She got back into the room carefully, glad that she had risked it, but glad to be safe again. She looked at the stone and lucky pig on her palm.
“Find me a nice husband,” she whispered impulsively, and at once laughed and put them back on the dressing-table, the pig on the left just under the glass from where he regarded her quizzically, all of him tilted to one side because of his missing leg. As Flo went downstairs her thoughts flew back to the fisherman on the point; she wondered whether he had caught anything.
Dinner passed and she was never once alone with Mrs. Nadin. Then Pot went upstairs and Flo was told to swill the flags.
“Scrub ’em. I canna abide green moss; it’s the mark of a slut. Use plenty of water, an’ a good hard brush,” said Mrs. Nadin briskly. “Good clean stone’s worth lookin’ at.”
“And when that’s done, may I go out?” asked Flo, quaking.
“Heck, an’ what for?” demanded Mrs. Nadin. “You’re not runnin’ the boys already?”
“No,” said Flo, reddening. “But it was Thursday last time and I thought . . .”
“There’s no lad in pants worth runnin’ after,” the little woman broke in tartly. “I thought I’d some sense when I chose my man, an’ look at ’im! A dummy in a raffle ’ud be more obedient, an’ happen a damn seet prettier. ’Stead o’ marryin’ a man, get a pup; you con turn that loose when you’ve a mind.” She reached up into the big cupboard and seemed to have forgotten how the talk had begun.
“But may I go?” asked Flo desperately.
“Go? Ay, go to the devil, an’ marry ’im . . . happen he’s no worse than t’others.”
“I mean go out.”
“Ay,” said Mrs. Nadin keeping at her work. “I reckon you’ll be like a bitch in heat till you’ve getten what they aw get. But dunna forget them flags.”
Flo finished washing-up and hurried out in Dot’s clogs which she had worn before for swilling. She liked the clatter of them, and would have tried a dance only for Mrs. Nadin listening. Splashing the buckets into the trough one after the other she let them gurgle full, then carried them brimming to the door. Half of a bucket she tossed down at one splash, and seizing the brush she began to scrub as if she would wear the flags through.
“Dunna waste water; use elbow weight,” ordered Mrs. Nadin, standing on the step. “Th’ edges is as important as middles.”
But apparently Flo’s energy satisfied her, for she went off up the passage. After that Flo spilled water more sparingly because it saved carrying, and a big flood only ran away before she could properly use it. She scrubbed till she felt that she could scrub no more. The path at the back was easy because footwear kept moss off. She soon had that clean to the buff and knew that it would dry cream; but round the house the real surface was hard to get to. Only now that she had permission to go out she was in no particular hurry, because she did not know where she should go. So she kept at the flags till they shone and there was no speck anywhere. She felt that she had really earned time off. She even looked from the bedroom window to admire the flags as the birds would see them.
She dressed in her best, in her costume, and Dot was in the kitchen and saw her.
“Where are you off?” she demanded crossly.
“To Moss,” retorted Flo on an impulse. “It’s my day out.”
Dot sniffed. Flo gave her turban an extra little tug behind her right ear and walked out straight-backed. But she was glad that Mrs. Nadin wasn’t there. Because of her retort to Dot she had to turn leftward at the lane, though she was doubtful whether she really wanted to go to Moss. If she went to the lake perhaps Dick might still be there. But dare she . . .?
She went on more resolutely, past where she had stopped with Colonel by the hedge and talked with Jack Knight; and down the dip towards the bridge over the sluggish willow shallow that she had had to cross with Bert. From the bridge the lane began its curving climb to the main road, the slant at first gradual, though quickly increasing. Walking by the left-hand hedge and rounding the first curve she saw thirty yards ahead on the same side with one of its wheels against the grass bank Dick Goldbourn’s chair, and he in it looking along the slope of the fields towards Moss. Her impulse was to stop and slip quietly back; then she asked herself, “Why?” She went on and after a moment a recognizing smile chased his thoughtfulness and he greeted her with a cheerfuclass="underline"
“Pass, friend, all’s well.”
“What do you mean?” asked Flo.
“Pass; I can’t trouble you a second time.” He looked up and the smile in his eyes seemed to take on more depth. “I can’t quite manage up the brow; I usually wait till somebody comes.”
“Well, I’ve come,” said Flo practically. “I can push as well as anyone.”
“I know you can.” He smiled again, still hesitating, then grasped the handwheels and slewed the chair square with the hill. Flo pushed. He was heavy, but it was easier than at the lake-side because her feet had grip. He worked his hands alternatively, always having hold of one wheel or the other so that the weight should never be entirely left to her. At the steepest part they were shut in by the tall banks and the hollies, and Flo wondered what would happen if a car came round the bend suddenly too far over. But the road was left to them and they came out on the level panting a little.
“Thanks again; I’m sorry to have had to trouble you,” he said rather formally.
“I was glad to help.”
“You’ll be waiting for a bus?”
“No; I don’t know how they run. It’s my day off. I thought I’d go to the market,” said Flo, walking beside him.
“Then if you don’t mind, and I don’t go too slow or too fast, two’s company and one’s none.”
She did not answer. Looking away she saw a flock of pigeons flash white as they turned in the sunlight against the grey-green of Adam’s Pike half a mile north. A yellow six-wheeled lorry rushed by down the main road taking limestone to the Cheshire plain. They crossed and got on the footpath on the far side.
“Been to the market before?” asked Dick, suiting his pace to her’s. “It isn’t much, you know.”
They talked about markets for a quarter of a mile while Flo let her eyes wander over the hedges to the hill slopes on either side of the broad valley, all the time walking as primly as she could. After that there was a silent hundred yards till she was surprised to hear him ask if it was she who had been at the window. “The top one. I reckon it’s pretty dangerous.”