Page 104 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle

‘Every farm’s got a house cow or two, to provide ’em with their own milk,’ Adeane said. ‘Even if they had any to spare, who’d they sell it to?’

‘What about the village?’

‘Poor’s dairy,’ Markham said. ‘You’ve probably seen the cart going round. Jasper Poor keeps a small herd, takes a few churns round the houses every morning, and that covers it.’

‘What about cheese and butter?’ Giles asked.

‘Well, the farmers make a bit for their own use,’ said Markham. ‘What’s in the shops is all imported.’

‘Imported?’

‘From Australia and New Zealand.’

‘But that makes no sense!’

‘Their costs are so low over there, and they can produce on such a scale, that even after it’s shipped across half the world, it’s still cheaper than anything our farmers can make in the small amounts they produce.’

‘Suppose you set up a factory of your own?’ Richard said suddenly. ‘Did it on a large scale?’

‘But where would you get the milk?’ Markham said simply. ‘And it would have to be good milk, high in butterfat.’

Giles shook his head. ‘We’ve gone round in a circle. All right, I can see my idea isn’t viable. But I still think there’s something there. It just needs thinking through. This hand-to-mouth business benefits nobody.’

He remembered Mr Cowling saying farming had to be run like a business. He hadn’t understood at the time, but he knew he was feeling his way towards an idea, though he didn’t know what it was yet. But he thought of his tenants, scratching a living, each alone with his problems and debts; and the land, which every Englishman grew up to believe was all-important. Two wasted resources. There had to be a better way to bring them together.

‘Improvements take time,’ Markham said comfortingly. ‘And you’ve already made a difference with the buildings and the tracks. And we’ll start to see a benefit next year from the drainage schemes we’re putting in hand.’

‘Good effort,’ Richard told him. ‘But don’t expect him to smile when his heart is broken.’

It was a hot day at the end of August when Axe Brandom’s sister Ruth drove into his yard. He went to the pony’s head, but there was no need – it seemed only too glad to stand still.

‘He’s sweating a bit,’ Axe remarked.

‘He’s not used to that hill,’ Ruth grumbled. ‘It’s a long way from the village.’

‘I like it. ’Squiet up here,’ said Axe. ‘Shall I untack him?’

‘Just tie him up and give him a bucket of water. I’m not stopping long.’

‘But you’ll have a cup of tea?’

‘That I will.’ Ruth climbed down, holding a basket. ‘I’ve brought you a cake. And a jar of those pickles you like. And our Mary sent you some of her brawn. Seth sends his best. And our Polly’s started knitting you a scarf for Christmas. You’re to act surprised when you get it. Mother’s been showing her how to knit, but she’s not very good at it yet, so it’ll take her till then. She drops more stitches than she makes. Right, you see to Bramble, and I’ll put the kettle on.’

She went inside, followed by a hopeful Dolly, who soon, however, came out disappointed. Ruth was thin and dark and brisk, taking after their mother, where Axe, large and fair and slow-talking, was more like their father. Ruth was practical and frugal, and not one to squander either food or caresses on a dog.

‘So,’ she said, when she emerged, ‘let’s see this famous white elephant of yours.’ Axe feigned not to understand her. ‘There’s talk,’ she said. ‘Seems Lady Alice was mooning over some broken-down old pony on its way to the knackers, and you pranced in like a knight in armour and bought it for her.’

Axe didn’t care for ‘pranced’. He scowled. ‘Didn’t buy it for her.’

‘Well, that’s what it looked like. Where is it, then? Bring it out so I can see how a damn fool gets parted from his money.’

Axe went into the stable, and led the pony out. Two weeks of grooming and feeding-up had made a very different animal of it. Under the dirt, its coat had been revealed as bay, of a good, rich colour; and the hip-bones and ribs were now receding under a layer of flesh. The listlessness and misery had gone, and it stood normally rather than sagging at the knees with its head drooping. It was not, in any way, a distinguished-looking pony, but there was nothing basically wrong with it.

Ruth stared at it long and hard, with her lips compressed. ‘What the devil were you thinking?’ she said at last.

‘It’s not a bad bargain for five bob,’ Axe defended himself. ‘Nice-natured, too – easy to handle. I reckon I did all right.’

‘I’m not concerned with whether you got your money’s worth, you big gowk. You bought a pony for Lady Alice at the fair. For Lady Alice! In front of everyone. You couldn’t even settle for winning her a coco-nut, oh, no, you had to buy her a blasted pony!’