A Place to Call Home

by Evie Grace

  ‘I took what I felt I was owed. They owe us, Rose.’

  At first she was annoyed, but then she laughed because he looked both comical and handsome. ‘You make a very fine gentleman.’

  ‘I know, and if Pa had been here, I would have gone on to be one.’

  She glanced behind him. ‘We must keep moving.’ She wasn’t sure how long the journey would take – it depended on the state of the roads and how they coped with the darkness – but she was more concerned about how the Kingsleys would react when they found them gone.

  ‘I wonder when we will catch up with Arthur. He can take a turn with the barrer,’ Donald said when they had been on the move for an hour or so and were clear of Canterbury and Harbledown.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rose said, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. ‘I have a confession to make.’

  ‘He isn’t coming with us?’ Donald stopped the barrow again. ‘I had an inkling.’

  ‘I wanted him to say goodbye to you, but he … well, he was upset.’

  ‘Where’s he gone then?’ Minnie said.

  ‘He has eloped with Tabby.’

  ‘He’s marrying Miss Miskin after all?’ Donald asked. ‘That’s a turn-up for the books.’

  Rose nodded. ‘He’s planning to stay with Bert and find work in London. He’ll come and find us as soon as he can.’

  ‘I wonder what Mr Miskin will think about that.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what he thinks. What about us? How will we manage without Arthur?’ Minnie began to cry.

  ‘We’re going to stay with our grandmother, if she’ll have us, just until we’re back on our feet.’

  ‘Who is this woman?’ Donald asked. ‘What makes you think she’ll welcome us with open arms?’

  ‘Mrs Carter is Ma’s mother, which makes us her grandchildren by blood.’

  ‘Why should she help us, though? She’s never taken any interest in us before,’ Donald said.

  ‘We have to try – she’s our only hope,’ Rose explained.

  ‘What about Aunt Marjorie?’

  ‘You know her situation, and she has written to tell me she is unwell. We can’t possibly prevail on her to look after us.’

  ‘I see. I hope she recovers soon,’ Donald said.

  ‘A body can’t recover from old age,’ Rose said wistfully.

  ‘That’s a terrible shame,’ Donald said. ‘Oh, I’m starving. Can’t we stop for a while?’

  Rose agreed and they walked a little way into an orchard where they sat down on a fallen tree and shared the bread, cheese and apples they’d brought with them, but Rose could hardly eat for wondering what they would do if Mrs Carter refused to listen to them, let alone help them.

  Having rested, they set off again at dawn, making their way through Dunkirk, a wooded area where the scent of smoke hung in the air. The barrow stopped, its wheel lodged in a rut.

  ‘Put your back into it, Donald,’ Rose said.

  ‘I am.’ His face turned red with effort.

  ‘Push harder then. What are you? Man or mouse?’ Rose gave it an extra shove from behind, sending it bouncing out of the rut and rattling off down the slope with Donald digging his heels in, trying to slow it down.

  ‘You don’t know your own strength,’ Donald laughed. ‘I’m sorry, Minnie.’

  ‘Do it again,’ she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

  ‘Didn’t it hurt your leg?’ Rose asked.

  ‘It made me forget about it.’ She smiled.

  Rose and Donald pushed the barrow together up the next rise. At the top, they stepped aside and gave it a push, letting it speed unhindered down the next slope.

  ‘Where has the road gone?’ Donald asked when they were laughing with Minnie at the bottom.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Rose started to panic when she couldn’t find her bearings. Somehow, in their joy at having freed themselves from their aunt’s bullying, they’d managed to get lost in the woods where one tree looked very much like another.

  ‘I wish Arthur was here,’ Minnie kept saying as they wandered round in circles looking for the road. ‘He’d know which way to go.’

  ‘Oh, stop whining,’ Rose exclaimed. ‘I’m doing my best.’

  ‘As you always do,’ Donald said. ‘Minnie, you should be grateful for what Rose has done for us.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Minnie said and Rose fell silent, touched by her brother’s support.

  The sun was high in the sky and the shadows short when they finally found their way and continued through the deep green lanes of Kent.

