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Sow the Seed

Margaret Dickinson
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Margaret Dickinson
  3. Dedication page
  4. Contents
  5. Part One
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Part Two
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-One
  48. Forty-Two
  49. Sow the Seed
  50. Note
  51. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  52. Copyright page

Cover

cover

Margaret Dickinson

Sow the Seed

PAN BOOKS

Dedication page

For Dennis, Mandy and Zoë

Contents

Part One

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Part Two

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

Part One

One

LINCOLNSHIRE, 1926

‘IF I say ya’ll go away to boarding school, Missy, then go ya will.’ Esther Godfrey wagged her finger in her daughter’s face. ‘And I’ll have none of ya chelp neither! Not from a thirteen-year-old, I won’t.’

Kate faced her mother, her insides churning. ‘I’ll be fourteen soon. I can leave school then. You know I can. Please, Mam . . .?’ Her boldness was fading now, almost before it had begun. She could hardly believe that she had actually dared to argue with her mother. No one, but no one, defied Esther Godfrey when she stood like she was standing now; feet set apart, hands on hips and green eyes flashing fire.

They were so alike; long, rich auburn hair, the mother with hers piled high on her head, the curls held in place by combs with only escaping tendrils to soften the firm jawline; the girl with hers flying wild and free, her mouth clenched mutinously.

Esther Godfrey was a striking-looking woman, beautiful some might have said, with a smooth forehead and a well-shaped mouth. She had still retained her slim figure despite the recent birth of a child, though her breasts were rounded with the ripeness of a nursing mother’s.

Hers was an expressive face; her smile could brighten the day like the sun appearing out of the clouds, but her anger was every bit as threatening as the gales that raged across the marshes from the sea.

And at this moment her face was like a menacing thunder-cloud.

In the wicker cradle in one corner of the kitchen, the baby began to whimper.

‘Now see what ya’ve done – woken her up after I’ve spent the last hour settling her.’

Kate flung out her hand towards the cradle, with a last spark of defiance. ‘It’s ’cos of her you want to send me away, in’t it? You don’t love me any more – not since you got Lilian!’

As she saw the colour drain from her mother’s face and watched her reach out to grasp the corner of the kitchen table to steady herself, Kate felt a stab of guilt. Strong though Esther was, she had given birth only three weeks ago.

‘Oh, Kate . . .’ The anger, too, was gone. Now there was reproach in Esther’s tone. ‘That’s not true . . .’

With a sob Kate rushed from the kitchen, through the back scullery, wrenched open the back door and ran across the yard.