by Evie Grace
For the first time in a while, she let herself dare to believe that they would be all right.
‘I feel as if I might melt, Pig,’ she said cheerfully. He was the second pig they’d had and Mrs Carter had let them rear him at home this time. He was in the sty that she and Donald had built, rooting about in the mud-pit he’d made. They hadn’t given him a proper name because she felt that would make it much harder when it came to the day when he would be turned into pork chops and sausages. She filled his trough with water then returned indoors, shooing the hens away from the back door where they cawed and clucked in the expectation of a handful of corn from her apron pocket.
‘Go away, ladies,’ she said, smiling. ‘The last time you came indoors, you made a terrible mess, and I’m about to clean the floor.’
Wanting the cottage to look perfect for Aunt Marjorie’s visit, she swept the dust into the pan and tipped it out before picking up the mop from the outside privy where she’d left it. She made to knock down the spider that was dangling from the ceiling, then changed her mind. Live and let live, she thought. She walked back indoors and mopped the floor until a loud knocking interrupted her. Looking up, she noticed the figure of a young man silhouetted against the doorway where she’d propped the door open.
‘Arthur?’ she murmured, but her mind was playing tricks on her. The realisation that it was a stranger standing there, not her brother, stilled the rapid beating of her heart. She glanced down to see if he was carrying any bags – he had none, which meant he wasn’t one of the higglers who sometimes stopped by trying to sell her items she didn’t need. Who was he? And what did she look like? Her hair was adrift and her cheeks hot from her exertions. Her apron was grubby and her feet were bare.
‘Good afternoon, sir.’ She leaned the mop against the table and stepped towards him. ‘I think you’ve taken a wrong turn.’
‘Good day to you, miss.’ He touched the peak of his cap, then, as if suddenly brought to his senses, doffed it and bowed his head. ‘I swear the heat has made me forget my manners,’ he said with a smile before a flicker of recognition crossed his eyes. ‘Do I know you from somewhere? Have we met?’
‘We have,’ she said, remembering how they had bumped into him when he was riding his horse and they were out on their walk. She blushed, recalling how they had nearly been caught poaching trout that day from the Churt estate.
‘My horse wasn’t too keen on your barrow,’ he said, grinning. ‘He almost unseated me.’
He seemed rough and ready, well-dressed yet not a gentleman.
‘You aren’t from around here, are you?’ she said tentatively.
‘Ah no. I wasn’t before, but I suppose you could say that I am now. I’m sorry, you must be wondering why I’m here.’
‘To be truthful, yes. Not many people find their way down here unless they’re calling at the farm.’ She was embarrassed: although she was proud of what she had achieved, she still couldn’t repair the roof, or fix the porch.
‘Actually, I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to let me have some water for my dog. It’s a hot day and I’ve walked further than I expected. There’s no water in the stream – it’s all dried up.’ He mopped the sheen of perspiration from his brow.
‘Oh?’ She couldn’t see a dog.
‘He’s waiting at the gate,’ he said.
She looked out to see a liver and white spaniel slavering and panting.
‘He’ll have heatstroke,’ she said. ‘Bring him into the shade. Quickly. I’ll fetch water.’
‘Thank you. You are most kind.’
It was what anyone would do. She hated to see an animal suffer, she thought, pouring fresh cold water into a pie dish as he whistled for his dog.
‘I’m much obliged,’ he said, offering it to the dog.
‘Would you like a drink too?’ she asked. ‘The water is clean – it comes straight from the well.’
‘That would be most acceptable, thank you.’
She offered him a glass and watched him drink it straight down before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘What can I give you in return? A half-crown for your trouble?’
He must have been touched by the sun. Since when had water come with a price?
‘It isn’t necessary, sir. I did it out of kindness, not from expectation of a reward.’
‘Let’s not have any of this “Sir” nonsense.’ He smiled. ‘My name is Freddie.’
She frowned, unsure of his desire for familiarity.
‘Mr …?’ she said.
