Cow Hey 7 - Church and Lunch

Sunday dawned much brighter than of late, and I looked forward to seeing where Fred lives, and to meeting the people he's always talking about.

I put on a black dress Gran had made over from one of my Ma's and went down for breakfast.

"You look nice, love," said Mrs. Allsop, but I knew from the way she looked, that she thought I should've made more of an effort.

"This is my best dress," I said, "and I think it's only right that I should be wearing black for Pa. I think I should be wearing it for a year. I don't wear it completely of course, as I wear my white blouses with my skirt for school, but to be honest I don't have many nice clothes. Usually I got my sister Charlotte's dresses when she grew out of them, but now we're more or less the same size, and she doesn't have any to pass down."

"Well, I think as soon as the weather gets a bit more reasonable, we'll have to have a trip to Marple to get you some new clothes. And I think four months should be more than enough for you to wear mourning for your Pa."

I wasn't sure if she was right about that, but decided I would check with Fred when we went out for our walk this afternoon. There were so many things I had to ask him about.

When Mr. Allsop came back into the house from doing his chores, he quickly went to change, and then we were ready to get on the trap and drive up the road to the church. We left about 10.30, and as the service was at 11, I thought we would be very early. However, I hadn't realised that we had more hill climbing to do.

First we retraced our steps to the main Glossop Road. Then we turned left again, and went up a very curvy road - with hardly any houses on either side - just stiff banks. Occasionally we would go by a house and Mrs. Allsop would say, "That's Woodheys" or some other name. After about 15 minutes of this travel, she said, "Fred and his folks live just down that road there," and pointed off to the left.

But we continued on the same road, but now it wasn't quite so steep or quite as windy.

We went through the hamlet of Chisworth first.

"That's the other place you might've gone to school, but as you can tell it must be twice as far as the school you are going to."

Soon we arrived at the church, which looked very big, but rather disappointedly un-church-like looking. It was very square with two floors, and a cross on the front.

"Here's a bit of history about the church," said Mr. Allsop,

"In 1844 under Sir Robert Peel's Act the Ecclesiastical District of Charlesworth (including Chisworth) was formed on a site known as "Ashen Bottom" which was purchased for £300 . It was consecrated on 8th October 1849 by John, Bishop of Lichfield.

"It was designed by the architect, Mr. Joseph Mitchell of Sheffield in the Early English Perpendicular style is generally admired for "its simplicity and good taste". It cost £2,700 to build.

"The first vicar was the Rev. Goodwin Purcell, M. A. appointed in 1845. In 1853 a severe storm caused damage to the roof and a new one was required. The first organ was placed in the Church in 1864, later to be replaced by another one at a cost of £400."

"Enough of that William. What does she care about all that?" said Mrs. Allsop.

I looked but couldn't see Fred anywhere.

"We'll go inside and get seated. It's too cold to wait out here for your brother, and we'll be seeing them afterwards anyway," said Mrs. Allsop.

I won't go into detail about the service, which was very much as church would have been at home. It was very nearly full, and I understand that it holds 400.

Fred and two other people came in just after we had sat down, but they sat on the opposite side and somewhat more forward. Fred gave me a grin and a little wave as they walked by.

The service ended more or less as predicted, and we didn't spend much time talking to anyone outside, as it was bitterly cold. I shook the vicar's hand when Mr. Allsop introduced me to him, but I couldn't help but cringe when he said, "Our daughter, Blanche."

It was no more than five minutes back to the house where Fred and his family live. The farm is called The Benches, according to Mr. Allsop.

"Why does it have a name like that?"

"I think some of the hills around here have cuts in them that look a bit like benches. But it is a very old farm - as old as ours if not older. Miss Hattersley's family have farmed it for generations, as she will no doubt tell you."

"The others were just behind us pulling into the farm, and Fred hopped down and helped Miss Hattersley out of the buggy. She went straight into the house, and motioned for us to follow her. Mrs. Allsop and I got out of our carriage, and Mr. Allsop and Fred took the horses to the barn, to give them a rubdown and put blankets on them.

The Benches is a similar sort of house to the Allsops' - with big rooms at the front and a roaring fire. As soon as we had got in and taken off our shawls, Miss Hattersley came and to us and said, "Now I can say a proper Good Morning to you. Or should I saw Good Afternoon. Rev. Collins didn't half go on today. I kept thinking about my parsnips getting overcooked in the Aga. Anyway, how are you, Ann? You're looking very fit and younger and happier than I have seen you for ages. And this is no doubt Blanche, whom Fred has been talking about non-stop for the last week or so. How do you do, Blanche?" And she shook my hand firmly. I could see why she was able to be an independent woman farmer, competing fairly equally with all the men in the community.

"And this old man is John Dawson, my great uncle, and I've run his farm and acted as his housekeeper for 20 years now. Although he has officially adopted me, and has made me his heir. So I have to be nice to him, no matter how nasty he is to me." She smiled while she said, it, and seemed truly fond of the surly old man.

Mr. Dawson neither looked up nor said anything. He was an elderly man - perhaps in his 80's, while Margaret was more like 30, I thought.

