19. Mar, 2021

'Martyndale' Part 1 of 2

“You two are going to get on like a house on fire!” said Jill encouragingly, when she and Grace had pulled up at Martyndale Farm.  

She had been speaking of her son, Jamie.  He and Grace hadn’t seen one another since the long ago playmate years.  Now meeting as young adults, they looked at one another with a mutually assessing resentment, the incomer and the native, but these were signals only they were attuned to and Jill was chatting hospitably on, helping Grace in with her things.

Grace saw an unsmiling young man with tough, brown hair which matched the Winter bracken on the hillsides they had been driving through.  There was something intimidating in his stare at this townie come to stay in the country, when surely any sense of superiority should have been hers, thought Grace.  Unaware of the impression he was making Jamie, who simply had the local reserve about showing what he was thinking or feeling, for his part saw a flouncy girl with a sulky mouth, barely holding herself back from a moody retort to his mother.

‘Difficult’, was how Grace was described to people by her Aunt Ros, who had had charge of Grace since the age of about ten, when Grace’s mother had taken off yet again with another fellow and left her dad helplessly falling further into the drinking which had been the downfall of things between them.  He wasn’t a fit parent and Aunt Ros, his sister, had taken Grace on because the care system was hovering over her.  Dad hadn’t made it through the drinking and vanished himself after a year or two.  Aunt Ros had made every effort to find him, but he had slipped off the radar of all authorities.  To Grace, two people had simply vanished, magicked away by nothing but their own carelessness of her.  Mum had stopped keeping in touch when Grace refused to have any contact and who knew what had happened to her Dad?  

When she was a young girl playing up, Aunt Ros called her ‘Scapegrace’ but that fondness had been worn thin by Grace’s own wayward carry on -  underage dating with young men no longer boys, skipping school, shoplifting, drinking and who knew what else she was downing - all the hallmarks of an early downfall. Hearing of the latest breakdown in things, Jill, a very old friend of Aunt Ros’s, had offered a sanctuary stay.

“A change of scene will do her the world of good and give you both some time,” Jill had said.

Martyndale sounded beautiful but it was one of the more remote and outlying places in the Yorkshire Dales and had a barren look to its grey, rocky slopes.  The fields tilted as if they might slide off and the sheep grazing them looked as if they must be held on by a magnetic force.  The farmhouse wasn’t picturesque, either, its old render weathered off in many places and add on buildings built for practical rather than aesthetic purposes by Jill and her husband, Scott over the years.  

“What am I going up there for?” Grace had demanded, still hungover from a weekend bender with clubbing action she had been on, which had spurred even Buzz, her current twentyish boyfriend (so nicknamed for obvious reasons and used to the wild side) into thinking she was out of control.

“You’re off your nut, girl,” he had said when he dumped her after this recent spree, and even went so far as to tell Aunt Ros, “You want to watch her, you do,” when he left Grace, shaking with come down and defiant, on her aunt’s doorstep.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know,” her aunt had said darkly.

This had precipitated the conversation with Jill.  Jill and Scott had once been new age hippies, almost as off the rails as Grace was, only then, dropping out and being alternative was in vogue for go-getters, too.  They had bought Martyndale (like many such farms then in danger of complete abandonment as the young people left and the old died out) for pennies, subsistence farmed it and offered working ‘holidays’ to troubled souls, first in their peer group and later mentoring younger ones.  Now, Jill and Scott only took in one or two people for what they called ‘quality respite’ and their son, Jamie, kept himself to himself and the farming life.

“I’m not into donkey petting therapy!” Grace had objected scornfully when Aunt Ros told her what had been arranged.

“You won’t be getting that.  I need a break from you kicking off and kicking around like you do,” Aunt Ros had told her, frankly.  “You’re sixteen.  It’s that or, well, I just don’t know…”

This frightened Grace a bit because whatever she did, Aunt Ros never gave up on her, but it also made her angry.  All right, then, she thought, if Aunt Ros wanted to get rid of her she’d go there, and Aunt Ros could lump it.  She might leave home anyway any time.  But Grace had nowhere to go and no idea what she wanted in life so, as surly about it as anything else, she endured the fact of going.  She had been picked up by Jill, who kindly came all the way to get her, or as Grace thought more likely, to make sure she actually went.  

