He opened the door and she stepped out.
‘Will you make sure he washes behind his ears?’ she asked him.
‘I’ll see he’s turned out as trim as a new shilling piece,’ the constable assured her heartily, locking the cell door behind her.
Davie’s face appeared in the grille – white, young, and frightened.
‘Maddy!’ he said. ‘Maddy!’
She hurried back, and stretching up on tiptoe just managed to kiss him.
‘You won’t be on your own,’ she said. ‘While you’re at Totnes there’ll be someone up to see you every single day.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise!’
The others are going to visit him every day, whether they want to or not, she vowed silently. Even if I have to beat them senseless with the copper-stick. And that goes for Father too!
Outside the police house a figure detached itself from the surrounding darkness. It was Patrick. At once she rushed into his arms.
‘I saw you go in,’ he said. ‘I wondered your father or some of your brothers didn’t come with you.’
Maddy was surprised. She suddenly realised how much responsibility she had assumed for the whole family. It never occurred to her, or to the others, that they might visit Davie and give him comfort too.
‘No, I came alone,’ she said.
‘Good, then I can walk you home.’ He slid his arm protectively about her waist, and they began to climb the hill. ‘How is your brother?’ he asked.
His simple enquiry released a dam of words from within her. All the way home she poured forth her worries and concerns for Davie, pausing only when they stopped at the top of the last descent into Duncannon. I’m sorry,’ she whispered, wiping her tear-streaked face with her hand. ‘I didn’t seem able to stop talking.’
‘Did it help?’ he asked gently.
‘Yes.’ Her reply was unhesitating.
‘Then that’s the important thing. The time ahead is bound to be difficult for you. Please remember that I am here for you to lean on. If I can help in no other way, let me at least be your support.’
His goodnight kiss was soft and tender, and she returned home feeling far more calm than she had dared to hope. In the midst of her recent troubles and worries there was still Patrick. He was there for her to lean on. She was not alone.
One thing she should have anticipated, yet did not, was the antagonism in the village against the Shillabeer family. In the days that followed Davie’s arrest, she was conscious of hostile eyes following her when she went to the shop; people she had known all her life, who would normally have given her a cheerful greeting, deliberately turned away as she passed by or, even worse, spat insults at her.
‘As if we haven’t enough to distress us,’ she cried one evening when she got home. ‘Can’t they see we’re sick to our hearts because Ned Knapman’s dead? We know Davie’s responsible, they don’t have to rub it in.’
‘Don’t you pay no heed, our Maddy,’ Lew comforted her. ‘They’m ignorant, that’s what they be. Can’t see no further than their nose end, most of them.’
‘You know who’ll be gloating over this, don’t you?’ said Bart. It had been his turn to go up to see Davie at Totnes, and he had been very quiet since coming back. ‘Mr High and Mighty Whitcomb, that’s who. You can bet ’tis his influence that’s getting Davie sent to Exeter.’
‘Oh, surely not.’ Upset as she was, Maddy could not see how Cal Whitcomb could be to blame.
‘Surely yes,’ countered Bart. ‘I reckon he and the squire got their heads together even afore they questioned Davie, determined to send him afore the judge. Think on it. It were an accident, everyone knows that. Why, then, idn’t Davie just going to be sent to the magistrates’ court up to Totnes?’
Under ordinary circumstances Maddy might have seen the unreasonableness of her brother’s thinking, but she was sick with worry and only too happy to find a scapegoat for Davie’s troubles. That was why when she encountered Cal Whitcomb soon afterwards and he enquired politely enough, ‘What news of your brother?’ she had no inclination to give a civil reply.
‘He’s been committed to the Exeter assizes. He goes next week, thanks to your evidence,’ she retorted.
‘I gave the facts about my own movements, nothing more.’
‘Couldn’t you have put in a good word for him or something?’
