by Val Wood
‘Dear old Henry. He found her, so he told me, in Hull. She was practically at death’s door and about to throw herself in the river. She couldn’t find work without references, and she had only ever looked after ladies, and children. Anyway, he brought her back here and fed her, and made her well, and here she has been ever since.’
‘And then he married her.’ Annie murmured.
He shook his head. ‘No. She wouldn’t marry him. She just took his name. Come on,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Not much further.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ Annie panted, the last bit of incline was taxing, though she was encouraged to see the thatch of a dwelling just above her. ‘How did tha find her again?’
‘Pure coincidence. It was about five years ago and I’d left my father’s house – I’d decided to join my brother. I was rowing down the river when my boat struck a sandbank. I knew I couldn’t get it off until the tide turned and I decided to swim for shore. Well, I nearly drowned. I hadn’t realized just how treacherous the Humber was, but as luck would have it, old Henry was on the river bank and saw me struggling. He ran for a boat from the haven and hauled me in.’
He smiled at the memory. ‘And when he took me home to dry off, there was my old nurse. She didn’t recognize me straight away, but I would have known that old sour face anywhere,’ he said affectionately.
He led her towards a cottage which was almost hidden by an overhang of chalk cliff and a tumble of bramble and hawthorn scrub. He opened the door which was unlocked and invited her in.
She hesitated. ‘What is this place?’
‘It’s mine. It’s where I live. My very own.’
It was small, smaller even than the Trotts’ cottage, but where the Trotts’ room was neat but barely furnished, here was a jumble of boxes and crates, and rugs on the walls as well as the floor, and two handsome wooden chairs and a heavy table.
He waved to her to take a seat and then disappeared outside, returning in only a moment with an armful of dry kindling which he threw into the hearth, where it instantly caught alight from the warm ashes.
‘Would you take tea, Mrs Hope?’ he said, giving a small bow. ‘It isn’t often I have company; please do.’
She stared wide-eyed at him. What manner of man was this? What game was he playing with her? Then she laughed. She saw the mischievous look in his eyes and realized that he wasn’t playing a game with her, but was inviting her to play the game.
‘I thought I was starting work today?’ She sipped the hot tea and wished she could stay here forever. ‘I’m not used to sitting about drinking tea mid-morning.’
‘Taking tea, Annie. Not drinking it,’ he advised, and she pulled a face and giggled.
‘You are, – starting work. I want to show you what you have to do, what you have to sell.’ He went across to one of the many boxes and opened it.
I wonder? she thought. I wonder if he thinks I’m that dim that I don’t know a sack of illicit tea or ’baccy when I see it? But she was just a little surprised when he pulled out a bundle, not a waxed bag containing tea or sweet smelling tobacco, but a cotton bundle holding an assortment of linen and lace and ribbons, such as ladies or housewives might buy in any draper’s shop.
He pulled out another, this one containing lengths of muslin and nets and he held them up to her. ‘What do you think, Annie? Will the women of the Wolds be pleased with these? They can’t get out, you know, to buy from shops in the way townspeople can. They rely on traders like me to bring them what they want. And if there’s nothing here that they fancy, then they only have to say, and I’ll get them what they require the next time round.’
She handled a piece of muslin. She had never owned anything as lovely as this. The only thing she had ever had that was pretty was her satin petticoat, and she’d given that away to Mrs Trott.
‘Where does tha get it, this stuff?’
‘Why I buy it, of course, from the manufacturers. Where else?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. How would I know?’
But she’d like to sell it. She’d like to bring it out and drape it over herself, like the draper in his shop in Hull did.
‘What is ’Wolds? Is it a town? How will I know where to go? Will tha come wi’ me?’
‘No. The Wolds is an area. It’s country, beautiful country, full of hills and valleys, sheep and birds, trees and flowers, and it stretches from the Humber to the sea. And no, I won’t be coming with you. That’s why I need you, so that I can get on with other things. But I have a companion for you, and if I’m not mistaken I can hear him coming.’
Annie had heard nothing, but as Toby finished speaking she heard someone cheerfully whistling, and then a sharp rattle on the door.
