Daughter of the River

by Daughter of the River (retail) (epub)

  ‘Did you go and take a proper look?’

  Davie shook his head. ‘I were too scared. I come running home.’

  ‘You should have gone to see how he was, our Davie,’ Maddy said reprovingly. ‘He may have hurt himself in the fall.’

  ‘He was dead, I tell you.’ Davie suddenly abandoned all hope. ‘He went down with such a thud and he never moved again. I killed him, and Constable Vallance’ll be here any minute for me. You’ve got to help me get away!’ His voice had been rising steadily and Maddy was forced to cut into his panic sharply.

  ‘Of course I’ll help you,’ she said brusquely. ‘But let’s find out what you’ve done first. Farmer Whitcomb won’t be dead from a flung pebble, but he won’t be pleased, either, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Constable Vallance does call. Remember the warning he gave last time about you boys and your pranks? Perhaps you’d best go and hide up in the copse until I come. I’ll go into the village to find out exactly what’s happened.’

  ‘Thank you, Maddy. You’m a good un.’ Davie almost managed a smile as he wiped away his tears with the heel of his hand.

  ‘Of course I am. Did you ever doubt it?’ Maddy gave him a fond thump as she reached out for her shawl.

  At that instant there came a heavy knocking on the door. With a sense of foreboding Maddy went to open it. There on the step was the burly figure of Constable Vallance.

  ‘Is your father home, Maddy?’ he asked gravely.

  She gave no sign that she could guess why he was there. ‘No, he’s working at the quarry,’ she said. ‘Why?’

  The constable ignored her question. ‘Best send for him, maid, and quick.’ He looked past her at Davie, who had shrunk back into a comer. In a very official voice he said gravely, ‘David Shillabeer, I want you to come with me to answer questions concerning the death of Edward Knapman, head stockman to Mr Calland Whitcomb.’

  Maddy and Davie looked at one another in horrified bewilderment.

  ‘Ned Knapman?’ Davie said in a hollow voice. ‘Not Farmer Whitcomb…? It were the wrong man. Maddy, did you hear? It were the wrong man.’

  Chapter Nine

  Maddy felt that the scene would be engraved on her mind for ever. Yellow lamplight illumined the faces of the six people present in the cob-walled room that served as a police station. The squire and the constable regarded Davie sternly from across the desk; she and her father were seated against the wall on a bench. Cal Whitcomb sat on the other side of the room, apart and aloof.

  It was the squire, as the local JP, who asked most of the questions, while the constable wrote down the proceedings with much scratching of his pen.

  ‘This is a serious affair, Davie,’ the squire said gravely. ‘Ned Knapman is dead. You must tell the absolute truth, do you understand?’

  Davie’s ‘Yes, sir’ was barely audible.

  ‘But why should my brother be involved?’ broke in Maddy, determined to protect him. ‘Who says he had anything to do with the matter?’

  Constable Vallance stopped his writing and looked at her reprovingly. ‘He was seen running away. One of Farmer Churchward’s men was behind the far hedge clearing a ditch. He was close enough to hear the thud as Ned hit the ground and Mr Whitcomb’s horse come to a stop. When he looked across he saw young Davie here running for dear life.’

  ‘But that doesn’t prove…’ Maddy’s voice faded into silence. She was not helping Davie by interrupting.

  The squire cleared his throat and continued, ‘Ned Knapman was struck by a stone. Do you deny that you threw the stone?’

  ‘I didn’t throw it, sir. I shot-flung it with my catapult.’

  ‘Your catapult, eh? And do you deny that you lay in wait for Ned Knapman on the road from Port Bridge in order to strike him a blow with a stone from this catapult?’

  ‘No… that be to say, yes… it were only a joke,’ declared Davie.

  ‘Joke or not, did you lie in wait for Ned?’

  ‘I lay in wait right enough, only it weren’t for Ned.’ He looked uncomfortably towards Cal Whitcomb. ‘It weren’t for Ned as I waited, it were Farmer Whitcomb.’

  ‘And what made you so certain Mr Whitcomb would come that way?’

  ‘I’d seen him go towards the blacksmith’s at Port Bridge. His horse had a loose shoe, I could hear un clear enough.’

  ‘And you presumed he would come back the same way, is that it? Mr Whitcomb, does Davie’s testimony match up with your view of the events?’

