CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Rosie Goodwin
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Letter from Author
French Onion Soup
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Copyright
This book is for Charlotte Bethany Yates, my precious granddaughter, to mark the occasion of her 18th birthday. I am so proud of you and love you millions!
Chapter One
Fenny Drayton, December 1850
‘Please, Opal . . . can we stop now? Me feet are hurtin’ an’ me tummy aches.’
‘Not yet, sweetheart, we have to find somewhere to stay first before it gets properly dark.’
Opal Sharp stared down at Susie, her six-year-old sister and gave her an encouraging smile as she shifted the weight of her two-year-old brother, Jack, on her hip. He was fast asleep, although how he managed it she had no idea. She had wrapped him tightly in her shawl, then tied it about her waist – but despite the bitter cold she could feel the burning heat of him against her chest, and she was gravely concerned.
He obviously had the fever that had taken their father just days before, and she was all too aware that he shouldn’t be out in the bad weather – but she had had no choice in the matter. The cottage they had lived in was tied to the farm that her father had worked for, and when he died, the farmer had turned up on the day of the funeral and told her they must all be out by late afternoon.
Left with no alternative, Opal had instructed Charlie to load whatever he could of their possessions on to the handcart, and now they were in search of somewhere to shelter from the storm. The snow was coming down thick and fast, getting deeper underfoot by the minute, and behind her she could hear fifteen-year-old Charlie grunting softly with exertion as he yanked at the handles of the small wooden cart, piled with bags and bedding. The rest of their possessions had been left with a kindly neighbour until they found somewhere to stay.
‘I’d have you all ’ere in a sigh,’ Mrs Kitely had told them sympathetically. ‘But I daren’t upset Farmer Gold, else my Stan might be out of a job an’ all.’
‘We – have – to – find – somewhere soon,’ Charlie gasped. ‘I don’t know how much further I can pull this thing.’
‘We’ll find somewhere, you’ll see,’ Opal answered, with a confidence she was far from feeling.
They had already tramped for miles: first down the old Roman Road, then through the village of Hartshill. They had then slid and slithered their way down Bucks Hill, and now they were on the ground known to the locals as Rapper’s Hole. It was nothing more than a wasteland of fields with a scattering of huts and dilapidated cottages here and there, but Opal could think of nowhere else they could go. Even a run-down cottage would be some shelter from the cold – if they could only find one.
They trudged on, getting more dispirited by the minute, but at last a building loomed up out of the snow ahead of them and, dropping the handles of the cart, Charlie rushed towards it. It appeared to be a very old derelict cottage.
‘It’s empty,’ he shouted excitedly. ‘Perhaps we could rest here for the night, Opal?’
As she approached, she saw that there was a large hole in the roof on one side of the building. It was surrounded by a picket fence from which an old gate hung on a single hinge. The tiny, leaded windows – or what remained of them – were black and bleak-looking and it seemed barely habitable. But then she supposed Charlie was right – any port in a storm would be welcome at that moment.
As Susie raced ahead, Opal followed as fast as she could. On entering, she found herself in what she presumed must once have been a small kitchen-cum-sitting room, although it was hard to see in the all-enveloping gloom. The roof in this room seemed to be intact, so, making a quick decision, she turned to Charlie. ‘Go and grab the cart. We’ll light some candles and try to get a fire going.’
He was gone before the words had left her mouth and, soon, she heard him grunting as he yanked the cart down the small, overgrown path. Placing Jack in Susie’s arms, she located the candles and matches and managed to light one; they looked around. There were odd bits of broken furniture lying about, so at least they would have some dry wood for the fire. A small inglenook fireplace was set into one wall and, after scraping out the dead ashes with his hands, Charlie began to break the wood into pieces and set them into the fire basket. Presently he had it alight and now, with the candle burning and the faint glow from the fire, they could better see the room. A grimy deep stone sink stood against one wall and low beams framed the ceiling, but at least this room was fairly dry. The floor was littered with dirt and, from the terrible smell that hung in the air, Opal suspected animals had found refuge here. Her heart sank; she couldn’t believe how quickly their lives had changed, and they were now reduced to sleeping here – but she couldn’t think about that now.
Pushing her worries aside, she searched through the cart and pulled out the blankets she had packed, shaking the snow from them. Little Susie was struggling to keep her eyes open and Opal laid some of the blankets on the floor in front of the fire.
‘Take the kettle and fill it with snow. I’ll make us a brew of tea and at least it will warm us,’ she instructed Charlie.
