Free Matty Doolin by Catherine Cookson Page B

Matty; ‘but we can go into the town . . . or the nearest place . . . and get some.’
    ‘Well, the nearest place is Allendale.’ Mrs Walsh was filling a quart can with milk from a larger one as she spoke. ‘And that’s nine miles away.’
    ‘Coo! Nine miles. That’s some distance. We’ll never be able to walk that.’
    ‘There won’t be any need,’ said Mrs Walsh, putting the can on the table. ‘My husband goes into Hexham once a week, sometimes twice; you can go in with him.’
    None of the boys showed any enthusiasm at the offer, and it was at this point that Jessica burst out laughing, and they all turned towards her. Her head was resting on her forearm on the table. Then she looked up at her mother as she said, ‘Father must have been doing his gallop.’
    ‘Oh!’ Mrs Walsh shook her head. ‘Did he drive very fast?’
    ‘I’ll say,’ said Willie, grinning now. ‘I’d have been over the side, b . . . but me eyebrows caught on the back.’ Jessica laughed and Mrs Walsh, shooing them towards the door and speaking as if she had known them for years, said, ‘Go on with you.’ Then: ‘And don’t worry about the bread; I bake once a week and I’ll put in a little extra for you.’
    ‘Thanks, Mrs Walsh,’ said Matty.
    As they stepped into the yard Jessica went with them. ‘You’ll want a spade for digging your fireplace,’ she said to Willie. ‘I’ll fetch one.’
    ‘What’s she mean? Dig a fireplace,’ Joe whispered to Matty.
    ‘You dig a hole to lay the fire in, chump,’ said Matty.
    ‘We never did,’ said Willie, none too quietly. ‘We made a square with bricks and put the fire in that.’
    ‘Well, shut up! Here she comes,’ hissed Joe.
    ‘There.’ Jessica handed the spade to Willie, but continued to walk with them.
    Except for the comment of ‘Coo, can’t you see for miles!’ from Joe, no-one spoke until they reached the gate. And as Matty went to open it his attention was drawn to Willie. Willie was handing the spade to Joe, and to Matty’s amazement he watched his tall lanky friend take a grip on the wall to the side of the gate and with a crouch and a spring lift himself over it. It was the same technique that he used on the horse in the gym. He was always very good at vaulting, and he had always given him credit for it, but not now. The big stiff was showing off because of a girl.
    When Jessica and Joe had passed into the field, Matty banged the gate shut. They said that girls always jammed up the works, and he had a premonition that he was going to experience some jamming in the near future.
    ‘Oh, you’ve got a lot of stuff.’ Jessica was moving amongst the baggage. ‘But only two tents?’
    ‘Me and Matty sleep in the big one,’ Joe pointed to it. Then turning to Matty, he exclaimed, ‘We forgot to ask about the water . . . Where do we get water?’ He looked at Jessica.
    ‘From the stream.’
    ‘Can’t see no stream,’ said Joe.
    ‘It’s round the hill. Come on, I’ll show you.’ As she turned from them and ran across the field, she was immediately followed by Willie and Joe. Matty’s legs, too, made a number of strides before they stopped. Then slowly he turned back to the encampment. There was the fireplace to dig out; and anyway, he wasn’t going to run all over the place after a girl.
    It was almost ten minutes before they returned, and the boys came up panting and shouting. Then they all stood for a moment looking at the hole Matty had dug, until Jessica exclaimed, ‘That’s too big and too deep. And where have you put the turves?’
    ‘The turves?’ Matty looked down at her. ‘The grass is under there.’ He pointed to a pile of soil.
    Jessica shook her head, a small superior smile on her face. ‘You should always cut the turves off nice and neat and put them to one side, and, when you’re leaving, fill in the hole and put the turves back. That’s what the scouts do. There were some here last year and you couldn’t tell where their