  ‘It does, sir,’ replied Cal. ‘And Captain, my horse, certainly did return along that road, but I wasn’t riding him. When I got to the smith’s I found he was very busy. As I was on my way to an appointment I decided not to wait, but to go on foot. I left my horse at Port Bridge and sent one of the smith’s children back to Oakwood for someone to fetch Captain. I did not ask for Ned specifically, but he always enjoyed riding Captain when he got the chance, poor fellow.’

  ‘So, Davie, you decided to attack Mr Whitcomb, but you got Ned instead.’ The squire’s normally kindly eyes glittered angrily in the lamplight.

  ‘I didn’t mean to attack him, sir,’ protested Davie. ‘I only wanted to knock his hat off.’

  ‘With this?’ The squire held up a stone

  At the sight of it Maddy felt sick. It was far from the pebble she had envisaged. It was a hefty stone with cruelly jagged edges.

  ‘This is somewhat extreme for simply knocking off a hat, wouldn’t you say?’ demanded the squire. ‘You’re a well-built lad. I would guess that with your power behind it, and if it had hit the right spot, this could have felled the horse, never mind poor Ned.’

  Davie said nothing, he hung his head.

  ‘There’s one thing I can’t comprehend,’ stated the squire. ‘If you were after Mr Whitcomb, as you say you were – and I don’t need to ask why he was your target – how is it that you mistook Ned for him? There’s no resemblance. Ned was shorter, dark-haired, much older…’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. I just did.’ Davie’s head remained bowed.

  ‘Your pardon, squire.’ Constable Vallance laid aside his pen. ‘Mr Whitcomb, what were you wearing when you took your horse to the smithy?’ .

  ‘Wearing?’ Cal looked surprised at the question. ‘Why, what I am wearing now. A brown kerseymere coat and a black hat.’

  ‘Ned was wearing a brown coat,’ said the constable, ‘though his was of fustian. He had a black hat too. And he was riding Mr Whitcomb’s gelding, a horse well known in the village.’

  ‘What point are you making, Constable?’ asked the squire.

  ‘That young Davie here saw exactly what he was expecting to see. When Captain came back along the lane, ridden by a man in a brown coat and a black hat, the lad assumed it was Mr Whitcomb, and didn’t look any further.’

  ‘But surely he could see?’ objected the squire. ‘The hedges are getting pretty bare at this time of year. In fact, I’m surprised the boy managed to remain concealed.’

  ‘Tis beech hedge along the lane to the Port Bridge smithy,’ said Constable Vallance. ‘And a beech hedge holds its leaves.’

  The nausea that Maddy was feeling deepened. She had never appreciated how sharp the constable was, nor how thorough. Nothing of this affair was going to escape him, and she feared every detail would be to the detriment of Davie’s chances.

  The squire, too, was nodding approvingly at the policeman’s comments. ‘Excellent thinking, Constable,’ he said. ‘Now, Davie, I must know. Were you alone in this enterprise?’

  ‘Yes!’ The reply was uttered so sharply it echoed round the room.

  ‘Had you been drinking before you lay in wait?’

  ‘No, sir. Not a drop all day.’

  ‘And for my final question, I want you to think hard, Davie, and answer with utmost honesty. Did you or did you not mean serious harm to either Ned Knapman or Mr Whitcomb? Think before you reply.’

  ‘I don’t need to think, sir,’ replied Davie promptly, raising his head. ‘I didn’t mean no harm to Ned nor
Farmer Whitcomb. I swear it. I’ll swear it on the Bible or on my mother’s grave if you want.’

  At his words Maddy was conscious of a sense of relief. Her greatest fear had been that he had gone after Cal Whitcomb with a serious intent to injure him. Although it was not the sort of thing he would normally have undertaken on his own initiative, she had feared it nonetheless. To hear him swear otherwise was a burden lifted from her.

  ‘There is no need for a Bible or anything else.’ The squire pushed back his chair. ‘You’re a silly young fool and a great nuisance to all and sundry, but I’ll accept your word. Constable, have you any further questions? Mr Whitcomb? Mr Shillabeer, is there anything you want to say on behalf of your son?’

  Jack mutely shook his head. It was left to Maddy to burst out with, ‘Please, sir, he’s only a boy, he’s not sixteen yet. And he’s a great one for playing pranks, anyone will tell you that. This was a joke that went terribly wrong. Please make that clear.’