She had been up there as a child, before everything else went wrong in her world, but never since and remembered Jamie, then, as a sturdy playfellow where much time was spent in wellies and puddling about in streams for one reason or another.  But that had been long ago, and Grace suddenly felt strongly that she didn’t want to be here now that she had arrived.  She was almost seventeen, for heaven’s sakes, a city girl who went places and did things!  Grace’s rebellions sprang from the usual places.  She felt rejected even as the Aunt who had taken her in did her best to love her and as a result Grace was rejecting herself.

“You’re not my mother!” she would shout hurtfully at Aunt Ros, defying her down the years.

Now, Grace stalked into the house sitting room which Jill was welcoming her into and flung herself down on the sofa in a pet.  She didn’t miss the look Jamie gave her as she did so, while Jill went comfortably off to put the kettle on after their drive.

“What?” said Grace rudely, folding her arms and staring up at Jamie.  “I don’t want to be here, you know!”

“I don’t want you here, either!” he retorted, stung into retaliation and, his expression darkening from neutral to a scowl which rivalled Grace’s, he strode back off outside without another word.

Grace felt taken aback, because where she rebuffed, people made efforts to win her round in her world, trying to be understanding of her difficulties until Aunt Ros had, this time, uncharacteristically snapped and temporarily given up.  Grace shot up again from her seat and looked out angrily to where Jamie, not giving her a second glance, was whistling a sheepdog to him and going out to the fields.

“Now, how are you two doing?” asked Jill, coming back in with a tray and coffee mugs.  “Oh, has Jamie gone?  It’s that time of year for starting to bring the sheep down.  Tell you what?  Go with him tomorrow!  It’s a great walk with fantastic views, it’ll give you a reminder of what you’ve been missing living in a city.”

Grace swallowed the retort rising in her throat and took the proffered coffee with a grunted thank you.  Another youth hovered uncertainly in the doorway, appearing silently.

“Asa, come in!” Jill greeted him warmly.  “This is Asa, another of our visitors.  This is Grace, Asa, who’s staying here too for a while.  That makes just the three of you, with Jamie.”

“ ’Lo,” muttered Asa, blushing and staring out of the window as if he’d like to leap out of it after Jamie rather than look at Grace.

“Hello,” she said bluntly, thinking, as Asa wavered his way to a chair he sat on the edge of, well, this is wonderful, a nervous wreck and an ignorant pig of a country boy for company!

Although Jill was warm and kind, Grace was already, out of habit, deciding just how far she would be able to push her, but Grace couldn’t help responding just a bit.  Grace was in need of a great deal of affection, as all damaged young people are, even as she refused the greater part of it, or seemed to.  In truth, she was outgrowing a lot of the things she went off doing, having exhausted herself as well as Aunt Ros by doing too much, too soon.

Jamie came back in, this time with his father, Scott, a mud splattered land rover roaring to a halt outside, the dog barking and jumping down with and around them excitedly.

“Boots off!” shouted Jill.  “Get that filthy brute out till you rub him down, Jamie!” and there was a kind of convivial hubbub over coming in and getting ready for the evening meal.

“What is it?” asked Scott, rubbing his newly scrubbed hands to warm them up.  He sounded mock cautious and winked at Grace, whom he had greeted with a hug so quickly that she hadn’t been able to freeze him off.

“It’s just a one pot,” said Jill.

“Yes but what’s in it?” groaned Scott and Jamie and Asa smiled too, in on the joke.

“Everything but the kitchen sink!” retorted Jill. “All my own invention.”

“It always is, mum,” said Jamie, with a sudden grin at his mother which woke up his whole face.

Grace now remembered that about him as a child, the way, normally solemn, if something tickled him, he’d throw his head back and simply roar with joyful laughter, so that you couldn’t help joining in, even if you didn’t get the joke yourself.  She caught his eye and half smiled but he was still annoyed by her rudeness earlier and stopped smiling abruptly, turning away to Asa and encouraging him to talk instead.