  ‘There’s a church,’ Minnie said, pointing across the fields towards a stone tower surrounded by buildings and trees.

  ‘That must be Overshill,’ Rose observed, shading her eyes.

  ‘It isn’t far,’ Donald said, but it took them all afternoon to get there because one of the wheels fell off the barrow, and it wasn’t until a farmer came along in a cart pulled by a big black horse with feathery feet that they had any hope of continuing on their way.

  ‘You look as if you’re in a bit of a bind,’ he said, pulling up alongside them.

  ‘Our wheel has broke,’ Minnie said.

  ‘Ah, allow me to have a look at it. The name’s Mr Butt.’ He dropped the reins and jumped down.

  ‘We’re glad to make your acquaintance,’ Rose said, uncertain of him as he inspected the barrow. He was certainly past a chicken in age, and seemed friendly enough with his ruddy complexion and fine white whiskers.

  ‘It isn’t broken as such. The fixing that holds the wheel to the axle is missing.’ He rubbed at his chin, deep in thought. ‘I think it might be your lucky day – I have some wire somewhere.’ He rummaged about in the cart while the horse waited patiently with its head down. Eventually, he and Donald managed to reattach the wheel and secure it to the barrow.

  ‘How can we pay you back?’ Rose said, thanking him.

  ‘Oh, I won’t charge you.’ The man smiled as he clambered back on to the cart and picked up the reins. ‘We help each other out around here. Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman.’

  The horse and cart disappeared into the distance and the three siblings carried on. When they reached the church, they found a young man, a lad who couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Rose, cutting the grass in the graveyard.

  ‘Hello. You aren’t from around here,’ he said, stopping and walking across to speak to them.

  ‘We’re looking for a Mrs Carter who lives on a farm in Overshill,’ Rose said.

  ‘You can try Wanstall Farm – you’ll find a Mrs Carter there. There’s a short cut that way.’ He pointed towards a path where the flint wall that bordered the churchyard came to an end. ‘Follow it past the pond then turn left on to the main street. Got that?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then you keep going past the Woodsman’s Arms and the oast, until you reach the mill when you follow the left fork at the crossroads. You’ll pass Toad’s Bottom, and then you’ll find the farm to your right. What is it you want with the Carters?’

  ‘It’s a private matter, but thank you for the directions.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure. Good day to you.’ He touched his forelock of dark hair, keeping his eyes on her. ‘The name is Sam, by the way. Sam White.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice to meet you.’ He was handsome and had a pleasant manner, she thought, but she soon forgot about him, her mind occupied with more pressing details.

  Following the lad’s instructions, they reached the main street where they passed a pair of black and white timber-framed buildings – like Willow Place, but smaller – and a village shop attached to a cottage called the Old Forge, in front of which stood a massive chestnut tree. Rose took note of where the butcher’s was as they passed a terrace of brick cottages with gardens filled with hollyhocks and roses, before continuing up the hill past the oast with its white-painted cowl, and the mill and adjoining bakehouse.

  They took the left fork at the crossroads, taking the barrow along a bumpy track u
ntil they came to an unkempt and unloved hovel partly hidden by overgrown bushes and trees.

  ‘What a wreck,’ Donald observed.

  ‘Is that the farm?’ Minnie asked.

  ‘Of course not. At least, I don’t think so …’ Donald walked on, towing the barrow until they reached a brick and tile house a little further on. ‘This is it.’

  Realising the truth in the saying about it being better to travel hopefully than to arrive, Rose hesitated before she forced the gate open and stepped on to a shingle path that ran across a lawn to a green door with a wrought-iron handle. She knocked but there was no reply.

  ‘There is nobody here,’ Donald said in a low voice.

  ‘There has to be. Let’s try this way.’ She returned down the path and continued along the track to a wooden five-bar gate set in a gap in the wall. A sign written in gold lettering on a black background proclaimed: Mr S. Carter, Esq., WCF blacksmith and farrier. For all horse doctoring needs: physics and liniments. Quality horses available for sale, broken to ride and drive.

  Looking over the gate into the yard, she noticed a henhouse and woodpile, a gate that appeared to lead out into the fields, and a long timber barn with a horse tied up outside. There was also a granary and stables, and she saw that the house backed on to one side of the yard, with a water pump outside.