  ‘I know Davie’s fondness for skylarking only too well,’ said the squire wryly. ‘It shall be included in the report, eh, Constable? Along with his age. Has anyone anything else they want to say? No? Then I think we can close these proceedings. Davie, you must remain in custody here. Tomorrow you will go to Totnes, and thence before the magistrates who will commit you to Exeter assizes in due course.’

  Maddy gave a gasp of dismay – but what else had she expected? A man was dead. Davie would have to go before judge and jury.

  * * *

  She could not get warm. When they returned home she built up a fire and cooked a meal nobody wanted, and still it seemed as if the chill had seeped permanently into her bones. After she had cleared away, she could not settle, too much was going round in her mind. She had to talk to someone so she went over to Annie’s. As she expected, her friend already knew most of the details.

  ‘How be you, my lover?’ was Annie’s first concerned enquiry. ‘And how be Davie bearing up?’

  ‘The pair of us are fair enough, I suppose. Oh, Annie, he’s likely to go to prison for killing Ned and it’s all my fault!’ she burst out. ‘I had the raising of him and I should have taught him right from wrong, but I didn’t. I failed and now he’ll be sent to prison.’

  She felt herself seized by the arms and shaken quite violently. Unobserved by her, William had entered the kitchen and overheard what she had been saying. He stopped his shaking and glared at her angrily.

  ‘Listen yer, Maddy Shillabeer! I don’t never want to hear you say naught like that again,’ he said. ‘Ever since your ma died they lads of yourn, Davie included, habn’t never come home to a cold hearth nor an empty table, they habn’t never been in need of dry stockings nor a clean shirt of a Sunday. To do that would have daunted many a growd woman, and you’m done it since you were no more than a bit of a maid yourself. And you found time to come over here and help my Annie, too. Davie be in proper trouble, there idn’t no denying, but the blame don’t lie at your door.’

  Maddy was too astounded to reply. If Annie had made such a speech she would have accepted it as typical of her friend’s warm-hearted concern, but to hear gentle, quiet William speak out made a deep impression. He let go of her, looking sheepish.

  ‘There, I shouldn’t have gone on like that,’ he said shamefacedly. ‘It be naught of our business I suppose, but us be rare fond of you. To speak the truth, they brothers of youm be good boys spoiled by lack of a firm hand, but it should’ve been their father’s, not youm. That were Jack’s responsibility.’

  ‘That be true,’ agreed Annie. ‘You’m anxious enough for your Davie as ’tis, maid, don’t go feeling guilty on top. There idn’t no need. Mind, in all fairness, it’ve got to be said that Jack habn’t never been the same since your ma died. I habn’t never seen a man so sunk in grief. Tis my way of thinking as he habn’t never throwed un off. And there be no denying as Lizzie were a managing sort of woman, bless her. Twas her as ruled the household, including Jack. When her died, you seemed to step right into her shoes; I don’t suppose your father ever, felt the need to stir himself and take charge.’

  ‘He missed Mother certainly,’ agreed Maddy, seeing her parents’ relationship in a new light. ‘He still does.’

  ‘And now more than ever, I dare say,’ said Annie. ‘Where be Davie to?’

  ‘He’s at the police station, Constable Vallance wouldn’t let him come home. Tomorrow he’ll be taken to Totnes until he comes before the magistrates, then he’ll go to Exeter.’

  ‘If he’m biding to the police house you’d best take him up something to eat. Amy Vallance be one of the worst cooks God ever made.’

  Maddy managed a flickering smile. ‘Davie won’t be pleased at that, he likes his food. I think I’ll go up now and take him a few things. He’ll need a change of shirt, and maybe a blanket. Tonight’s likely to be chilly.’

  She was glad to be active, she could not bear the thought of staying at home that evening, knitting socks and having dread thoughts of Davie whirling ceaselessly in her head. Far better to stride out through the bitter cold darkness towards the village and her brother.

  ‘Certainly you can see Davie.’ Constable Vallance looked less authoritarian in his shirtsleeves than he had in his blue serge tunic. ‘First I’d best have a look at what’s in that basket of yours.’

  ‘Don’t you trust me?’ demanded Maddy indignantly.

