Fletcher, having said that his decision was final and no amount of persuasion would make him change his mind, told them he would leave after completing some jobs on the farm, and a week later he was ready.
He and Harriet did not have their farewell kiss as each had hoped, for his mother followed him about, checking that he had all he needed, including money, clean shirts, trousers, socks and flannel combinations, for she was convinced that America would have nothing that a respectable man could buy as it would be crowded with gold miners, Irish and Red Indians. No persuasion on Fletcher’s part could convince her that it was a land of opportunity.
After an initial shouting match Noah said little about his brother’s leaving, and what he did say was uttered with a sneer and an attitude of good riddance, but Harriet felt that he was shocked by the announcement and not a little put out, for it meant that there’d be no one on whom to vent his anger.
On the Sunday morning Fletcher shook hands with his father, who said nothing, but reluctantly held out a limp hand. ‘Not wishing me good luck then, Da?’ Fletcher said.
Mr Tuke gazed at him for a moment and then dropped his hand. ‘What you do wi’ your life is your own affair,’ he muttered. ‘Nowt to do wi’ me.’
‘What about you, Noah?’ Fletcher turned to him. ‘No hard feelings?’
Noah gave a grim laugh. ‘I reckon you’ll be back in a twelvemonth wi’ your tail between your legs, but don’t expect owt from me. This’ll be my farm, not yourn.’
‘Hey!’ their father roared. ‘I’m not dead yet. And I’m not planning on going anywhere.’
Noah turned and looked at him and Harriet gave a little shudder at his formidable expression.
‘Walk me up to ’top of ’track, Ma,’ Fletcher said, hoisting his pack on to his back. ‘Mebbe you will too, Harriet?’
‘Harriet’ll stop where she is,’ Noah commanded.
Harriet glared at him. ‘I’ll walk up wi’ your ma,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s ’least I can do, if you won’t. It’s not every day a son leaves home.’
Noah stared back at her, grunted, and turned away.
Harriet and Ellen walked one on each side of Fletcher. It was a fine bright morning and the air was full of birdsong. Then his mother cleared her throat and asked croakily, ‘How do you know which way to go? Which road to travel on?’
Fletcher smiled. ‘I’m going to Brough,’ he said. ‘I’m hitching a ride on a barge with a mate. He’ll tek me to Hull and then tomorrow I’m catching a train to Liverpool.’
‘You could have caught ’train from Brough, couldn’t you?’ his mother said tightly. ‘No need to go to Hull.’
‘They put on special trains to Liverpool, Ma. A lot of immigrants arrive in Hull from Europe and they’re not allowed off ’ship until early Monday morning. I want to be ’first in queue to mek sure I get on ’train and find a seat. It’s a long journey, six or seven hours at least.’
‘So where will you sleep tonight?’ she asked, her voice strained.
‘Wherever I can find a place to lay my head,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’
‘That’s what my brother said,’ Harriet said in a small voice. ‘And we never heard from him again.’
He touched her fingers. ‘You’ll hear from me,’ he said quietly. ‘Sooner or later.’
‘How long will it take to sail to America?’ she asked.
‘If I can get a steamship, a week to ten days, but if they’re full then I’ll tek a sailing ship and that can tek four or five weeks, depending on ’weather. But a sailing ship’ll be cheaper. I’ll tek whatever’s on offer.’
They reached the top of the track and Fletcher bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. ‘Go back now, Ma. Tek care of yourself,’ he said softly.
‘Aye,’ she said on a breath. ‘Nobody else will,’ and turned to retrace her steps down the track. ‘I’ll not watch you go.’
But he watched her, a small figure, her head bowed as she walked away, and then he turned to Harriet. ‘Kiss me goodbye, Harriet?’
She put her face up to his and felt as if her heart might break. She closed her eyes. ‘Come back one day,’ she whispered.
He kissed her lips. ‘One day,’ he said softly. ‘And then I’ll find you wi’ a houseful o’ children and you won’t want me.’
Harriet drew away from him. How could she answer that? She didn’t know what the future held. She would have changed, that was for sure, as he would too.
‘Who knows?’ she whispered. ‘I know that I’ll miss you, but who knows what’ll happen or what life has in store for us? Our paths have crossed, Fletcher, although perhaps they shouldn’t have.’
