Let Sleeping Vets Lie Read online

  I owe them. The rest I borrowed from my old man and I'm not going" back

  to him for more. I promised him I'd return to the steelworks if this

  didn't work out and that's what I'm going" to do."

  "Oh hell, Frank," I said. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. You haven't

  had a scrap of luck all the way through."

  He looked at me and smiled with no trace of self pity. "Aye well," he

  said. "These things happen."

  I almost jumped at the words. "These things happen!" That's what farmers

  always said after a disaster. That old man in Darrowby had been right.

  Frank really did have it through the titty.

  And in truth he wasn't the only man to be bankrupted in this way. What

  had hit Frank was called an 'abortion storm" and the same sort of thing

  had driven a legion of good men to the wall. Some of them hung on,

  tightened their belts, spent their life savings and half starved till

  the storm abated and they could start again. But Frank had no savings to

  see him through; his venture had been a gamble from the beginning and he

  had lost.

  I never heard of him again. At first I thought he might write, but then

  I realised that once the agonising break had been made it had to be

  complete.

  ~

  From some parts of the northern Pennines you can see away over the great

  sprawl of Teesside and when the fierce glow from the blast furnaces set

  the night sky alight I used to think of Frank down there and wonder how

  he was getting on. He'd make a go of it all right, but how often did his

  mind turn to the high-blown green hollow where he had hoped to build

  something worth while and to live and bring up his children?

  Some people called Peters bought the little farm at Bransett after he

  left. Strangely enough they were from Teesside, too, but Mr. Peters was

  a wealthy director of the ICI and used the place only as a weekend

  retreat. It was ideal for the purpose because he had a young family all

  keen on riding and the fields were Soon being grazed by an assortment of

  horses and ponies. In the summer ~rs Peters used to spend months on end

  up there with the children. They were nice people who cared for their

  animals and I was a frequent visitor.

  The dwelling house was renovated almost out of recognition and I drank

  coffee instead of tea in the living room which had become a place of

  grace and charm with an antique table, chintz covers and pictures on the

  walls. The old outbuildings were converted into loose boxes with

  shining, freshly painted doors.

  The only thing which got no attention was Frank's little new byre; it

  we" used as a storage place for corn and bedding for the horses.

  I always felt a tug at my heart when I looked in there at the thick dust

  on the floor, the windows almost opaque with dirt, the cobwebs

  everywhere, the. rusting water bowls, the litter of straw bales, peat

  moss and sacks of oats where once Frank's cows had stood so proudly.

  It was all that was left of a man's dream.

  Chapter Twenty-three.

  After the night of the Daffodil Ball I just seemed to drift naturally

  into the habit of dropping in to see Helen on an occasional evening. And

  before I knew what was happening I had developed a pattern; around eight

  o'clock my feet began to make of their own accord for Heston Grange. Of

  course I fought the impure - I didn't go every night; there was my work

  which often occupied me round the clock, there was a feeling of

  propriety, and there was Mr. Alderson.

  Helen's father was a vague little man who had withdrawn into himself to

  great extent since his wife's death a few years ago. He was an expert

  stocksman and his farm could compare with the best, but a good part of

  his mind often seemed to be elsewhere. And he had acquired some little

  peculiarities; when things weren't going well he carried on long

  muttered conversations with himself but when he was particularly pleased

  about something he was inclined to break into a loud, tuneless humming.

  It was a penetrating sound and on my professional visits I could often

  locate him by tracking down this characteristic droning among the farm

  buildings.

  At first when I came to see Helen I'm sure he never even noticed me - I

  was just one of the crowd of young men who hung around his daughter; but

  as time; went on and my visits became more frequent he suddenly seemed

  to become conscious of me and began to regard me with an interest which

  deepened rapidly into alarm. I couldn't blame him, really. He was

  devoted to Helen and it was; natural that he should desire a grand match

  for her. Richard Edmundson represented just that. His family were rich,

  powerful people and Richard was very keen indeed. Compared to him, an

  unknown, impecunious young vet was: a poor bargain.

  When Mr. Alderson was around, my visits were uncomfortable affairs and

  it was a pity because I instinctively liked him. He had an amiable,

  completely inoffensive nature which was very appealing and under other

  conditions would have got along very well. But there was no getting

  round the fact that 1" resented me. And it wasn't because he wanted to

  hang on to Helen - he was an unselfish man and anyway, he had an

  excellent housekeeper in his sister who had been recently widowed and

  had come to live with the Aldersons. Auntie Lucy was a redoubtable

  character and was perfectly capable of running the household and looking

  after the two younger children. It was just that he had got used to the

  comfortable assumption that one day his daughter would marry"

  ~, the son of his old friend and have a life of untroubled affluence;

  and he had a Stubborn streak which rebelled fiercely against any

  prospect of change.

  So it was always a relief when I got out of the house with Helen.

  Everything was right then; we went to the little dances in the village

  institutes, we walked for miles along the old grassy mine tracks among

  the hills, or sometimes she came on my evening calls with me. There

  wasn't anything spectacular to do in Darrowby but there was a complete

  lack of strain, a feeling of being selfsufficient in a warm existence of

  our own that made everything meaningful and worthwhile.

  Things might have gone on like this indefinitely but for a conversation

  I had with Siegfried We were sitting in the big room at Skeldale House

  as we often did before bedtime, talking over the day's events when he

  laughed and slapped his knee.

  "I had old Harry Forster in.tonight paying his bill. He was really funny

  sat looking round the room and saying "It's a nice little nest you have

  here, Mr. Farnon, a nice little nest" and then, very sly "It's time

  there was a bird in this nest you know, there should be a little bird in

  here." '

  I laughed too. "Well, you should be used to it by now. You're the most

  eligible bachelor in Darrowby. People are always having a dig at you

  they won't be happy till they've got you married off."

  "Wait a minute, not so fast." Siegfried eyed me thoughtfully. "I don't

  think for a moment that Harry was talking about me, it was you he had in