  Donald began to push the gate open, at which a flock of seven white geese came running at them, holding their wings out and honking furiously. He slammed the gate shut again, and the geese stalked about behind it, as though lying in wait for them. ‘What now?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ Rose noticed a figure appear from a doorway on the far side of the yard. As she grew closer, throwing corn from the pocket of her apron to the hens squabbling at her feet, Rose could see that she was a tall, quite elderly woman – probably in her sixties. Her long wavy hair, dark brown and spun through with silver, was tied back beneath her cap. Her features seemed very familiar and at first Rose wasn’t sure why, until she realised that she reminded her of Ma.

  The woman was joined by an old man with a bowed back, who stepped out from the timber barn and walked with her to the gate, shooing the geese out of their way.

  ‘Who are you?’ he said rather grumpily. ‘If you aren’t looking to buy a horse, or have one shod, then you’d best be on your way.’

  ‘My name is Rose. This is my brother Donald and my sister Minnie.’ She moved the barrow right up to the gate so they could see how pale and ill Minnie was. ‘We have walked all the way from Canterbury.’

  ‘And why have you come here?’ the man said, frowning.

  ‘Because we are related by blood to Mrs Carter here. You are Mrs Carter?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ the woman said, a sense of wonderment spreading across her face. ‘How is this possible after all these years?’

  ‘The girl’s giving you a sob story. They’re nothing but beggars, hoping to extort money out of you by appealing to your kind nature. Move on, you ragamuffins. You’ll find lodgings in the village.’

  ‘Oh Stephen, they are very young.’

  ‘Old enough and ugly enough to look after themselves. How old are you?’ he said, addressing Rose.

  ‘Seventeen, sir.’

  ‘There you go then.’

  ‘We have no money,’ Rose said, seeing her hopes of help slipping away as Donald suddenly slumped to the ground. On his way down, he caught her eye and winked. She gasped at his cheeky ploy and knelt beside him, patting his face as though to revive him. He uttered a low moan.

  ‘Don’t try to move,’ she told him. ‘You’ve fainted. Oh dear Lord, give us the strength to carry on to find food and shelter by nightfall. Amen.’

  ‘Amen,’ Minnie said helpfully from the barrow.

  ‘We must take pity on them, whoever they are,’ Mrs Carter said. ‘We can’t let them stay out after dark – they’ll end up sleeping rough in the woods.’

  ‘Don’t let your heart rule your head. The last time you saw your daughter was years ago – twenty at least – and you know how I felt about that. I indulged you then, knowing how much it meant to you and didn’t stand in your way. But this time … Well, we are old.’

  ‘We are only as old as our tongues and a little older than our teeth.’ Mrs Carter smiled. ‘I remember a time when I had nothing and was desperate. We should at least listen to what Rose has to say.’

  Donald slowly sat himself up.

  ‘I have proof of my identity. Let me show you.’ Rose fumbled for the half a sixpence at her neck, unfastened the clasp and handed it to her grandmother.

  ‘It is some kind of miracle. It is the very same token that I gave Agnes when she was about to turn nineteen,’ she exclaimed, handing it to her husband whose eyes widened like saucers.

  ‘That is the silver chain I made for you, my love. It has the stamp I put on the catch, and the bent link that I made by mistake. It is no trick.’ He turned to Rose angrily. ‘How did you get hold of it?’

  ‘My ma was called Agnes,’ she said.

  ‘Agnes Berry-Clay?’ Mrs Carter asked incredulously.

  ‘No, Linnet and then Cheevers, but she was Berry-Clay afore that. She looked much like you.’ Rose faltered, feeling the tears gather and spill over. She wiped them away and cleared her throat before going on, ‘You know that our mother has passed away. Our aunt wrote to you.’

  ‘And I sent a reply, expressing my condolences. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the funeral – it was too late … Oh dear, this is such a pickle.’

  ‘We are orphans and that is the reason why we have come. Minnie is badly injured and cannot work, so there is only me and Donald here. We have lost our home and are deep in the mire.’