He gazed down at her. ‘I’ve felt sometimes that it would’ve been better if we’d never met, and yet having met you I’ve felt uplifted. Life has tekken on a new meaning and I swear, Harriet, that one day I’ll come back and claim you.’ He kissed her again, and gently pushed her away from him.
Unlike his mother, she watched him make off along the Brough road, and knew she would always remember the way the wind tossed his long hair, the angle at which he held his head, the breadth of his shoulders and the stride of his long legs as he walked away out of her life, and the fact that he didn’t look back.
Mrs Tuke withdrew into herself for over a week. Harriet did most of the milking, fed the cattle and the two goats, let out the hens and shut them away at night, gathered eggs and prepared food for their meals, whilst Ellen, her face expressionless, silently made pastry and baked bread, cooked meat or fowl and served it up, but didn’t eat any of it.
Noah and his father didn’t comment on her demeanour or the fact that she wasn’t eating, but Harriet worried that she’d fade away. It was, she admitted to herself, a selfishness on her part, for she was thinking that without her she wouldn’t be able to cope alone, especially not now that she was pregnant. She hadn’t yet told anyone, but knew that she must do so soon, for most mornings she was sick, although as she was now first downstairs she could escape outside unseen and heave the contents of her stomach into the ditch.
Mrs Tuke was now the first to bed in the evening, simply departing from the supper table as soon as she’d served the meal and going upstairs without a word. In the morning she rose after Harriet and Noah, but before Mr Tuke, whom she virtually ignored.
Mr Tuke, having made several snide remarks about Fletcher’s departure, which fell on deaf ears, now said very little about anything, but placed himself in the same chair at the table at mealtimes and sat waiting with a knife and fork clasped at the ready.
At the beginning of the second week after Fletcher had left, Mrs Tuke came downstairs one morning at her old time, just as Harriet came back inside from the yard, wiping her mouth.
She looked at her. ‘Are you not well?’ she asked.
It was as good a time as any, Harriet decided, even though she hadn’t yet told Noah, and she thought that Ellen might cheer up at the news of a grandchild.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, raising a weak smile. ‘Been bilious for ’last day or two.’
‘Ah.’ Ellen’s expression remained blank. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘How are you feeling now?’ Harriet murmured, and heard Noah’s footsteps in the bedroom above.
‘As if someone had died,’ she answered abruptly. ‘How else would you think I feel?’
‘He said he’d come back one day,’ Harriet said, though Fletcher had said it to her and not his mother.
‘He said he’d write,’ Ellen muttered. ‘Not that he’d come back.’
Harriet hesitated. The news of her pregnancy hadn’t appeared to register with her mother-in-law and she tried again. ‘Will ’thought of a grandchild help?’
There was a deep pain in Mrs Tuke’s eyes as she answered, and Harriet was hurt and astonished by her answer.
‘Why should it?’ she said. ‘It’ll be your child, not mine, and how would you feel if one day you lost it?’
Noah barging through the door saved Harriet from answering, even if she could have thought of an answer, which she couldn’t. He looked round the kitchen. The table was laid for breakfast but the tea was not yet made.
‘What’s going on?’ he said brusquely. ‘Where’s my cup o’ tea? Come on, Harriet, look lively. Some folk have work to do. There’s onny me now to do everything, you know.’
‘You’re up early,’ she said. ‘I was just going to mek ’tea.’ The kettle was gently steaming, the teapot was warming on the side shelf and she went to pick it up.
Ellen forestalled her. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said dully. ‘You’d best tell your husband ’news he’s been waiting on for ’last few months.’
Noah looked from one to the other. ‘What?’ he said. ‘What ’you talking about?’
Harriet stood in front of him. ‘I’m pregnant, Noah. Carrying ’child that you wanted.’
He looked her up and down. ‘About time,’ he said. ‘What’s tekken you so long?’
Ellen put the teapot on the table next to the milk jug. She looked at Harriet. ‘I knew he’d be pleased,’ she muttered.
Dismay swept through Harriet. It seemed that nothing would please this man she’d taken for her husband. Nothing. He was incapable of feeling happiness or delight, she realized, and she was therefore surprised when he turned towards her and pointed a stabbing finger.
‘It’d better be a lad,’ he barked. ‘Don’t go giving me any daughters.’