While Charlie was doing that, Opal settled Susie and Jack on the blankets and blocked up the broken panes in the window with rags and anything that came to hand. Soon the kettle was heating up over the fire, and Opal rooted in the cart for the half a loaf she had brought with them. Tearing chunks off it, she handed a piece each to Jack and Susie. But while Susie hungrily began to gnaw on hers, Jack turned his head away.
‘He really needs to see a doctor,’ Charlie said worriedly, noting the beads of sweat on his forehead that stood out like jewels in the red glow of the flames.
Opal snorted. ‘I do
n’t even know how we’re going to eat tomorrow, let alone pay for a doctor’s visit!’ she snapped, but was instantly repentant. ‘Sorry, Charlie, I’m just tired,’ she explained guiltily.
‘It’s all right.’ He patted her arm awkwardly and fell silent as she poured the now-boiling water into an old brown teapot and set it on the hearth to mash. She found the mismatched cups and poured them their tea and soon Susie was snoring softly.
Opal almost envied her. She seemed to have no idea what a terrible position they were in. It was hard to believe that only a few short months before they had been a close-knit, happy family. Admittedly, her mother had suffered from ill health for some time, so Opal had had to give up her job in the little village shop to help at home, but even then they had been comfortable with the wages that her father and Charlie earned on the farm.
Then their hearts had all broken when their mother had died giving birth to a stillborn baby girl, and just nine weeks later their world collapsed when their father was suddenly struck down with the fever, and soon followed their ma. Now here they were, with no home, no parents, no money and no prospects.
‘What are we goin’ to do, Opal?’ Charlie’s face was fearful. Although he was only a year younger than his sister, he usually depended on her to make the decisions.
‘Whatever we have to do to survive,’ she answered, although she dreaded what might be ahead.
‘I think we may well have to put the little two into the workhouse. At least Jack can see a doctor there, and they’ll both be fed,’ he said tentatively.
Opal was so horrified that she almost dropped her cup and slopped hot tea over her leg. ‘Ouch! Over my dead body!’
‘Well, have you got a better idea?’ Tears stung at the back of his eyes as he pictured the cold grim façade of the Union Workhouse up on the Bullring, but he pushed back his mop of thick, curly brown hair and blinked them away. Just the mention of the place could strike terror into the hardest of hearts, but what choice did they have? At least, if he knew the little ones were being looked after, he and Opal could find work and somewhere to live and hopefully they could get them back out of the place before too long. As she miserably shook her head, his voice gentled. ‘It would only be until we could find somewhere decent to live and have enough money coming in to feed them.’
‘I know, but I can’t bear to think of them in that place, or of us separated. We’re the only family they’ve got now; we need to stick together.’
She hung her head despondently as she stared at her two younger siblings. With their thick, black hair and their pale skin, they looked like two little peas in a pod. They all did, if it came to that, as they took after their late mother in looks. She could hear her father even now laughing and teasing that it wasn’t fair that not one of his children had taken after him. As the painful memories of happier times rushed back, she rose and went to stuff an old sack beneath the door to try and stop the wicked draught that was whistling beneath it.
‘Let’s try an’ get some sleep, eh?’ Charlie suggested, seeing that Opal was almost at the end of her tether. ‘Jack might be a lot better in the morning an’ things will look brighter. An’ at least we have somewhere dry to sleep.’
She managed to raise a weak smile, but as she curled up beneath the thin blanket she wasn’t so sure, and when she finally fell into an exhausted sleep there were tears on her cheeks.
Chapter Two
Early the next morning, Opal woke to an eerie, grey silence, and as she stared towards the window, all she could see was the snow piled high on the ledge. The fire was almost out and it was bitterly cold again, so she hastily broke up what was left of an old chair and threw it on to the fire. Charlie stretched and yawned and, pulling himself on to his elbow, asked, ‘What time is it?’
Opal shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We took the mantel clock to the pawnbroker’s last week, if you remember?’ She could have added, ‘Along with everything else decent we owned,’ but thought better of it – although she had managed to keep her mother’s wedding ring, which she wore on a string around her neck. She put her hand over it now, to reassure herself it was still there.
‘Ah, yes.’ He sighed and, pushing his blanket aside, rose and lifted the kettle. ‘I’ll go and get some more snow. At least we can have a hot drink.’
They had no sugar or milk, but they’d grown used to drinking their tea without over the last weeks.
After slipping his boots on, Charlie attempted to open the door and was almost knocked over by the drift that had piled up against it during the night as it spilled into the room.
‘Cor blimey,’ he breathed. ‘Would yer just look at that!’ As far as his eye could see was nothing but a vast, eerily silent white wilderness. He suddenly felt as if they might be the only people left in the world. Even the birds weren’t singing, and the snow was still coming down like a thick white blanket. Hastily, he stooped and filled the kettle then, kicking what he could of the snow back out of the door, he quickly closed it again.