Grace felt unexpectedly wounded and chagrined.  Grace was a pretty girl, and she knew how to get male attention if she wanted it, but they mostly had to work for hers.  She sulked over her plate, thinking she’d make him feel it tomorrow if Jill made her go out with him.  Well, she wouldn’t go, that was all, or maybe she would, just to show him.  She found that she wanted to make Jamie talk to her.  Not that he seemed to have anything interesting to say, of course, she said to herself.

In the evening, Jamie went out, leaving Grace with his parents and Asa.  Scott and Asa played old fashioned games together, draughts and dominoes, and the quiet click, click of the action, punctuated by deep thought about moves, or chuckles as dominoes crashed down, were a pleasant backdrop to the nature programme Jill had put on to chat over, undemandingly, with Grace.  Because she couldn’t go anywhere else, Grace found she wasn’t resentful about it.  If the possibilities were removed, she didn’t have anything to prove by doing it, did she? 

Jill explained quietly that Asa was somebody with anxiety issues and mild learning difficulties, and he was staying with them for a bit of healing time.  Constructive respite was something that she and Scott specialised in, Jill told her, the inference being that Grace herself was in a very different category, as a long term ‘almost family’ guest.  Jill knew how to handle young people after all the years of experience and simply let them come to her in their own good time, making gentle noises of openness and encouragement which asked for nothing in return.  

All nervous creatures needed to be given space, especially if, like Grace, they had got into the habit of biting, or lashing out in their behaviours.  Her relationship with Aunt Ros had become fraught, wrapped together in a barbed wire of emotional entanglement which snagged both of them in a confined struggle.  There was no history with Jill and although Grace knew when she was being humoured, there was no incendiary condescension towards her, either and she began to relax. 

Grace’s semi contentment lasted until Jamie returned, bringing with him a breeze of bonhomie following in his wake from the pub, as if echoes of the conversations he had enjoyed there were blown in along with him in a bustle of good feeling, even though he was alone.  Grace was instantly piqued to have missed out on a good time.

“You could have asked me to go!” Grace said sourly, folding her arms and crossing her legs with a return of the brooding frown which marred her features much of the time.

Jamie barely glanced at her.

“You’re underage, in case you hadn’t noticed!” he pointed out, rather hotly.

Grace looked at Jill and Scott for support, lip trembling, as surprised as ever by the depth and bitterness of her resentments and how quickly they could sweep over her.  Being left out always enraged her.  Neither of them said anything, however and her little outburst hung shamefully in the air, dissipating that jovial sense of a happy crowd which had come in with Jamie.

“Oh!  I’m going to bed!” she exclaimed, petulant and angry.

Asa stared at her, shrinking his eyes away when she glared back and because this made her feel more ashamed than ever, Grace stormed out.  She slept badly but, in the morning, over breakfast, it was as if nothing had happened.  Nobody said anything or looked askance and so Grace, who had been almost minded to apologise but not quite, didn’t say anything either.

“Jamie, take Grace up with you this morning, would you?” asked Jill lightly.

Jamie glanced at his mother, surprised, so she obviously hadn’t asked him beforehand, and he shot Grace a look.

“All right,” he said, reluctance evident if not directly expressed.

“Asa’s with me, aren’t you, son?” said Scott.  “We’ll finish off that fence repair.  He’s doing great, Jill.”

“Well done, Asa,” Jill said, making Asa blink and blush all the more and hang his head, pleased.

Jill lent Grace a pair of boots from their capacious store of things of many sizes and she and Jamie set off, the dog, Wally, racing along or lying down flat to wait for them.  Jamie strode fitly on ahead, not even seeing if Grace could keep up, until she shouted,

“I can’t go that fast, Jamie!”.

He stopped but didn’t turn around, the dog circling round his feet or darting back between him and Grace to encourage her, which was more than Jamie was doing, she thought crossly.  She saw, though, that there was a half-smile on his lips when she reached him.

“You did that on purpose!” she accused.

“Served you right,” said Jamie, hands in pockets.

Grace pushed her wind dragged hair back and nearly smiled herself.

“I suppose I did,” she conceded.

