Then came the grandchildren. Ag had beaten her to it – she had seven. She herself had only four, so far. Must be getting on for tea-time. Dog barking downstairs. Racer barked regularly as clockwork when it was time to be fed. Stella hoped Janice wouldn’t keep him waiting too long. She swivelled her eyes to the cluster of photographs above the fireplace. Philip: the photograph she used to keep by her bed in the attic room, hardly faded, considering the years. In his uniform. Another, not long after they were married. Just head and shoulders – laughing. Such a brave man, Philip. Never complained. The children, very young, on their rocking-horse. Effie a beauty, she had to admit, from the start. James, with such a strong look of Joe it was incredible no one had ever noticed, not even Ag and Prue. James’s own son, too: little William, the first grandchild. Extraordinary. Even Joe could see it.
No picture of Joe. Well, for the children’s sake, really. Still, Joe always, always near. There when needed. Waiting. Both of them waiting.
Janet, actually, was brave, too, like Philip. She was brave to marry a man whom she knew did not love her. But they made an agreement, and stuck to it. Joe was a conscientious husband: Janet a good wife and mother to the three tall sons. She provided an idyllic childhood for them in the Yorkshire farmhouse. Looked after Mr Lawrence, diligently, in the cottage, once his wife had died.
At forty, Stella remembered, Janet had lost some of her shyness. Stella went and listened to her speaking one day at a Conservative gathering. She was better looking than she used to be, too. Not exactly attractive, but less plain. The surprise, though, when she went off, overnight, just after her sixtieth birthday. Stella would never forget Joe’s telephone call. ‘You’re not going to believe this …’ And of course she could not, for a time. But it was true. It seemed Janet had been waiting for the children to be married, settled, whatever, before she and this rich butcher, who had loved her for ten years, finally went off to spend their old age together. They’d been conducting a long affair. Joe had never suspected a thing. Just as Janet had never suspected … Or had she?
They would never know. They’d been so careful. Tried never to reveal … but could not be sure.
Of course, since Janet’s departure, it had all been so easy. Wonderful. Joe sold the farm, moved into the cottage in the dales – vacant since Mr Lawrence’s death – he had once mentioned at Hallows Farm. They visited each other constantly. God knows why it had taken them so long to realize how much easier it would be if they lived under the same roof.
Stella sighed. Perhaps they shouldn’t have wasted so much time. Still, Joe was on his way at last. Nearly here. Cottage almost sold: contract to be signed next week. He should be in by the end of the month. That would be good, good. Stella dozed.
When she woke, it was dusk. Couldn’t see the cows. A cup of tea would be coming soon: she always told Janice if she was asleep to leave her, come back later. She pushed herself up on the pillows, pulled her shawl round her shoulders. The evenings were cooler.
At six o’clock precisely, Joe would ring. He rang her every evening, even if he had been visiting her earlier in the day. She wanted to be alert for his call. She wanted to be particularly on the ball in order to try to urge him to get the whole business of the sale of the cottage tied up as soon as possible. Last night he had said he’d do his best, solicitors were always so damn slow with contracts, and surely a few more days made no difference. He didn’t want to move his stuff out of the cottage and then find the sale had fallen through: much harder to sell an empty place.
Stella had agreed. She’d said quite right, a few more days made no difference. Essential to get it all finalized before moving in. She didn’t want to press him. And so she lied to him, saying of course there was no hurry. Well, not exactly lied: just retained part of the truth. First time in her life she had not been completely honest with Joe. She hoped, when he discovered, he would understand. Hoped he would understand she had not wanted to burden him with the probable truth. She had always made light of her illness, been able to quell his worries. Surely that was the best thing.
The final part of their waiting would not be too long, with any luck. God willing, she would be on her feet again by the time he came, full of energy to settle him in. She must remember to get the piano tuned. Married to Philip, there had been little time to play. When he died she had, at last, taught privately for a while. But it was too late. She was out of practice. So she had ceased to give lessons when she came north. Nowadays, she just played to herself, in the evenings. She would say to him when he rang – it was two minutes to six – Joe, don’t worry about the sale – dealing with solicitors had never been his forte. Why don’t you come as soon as you can? she would say. On the dot of six, the telephone rang. Firm of purpose, Stella gathered her strength. She must be careful to choose the right words to encourage him to hurry just a little, and yet give no hint of alarm.
‘Darling Joe,’ she began.
About the Author
Angela Huth has written eleven novels, four collections of short stories as well as plays for radio, TV and the stage. Land Girls was made into a 1998 feature film starring Rachel Weisz and Anna Friel. She is also a well-known freelance journalist, critic and broadcaster. Angela is married to an Oxford don, lives in Warwickshire and has two daughters.
Also by Angela Huth
FICTION
Nowhere Girl
Virginia Fly is Drowning
Sun Child
South of the Lights
Monday Lunch in Fairyland and other stories
Wanting
Such Visitors and other stories
Invitation to the Married Life
Another Kind of Cinderella and other stories
Land Girls
Once a Land Girl
Wives of the Fisherman
Easy Silence
Of Love and Slaughter
The Collected Stories of Angela Huth
NON-FICTION
The English Woman’s Wardrobe
Well Remembered Friends, an anthology (ed.)
FOR CHILDREN
Eugenie in Cloud Cuckoo Land
Island of the Children (ed.)
Casting a Spell (ed.)
PLAYS
The Understanding
The Trouble with Old Lovers
Copyright
Constable & Robinson Ltd
London WC1B 4HP
www.constablerobinson.com
First published in the UK by Sinclair-Stevenson, 1994
Published by Abacus, an imprint of Little, Brown Book Group, 1995
This edition published by Constable, an imprint of Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2012
Copyright © Angela Huth, 1994
The right of Angela Huth to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
The author and publishers are grateful for permission to reproduce words from songs as follows:
‘They Can’t Black Out the Moon’ (Strauss, Miller & Dale) reproduced by permission of EMI Music Publishing Ltd, London WC2H 0EA
‘We’ll Meet Again’ (Parker and Charles) reproduced by permission of Dash Music Co Ltd, 8/9 Frith Street, London W1V 5TZ
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A copy of the British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978–1–78033–247–5
Table of
Contents
Praise
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Angela Huth
Copyright