Interrupted Journey

Chapter 3 - Evolution

Rubbing my shoulder, I looked down the list and it confirmed what I already knew. I needed to get my hands on Alice. So I put my coat on and headed out into the rain.

I was about to run back to the house when I saw that the workshop door was ajar so I hurried across the yard and looked inside. Alice was in there with her three working dogs, rubbing one of them down with an ancient, holey towel. I stepped inside, took another towel from the pile and started to rub down another. It looked across at Alice, as if asking for permission; other people didn't normally handle her dogs. Alice gave a nod and the dog relaxed and started to enjoy its toweling.

"Mam," I began, "My spy tells me you're not eating properly."

"Then your spy can mind 'er own business. We're going to be short enough o' food afore this lot is over."

"It is her business: it's everybody's business. We need you."

"Nobody needs a useless old woman cluttering up t'place."

I was quiet for a moment - shaken by this.

"Mam, you haven't given up, have you?"

She went rigid and emotion played across her face: first anger, then defiance, then finally she collapsed into tears - for her, an unimaginable display of human frailty .

"I can't do it no more, Philip," she sobbed. "Not without our Tom. I can't do it. I just can't."

I went across and held her. For a moment she was just rigid but then she collapsed onto my shoulder. The dogs looked at me with more than a little hostility.

"You know I understand, don't you?" I said. "There have been plenty of days when I just didn't want to get up of a mornin'."

"Yes, but you've got them little ones to tek care on," she sobbed. "There's no one as needs me."

"That's just rubbish," I snapped. Alice recoiled slightly in shock. Nobody talked to her in that way... ever. "We need you now more than anyone," I went on. "The place won't hold together without you. There's nobody who knows more about farming these hills, about getting food out of the ground hereabouts, than you. It'd be better for my kids if I were to put a bullet in my own head than let owt happen to you."

She was silent, shocked by this idea.

"Listen, love," I began, then I paused, realising that my use of that one word had forever changed the relationship between us. She was the matriarch. She addressed other people as 'Love' and was called 'Mam' in return. My use of this word was taking the responsibility for her clan onto my own shoulders.

It had been done now. There was no going back.

"Listen, love. Can you give us one more year? Show us how to make a go of it in these hills. We really can't do it without you."

She thought about it for several seconds then gave a deep sigh. "Aye, I can do that for yer."

She broke from my embrace and we went back to toweling down the dogs.

"And while we're about it, there are plenty of strong backs about that can do the lifting and carrying and the rounding up of the sheep in the rain. Do I really have to tell you that you're not as young as you used to be? You've got to take a bit of care of yourself."

She bridled at this; a couple of days ago she would have slapped me for less. Then she collapsed. My victory was complete.

"Aye," she said with a sigh. "I'll see to it I tek care of me sen."

Then a hint of embarrassment flickered across her face. "You won't go tellin' no one about..."

"What do you think I am, Mam?" By going back to using 'Mam' I was telling her that the transition of responsibility was going to be gradual and that she would not lose status. "Of course I won't go telling no one. I will tell Susan that we had a talk and that she can stop worrying about you eating proper."