Far From My Father's House Read Online Free PDF Page A

every man would want to farm. It was low down near the river so that the grass was good and the soil was rich. There were no small stony fields such as his grandfather’s place had had, no places where you couldn’t put cattle because the grass was only good enough for sheep.
    The house was big, it had four bedrooms and downstairs there was a back kitchen and then a big kitchen with a fire, stairs leading out of the room and a parlour next to it. There was even a garden, small but well-tended by Mrs Lowe. The garden had a sundial.
    The buildings were big and had stout doors. The yard was cobbled and in a big L-shape with the buildings all around it. From the upstairs windows you could see the river in the valley bottom. Blake envied the Lowe family their farm so much that he could hardly breathe for it.
    When he arrived – in the doctor’s car – the children disappeared and it was left to Mr and Mrs Lowe to greet him. Mrs Lowe showed him his room upstairs. Blake couldn’t remember having seen her before, she was small and very thin with neat brown hair and a sing-song accent which betrayed that she had not been born in the dales. The room was much smaller than the one he had had at home. Blake had brought nothing with him but a few clothes which were all he had. The money from the sale of the animals had been put in the post office for him. He could think of nothing he needed. Mrs Lowe made tea and Blake politely sat in the back kitchen with her and drank it and ate a scone but although the scone was perfectly made he could hardly swallow, it stuck dryly to the roof of his mouth. Afterwards Mr Lowe took him around the farm and showed him where everything was and then Blake helped him with the evening milking.
    The children were there for supper. They said little. Blake said nothing. Eating was beyond him. When he finally escaped up the stairs to bed he pulled back the covers experimentally only to find that someone had soaked the bed with water. He turned the feather mattress over and lay down just as he was. The night was cool. He blew out the candle. It was the first night he had ever spent away from Sunniside. Mr and Mrs Lowe were talking softly downstairs just like his grandparents had done. Blake closed his eyes against the darkness.
    *  *  *
    The next morning Blake was up early to help with the milking. Mr Lowe thanked him for what he did and Blake was glad. He liked milking cows, as long as they didn’t stand on him or push him into the wall. A cow could crush you and some of them had nasty habits but the cows he was given to milk were patient and stood still. He liked the warm smell of them and the way that they let down their milk easily so that it frothed into the bucket. Annie did some milking too but she didn’t speak to him so he said nothing to her, he just got on with the work.
    When he was about to go in to breakfast some time later and was alone in the byre Tommy walked in. He was bigger and older than Blake.
    ‘Sleep all right, did you?’
    Blake ignored him and the tightening feeling at the realisation that Tommy didn’t like him or want him there for some reason.
    ‘You’re only a servant here. You should speak when you’re spoken to.’
    Blake didn’t even look at him and Tommy went to him and got hold of him and pushed him up against the wall.
    ‘Let go of me.’
    ‘Why, what are you going to do about it?’ Tommy banged his head off the wall.
    ‘Leave him alone, Tommy, or I’ll tell Dad.’ Annie’s voice was clear and level as she paused in the doorway. When he didn’t obey her she walked across the byre to them and glared at her brother. ‘What is the matter with you?’ she said.
    Tommy gave Blake another nasty shove and then released him and walked quickly out of the byre.
    ‘He’s always been the only boy,’ Annie said. ‘Mam says the breakfast’s getting cold.’
    It reminded Blake so much of his grandmother that he thought he could hear her voice calling him inside: