Uncle Lomas

The farmhouse at Luckwell Farm looked very sad and lonely shrouded in November mist. This old house, that had known so much laughter, joy and sorrow over the years, no longer rang with laughter. There had been a happy boisterous family of five brothers and a sister Mary. Lomas Barter wandered restlessly around the silent rooms. Only the old grandfather clock’s tick-tock broke the silence. This evening he was alone. Cook, who had stayed on a while longer than she had intended, when her mistress Zia Barter had died as war was declared, was getting her cottage ready for her marriage, at last, to Josiah. Josiah suffered much teasing about their forthcoming marriage. Bachelor and spinster, well past it, in their sixties, he assured the drinkers in the Goose and Gander. “You always had to try before you buy.” Leaving them wandering if he had. The oil lamps cast eerie shadows and Lomas found himself in his parent’s old bedroom. He could hear his Mother Zia saying, ‘happy birthday’ to him in her soft Yorkshire accent and her tinkling laugher filled the room and he could hear his Father, Seth’s quiet voice, so kind and reassuring. He found himself smoothing the polished surface of his Grandmother’s old treasure box. Slowly he lifted the lid and fingering his Mother and Granny’s trinkets, he wondered once again, how the silver stirrup that had been missing for so many years came to be nestling in the old box. Gently he lifted the small bundle of letters from the corner of the box, his precious letters from Grace, the letters he had placed there after his Mother’s death. A pain shot through him. His heart ached for his lovely Grace, as much as he loved her he reminded himself she was never really his and she had married Bernard. It was a long time now since he had seen her. The prospect of Cook’s wedding made him feel so sad, would he ever find love again and perhaps marry? Lomas sank onto the edge of his parent’s bed, the letters in his hand and the gloom of the November day closed around him, the lamp burnt low but he did not notice. Grace never left his heart, but all he thought he had achieved by being the farmer at Luckwell now seemed an empty dream without a wife, a farmer’s life was doubly hard. Next morning as Cook was clearing the breakfast table she retied her apron strings around her barrel shaped body, a sign of importance and announced. “Precious Boone is due today; will you be around later this morning?” “Precious who?” asked Lomas in surprise. “The girl I’m seeing, hoping will take my place here.” Girl, thought Lomas, I hope she’s capable. Dear reliable Beatty, whom his Mother had mothered from the age of thirteen, still came in daily from Beehive Cottage across the yard, so everything should be alright. Precious Boone knocked on the back door of Luckwell Farm; she had a confident air about her. She also must have been quite sure she would be staying for she carried a small cloth bag that contained most of her worldly possessions. Arrangements had been made with Precious’s Mother for the girl to come for Mr Lomas’s approval to help in the house when Cook left for her long awaited marriage. Cook opened the door, a welcoming smile on her rosy face as she invited her, with great importance, into the big kitchen. Beatty, busy with her daily chores gave Precious a friendly smile and turned to reach up to the high mantle for the tea caddy as Cook said, “what about a cup of tea Beatty?” Around the table drinking their cups of tea, Cook was telling the young Precious what her duties would be, if Mr Lomas approved of her. With eyes shining, Precious sipped her tea and enjoyed a piece of Cook’s seed cake, she hoped she would be able to stay at Luckwell. Beatty watching her enviously wished she were young and beautiful like the young woman opposite her. She remembered Lomas’s flattering way of charming the girls in the past; she felt a little smidge of doubt as to the wisdom of having this young girl living in the house. Lomas had seemed to have lost all interest in his loving pursuits since his heartbreak over Grace. Precious’s face glowed with pleasure as Cook rose from her chair, saying, “I think you will fit in very well here from what you’ve told me. I’ll fetch Mr Barter; we’ll have to see what he says.” Bustling across the yard, Cook found Lomas littering up the cow stalls with fresh straw. Beaming broadly Cook said, “I think the girl will do, but I’d like your approval.” Lomas followed Cook to the back door, scraping his boots on the iron scraper near the door; he then reached for the bass broom leaning against the wall and gave his strawy, dusty boots a brush. As he stepped into the kitchen he removed his battered hat and like a small boy stood clutching it. As he stood on the mat, his mouth opened, he was dumb struck for a moment at the vision of this lovely young lady. ‘Give his approval’ he thought, you bet he would!