Susie stirred at that moment and when she looked towards the window she clapped her hands with delight. ‘Ooh, look at the snow,’ she chirped. ‘Will I be able to go out on me sledge, Opal?’
Opal smiled indulgently as she smoothed the fall of black curls from the little girl’s face. Suddenly she felt old; not so long ago, she would have been excited to see the snow, too. Now she could only see the problems it would bring.
‘Your sledge is back at Mrs Kitely’s, love,’ she explained and Susie pouted. But then she began to cough, and Opal quickly felt her forehead. It was hot and Opal’s heart sank. It looked as if Susie was about to come down with the fever, too.
Charlie also looked concerned as he saw the unnatural flush in his little sister’s cheeks, but he said nothing as he wedged the kettle into the heart of the fire.
‘Right now, let’s see what we’ve got for breakfast,’ Opal said in a falsely bright voice, as she rummaged in the small food bag in the cart. ‘Ah, we have some oats here, look, that should fill us up.’ They had no milk so she would have to boil them in water and they would be fairly tasteless – but she supposed it was better than nothing.
‘I’m not hungry.’ As Susie burrowed down beneath her blanket again, Charlie and Opal exchanged a worried glance.
Opal boiled the remainder of the oats and somehow, she and Charlie washed them down with tea; but Susie refused them and Opal decided it was best to let Jack sleep.
‘We’re going to have to get some food in,’ Opal muttered, glancing worriedly at the blizzard beyond the window. ‘Though goodness knows how we’re going to get through this lot. The nearest store to here is in Stockingford.’
‘I know where it is,’ Charlie assured her. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll get through. But do we have any money left for food? And where are we going to stay tonight?’
‘It looks like we’ll have to stay here,’ Opal responded. ‘I can give the room a clean and at least it’s dry. And yes, I do have a little left from the money we got at the pawnbroker’s, but not much.’
As she rummaged in the pocket of her dress and withdrew a few pennies, Charlie sighed. ‘We’re not going to get much with that,’ he commented glumly.
‘We’ll just get basics: some flour, a twist of tea and a pat of butter. I can bake some bread then. There’s a small oven in the side of the inglenook, look, though I dread to think what state it will be in. But never mind, I can soon scrub it out while you’re gone. I’ll have a look round the other rooms as well and see if there’s anything we can use to make ourselves a little more comfortable. It looks like we’re going to be stuck here at least until the snow goes.’
Charlie pulled his boots on and wrapped up as warmly as he could. Then, with a nod at his sister, he set off.
The two smaller children were snoring softly so, now that it was light, Opal decided to see what state the rest of the rooms were in. A door was set into the wall at the side of the fireplace and on opening it she found herself in what had clearly once
been a bedroom. It was so cold in there that it almost took her breath away, so she quickly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her to keep what warmth she could in the kitchen, clutching her shawl more tightly about her. There was a yawning hole in the roof and a pile of snow was heaped in the centre of the room. Against one wall was an old iron-framed bed with what remained of a straw mattress on it, and against another wall was a chest of drawers with one drawer missing.
Well, there’s no way we can use this room until the roof has been repaired, she thought despondently, kicking at what appeared to be the remains of a wooden chair. At least the wood could be used to keep the fire burning, though. She quickly stooped to gather it up and carried it back to the kitchen, before cautiously starting up a staircase, which was little more than a ladder, that led to the upper storey.
She found herself in a small, surprisingly dry room with yet another old bed standing against one wall. The roof sloped and she could only stand up in the centre of the room, but even so, she could see that without too much work it could become usable.
She went back down the stairs as quietly as she could so as not to wake the children, and opened the last door to the other side of the fireplace. She found herself in what had clearly once been used as a small sitting room. An old sideboard, thick with dirt and grime, stood beneath the window, but a quick glance around showed that the rest of the furniture was broken and probably beyond repair, apart from a solid-looking oak table that took pride of place in the centre of the room.
With a sigh, Opal made her way back into the kitchen and began to remove some of the cleaning things she had loaded into the cart, deciding that she could clean the kitchen up at least. Next, she filled the kettle with more snow and, after heating it on the fire, she poured the water into a bucket and attacked the floor with a broom, causing dust to fly everywhere. She was pleased to find that, although filthy, there were old quarry tiles on the floor – many of the cottages thereabouts only had earth floors – and after scrubbing them, they began to look quite nice. Once that was done, she started on the windows and, now that all the rubbish was piled at the side of the inglenook ready to be burned, the room began to look much better and her spirits began to lift a little.
The Winter Promise Page 1