He nodded slowly. ‘Afore I go, then. Afore I go, we will marry.’
He stood up and pulled her to her feet and hugged her close to him. They both stood without speaking for some time, wrapped in their own thoughts.
‘Must I tell my grandmother?’ Sarah spoke hesitantly. She could see no way round it, but couldn’t bear to guess at Ada’s reaction.
‘Nay, lass. Not yet. Let me think on it.’
In fact, it was Sarah who went home that day to think about it. And her thoughts persuaded her that it might be foolish to wait for Joe to organise their wedding, with so little time remaining before he was to go away again. With no idea herself, though, of how to go about organising such a thing, she could see no alternative to telling her grandmother of what had befallen her. This was not an easy conclusion to reach and she passed a restless night, with a good deal of it spent watching the shadows change on the wall as the darkness of the night lifted to reveal a grey dawn.
Even with breakfast on the table, Sarah was no clearer in her mind as to how to approach the topic. She only knew that Ada was likely to be angry; indeed, very angry. Would she forbid the wedding? Sarah wasn’t sure, but she would have to endure much scolding before it could be agreed upon. She could see little point in waiting any longer though. So, as soon as Ada had taken her seat and Sarah had poured tea into her cup, she spoke.
‘I’m to be wed.’
Ada laid down her knife and the piece of bread she was about to butter.
‘I don’t believe I can have heard you correctly. I thought you said you were about to be wed.’
‘Indeed I did,’ said Sarah.
‘And am I to know the name of the bridegroom?’ Ada’s calm reaction was not what Sarah had been expecting.
‘Joe Bancroft. From …’ Sarah hesitated, reluctant to mention Joe’s abode, which would reveal his line of work. ‘From Nortonstall.’
‘And where did you meet this Joe Bancroft?’
‘While I was out gathering lungwort and comfrey.’
Ada picked up her bread and buttered it carefully before speaking. ‘You’re too young, Sarah. You may ask this Joe Bancroft to come to the house to meet me, to see whether he might be a suitable match. With your father and mother away it falls to me to decide such things.’
Sarah looked down at her plate, concentrating hard on the faded painted twists of flowers around the edge while she fought back tears. ‘I must be wed. And within the week.’
Ada’s knife slipped from her fingers and clattered down, striking her plate and falling to the floor.
‘Am I to understand …’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
‘There’s to be a baby, yes.’ Sarah tried hard to stay in control but her voice shook and tears spilled down her cheeks.
‘Have you no sense? No shame? Like your mother before you. As if I hadn’t already been shamed once in my own community.’ Ada shook her head. ‘You’re throwing your life away. Like as not he’s a ne’er-do-well, or you wouldn’t find yourself in this situation.’ Her voice rose along with her anger. ‘And why married within the week, might I ask?’
‘He’s to go away for work,’ Sarah said, her voice dwindling almost to a whisper. ‘By the time he gets back, the baby will be well on the way.’
‘Aye, and how well that will look before the altar. So, do you think he’s going to stand by you? Or has he made off already?’
‘No!’ Sarah protested. ‘He said he would arrange things. But I thought …’
‘It’s as well you did, my girl.’ Ada’s tone was grim. ‘I think we had better find this Joe Bancroft and make sure he does right by you.’ She pushed her chair back from the table, tea now cold and her breakfast untouched. ‘Where does he live?’
‘I don’t rightly know.’ Sarah faltered. ‘By the canal, I think.’
Ada’s mouth tightened into a thin line. ‘By the canal? Or do you mean on the canal? Is he one of those narrow-boat folk?’ She almost spat out the words.
Sarah could only nod. ‘But he’s a good man,’ she countered. ‘Thoughtful, kind and gentle.’
‘Aye, no doubt,’ Ada said. ‘And how will he provide for you and a baby? Where will you live? Are you to join the boating folk?’
Sarah was startled. She hadn’t considered this. It had never occurred to her that she might live on the canal. She’d spent her whole life in this hilltop village, surrounded by fields and wide-open skies. Narrow-boat life, down in the damp, dank valley, suddenly seemed restrictive and, if truth be told, frightening.
‘I thought I’d live here,’ she said in a small voice.
‘It seems to me that thought has had very little to do with any of this,’ Ada said, tying on her bonnet and shrugging off Sarah’s attempts to help her fasten her shawl in place.
‘I’ll thank you for staying here for the day and keeping house,’ she said. ‘If you’d done more of that and less gallivanting off over hill and dale you might not be in the position you find yourself in.’ And Ada left the house, shutting the door with some force behind her.
Sarah cleared up the breakfast things, glancing constantly out of the window as if she expected her grandmother to reappear at any moment with a shamefaced Joe in tow. What had seemed such a delightful secret over the last two months felt shabby and demeaning now that it was revealed to public scrutiny. And could her grandmother be right? Was it possible that Joe had already left?
By the time Ada reappeared it was late afternoon and Sarah was in a fever of worry, trying to imagine what might have happened. Three times she herself had put on her bonnet and got as far as the garden gate before retreating inside. She was mindful of Ada’s words and fearful of angering her even more, should she return to find the house unattended.
How would her grandmother locate Joe? she wondered. And when she did, what would she say to him? Her thoughts flitted from one possible scenario to another and, when Ada finally appeared at the gate, Sarah could have sunk to the floor in a mixture of fear, apprehension and relief. Instead, she hurried to set the kettle on the hob. When Ada opened the door and was blown in on a flurry of leaves, whipped up by the stormy weather brewing outside, Sarah was ready, solicitous. She helped Ada remove her bonnet and shawl, meeting no resistance this time, and pulled up a chair close to the warmth of the range.
Her grandmother looked grey-faced with exhaustion and Sarah noticed how her fingers trembled slightly as she raised her teacup to her lips. Sarah busied herself with the tea and setting out slices of her grandmother’s fruitcake, feeling sure that she would be in need of sustenance.
Then she asked her, ‘Did you … did you … find Joe?’
Ada gazed unseeing through the window, where the wind was lifting the autumn leaves from the trees so that they rained down in fluttering flashes of orange, red and yellow.
‘Yes, I did,’ she said, after a lengthy pause. ‘It seems that there are folk around here who know more than I do about what my own granddaughter has been up to.’
Sarah winced at the barbed comment, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks even as her heart sank. She had hoped that she and Joe had been discreet in their meetings, conducting them as far as possible from any prying eyes in the neighbourhood.
‘Your precious Joe, it seems, likes a drink just like your father did.’ Ada had colour back in her cheeks now, but her expression was stern.