  ‘You are my granddaughter?’ Mrs Carter said, as though she was still catching up. ‘And these two?’

  ‘My half-brother and half-sister – also your grandchildren.’

  ‘Well I never. Well I never did. In all my years … Mr Carter, look at the state they’re in, all skin and bone. I can’t have it on my conscience to let them go, and I’d like to get to know my long-lost daughter’s children.’ She brushed a tear from her eye. ‘I never thought I’d get to meet them and here they are on my doorstep. It is fate that has brought them here. Oh, I haven’t been this happy and sad all at once before. My poor Agnes. Did I do right by her, or not?’

  ‘Catherine, don’t upset yourself over it now – you did what you thought was right at the time,’ Mr Carter said. ‘You lot had better come indoors,’ he added grudgingly. ‘Leave the barrow over there.’ He pointed towards the henhouse. Rose helped Minnie out and handed her the stick, but her sister couldn’t support her weight.

  ‘That’s no good, is it?’ Mr Carter observed. ‘I suppose you’ll have to lean on me to help you indoors.’

  Rose watched them struggle across the yard and into the house, passing through a corridor into a homely kitchen with a huge table in the middle.

  ‘What happened to your leg?’ Mr Carter asked.

  ‘It got broke, sir,’ Minnie said, her lip bleeding from where she had bitten it in an attempt to stifle a cry of pain.

  ‘With some force, I think. You sit down on the chair.’ He took Minnie’s stick and leaned it against the wall in the corner. He placed a second chair in front of her and lifted her leg very carefully so it rested straight. ‘You didn’t call on a surgeon or a bonesetter? Those bones won’t mend if they aren’t put straight.’

  ‘We were under the care of our aunt – Pa’s sister – and her husband who said there was no money to pay for medical treatment. Minnie’s had sleeping drops, and I’ve tried my best with bandages and a splint, but she took them off because she said they were too tight,’ Rose said, sensing that Mr Carter expected her to have done more.

  ‘The upper part of the bone should have been pulled away from the lower with considerable force until the leg was the same length as the other one. I fear it is too late to bring it back to how it was, but I’ll have a go at improving matters. We’ll a
rrange to get it done in the morning – these things shouldn’t be left.’ He looked at her disapprovingly.

  Donald was soon completely revived with cheese, fruit cake and tea, and the Carters returned to discussing what they should do with the three of them.

  ‘They can stay tonight, one night only,’ Rose heard Mr Carter say gruffly. ‘Now, I’m going to turn in. We have an early start in the morning, but I will take some time out to look at the girl’s leg. She can’t carry on like that. They shoot horses for less.’

  Rose frowned.

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ Mrs Carter said with a smile. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. Rose, Minnie, Donald, I’ll show you to your room. It used to belong to my stepdaughter, Jessie. She’s grown up and has children of her own now.’ A shadow crossed her face – a sad memory perhaps, Rose thought. ‘She and your ma were about the same age. Anyway, fetch your bags and get your heads down for the night.’

  Somehow they managed to carry Minnie upstairs and Rose made sure she was comfortable while Donald collected their luggage from the barrow. Leaving their clothes on, they lay down on the bed, topped and tailed like a litter of pups. Rose could see the whites of Donald’s eyes as they listened to the sound of voices through the door which had swung ajar in a draught.

  Mr and Mrs Carter were in the hall, arguing. She could guess what it was about.

  ‘They can go to the Union tomorrow – they will be admitted there.’

  ‘Oh no, over my dead body. I would move Heaven and earth to prevent that.’ There was a pause. ‘How can you even suggest that, knowing what I went through when I was carrying Agnes?’

  ‘The younger girl is a cripple. Even if I can set her broken bones, there’s no guarantee they’ll heal straight, or at all for that matter. She is a sickly-looking creature and no use to man or beast.’

  ‘You have a very short memory, Mr Carter. My brother, God rest his soul, broke his head when he had his accident. He was a changed man, and but half of one, but it didn’t stop me loving him. The eldest, Rose, has her hands tied when it comes to finding work because she’s caring for her sister. I know what that’s like.’

  ‘My point exactly, my love. We have our own family, our own children and grandchildren—’