

”Come on then; he'll be here somewhere.”

She went das.h.i.+ng off ahead now, crying loudly, ”Da! Da! . . . Oh, Mr. Polinski ! ” She pulled up as a short, dark man, in his late thirties, came from behind a rick, carrying a cart shaft on his shoulder. ”Where's me da? Do you know?”

”In office-” he nodded towards the old dairy that the late manager had converted into an office-”wit old man.”

Mr. Polinski's ”old man” meant Mr. Lord. She hadn't known he was here again. He must have come by when she was in Mrs. Polinski's house. She turned round now and waited for the young man to come up.

”He's in his office,” she said. ”And Mr. Lord's there an' all, so I can't go in.”

She saw the young man stop in his stride, and then he did a funny thing. He turned completely round towards the entrance to the farmyard, as if he was going back that way, and she said hastily, pointing, ”The office is over there . . . that door.”

Slowly he turned again, and then, without saying ”Ta” or ”Thanks”, he went across the yard, and she stood watching him, stanjjJJQg with her finger-nail between her teeth, in sudden troubled perplexity. She knew she hadn't seen him before, and yet she felt she had. Perhaps she had seen him in Jarrow somewhere, or perhaps in church. And this feeling of recognition seemed to be connected with his walk, with his back?

Out of a million backs she could have picked her da's or her ma's, and somehow she knew she could have picked this young man's, too. It was funny. She bit on her finger as if trying to tear off the nail.

Before the young man reached the office the door opened and Mr. Lord came out, followed by Mike, and they both looked enquiringly at the young man, who had now come to a stop a few yards away from them.

Mary Ann now moved cautiously forward, and as she came up to them her da was saying, ”Oh, yes, of course; you're Brown, aren't you?”

”Yes, sir.” The young man was looking directly at her father, and Mary Ann's chest swelled with pride ... he had called her da, ”Sir.”

”It's the young fellow from the Agricultural College, sir.” Mike had turned to Mr. Lord, and when Mr. Lord did not answer, he added, ”Remember? I told you he had written.”

Mr. Lord's eyes, narrowed behind his beetling brows, were fixed on the visitor. And now the young man was returning his stare, hard, almost it seemed to Mary Ann with dislike, like she looked at Sarah Flannagan.

”Why do you particularly want to get experience here? It's only a small farm.” Mr. Lord's mouth was at its grimmest.

”I don't.” The words were shot out, and Mr. Brown bit his lip as if regretting them; then added, with slightly lowered head, ”I mean, I don't mind, I would rather start on a small farm.”

Mary Ann looked from one to the other, and she saw that the dislike was in Mr. Lord's eyes now, and she thought, Aw! he won't take him on; not when he looks like that he won't. Aw! And she felt a great sense of disappointment.

She saw her da give a hitch to his trousers, and his chin go up as he turned to Mr. Lord and said, ”We'll have to have an extra hand, anyway, sir. What about a trial, we can't go far wrong in that?” He spoke as if the young man wasn't present. And Mr. Lord, moving his head restlessly, replied in much the same way, ”I suppose it's up to you. But I'm warning you, we're carrying no dead-weight, Agricultural College or not, the milk comes out the same way; and they cannot alter the seasons.”

Mr. Lord now walked away, but he had not gone far when he turned and called Mike to him. And when Mike, with a glance at the young fellow, went towards him, he said, ”You've got a free hand as you know, but I'm not sure whether it would be wise to take him on; he looks all head and no hands, and you don't want that kind. It's labour you want.”

For Mike's part, he had instinctively taken to the young fellow, but he was wise not to make this too evident. Moreover, he did not despise men with headpieces on a farm, for he was finding his self-imposed study at night more tiring than the work of the day. And so, hitching at his belt again, he sighed and said, ”You're right there, sir, only too true. But what do you say if I give him a trial-that is, if it's all the same to you?”

Mr. Lord looked past Mike's head to the young man again, and his eyes stayed on him for a moment before he said, ”Well, don't start complaining to me about him, that's all.” And on this he walked away.

Mike stood for a moment watching his master before turning and going back to the boy, and immediately he saw that the young fellow's back was up, and his sympathy went out to him, for he knew only too well how the old man could draw out a temper. The antagonism between the two had been the swiftest thing he had ever seen, except perhaps his own feelings for Ratcliffe, his late boss.

”Well, now-” he confronted the boy-”we'll have to talk, I suppose; but first of all, what about a cup of tea? Come on over to the house.”

”Da.” All this time Mary Ann had stood in the background, keeping her tongue quiet, but now she realised that her father had clearly forgotten about her grannie, for he was walking away towards the htmse, talking as he went. ”Where are you living?” he was asking the young man.

'afet present, in Newcastle. I have a room there.”

”Da.”

”Yes? Come on.” Mike held out his hand, but went on, ”You're not from these parts then?”

”No, sir.” The young man did not seem of a communicative nature, and Mike said, ”Well, you'll have to come nearer than Newcastle. Newcastle's a long way when the dawn rises early. Yes, we'll have to see about that.”

”Da!” She tugged at his hand. He must be daft, she told herself, if he was going to take a stranger into their house, and her grannie there, for she would soon give him a picture of their life, and especially her da's, which would be awful, to say the very least. ”Da!” she tugged again and whispered urgently, ”Da! me grannie.”

”Oh!” Mike stopped abruptly and looked down on her, and his colour rising just the slightest he said, ”Yes, your grannie.”

5 But as he turned to his companion with a laughing apology on his lips, the need for it was taken away, for there, going along the road past the farm entrance were Lizzie and her mother, and Lizzie, looking in his direction, called, ”Mary Ann!”

”Oh! bust.”

”Go on.” Her da was speaking under his breath, and reluctantly, with slow measured steps, she went towards the gate.

”Your grannie's just going ... are you coming to the bus with us?”

The true and natural retort would have been ”No!” but something in Lizzie's tone and the way she held

out her hand asked for obedience, and so, taking her mother's hand, she walked reluctantly back along

the road, trying to shut her ears to her grandmother's vicious chatter.

”Nodiing ever stays put-get that into your head-we're here today and gone tomorrow, and that applies to worldly goods. And jobs an' all, a lot can happen in a six months' trial, so don't bank your hopes on a golden future. You won't take to it kindly when you find yourself on the dung heap again.”