‘Why should I?’ Cal reined in his horse closer and frowned down at her. ‘Your brothers have been nuisances ever since I can recall. The miracle is that no one has been killed sooner by their stupidity. Now a man has been killed. A good man with a wife and young children dependent upon him. I was the one who had to go to Mrs Knapman and tell her Ned was dead. I’m the one who, in decency’s name, will have to provide for her – it will be no use appealing to you Shillabeers, you never have two ha’pennies to rub together. And I’m the one who had to walk behind Ned’s coffin and see him decently buried. I’m having to do all these distressing things because your brother hasn’t the sense he was born with. Maybe he is only fifteen, but that’s old enough to know how dangerous a catapult shot can be when aimed at a man’s head. Don’t expect me to pity him.’ With that he urged his horse away.
He had spoken the truth, Maddy could see that, but she refused to admit it. She seized on the one scrap of ammunition she had been able to glean from his speech.
‘And whose fault is it we never have two ha’pennies to rub together?’ she called after him. ‘You tell me that, Cal Whitcomb!’ Nevertheless, he had touched a sore spot in her conscience. They did owe Ned Knapman’s wife some reparation. Someone from the family ought to call upon the widow, and by someone she knew it would be her. Ever since Davie’s arrest she had been trying to pluck up her courage, and she could put it off no longer.
* * *
‘Yer, what be doing with that?’ Bart’s voice made her start.
She looked down at the money on the table. ‘I’m taking it to Ned Knapman’s widow.’
‘Be you mazed or summat?’ He grasped her hand and pushed it away from the scattered coins on the scrubbed deal. ‘Us’ll need every penny of that from now on because of this caper. There’ll be trips to Exeter to pay for, and lodgings and lost wages. Us can’t go giving naught to charity.’
‘It’s not charity. We owe it to Mrs Knapman,’ protested Maddy. ‘Goodness knows it’s little enough to compensate for the loss of a husband. That poor woman’s got five children to rear.’
‘She won’t starve. Whitcomb’ll see to her.’
‘Where’s your pride, Bart Shillabeer?’ she demanded. ‘You may not care that Cal Whitcomb is paying our debts for us, but I do. That money’s going to Mrs Knapman and no argument. Yes, we’re going to need money for Exeter, so you men can stay home at nights from now on, and the money saved can go in the jug instead of Harry Ford’s pocket.’ She slipped the coins into a canvas bag and stalked out.
The Knapmans lived in a cottage just beyond the farmhouse at Oakwood. Racked with nerves, Maddy walked past three times trying to think up what she would say before she dared knock on the door. An elderly woman opened it.
‘Yes?’ she demanded.
‘Is – is Mrs Knapman in, please?’ Maddy asked.
‘Who wants to know? Her’ve enough on her plate without being bothered by callers.’
‘The name is… Shillabeer. Maddy Shillabeer.’
‘Shillabeer?’ The woman pondered for a moment, then realisation struck. ‘With a name like that you’m daring to come yer, you brazen hussy?’ she yelled. ‘I wonder you dare disturb decent folks as be in mourning. Get off with you, before I lets the dog loose.’
‘Please, I just want a word with her,’ begged Maddy.
‘Well, her don’t want no word with you. Her wouldn’t soil her ears, wouldn’t my daughter.’
‘Who is it, Ma?’ called a female voice from inside. Footsteps sounded and a younger version of the woman who had harangued Maddy came to the door. ‘Why, ’tis Miss Shil
labeer, idn’t it? Come in, do. There be a cruel draught beating through the door.’
‘You’m having her in, after what her kin have done?’ demanded her mother.
‘Her idn’t responsible for her kinsfolk, Ma. None of us be. Come in, Miss Shillabeer.’
‘Thank you,’ said Maddy, following her into the small kitchen-cum-parlour. ‘It’s very kind of you to see me, but if you want the truth I do feel responsible. I had the raising of Davie, you see. I should’ve managed to teach him not to play stupid tricks by now.’
‘There, don’t take on about it. You was left very young to rear your brothers, so I’ve been told. Bringing up childer idn’t no frolic. I knows, having five. I be sure you did your best, no one can do more.’
Maddy gave a weak smile. ‘How things have turned about,’ she said. ‘Here you are giving me comfort when the boot should be on the other foot. You’re very kind.’