‘Mr Freddie Wild. And you are?’ His eyes latched on to the silver chain around her neck, making her feel uneasy. Her fingers automatically rose to cover the half a sixpence.
‘Miss Rose Cheevers,’ she said, deciding to change the subject to relieve the tension that had arisen between her and the stranger.
‘If your dog is ever sick, Mr Carter at the farm does some horse doctoring. He looks after other animals as well.’
‘I’ve just had the – I can’t call it a pleasure, of meeting with Mr Stephen Carter for a second time. On the first occasion, my horse cast a shoe and I led him to Wanstall Farm to have it replaced. This time, I came to introduce myself as a new neighbour and resident of Overshill, but he gave me short shrift.’
‘You have recently moved then?’ Rose surmised.
‘Not yet. I’ve signed the deeds for Churt House.’
‘You’ve bought it?’
‘Yes, after many months of negotiation. I’ll be moving in very soon. When you met me out riding last summer, I was exploring the area so I could be certain it’s where I wanted to settle down.’ He paused then went on, ‘Are you here alone?’
‘That’s a most impertinent question,’ she said. ‘Suffice to say, I live with my brother and sister.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped the mark with what is only natural curiosity on my part,’ he said. ‘I find the English obsession with social niceties somewhat frustrating. Forgive me – I’m used to speaking bluntly, not beating around the bush.’
‘Oh?’ Rose wasn’t sure how to respond as he fixed her gaze with his lively blue-green eyes.
‘For example, I could be polite and say what a wonderfully quaint place this is, but that would be untruthful and therefore insincere because it seems to be falling down around your ears. Do you see what I mean?’ He gazed at her earnestly and she nodded, even though she wasn’t sure if she did or not.
‘Were you expecting someone? It seemed from your reaction …’
‘I thought at first that you might be my brother, Arthur. He’s living in London, as far as I know.’
‘You have an older brother?’ he enquired.
‘I think of him as my brother – I was brought up with him, although he is not related to me by blood.’ She wondered if she had said too much. She wasn’t sure if it was wise to reveal one’s business to a complete stranger.
‘I’d best be on my way. Thank you again. Good afternoon, Miss Cheevers. I hope that we’ll become better acquainted in future.’ He turned and whistled for his dog, who dragged himself up and ambled along at his heels as he made his way back down the garden path.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. His presence had made her restless.
‘Who was that?’ Minnie said, returning from the farm where she’d spent the morning helping Alice with the laundry. Although her leg had mended and the muscles had strengthened, she still walked in a way that reminded Rose of the puppets’ jerky movements in the booth at the seaside Punch and Judy show. Her aunt had ruined her sister’s life – Minnie could work, but who would choose to marry a cripple?
‘Oh, just a gentleman asking for water for his dog.’
‘How strange.’
‘Not really. The stream has dried up and he was some way from home.’
‘Where’s home?’
‘He says he’s bought Churt House. Oh Minnie, no more questions. I’m only interested in getting everything ready for our aunt’s visit.’
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br /> ‘Anyone would think the Queen was gracing us with her presence.’ Minnie smiled.
‘I thought we’d give up our bed for her – she isn’t used to sharing.’
‘That’s a good idea. You know, I can’t wait to see her. It’s been such a long time.’
They continued with the preparations until Donald arrived back, hot and perspiring. He went straight out the back of the cottage, stripped off his shirt and poured a bucket of water over his head.
‘That’s better,’ he said as Rose handed him a cloth to dry himself. ‘What’s for supper?’
‘Chicken stew with carrots and onions.’
He wrinkled his nose. She knew what he meant – onions were cheap and plentiful, but that didn’t improve their flavour.
‘A stranger called on Rose today.’ Minnie joined them, her apron splashed with stock where she’d been stirring the pot.
‘He came to ask for water for his dog,’ Rose said. ‘He’s moving into Churt House.’
‘I saw him at the farm, the same gentleman whom we met while we were out walking,’ Donald said. ‘He seemed all right, but something he said ruffled Mr Carter’s feathers. I don’t know what it was, but he told him not to set foot on his land again.’
