Chapters (53)
- Cover
- Title page
- Dedication page
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Sow the Seed
- Reap the Harvest
- About the Author
- ALSO BY MARGARET DICKINSON
- Acknowledgements
- Copyright page
The girl gasped and the colour flooded into her white cheeks. ‘You’ll suffer for this,’ she spat again so that Esther actually felt Beth’s spittle on her face. ‘You an’ yours will never know happiness!’
It was like a curse being laid upon her.
‘If you plough a crooked furrow an’ sow a bad seed, you mun reap a bitter harvest.’
Fourteen
‘YOU heard the news then, lass?’
Ma Harris placed her milk can on the floor of Esther’s spotless pantry and watched whilst Esther filled it with creamy milk.
‘No, what’s that?’
There was a triumphant note in Ma’s voice as she said, ‘Beth Hanley’s married Robert Eland, all quick-like. Yesterday, it were. What d’ya think to that – an’ only four weeks after yours, eh?’
Esther almost dropped the small churn she was holding. Slowly, she straightened up to meet Ma Harris’s keen gaze. Levelly, Esther said, ‘I’m very pleased for her, I hope they’ll be very happy.’ She forced a smile to stretch her mouth. ‘Mr Eland has been – fond of her for a long time, I believe.’
Esther felt Ma’s shrewd glance studying her, but skilfully she avoided meeting those perceptive eyes. ‘Aye, that’s right,’ the older woman acknowledged. ‘Strange how things work out, ain’t it? Young Beth married to a man old enough to be her father . . .’ She cackled at her own joke. ‘Well, not really, I’m exaggeratin’ a bit. He’s thirty-summat but she’s only nineteen. An’ she’s gone to live in that monstrosity of a boat thing – I don’t reckon it’s safe, mesen,’ she added musingly. ‘An’ there we was all thinking . . .’
Esther picked up the full can and held it out to Ma Harris, holding out her other hand for the coppers in payment. ‘Shall you want any eggs this week, Mrs Harris?’
‘Eh, but call me Ma, lass, everyone else round here does.’ The toothless gums widened into a smile and Esther found herself unable to resist smiling in return. ‘I’ll have half a dozen,’ Ma said, ‘and they’ll want a dozen at the pub.’ Slyly, she added, ‘An’ shall I ask Mrs Eland if she wants to place a regular order for milk and eggs?’
Esther, having recovered her composure after Ma’s piece of news, raised a quizzical eyebrow and returned Ma Harris’s gaze steadily. ‘I dun’t reckon the new Mrs Eland will want to get her milk and eggs from me – from us.’ She shrugged. ‘But ya can ask her, if ya like.’