made your bed, in spite of all our efforts to guide you, and so you must lie on it.’
And then she realised. They thought Joe had done it, sweet, lovely Joe who was the most honourable person she knew.
‘You went to see Mr Forster?’
‘I did, yes.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘Nothing. Not much. He didn’t deny it.’
Esther Margaret felt her insides twist. If only she had agreed to go away with Joe. If only she had had more sense then, she could have been free, she could have had for herself the nicest man in the area, perhaps in the whole world, who hadn’t even the sense to deny that she was carrying his child, who cared so much for her that he was prepared to do anything to help. She wished she could have said that it was Joe’s. She almost thought thatdespite what she had done Joe would take her, marry her, that she could have her wish come true, she could wind back the days. She saw that he was not weak, that he was strong enough to support the mistakes she had made. If she chose, if she was weak enough to involve him, Joe would save her. And she was only glad that she cared too much about him to do that to him, that her better side would not let her accuse him because all she had to do was say it was him and there would be nobody to stop it. Joe had put that power into her hands, given himself like some awful ancient sacrifice. For people who did not know better he was ready to burn. Joe cared nothing for his existence and she had been stupid enough to turn him down.
‘It wasn’t Joe.’
Her father shook his head and looked sorrowfully down at the floor.
‘You can’t shield him. He must answer for what he did and you must marry him. It’s your own fault.’
‘It wasn’t Joe.’
Her mother turned a tear-stained face towards her.
‘Who taught you to lie? Who taught you to deceive us and in such a way? We tried to bring you up respectably. We are … we are important people in this village. How will we hold up our heads? His mother was a slut who ran off and his father is a drunkard who is ruining the village. Could you choose anybody worse? You did this to spite us when we did everything we could for you. We found a nice young man for you—’
‘I went with Dryden Cameron,’ Esther Margaret said clearly.
It shut her mother up, that was the first good thing about it, and then their faces showed disbelief.
‘He came to the house the day that you went to visit Aunt Florrie. We spent all day upstairs in my bedroom and the Sunday after in an old barn just above Bridge In.’
Her mother sobbed, broke down, would not have it, said over and over that it was not true, that Esther Margaret was just saying such things to hurt her feelings, and her father said that itwas no use her trying to protect Joe Forster by making wild accusations, that she was being ridiculous; had she lost her mind?
‘It was nothing to do with Joe. You can’t make him marry me for something he didn’t do. I went with Dryden Cameron and he didn’t force me, so don’t think it. I wanted to.’
‘You couldn’t do such a thing,’ her mother managed. ‘You are a wicked girl to cause us such pain. You couldn’t have, not with him.’
There was a look on their faces that she would remember all her life. The best they could contrive was to make the most hated young man in the village their son-in-law. They would have no choice if she continued to deny that the baby was Joe’s and insist it was Dryden’s. They could not send her away against her will, though the idea of being married to Dryden was enough to make anybody go cold. She had no choice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vinia had taken to going to bed before Tom came in drunk at night, but this time he was early and she was not undressed before he came upstairs. She had learned to gauge how drunk he was. She preferred it when he was so drunk that he couldn’t manage the steep stairs because then he would have to sleep on the settee, but very often he would make the
And then she realised. They thought Joe had done it, sweet, lovely Joe who was the most honourable person she knew.
‘You went to see Mr Forster?’
‘I did, yes.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘Nothing. Not much. He didn’t deny it.’
Esther Margaret felt her insides twist. If only she had agreed to go away with Joe. If only she had had more sense then, she could have been free, she could have had for herself the nicest man in the area, perhaps in the whole world, who hadn’t even the sense to deny that she was carrying his child, who cared so much for her that he was prepared to do anything to help. She wished she could have said that it was Joe’s. She almost thought thatdespite what she had done Joe would take her, marry her, that she could have her wish come true, she could wind back the days. She saw that he was not weak, that he was strong enough to support the mistakes she had made. If she chose, if she was weak enough to involve him, Joe would save her. And she was only glad that she cared too much about him to do that to him, that her better side would not let her accuse him because all she had to do was say it was him and there would be nobody to stop it. Joe had put that power into her hands, given himself like some awful ancient sacrifice. For people who did not know better he was ready to burn. Joe cared nothing for his existence and she had been stupid enough to turn him down.
‘It wasn’t Joe.’
Her father shook his head and looked sorrowfully down at the floor.
‘You can’t shield him. He must answer for what he did and you must marry him. It’s your own fault.’
‘It wasn’t Joe.’
Her mother turned a tear-stained face towards her.
‘Who taught you to lie? Who taught you to deceive us and in such a way? We tried to bring you up respectably. We are … we are important people in this village. How will we hold up our heads? His mother was a slut who ran off and his father is a drunkard who is ruining the village. Could you choose anybody worse? You did this to spite us when we did everything we could for you. We found a nice young man for you—’
‘I went with Dryden Cameron,’ Esther Margaret said clearly.
It shut her mother up, that was the first good thing about it, and then their faces showed disbelief.
‘He came to the house the day that you went to visit Aunt Florrie. We spent all day upstairs in my bedroom and the Sunday after in an old barn just above Bridge In.’
Her mother sobbed, broke down, would not have it, said over and over that it was not true, that Esther Margaret was just saying such things to hurt her feelings, and her father said that itwas no use her trying to protect Joe Forster by making wild accusations, that she was being ridiculous; had she lost her mind?
‘It was nothing to do with Joe. You can’t make him marry me for something he didn’t do. I went with Dryden Cameron and he didn’t force me, so don’t think it. I wanted to.’
‘You couldn’t do such a thing,’ her mother managed. ‘You are a wicked girl to cause us such pain. You couldn’t have, not with him.’
There was a look on their faces that she would remember all her life. The best they could contrive was to make the most hated young man in the village their son-in-law. They would have no choice if she continued to deny that the baby was Joe’s and insist it was Dryden’s. They could not send her away against her will, though the idea of being married to Dryden was enough to make anybody go cold. She had no choice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vinia had taken to going to bed before Tom came in drunk at night, but this time he was early and she was not undressed before he came upstairs. She had learned to gauge how drunk he was. She preferred it when he was so drunk that he couldn’t manage the steep stairs because then he would have to sleep on the settee, but very often he would make the
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