Sons and Daughters by Margaret Dickinson Page A

perhaps I can find him a nice docile one.’
    Joe laughed. ‘There’s nothing docile about that young man. Anyway, we can but try.’
    June was a busy month for haymaking and all the farmers in the district helped each other not only with machinery and horses, but also with manpower. It was a time of the year that Charlotte loved, for it gave her an excuse to work alongside the farm labourers each day, spreading the cut grass out to dry and then, just before nightfall, raking it into long rows down the fields.
    Eddie Norton and two other workers from Home Farm, the farm attached to the manor, came to help at Buckthorn Farm and, in turn, the Warren family and old Matty went to work on Miles Thornton’s fields. Even her father had not been able to stop Charlotte mixing with the workers on neighbouring farms at haymaking and, later, at harvest time. Her help was needed.
    ‘The new master dun’t know the first thing about farming, Joe,’ Charlotte overheard Eddie say as she raked the cut grass into windrows alongside Peggy. ‘But Master Thornton’s such a nice feller. We all like him. And we know how lucky we are to’ve been kept on. And I’ll tell you summat else an’ all, that second son of his – Ben, is it? He’ll mek a grand farmer one day. He listens and learns and he’s been working out in the fields as good as any man.’
    As they worked, Georgie and his three friends scampered about the field, playing.
    ‘Now, Master Georgie,’ Jackson warned, ‘don’t you go trampling down the grass before the mower comes, else it won’t get cut proper.’ He frowned at his own brother and the other two local lads. ‘You should ’a known better, our Tommy. Don’t go leading this little lad into bother. He dun’t know country ways. Not yet.’
    Georgie stood still and regarded Jackson solemnly. ‘Why mustn’t we trample it?’
    Jackson leaned on the wide rake he was using and smiled at the boy, whose golden curls glinted in the sunlight.
    ‘Because,’ Jackson explained patiently, ‘if the grass is lying flat, the mower can’t cut it. You go and watch it, Master Georgie, then you’ll see what I mean. But don’t get in the way of the cutter bar.’
    The boys ran to where the mower was cutting the grass on the far side of the field, drawn by two of the farm’s shires. A little later the boys returned and now, Charlotte noticed, they were skirting carefully round the uncut grass. The workers had all been at Buckthorn Farm for several days and today, by mid afternoon, they were almost finished here. Charlotte stood up and eased her aching back. She glanced across the flat fields and smiled with satisfaction at the long rows of cut grass. Then, suddenly, she felt a little hand creep into hers.
    ‘Are you tired, Miss Charlotte?’ Georgie asked.
    ‘A little. We all work very hard at this time of the year. And soon it will be the corn harvest. That’s an even busier time.’
    The boy’s face fell.
    ‘Why do you ask?’
    ‘I – I just wondered if we could go to the beach. You – you did promise to take me.’
    Charlotte’s smile broadened. ‘So I did. Then we’ll go.’
    ‘Now?’
    ‘Yes, now. But first, we must ask Eddie to take a message to your father that—’
    ‘Papa’s over there. We can ask him.’ And before she could say another word, he was capering across the field towards his father, but still, she noticed with a smile, avoiding the grass that was yet to be cut. Georgie was hopping up and down excitedly in front of Miles as Charlotte walked towards them.
    ‘Please may I go, Papa? Miss Charlotte will bring me home before bedtime.’
    Miles looked up. ‘I’m sure Miss Charlotte’s tired. Another day perhaps . . .’
    ‘I don’t mind. Any excuse to go to the shore.’
    ‘Then of course he may go with you.’ He paused and she felt his brown gaze upon her. ‘Would you mind if I came too?’
    ‘Of course not. And if we can find a sack, we can collect samphire.’
    ‘Samphire?