Free A Child of Jarrow by Janet MacLeod Trotter Page B

should be his. Not that he wanted the trappings of wealth - he could live as simply as any man - but he yearned to belong. He felt a part of its wooded hills, its dark earth and seams of coal. He felt the pull of generations of north-countrymen who had tilled its soil and defended the ancient fortress whose medieval towers still stood behind the grand Victorian facade.
    Alexander urged his horse into a trot. Outside the high protective walls he quickly left the road and made for the moors above the sheltering trees and swathes of mist. In the hazy Tyne valley, the early morning light bounced off the steel ribbon of river and the far away clusters of dockland and smoking chimney stacks.
    As he cantered past small farms and pit villages clinging to the edge of the escarpment, he thought once more of his early days in this rugged land that had shaped the man he was. For a short, happy time he had lived with his cousin Edward, the rector of Jarrow, and his kind Scots wife, Christina. How he had adored his Uncle Edward! He had dogged his heels around the grimy streets of the riverside town, absorbing the smells of the docks and gasworks, in awe of the becapped gangs of dockers who streamed past the rector’s cocoa stall at break of day.
    His cousin Edward had been a highborn Liddell but had chosen to dedicate himself to improving conditions for the poorest in Jarrow. Alexander appreciated now the enormous sacrifice of the young couple, who could have taken an easy living in the south of England instead. Yet at the time Alexander thought nothing out of the ordinary about living in a blackened rectory beside foul-smelling effluent, and visiting houses without running water where children played barefoot in the dusty lanes.
    â€˜Oh, Uncle Edward!’ Alexander cried aloud to the pearly sky. ‘You were a fool!’
    Alexander kicked his horse into a gallop across the heathery tracks. His cousin’s task of making life better for the poor had been an impossible one. His health had broken down and they had all had to leave. With Edward no longer able to support him, Alexander had been passed on to yet another distant relation who had made it plain what a burden he was, so he had run away from the boarding school in which he had been dumped.
    He had tried to find his way back north, to search for his beloved Uncle Edward, but in vain. Edward and Christina had gone abroad to seek a healthier climate, never to return to Jarrow. Their hinted promise of offering him a permanent home had been destroyed along with their health. Childless themselves, they would have been the perfect parents. Instead they left him with nothing, except an abiding memory of being taken to Ravensworth on a hot summer’s day. That, and a strong sense of belonging among the people here.
    Alexander rode until he was exhausted and had rid his head of angry thoughts about his rootless childhood. He imagined what Jeremiah would have to say about such reckless riding. ‘Careful, young man, or you’ll bring on one of those nosebleeds! God gave you a brain for commerce, not a constitution for the saddle.’
    Alexander laughed off such concerns and turned for home. He would grasp life and live it to the full. The day after tomorrow was the ball for King Edward VII ‘s delayed coronation. He would stay for that and then travel on.
    Down in the woods again, the early morning mist still hung damp among the lush leaves as he rode up the back drive. He slowed to a trot, breathing in the sweet clear air, his chest heaving hard from the exertion. Round the bend the first shaft of strong sunlight was breaking through the trees, dazzling the dew-soaked track ahead.
    In the sudden glare, he did not see the girl on the path till the last moment. He saw a flash of pale blue skirt and a startled face as she jumped clear. A basket flew from her hands and raspberries splattered around them, blood-red. Alexander reined in his horse at once, wheeling it