The Exiles

Secretly he had been rather worried to think that his girls were having as bad a time as they had previously described, and when he and his friends had finished laughing at the letter and had all agreed that his daughters must be having the time of their lives, Mr Conroy borrowed a stamp and an envelope and a bit of paper from the girl in the office and dispatched an immediate reply:
    Grand letter! Be good! Buy a stamp next time. Enclosing some money. Got to rush. All the best. Love and kisses. Dad!
    He stuck a ten pound note in the envelope for pocket money and put it in the post.
    ‘Ten pounds was far too much!’ said Mrs Conroy when she heard about it later. ‘You know it will go on nothing but sweets,’ and she settled down to write a long letter to her daughters, all about not playing with axes and not messing about with tractors and not swimming out too far and not spending all that money their father sent on sweets and making sure they changed their clothes regularly and not grumbling about being expected to help and how much she was missing them, and that she knew they were far too young to read Shakespeare, and that they were not to try and learn to cook unless their Grandma really didn’t mind. And that they were never to post letters without stamping them first.

    ‘Oh, do cheer up, Graham, for goodness sake!’ said Big Grandma on Monday morning. ‘Think of the money!’
    ‘I am,’ answered Graham, and after making a valiant attempt at smiling he led her granddaughters away.
    Naomi carried a knapsack stuffed full of the main part of the picnic, while Ruth had a very awkward carrier containing half a gallon of orange squash, her natural history book and a notebook and pencil. A very shiny red plastic handbag (‘I won it at a whist drive,’ explained Big Grandma) was filled with candles and matches to be used for exploring the cave and carried by Phoebe, who instead of travelling along at her normal half-trot, insisted on playing Old Ladies.
    ‘It’s that awful handbag taking her over,’ observed Naomi as she watched Phoebe complacently waddle along, hands folded in front of her imaginary bust, and the squashy red handbag swinging gaily from her elbow and bashing her knees.
    Big Grandma had also unearthed an old-fashioned leather satchel that she said had belonged to their mother. It was strapped across Rachel’s shoulders now, and full of apple pasties.
    Graham, as guide to the party, went ahead, carrying nothing at all except a big stick that he had brought with him when he came to collect them. Whenever anyone said, ‘Graham, swop! You ought to carry something!’ he walked a little faster, but when the handles of Ruth’s carrier bag snapped under the weight of the orange juice he did help her to tie up the top with a piece of binder twine and fasten it on to the end of his stick. Then Ruth could carry it very comfortably across her shoulder, like a tramp.
    They were following a sheep track which curved round the side of the fell like a narrow belt.
    ‘How far is it?’ asked Rachel.
    ‘’Bout three miles or so.’
    ‘How far’s three miles?’
    ‘From your gran’s to the sea is about one mile,’ answered Graham, ‘so it’s three of them there and three of them back. The badger holes are about half way along.’
    ‘It’s the quarry we really want to see,’ explained Naomi.
    ‘Nothing to see really.’
    ‘What about the cave?’
    ‘Cave’s a good one,’ agreed Graham, ‘I took your gran to it once.’
    ‘She’d like a cave,’ said Naomi. ‘She’d feel at home there.’
    They had walked round the curve of the hill, and the village was already out of sight, hidden by the shoulder of the fell. The sheep track had crumbled away in places, and they had to scramble across the narrow shelf that remained, clinging to bracken fronds to help them keep their balance. At other times they found that the path would jump suddenly up and over a boulder or crag that was in the way.
    ‘How do sheep get along,’ asked Ruth, ‘with no arms to pull themselves up with?’
    ‘Sheep’ll go anywhere if you don’t hurry them,’ Graham said. ‘It’s only when you rush them that they get stuck.’
    There was a pause at the badger setts.
    ‘Rabbit holes,’ said Naomi. ‘Come on, let’s get to the cave.’
    ‘Badger holes,’ said Graham. ‘Seen enough?’
    ‘Where are the badgers then?’ asked Rachel.
    Ruth was carefully inspecting the diggings. New red earth, still looking