5
A round, weather-rosy face appeared at the door. ‘G’ day, Master Toby.’
‘Good morning, young Robert. Come in. There’s someone here I wish you to meet.’
A youth of about thirteen shuffled in through the door. His light brown hair hung in a queue at the back of his neck and a shaggy fringe about his forehead, his eyes were bright and eager and he had a short turned up nose. ‘Aw, Master Toby, tha knaws I don’t like me Sunday name. Robin. Call me Robin, please.’
Toby laughed. ‘All right, you know I only tease. Mrs Hope, this is Robin, my right-hand man.’
She watched the boy’s face flush with pleasure at the compliment, and he touched his forehead. ‘Pleased to have your acquaintance, Mrs Hope.’
‘It’ll be more than acquaintance, Robin. Mrs Hope is going to be your travelling companion.’
Robin looked questioningly at Annie, and then frowning, back to Toby. ‘Dost tha mean instead o’ Mrs Trott – or as well as? ’Cos I don’t think I could stand two women lashin’ me wi’ their tongues. Honest, Master Toby. I couldn’t. Me skin’d be stripped to ribbons.’
Annie smiled. He could be an older version of her son, Jimmy. But would he be as difficult? He was a young varmint, was Jimmy. A lump came to her throat at the reminder of her children and she wondered where they were, and if she would ever see them again.
‘No,’ Toby said. ‘Mrs Trott won’t be going travelling again. She’s getting too old. It’s time she took a rest.’
Robin grinned with delight. ‘Puttin’ her out to grass, is tha? By, I can’t say I’m sorry.’ He put his hand out to shake Annie’s. ‘I hope’s as we get on well, Mrs Hope.’ He laughed. ‘Here, that’s a good name for anybody to have.’
‘Tha can call me Annie.’ She warmed to this cheerful youth. ‘It’s ’name I’m most used to.’
‘I’ll expect you to show Annie what to do, and where to go,’ Toby said. ‘Introduce her to the farmers’ wives and the housekeepers, and the innkeepers’ daughters and so on. You know the score. She’s not from these parts, so she’ll want a little guiding.’
The boy’s small stature seemed to grow with the importance of the task in front of him. ‘Don’t thee worry, Master Toby, or thee Mrs Hope – er, Annie. Tha’ll be safe enough wi’ me. I’ll show thee where ’best customers live. Mrs Trott, sir, I have to say, was a bit sharp wi’ her comments if wimmin didn’t like her goods. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of business, no tact, tha knaws – but thee and me, Annie, why I can see, we’ll mek our fortune yet.’
Toby filled a pack with linen and cotton, and Robin shouldered it onto his back and left, saying he would meet her the next morning just after daybreak.
‘Help me, Annie,’ Toby started to empty the crates. ‘Put these muslins into bundles, and tell me, if you will, what you think they are worth.’
‘I can’t.’ She sat on the floor beside him. ‘I’ve never bought such stuff. I’ve onny ever seen it in ’draper’s shop.’
‘Then try to remember what he charged, for we must charge a little less. Not too much less, for the ladies have to pay us for bringing these goods to them. But we must still let them think they are getting a bargain. Then when you’ve sold something, you must enter the name of the customer an
d the amount in this pocket book.’
Her lip trembled and she bit it, and tried to quell the tears that were forming. I might have known it wouldn’t be so easy, she thought. Now I’ve lost ’job afore I’ve started.
He looked at her as he held the book towards her, and when she didn’t take it from him, he sighed.
‘You can’t read or write, Annie?’
She shook her head and huge tears brimmed over and down her cheeks. ‘No. I never learnt. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t cry.’ He patted her hand. ‘It’s not your fault. We’ll get round it somehow. But Robin can’t either, I relied on Mrs Trott to mark up the book.’
I must have been mistaken about him. Annie wiped her tears. It’s a proper business after all, and I thought he was running smuggled goods.
‘I can add up,’ she sniffed. ‘In me head. And I’ve a good memory for names. Tha could write up what I tell thee when I get back.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘But you must make some sort of mark in the book. The customers would prefer it. Could you do that?’
She said that she could, and would think of something to represent each person. Then he stood up and told her he would take her back to the Trotts’ house.