Mrs Knapman shook her head. She looked tired and washed out. ‘I just tries to see things the way they be,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose the boy did it deliberate.’ Her mother gave a disbelieving snort. ‘Tis true, Ma. From what folks say, he were just fooling around, as boys do.’
‘He meant your husband no harm, I can assure you of that, Mrs Knapman. He’s terribly sorry for what happened – we all are. If it had been possible he would have come with me today. Since it isn’t, then it falls to me to say how much he regrets behaving so stupidly.’
Again the old woman snorted. ‘Just as well he bain’t yer,’ she said. ‘Prison’s best place for un.’
‘Ma!’ Mrs Knapman was gently reproving. ‘It were an accident. The lad’s being punished enough. Prison must be a terrible place, specially for such a youngster. And as Miss Shillabeer says, he didn’t mean no harm to my Ned.’
She pulled the youngest child onto her lap. As she lulled the drowsy infant to sleep she seemed eager to talk, but about anything rather than the tragedy that had befallen her.
‘It were Mr Whitcomb as were the target of the joke, they say. I can’t never understand why folks be so against Mr Calland. I knows your family have your reasons, but there’s lots of other people who habn’t a good word for him, yet my Ned fair worshipped the ground he walked on. Everyone held that it were the elder brother, Christopher, as were the pick of the Whitcombs, but not according to my Ned. Mr Calland were twice the man his brother were, and ten times the farmer. ’Tis a terrible thing to say and ’tidn’t widely known, but if the cholera hadn’t taken Mr Christopher when it did, the Whitcombs would’ve lost Oakwood because of his debts.’
‘He was reckoned to be kind-hearted, though,’ said Maddy, surprised at these revelations.
‘Oh, he were kind-hearted right enough. The pity was he didn’t have pockets to match. Us’ve had many a hard struggle because Ned didn’t get his wages on time from Mr Christopher. Poor Mr Calland got a terrible name for turning off workers when he took over. Truth was there wadn’t no money to pay them. He had to sell the gold watch his pa left him in order to find wages for everyone. No one as left was owed a penny. How many’d have done that?’
‘Not many,’ Maddy was forced to admit. It put a new perspective upon Cal’s reputation for meanness. The talk of money prompted other uncomfortable thoughts.
‘Mrs Knapman,’ she said. ‘Forgive me for asking, but how will you manage now?’
‘Manage?’ Mrs Knapman looked bemused, as if the idea had never occurred to her. ‘Oh, us’ll do fine. Mr Calland’s promised I shall have ten shillings every week till the end of my days. Ten shilling! “You’m not going on the parish, Mrs Ned,” he says – always calls me Mrs Ned, he do – “Tis the least I can do since that stone were meant… meant…”’Mrs Knapman’s calm demeanour suddenly crumbled into tears. The sleeping child awoke and began crying too as its mother rocked back and forth sobbing.
Maddy knew this was no place for her. While the old woman was occupied with comforting her daughter, she let herself out of the cottage, leaving the bag of money on the table. She almost wished Mrs Knapman had been as aggressive towards her as her mother. It might have been easier to tolerate than her gentle forbearance. As it was, Maddy knew she would never get the sight of the unfortunate widow from her mind, nursing her child in her grief, and all because of the Shillabeer family.
* * *
Davie was taken to Exeter Gaol on the following Monday. Maddy went to Totnes to say goodbye. She had made light of the distance to Exeter, but no one in their family had ever been as far as the city before and it seemed as remote as China. In the hope of giving him final encouragement she waited to see him leave. She was not prepared for seeing him in iron fetters, shuffling painfully from the tiny gaol on the ramparts of the old town to the waiting cart. He went with head bowed, and she was glad he did not see her, for she knew that anguish was written all over her face.
December was the date set for Davie’s trial, during the winter assizes. The great debate among the Shillabeers was whether to take one day on the road or two.
‘Lodgings for us lot on the way be going to cost a pretty penny,’ protested Bart.
‘All the same, us’ll have to pay up and look handsome,’ said Lew. ‘Daylight be short this time of year, and if us idn’t careful us’ll find ourselves stumbling about Exeter in the dark looking for somewhere to stay. It idn’t too bad for us menfolk, if the worst comes to the worst us could always find a stable or summat, but us idn’t having Maddy on any caper like that. Us’ll get to Exeter in good time to find respectable lodgings.’