  ‘No, Maddy my girl, I don’t. I know perfectly well that you’d trample me underfoot and tear down this place stone by stone if you considered there was a chance of getting your brother free. I think none the less of you for it. If there’s one thing I respect it’s true loyalty. But just the same, I’ll do my duty and check through the basket, if you don’t mind.’

  He was thorough in his search, though he made no objections to any of the contents, not even the candles that Maddy had included. She had feared that the constabulary issue might not be very generous and she dreaded the thought of poor Davie sitting alone and afraid in the darkness.

  ‘What’s to become of him?’ she asked, as the constable returned the contents to the basket.

  He sighed thoughtfully. ‘He’ll be accused of murder, I’m afraid.’ At Maddy’s horrified gasp, he added, ‘I doubt if it’ll come to that. My guess is that he’ll be convicted of manslaughter. You’d best be prepared for him going to prison, but if you get a reasonable judge and jury they should take his age and the nature of the offence into consideration.’ He gave another sigh, more regretful this time. ‘How often have I warned your lot? But they wouldn’t listen. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. Such a pity it’s the youngster… Right then, if you’re ready I’ll take you in.’

  He handed her back the basket and led her into the room where Davie had been interviewed that afternoon. At the far side was a heavy door with a small grille at the top through which glimmered a meagre light. ‘Davie, lad, you’ve a visitor,’ he said, putting a huge key in the lock and turning it. ‘Your sister’s here.’

  ‘Maddy! Oh Maddy, am I glad to see you!’ Davie burst out of his prison and would have flung himself at Maddy if Constable Vallance had not caught firm hold of him.

  ‘Take it easy, lad,’ he said quite kindly. ‘You’ve to stay inside. Your sister must come in with you. I’ll have to lock you in too.’ He looked apologetically at Maddy. ‘Just give a yell when you’re ready to leave.’

  The cell was little more than a large cupboard, lit by one candle stump so small it was already flickering. Maddy was glad she had thought to bring more, just as she was glad she had brought a thick blanket, for there was no heating and a fearsome draught came through the small barred opening in the wall, which served as a window.

  ‘Oh Maddy, you came!’ Davie clutched thankfully at her hand. ‘I didn’t think you would, not in the dark.’

  ‘Since when have I let the darkness bother me, you silly boy,’ said Maddy fondly, stroking the hair back from his forehead.

  ‘I’m – I’m in a bit of a pickle, aren
’t I?’ he said, his lips trembling. ‘What’s – what’s to become of me?’

  His words, an echo of her own, tugged at her heart. ‘I’ve just been talking to Constable Vallance about it,’ she said. ‘He was honest with me. The accusation will probably be murder…’ She put her arms about him and held him as, even in the dim light, she saw his face go grey with shock. ‘Don’t despair. It won’t be as bad as that. Constable Vallance seems to think that you’re more likely to be convicted of manslaughter, which will mean a prison sentence, I’m afraid. However, we must hope the judge and jury will be lenient because you’re young, and because it was the result of a silly prank. You must help yourself by not being a difficult prisoner and by answering up honestly. And I’m sure the constable will do his best for you – he’s a good man.’

  ‘I know he be. Maddy, I can’t stop thinking about poor Ned and wishing he were alive again. Tis a terrible thing to have killed a man, specially a decent fellow like Ned, and I be powerful sorry, truly I be.’

  ‘I know. I know,’ Maddy comforted him.

  ‘You’ll be there when I go to Exeter, won’t you?’ Davie clung to her tightly. ‘It be such a way from here.’

  ‘Certainly I will! I’m surprised that you should ask.’ Maddy tried to sound indignant but failed miserably. ‘Of course I’ll be there, you daft pudden,’ she whispered softly, holding him close. ‘Did you think I’d leave you on your own? As for Exeter being a long way, it can’t be more than thirty miles. I can walk that in a day easily, and I’ll be thinking up ways to help you every step of the way.’

  It was getting late, and Maddy knew it was time to be going home.

  ‘You’ll go before the magistrates at Totnes first,’ she said. ‘And when you do, I want to see you all spruce and tidy. Make a good impression. I’ve brought you your comb and some soap, so there’s no excuse.’

  ‘You’ll be at Totnes too?’ Davie let go his grip on her with great reluctance.

  ‘Was there ever such a lad?’ she said in mock exasperation. ‘I’ll be in that magistrates’ court, never fear. Constable Vallance,’ she called, ‘I’ll be off now.’