Jamie threw his head back with that great, roaring laugh she remembered, and Grace started laughing too.

“Right,” he said eventually, wiping his eyes.  “Come on, you.”

The invitation encompassed both Grace and Wally, the dog.  It felt almost like a fresh start, a glimpse back through to their childhood times, which went a small way towards cancelling out yesterday’s wrong turns after meeting again.  Jamie looked sideways at her once or twice, and Grace picked a little something up in his glance that showed her he did find her attractive and Grace walked a bit more freely alongside, her mouth lifted from its sulky turn.

There was something else liberating, too, the sweep of the hillsides, the cold clouds flying over them like sheep before the dog, fleeing the wind that was driving them along, the same wind which was pushing at Grace and Jamie’s backs on the hilltop.  The view was of many drystone walls, which looked, Grace fancied, like the remnants of a vast, abandoned civilisation, ruins across the landscape.

“I built that,” said Jamie prosaically, pointing to a rampart nearby.  “First time I did one on my own!”

He sounded proud.

“What?  Building an old heap of stones?” teased Grace.  “Anybody could do that!

“Takes years of training, that does,” said Jamie, assuming an exaggeratedly broad, flat accent of authenticity.

Grace laughed.

“If that’s all that home-schooling’s done for you!” she scoffed.   “You know, I was always jealous about that.  I hated school!”

Jamie’s independent self-possession was either nature or nurture but Grace envied it.  She herself was always restless, uncomfortable, looking for something that eluded her.  These thoughts flitted through as he said,

“That’s funny.  I wanted to go to school.  But you know Mum and Dad.  It’s their way or no way,” and although he said it again in that mock dialect voice, Grace sensed that he meant something by it.

“Don’t you like being on the farm?” she probed, interested by this chink in the familial armour.

“It’s not all I want to do,” returned Jamie sturdily.  “Everybody wants to do their own thing, don’t they?  Not just carry on doing what was somebody else’s own thing forever.”

“What would you like to do, then?” asked Grace.

“I don’t know.  Travel?  Go hot air ballooning round the world?  Go to Mexico and knock down a wall instead of building one?  Who knows?”

“You are like Jill and Scott, then.  Aunt Ros says they were always on demos and setting up meetings.”

“I’m more of a doer than a talker about it,” said Jamie, with a shrug.  “All I’m saying is, one day I’ll do something else, too.  I’m nearly nineteen.  I’ve told Mum and Dad, one more year to save up and then I’m taking off for a bit.”

Jamie contemplated his horizons as they stood together side by side on top of the hill.

“I wish I knew what I wanted to do,” said Grace with unusual candour.  “Aunt Ros is full of ideas, but I never fancy any of them!”

“That’s because they're her ideas and it’s like her telling you what to do,” said Jamie, getting ready for another uproarious bout of laughter.  “That’s obvious!”

Grace thumped him on the arm as he threw his head back.

“Stop laughing at me!” she complained but again, she couldn’t help laughing too.

“Right.  Let’s get these silly beggars to lower pasture,” said Jamie when they had finally stopped.  “I can’t be standing around here all day waiting for youto catch up!”

He whistled Wally into action and set about some admirably efficient herding, striding back down the hillside, sheep and dog in front, Grace not far behind in his wake.  They penned the animals up in the bottom fields and stood looking over the gate at them.

“I like Mexican food,” said Grace, angling a little bit as they blew on their hands, numb after dragging the icily  heavy iron gate open and shut.

“Do you now?” said Jamie, with another of his sideways looks at her.  “Well, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”

They headed back to Martyndale Farm, bowling back into the yard together with Wally and on to the house, watched approvingly by Jill who greeted them at the door.

“Getting on all right, you two?” she commented.  “Come on in, Grace and get warmed up.”  The two young people went in together, faces flushed from the open air and a heady kind of pleasure in each other’s company.  “Boots!” Jill yelled after them and they discarded muddy footwear in the hall, laughing together again.

Grace looked down at Jamie’s upturned face as she clattered upstairs for a shower and smiled because they were young, Jamie was good-looking and today, for once, she was happily at peace.