Free Chaff upon the Wind by Margaret Dickinson Page A

Mrs Grundy levered her bulk out of the chair at the side of the range. ‘So,
we’ve all got the night off and I’m going to walk into town to see me sister. As for you, young Kitty, just you mind what you’re up to when I’m not here to keep me beady eye
on you. And mind you listen out for Master Edward, won’t you?’
    Now, in the darkness of the garden, Kitty was holding her breath as she pushed aside the lilac bush that half-hid the door in the wall. She lifted the latch and pushed at it, the old, rotten
timbers scraping protestingly on the ground. She doubted if this door had been opened in years. She winced at the noise which seemed to echo loudly through the stillness of the night. She glanced
back once more before she slipped like a wraith through the door and out of sight of the house, praying that her absence would not be discovered. Only Milly, her sister, knew she had gone out.
    ‘Where are you going, Kitty?’ the young girl had asked, her eyes large and worried in her pasty round face. ‘What if Master Edward rings down again? What’ll I
do?’
    ‘Go and see what he wants, of course.’
    ‘But he’ll ask for you. He – he always does. Where are you going?’ she asked again.
    ‘Just out.’
    ‘But . . .?’
    ‘If you don’t know, you can’t tell, can you?’ Kitty said. ‘I won’t be long.’
    Now as her eyes became accustomed to the blackness, Kitty moved among the dark shapes of the threshing drum and the traction engine.
    ‘Jack?’ she called softly. ‘Jack, are you there?’
    She listened again and then she heard his low whistle and his tall, broad shape loomed up through the darkness. She felt his hands span her waist and he was lifting her off her feet and swinging
her round. She gave a little cry of surprise and delight and then the sound was stilled by the touch of his lips seeking hers. Her heartbeat quickened as she wound her arms about his neck and he
was carrying her out of the stackyard. Straddling the fence, he stepped into the neighbouring meadow where the new haystacks stood. Burrowing a hollow for them and gently laying her down on the
warm, sweet-smelling hay, he lay beside her, crooking his arm for her to rest her head.
    ‘I thought you hadn’t waited,’ she said.
    ‘Said I would, didn’t I?’
    ‘I couldn’t get away. Master Edward kept ringing down for me.’
    ‘Master Edward? Who’s he?’
    ‘Edward Franklin. The son.’
    ‘Oh aye. I’d forgotten about him. I thought there was only a daughter. But now you mention it, I do remember a lad from last year.’
    ‘Yes,’ Kitty murmured. ‘Poor Edward. Everyone seems to forget about him.’
    His fingers touched her cheek in the darkness, then traced their way down her neck, down and down, lingering on the swell of her bosom. His mouth close to her ear, his lips brushing her hair, he
murmured huskily. ‘Should I be jealous of this Master Edward, who can ring down for you any time he pleases?’
    Kitty giggled. ‘He’s a boy . He’s only fourteen and he’s sick, poor thing. He hardly ever leaves his room.’
    ‘Boy or not, I bet he likes you though, doesn’t he, pretty Kitty?’
    ‘Not in the way you mean, Jack Thorndyke,’ she teased him playfully, pushing away his hands that were becoming far too bold in their searching. ‘I’m only the maid. But
he’s lonely . . .’
    ‘Oh Kitty, Kitty, you’re lovely,’ Jack whispered. ‘You stay away from him, Kitty, ’cos you’re mine. All mine.’ His mouth was moving against hers,
stilling her words and driving away all thoughts of the lonely young boy in his sickbed.
    ‘Milly? Milly ? Are you asleep?’
    The girl’s face, heavy-eyed, appeared from beneath the covers. ‘Not now, I’m not,’ she muttered crossly. ‘Whatever time is it, our Kitty? Where’ve you
been?’
    ‘Never you mind,’ Kitty said sharply, her fingers touching her lips still tender from Jack’s passionate kisses, her whole body tingling with excitement from his