Fred and Mr. Allsop came in just at the end of this conversation.

"I'm afraid that it was John's arrangement with Margaret that made me think it would be a good idea for you to be adopted by the Allsops, Blanche. I hope you're all right with the idea."

I had fully intended telling Fred off first of all for making such an outrageous suggestion about my adoption, and then also for not telling me, but when he said what he did, I didn't feel I could say anything except, "Yes, of course."

Margaret (she told me to call her that) said that the dinner was nearly ready, and went off to the kitchen to make the final arrangements. Both Mrs. Allsop and I offered to help her, but she said she was fine.

"So tell Blanche here something about the history of this place, John," said William. "How far back is it recorded that your relatives lived here?

"Margret's family lived here before I did," he said. "She was true in saying that I've made her my heir, but I didn't have any choice in the matter. It was my grandfather who left everything to her mother, who was my niece. And when she died, she left the house and land to me, but only if I agreed that Margaret, who had nothing of her own, unlike her brother and sister, should inherit. So even if I did want to be rid of her, it would be hard to do so, for my niece's wishes were well known."

Margaret now called us into the dining room, which again had a roaring fire going. She placed Fred and me next to each other on one side, the Allsops across from us, and she sat at the head of the table (nearest the kitchen) while John sat at the foot.

The roast lamb, roast potatoes, roast parsnips and carrots, with boiled cabbage were all done just perfectly, and I ate much more than I thought possible. For afters she served Apple Charlotte with thick cream.

The meal being over, I offered to do the washing up, but Mrs Allsop surprised me by saying, "You and Fred go off now and have some time together alone. I'll help Margaret with the dishes, and John and William can smoke their pipes in peace."

So I put my shawl on again, and Fred opened the door for me.

"Where will we walk to?"

"I would like to take you up the hill to Chisworth. That's where I am learning to hew rocks and hope to become a stone mason, like Pa was."

"Oh, I forgot. I brought you Pa's chisel from our house. I wanted to bring all his tools, but they would've been too heavy for me to carry, and they fetched a good price."

"I'll bet Gran was pleased about that. She doesn't have a sentimental bone in her body. But thank you for saving the chisel for me. I'll value it."

We were walking back up the way we had gone to church, but then turning off to the left, up another steep path. The day had turned surprisingly clear, and there was a bit of weak sunshine. But I knew that forbode even colder weather tonight, if it continued.

"So how are you getting along, Blanche? How's school?"

"Well, I seem to be keeping up all right with the others in the top group. Mr. Steward intended putting me with the middle group for sums, but I showed him that I was really quite adequate in the subject, so he moved me up to the top group. He says my writing is the best of anyones, so I'm very proud of that. And I love the reading part. I was given Jane Eyre to read and write a report on. I must finish that when we get home tonight, as I've to hand it in tomorrow."

"And have you made friends?"

"Oh, yes. Florence Higgenbotham, who is somehow related to Mrs. Allsop, great niece I think,comes each day and we walk down together. Some of the other girls are quite nice too, but there are two very mean boys, and I just hate them."

"What've they done to you?"

"They keep chanting out saying that Pa was a looney. Why are they saying that, Fred? Why are they picking on me."

“What are these boys' names?"

"Well there is Thomas Wood and Harry Roberts, who are the main ones who keep on pestering me."

"I think maybe Thomas is the reason for the problem. His dad works with me. He's the night watchman at the warehouse where I work at the mill. And he must have known that I had to take time off to go and get Pa's body from Prestwich."

"What does that have to do with Pa being a looney?"

"The hospital he was in, Blanche, was the Lunatic Asylum at Prestwich. Nobody would go to Prestwich if they had ordinary things wrong with them. So his Pa must have put two and two together and come up with the answer that our Pa was insane."

"He was not. He was a lovely Pa," I said stoutly.

"Well, you were very young when Ma died - only five or six, so you probably don't remember how Pa got very depressed afterwards. He couldn't cope with life very well at all. He got drunk nearly every night, and eventually he lost his job at the Quarry. And he got quite violent when he was drunk. That's why Harry left home. He told Pa to stop drinking. They had a fight, and Pa really laid into him and knocked him about, and the next morning he was gone."

"I never knew why he left. I thought he just wanted to get away on his own and make his own life. Have you ever heard from him since?"

"No, not a word. I wish I could let him know that Pa has died now, so at least he would know he could come back and see the rest of us, but I have no idea where he is. He might have gone to Australia - or joined the navy. Nobody that was friends with him has heard from him either."

"But why did Pa have to go into the hospital? Lots of men get drunk and sometimes hit their kids."

"Well, he just couldn't cope with life. He got worse and worse, and no money was coming in. It was okay for the first year or so, but when Grandma Elizabeth died in 1886, we only had the money she left to live on. I had to control the money, and Pa got really upset when I wouldn't give him money to go out and get drunk. He did seem to improve for awhile, but then it got the better of him again. Eventually he was found drunk and disorderly by the policeman on his beat, and locked up in a cell. And it was them that eventually had him committed to the asylum."

 (to be continued)