The day after the night before

Brenda had slept badly on Saturday night. Her head ached and the bump on her forehead was still tender on Sunday morning. She peered into the wooden dressing-table mirror, perched near the washstand. A bluish bruise was developing over her left eye.

She glanced at her alarm clock and saw it was not yet seven. Already though Soppy would be out with the cows. She decided to dress and then write a brief account of what had happened on the Saturday evening; the way Grange Farm dodgy dogs had run and the Charlie Davey roller-coaster of a drive. She used thin air mail paper so it would fold almost flat and fit neatly into her jacket top pocket. She buttoned the pocket and went downstairs passed Soppy's empty bedroom, across the yard and into the farmhouse.

Mrs Hannaford was kneading a large ball of dough, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She nodded to Brenda, "There's tea in the pot, hot bacon and bread on the side, 'elp yourself."

Brenda buttered two slices of bread and made a bacon sandwich. It smelled good. The butter was melted by the hot bacon and soaked into the bread. She bit into it, savouring the taste. Then, she poured a mug of tea, "Would you like a cup?", she asked Mrs Hannaford.

Mrs Hannaford sighed wearily, wrapped the ball of dough in a damp cloth and put it aside to rise. She wiped her brow with the back of her arm, "Yes, please, that I would! I'm fair done in. Been up since 'alf four and didn't sleep 'ardly at all, last night."

Brenda handed her a mug and they sat silently together lost in their own thoughts. At last, Mrs Hannaford spoke, "Your 'ead looks bad. Does it ache?"

"A bit, but no matter. I just hope that Davey bloke has more than a headache. I'd be glad not to see him again." Mrs Hannaford sipped her tea but made no response. "I wish I didn't have to be here, Mrs Hannaford. I know I'm not welcome and in the way. Believe me I'd rather not be here but I have no choice. I am totally alone in the world and this was the only job I could get. I have to look after myself."

"Same as me and 'arry then. I got no one now and 'e's never 'ad no one."

"Oh! Was he an orphan?"

"A foundling! Left on the church porch some twenty odd year ago. Little bundle wrapped up and left for the vicar to find. Vicar and 'is wife took 'im in for 'bout five year. Then vicar died and we took 'im in. Our own lad was always poorly, so us thought it would be company for 'im." Not wishing to break the flow of the story, Brenda just nodded. She had never before heard Mrs Hannaford speak at such length.

"Well, our boy got worse and worse. 'e died just after 'is tenth birthday. Our little daughter, who were three year younger, died same year. Both had TB, you see. So ..." There was a long sigh. "So, we was left with little 'arry. As strong as four 'orses is 'arry but no 'ead for learnin'. My 'usband thought the world of 'im. Couldn't 'ave carried on at Grange Farm without 'im. Best thing us ever did, taking in little 'arry."

Brenda found tears running down her cheeks. The sight of the exhausted woman and the story she had just been told upset her and put her own plight into perspective. She imagined Mrs Hannaford as a young bride full of hope for the future; two small children running in the yard; the plans for the years ahead. Now, she was little more than a skivvy to a violent crook and all through no fault of her own.

Mrs Hannaford looked up and was surprised to see Brenda's tears, "Whatever is you cryin' for?"

"For you and for Harry. Life's treated you pretty hard, hasn't it?"

"Life weren't meant to be fun, life is life and life is 'ard. And, Mrs Ellacott, you ain't 'ad it easy neither."

"Please call me Brenda. Harry does now and I'd feel much happier."

"Don't know 'e well enough. All I knows is that you work for Redbourne." She heaved herself to her feet and returned to her chores. As she did so, the kitchen door slammed shut in a sudden gust of wind. Soppy came in looking exhausted.

"Sorry! Sorry, Mrs 'annaford, didn't mean to do that! The cows were real stroppy this mornin'. Then some of them dogs wouldn't eat. Don't know when they'll get exercised, I'm plumb tired!"

Brenda seized her chance. She had been wondering how she would get to the 'drop' without being noticed. "I'll take a couple of them now, Harry. I need some fresh air. Which shall I take?"

"Oh! Great! You'll need your boots. If you take two of the brindle bitches, that'd be a great 'elp."

As she led the dogs through the yard, she saw Mrs Hannaford watching her through the window. It seemed she was still not trusted.