Bitter Inheritance by Ann Cliff

to be a manager. The next task was to buy some geese and perhaps a pig or two.
    And then the blow fell; Mr Radford’s letter arrived to remind Sally of the problem of tenancy. The night after the letter came, Sally could not sleep. And awake in the middle of the night, she heard the sound of quiet sobbing from Miss Wakefield’s room. If only the girl would relent a little! The baby was due quite soon, but nothing had changed in the way that Emma Wakefield lived apart. To relieve her feelings, Sally decided to write back to Mr Radford. Eyes blazing, she sat down with pen and paper in her bedroom, quite impervious to the cold.
    Sir,
    I received your letter with disgust. I am thankful our families were never friends and that we have always regarded you with a hearty dislike. I was prepared to accept you as a landlord, but this letter bears out my estimation of your unsuitability for such a role. I think you are extremely misguided and ill-informed, because you rely on the word of a man like Sol Bartram.
    You are careless of what you call your property, that you never once visited Thorpe. This farm is mine and I intend to stay here, no matter what you do. I consider that you are a brutal, heartless old scoundrel and I will tell everybody so!
     
    Yours faithfully,
    S. Mason (Miss)
    Sally threw down her pen with relief. Her mother would have been proud of this eloquence! She’d been taught how to write all manner of letters by Mama at the kitchen table. On the other hand, she had also been taught never to be rude, no matter what the provocation. But Mama hadn’t been dealing with horrible old Oliver Radford! Worn out, Sally blew out the candle, climbed into the big feather bed and fell sound asleep.
    The letter was posted. Nothing happened. But after about a week Sally saw things rather differently. The way to achieve her aim was perhaps not to tell him the truth about himself, but to persuade him that she was a good tenant. The only glimmer of hope in the letter was that he’d been considering her as a tenantuntil Sol told him how bad she was. But then, there was also the problem of the family feud. It was going to be a hard battle and she needed to write another letter.
    Sally went downstairs in the dark one morning to light the fires, shivering in the chilly air. Mornings were darker now and it was hard to get out of a warm bed. She prepared the paying guest’s breakfast and when she took it to the dining-room, Sally was struck with pity for poor Emma Jane. The pregnancy was surely nearly over; behind the swollen belly the girl looked young and frightened.
    For the first time, Miss Wakefield spoke about her condition. She turned a pale face to Sally, a face that had probably been pretty before this ordeal. ‘It won’t be long now?’ It was a question.
    ‘Not long. We’ll get the doctor when you need him – and I’ll be there too, if you want me.’
    ‘Yes, please.’ It was a whisper, but Sally heard it and was thankful that her guest was trying to be a little more human.
    ‘Try to eat a little more. You need to keep your strength up!’
    Back in the kitchen, Sally made her own toast on the fire and boiled an egg, thinking all the time about Oliver Radford. The best approach was probably a polite letter, explaining the true situation. Why not ask him to visit Badger’s Gill? Then they could talk to each other without Sol interfering. They could show him round the farm; Joe would be an asset, his ideas were always sound. And if Mr Radford saw that she had a good worker, a man who’d been a farmer himself, that might make a difference.
    After work that night, Sally sat by the paraffin lamp at the kitchen table and wrote her second letter. Polite, respectful, but firm: asking the enemy to come and see for himself how the farm was run.
    Dear Sir,
    This is to request you to reconsider your decision with regard to the tenancy of Badger’s Gill. The farm is in good heart, the buildings are maintained and the rent is