‘Before we go, Annie.’ He looked uneasy. ‘You won’t take offence?’
‘How do I know? What’s tha going to say?’
She watched him curiously as he went across to a chest of drawers on which there was a mirror. He picked up a hairbrush and handed it to her. She turned it over in her hand. It was baleen bristle, she knew that, made from the whale, but the back was silver and beautifully embossed with flowers and trailing stems.
‘I’m not giving it to you, because it was my mother’s – but will you use it to brush your hair?’
She stared at him and then turned and walked across to the mirror, and for the first time saw herself through someone else’s eyes. The face staring back at her wasn’t one she knew. The eyes were large in the thin and pinched face, the fair hair matted and lank.
She turned appealingly towards Toby. ‘I look like a drab. A slatternly drab. How can I visit folks looking like this?’
‘You need feeding up. I’ll ask Mrs Trott to give you extra food. And you can borrow the hairbrush to tidy your hair.’
‘Tha’ll trust me to give it back?’
He smiled. ‘Oh, yes, Annie. I’ll trust you. Like my own sister!’
She slung a large bundle over her arm as they went out of the door and Toby took two more. ‘How am I to carry all of this,’ she asked. ‘Will we be walking far tomorrow?’
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he said, as he strode off down the hill. ‘You’re riding in style, in Henry Trott’s donkey-cart. There’s too much to carry, and it’s too far to walk. You’ll have to stay out overnight. But don’t worry. Robin will look after you.’
Robin had also brought his dog to look after her. ‘He’ll guard thee wi’ his life, if I tell him,’ he said, as he loaded the bundles into the cart the next day. Mrs Trott looked on, her nose wrinkled in distaste at the sight of the dog, who was, Annie thought, the oddest, ugliest-looking dog she had ever seen. He had a flat face and a pair of torn and battered ears, a short body and extremely long legs. His coat was brindled and he wagged a long white tail.
‘I’d never have him in ’cart wi’ me,’ Mrs Trott complained. ‘Stinking dog.’
‘Nay. He never does.’ Robin protested. ‘I chucked him in ’river ’specially last night, just so’s he’d be sweet smelling for ’journey. But he’d never travel in ’cart wi’ thee, Mrs Trott.’ He touched his forehead in esteem. ‘He’d be after running alongside. Aye, he knaws his place, does Charlie.’
Annie turned away to hide a smile. She was going to enjoy young Robin’s company, and Charlie wasn’t the only one who had had a bathe in preparation for the journey; for she had drawn a bucket of water from the well when she had got back to the Trotts’, and taking it round to the side of the house, she had stripped down to her shift and washed her hair, and rinsed her face and arms and body with the clean, cool water, and with a fustian sheet she had borrowed from Mrs Trott, she dried herself, then dressed and ran up and down the riverside path until she was warm and glowing and her hair had dried.
She’d sat by the fire in the evening and as she’d brushed her hair, teasing out the tangles, Mrs Trott had snatched the brush from her.
‘Where did tha get this? This isn’t thine.’
‘Toby’s lent it ’me, Mrs Trott. I never stole it. It was his ma’s.’
‘Aye. I know.’
Annie thought she had seen a softening of the old woman’s face and a tremble on her lips, but then the instant was gone and she’d said tersely. ‘Tha’ll never have hair like she did, no matter how often tha brushes it. Like gold it was, and soft as silk.’
But she’d told her to sit down and she’d do it for her, and brushed it gently enough, and cut out the tangles that wouldn’t be brushed out, until it was sleek and straight again; and Annie was disappointed that Toby wasn’t there to see them off this morning and see how fine she looked.
Robin cracked the whip, but the donkey put his head down and started to graze. He cracked it again and shouted, and still the animal wouldn’t budge.
Mrs Trott took a carrot from her apron pocket. ‘Here, give it this, it’s onny way to move him.’
Annie climbed out of the cart and took the carrot and tentatively held it out towards the donkey. It opened its mouth, showing large yellow teeth and brayed long and loud at her. She dropped the carrot in fright and ran back behind the cart.
