Free Shadow on the Land by Anne Doughty Page A

our Jane?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Emily looked at him and waited, and waited. Finally he gathered himself and looked into the embers of the dying fire.
    ‘I’ve never seen two people read each other like open books the way Johann Hillmann and our Jane did this afternoon. Not a dozen words between them, but his blue eyes near as big as hers,’ he said, taking a great deep breath, as he stood up and switched off the table lamp on his side of the fire.

CHAPTER FIVE
    As Emily finished the second sleeve of Alex’s best shirt and turned round to pick up a clothes hanger from the kitchen table, she saw a glint of sunlight strike the wet panes of the wide window beyond the kitchen sink. She moved across the kitchen, glanced out into the cobbled yard, noted the wind rippling the shallow puddles and sighed. It would take an hour or more with a good drying wind before she could pick peas and much longer if she wanted flowers for drying.
    Today was the first Monday in September and it was days since she’d been able to do anything in the garden, even weeding. As sure as she set foot in the yard, she’d feel the first spits of rain in the wind. One look up at the dark base of the cloud above warned her it was about to pour at any moment.
    She picked up another shirt, noticed how worn the collar had become and wondered if she should turn it before it got any worse. She sighed again. Itwasn’t that she minded sewing in itself, but she did mind sitting indoors when she needed to be out in the garden.
    The high summer months had been so disappointing. After a most lovely May, full of sunshine and sudden showers that kept the garden watered, but never lasted long enough to damage the growing plants, June had been almost completely dry. She’d had to get the hose out when her back ached from carrying buckets and watering cans, but June was also endlessly sunny and warm. Whenever she wanted to do a job, she had only to change her shoes and walk outside. She’d gardened morning, noon and night, glad to have so much she could do when Alex was away for long hours and Johnny was at school or shut up in the dining-room with his final revision for his all important final exams.
    She’d been so pleased with her early vegetables. Some she’d given to the hospital in Banbridge. The rest she’d sold at the Women’s Institute market to raise funds for the Red Cross. She’d made so much money that Alex had teased her and said if she would only go into business he’d be able to retire.
    But July was a different matter. There was rain nearly every day, less sun, and humidity as bad as on a spinning floor. But unlike working on a spinning floor, there was no relief at the end of the day. The humidity persisted, making the nights clammy and sleep difficult. She’d gazed at the rotting blooms onher geraniums and viewed the well-nibbled leaves of vegetables beaten down by the rain and hoped that August would be better.
    August was even worse. There was just as much rain, but even less sunshine. Fairly, it was less humid, but she’d felt she had no energy for anything. When she did get a dry afternoon, she found herself wandering up and down the rows of peas and beans not able to decide whether to tackle the rampant weeds or to pick the swollen pods before they burst and the birds got them.
    Then Johnny went. And she was quite alone.
    She paused, took a deep breath and decided she’d done enough ironing. There were only two of them now and Alex had enough everyday shirts and clean handkerchiefs to see him through a week, never mind till tomorrow, or the next day.
    She’d done her best, she really had, but she’d not been able to hide from Alex the fact that she was so very low in spirits now there was no Johnny to help her keep them up. She refused to say ‘depressed’. Although the women’s magazines said it was nothing to be ashamed off and told you how to deal with it, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she just didn’t know how she