Jack was clearly impressed by Lew’s uncharacteristic determination, for he overrode Bart’s objections, saying, ‘Right, us’ll do as the boy says. Us’ll overnight on the road.’
It proved to be a wet, cold trudge to Exeter. How easily it might have been a great adventure. But there was no excited anticipation; they were going to Exeter because they must and there was only unhappiness in the prospect.
Maddy had never believed there were so many people in the world as crowded the streets of Exeter. In truth, the city was normally a very modest county capital, still rural in its aspect with views of the surrounding green hills from its very centre. But the winter assizes were regarded as something of a social event, and the usual population had increased considerably, making it a tumultuous throng to Maddy’s astonished eyes.
It was as well they had arrived in good time, for lodgings, respectable or otherwise, were hard to find. Eventually they found a couple of rooms at a small inn near the Iron Bridge which straddled the narrow valley between the city centre and St David’s Hill. The inn was reasonable enough, although carts carrying lime passed along the road outside in a steady stream from dawn to dusk, creating a racket with their iron-rimmed wheels and leaving a film of acrid white dust over everything.
The first cart to rattle over the cobbles before dawn did not disturb Maddy. She had already been awake for hours. She was not troubled by the noise or the dirt, all she wanted was to get to the court and for Davie’s trial to be over as soon as possible.
‘If you’m wanting to go to the assizes you best get there early,’ their landlady informed them. ‘Folks like to see the procession with the judge and barristers and everyone, then there be one gurt crush to get in and hear the triads.’
‘Thank you for telling us. We might go that way to see the procession,’ said Maddy civilly, not wanting to betray their true reason for being in Exeter.
The landlady was not fooled. Why else would poor folk come to the city at this time, especially those who looked worried sick? It could only be because they had someone standing trial. Not that she minded. As long as they paid their bills, other folks’ misfortunes were none of her concern.
Maddy and her family found the law court easily enough, a fine stone building in the old Castle Yard, girded by high walls. The steep narrow street was already jammed with people when they arrived. Maddy feared they would never manage to get into court at all, such was the crush.
‘Don’t you fret, my l
over,’ a stout neighbour consoled her, seeing her anxious face. ‘As soon as the judge’s coach and the others have gone through you follow on behind. Be quick, mind, and don’t worry about who you treads underfoot.’
Maddy managed a bleak smile of thanks, and waited for the procession. No doubt it was quite a spectacle, with the fine coach bearing the judge in his full robes. The other bystanders seemed to think so as they cheered and shouted, but to her it was merely irritating and irrelevant. What place had pageantry in the trying of her Davie? But she did not let her irritation slow her reactions. The moment she guessed the last carriage was approaching, she pushed her way in behind it, not caring that she risked falling beneath the wheels. All five Shillabeers were carried along by the crush to the assize court. Once inside, it was strange and bewildering but somehow they found where to go.
Although there were already many people there, Maddy took no notice of them, her attention was entirely taken up by the room. How impressive it was, and intimidating, especially the high-canopied judge’s chair, surmounted by the royal coat of arms. The two rows of benches close by were presumably for the jury. And then there was the dock for the accused. There was no mistaking it. She shuddered. This was where Davie would stand, cut off from her and the rest of the court by its wooden walls cruelly topped by sharp metal spikes.
The waiting felt interminable. Maddy and her family seemed to have nothing to say to one another except, ‘Won’t be long now, eh?’ or ‘They’m going to have to start soon.’ Then Lew said, ‘Hullo, something be up. Look who’s just come in.’
Escorted by an usher, four men came in and occupied a bench at the front.
‘They’m witnesses,’ their neighbour informed them, the same stout woman who had stood by them in the road.
Maddy did not need to be told. Constable Vallance was instantly recognisable, and Cal Whitcomb, looking neatly formed in a dark suit. The squire was there too, along with the man who worked for Farmer Churchward and had seen Davie run away. The fourth gentleman was vaguely familiar, although she could not put a name to him.
Daughter of the River Page 20