‘Give it here.’ Robin got down from the cart and went to pick up the carrot, and the donkey was off, careering madly across the paddock, the bundles in the back of the cart bouncing, and falling out onto the grass.
When they eventually caught him and reloaded the cart, with Annie cracking the whip, and Robin leading the donkey and with the carrot held coaxingly just out of reach, the sun was almost up, and Robin was anxious that they should get to their first call before midday.
They drove up a wide lane into the town of Hessle and Annie looked curiously about her. The town was formed in a square with two principal roads, and at the intersection of the road stood the ancient parish church with long low cottages clustered around it. There was a bakery and a dairy and cheesemaker, two fine inns, and east of the town through the gated road lay the marshy common where the townspeople grazed their cows and pigs and poultry or grew strips of corn and barley.
‘This is a fine town, Robin,’ she remarked as they bowled along, the donkey trotting in a sparky rhythm.
‘Aye, it is.’ He raised his whip to a man at the other side of the road who was driving a pig towards the butcher’s in Cow Lane. ‘Bankers and merchants from Hull are coming out here to live, they’re building handsome houses big enough for servants as well as themselves. They’ve got to hear about ’pretty meadows and sylvan glades and have come to join us. This is me home town, me ma and da were both raised here, but they’re both dead and buried now.’
‘So who does tha live with, or does tha fend for thissen?’
‘Me sister. She gives me a bed, and feeds me. But she’d dearly like me out of ’house. She’s enough wi five bairns of her own. Though I pay her, when I can.’
They reached the Beverley turnpike and had turned to cross it by the wicket gate so that they didn’t have to pay the toll, when Robin gave a shout. ‘There he is. I knew he’d come to see us off.’
Annie looked expectantly along the road, but all she saw was a man on a horse. A gentleman by the look of him, for it was a fine horse and the man was wearing a tricorn hat held by a silver pin. But he was also wearing an earring.
She felt shy as Toby cantered over to speak to them. He touched his hat with his whip. He didn’t look like the merry young gentleman from yesterday, or the roguish rascal she had first seen on the quayside. But he bent over and smiled at her, the smile reaching his eyes.
‘What is it, Mrs Hope? Not feeling nervous are you? I told you that Robin would look after you.’
Dumbly she shook her head. He looked very handsome in his velvet coat and grey breeches as he sat astride the chestnut stallion, and she wondered where he was going.
‘I shall be back in three days,’ he said. ‘Perhaps even before you. Take care on the road, Robin.’ He nodded to Annie and flicked his whip on the horse’s flank and started to canter away. Then he reined in and wheeled around.
‘I almost forgot. I have a present for you, Mrs Hope.’
‘For me?’ What can he be giving to me? Annie was astonished. Will he want summat in return?
He took a scarf from around his neck and leaning over fastened it around hers. It was soft and silky, and pale blue.
‘I meant to give it to you yesterday. I thought it would match your eyes.’ He grinned, and she saw again the same Toby as before.
She fingered the scarf. ‘Is it mine to keep?’
‘Yes, of course. I said, it’s a present.’
‘He’s taken a shine to thee all right, Annie.’ Robin nodded sagely as they trotted away. ‘He’s very generous to his friends, is Master Toby. That’s real silk, that is. If ever tha gets to ’bottom o’ barrel, tha’ll knaw tha can buy several crusts wi’ that.’
‘I’ll never sell it, Robin, never.’ She fingered the silky texture and felt the warmth of friendship. ‘Not if I’m at death’s door.’
‘He’ll be off to see his fayther, I expect.’ Robin got down from the cart to lead the donkey through a narrow, rising, woodland path. ‘He goes to see him every now and again, to try and heal ’breach between ’em. But ’old man’s stubborn as this donkey, so I hear.’
‘Where does he live, his fayther?’
Robin pointed upwards to beyond the wooded dell. ‘Big house, next village but three.’ He started to pant as the path became steeper. ‘This first bit allus gets me, ’til I gets me second wind.’
Annie jumped down to join him. If Robin was panting, then the donkey must be labouring with her in the cart. But she too was soon wheezing as the unaccustomed hill climbing tore at her calf muscles and made her heart race.