‘How odd. He seemed very pleasant to me.’
‘I wonder where he’s come from and how he can afford a place like that,’ Donald said. ‘He must be rolling in it.’
‘I’m sure we’ll soon find out – you can’t keep anything secret in Overshill,’ Rose said lightly. ‘Which leads me on to something I heard the other day …’
‘What was that?’ Donald folded his arms, so she knew there was something in what Mrs Greenleaf had said when she’d met her at the counter in the village shop.
‘There’s talk of a gang of youths running amok in the woods and fields with dogs. I don’t want to find out you’re caught up in it. The squire has said his men have been told to shoot poachers on sight. Donald, I don’t want you to get hurt … or worse.’
‘Oh, nothing will happen. You do exaggerate.’
‘You will be careful to keep out of trouble?’
‘Of course I will. Who do you think I am?’ he said rather crossly.
‘I’m worried that you will get into a scrape because of your friendships with the other lads.’ Having heard her grandmother’s story of Sir William Courtenay and Bossenden, she knew all too well how a person’s character could be ruined by their association with the wrong ’uns.
‘I’m not stupid. We don’t get up to much, and if we did, we wouldn’t get caught.’ There was a smirk on his face and she wished she had Ma’s air of authority.
‘The rabbits you brought back the other day?’ she queried.
‘The ones you were more than happy to take off me for the pot? I told you, I just happened upon them.’
‘The truth, Donald! I want to hear it from you. I won’t tell anyone.’
‘Why the interrogation? You keep saying you don’t want to end up looking like an onion. Tell me, where would we be without a few little extras? You’ve done it yourself, pocketed an apple or two now and again.’
‘I know.’ She would always feel guilty about that.
‘I’m always hungry and I’m fed up with living hand to mouth while others have more than enough to live on. Look at the squire and Mr Carter.’
‘Mr Carter earned his fortune by hard work,’ Rose said. ‘Don’t you dare speak badly of him when he and Grandma have gone out of their way to look after us.’
Donald took a small leather pouch from his pocket.
‘What is that?’ Rose said.
‘Baccy,’ he answered, cutting a piece from the block and popping it into the bowl of a cutty pipe.
‘You’ve taken up smoking? Donald, you are fourteen years old.’
‘So?’
‘Who gave it to you? Who encouraged you in this?’
‘Sam got it for me. Everyone smokes. There’s no harm in it.’
‘You know how Ma disapproved. She said you might as well throw your money on the fire and burn it. It’s an ungentlemanly and dirty habit. What will Mr Carter say?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t do it at work. I’m not that stupid.’ He lit the tobacco, put his lips around the end of the pipe and drew in his cheeks.
‘Ugh, that stuff stinks. Take it outside.’ When he exhaled a series of smoke rings, she added, ‘Donald, I insist.’
‘Arthur should have let me go with him to London. I’d have done better there,’ he grumbled as he swaggered outside.
Rose noticed that he didn’t say that he would have been able to send money back to help his sisters. He was selfish, she thought, and although she loved him, she didn’t always like him very much.
A couple of days later, Mr Carter lent Donald a pony and trap from the farm to fetch Aunt Marjorie from where the coach dropped her off on the turnpike road. It seemed to Rose that she had walked in from another life, bringing along memories of Ma and Pa and Willow Place, but it was the happiest of reunions.
‘We began to wonder if we would ever see you again,’ Rose said, greeting her. ‘Come in.’
‘Can I smell brawn?’ Aunt Marjorie’s nose twitched as she went inside the cottage.
‘The butcher sold us a pig’s head and Grandma lent us a pan big enough to cook it in.’
‘How marvellous. You all look very well, my dears, but Minnie, you still have a limp.’
‘I’m grateful to be able to walk,’ Minnie said. ‘Mr Carter mended my bones.’
‘I’m very sorry that you had to suffer at your aunt’s hands. She is a wicked woman. Did you report her actions to the police?’
Rose shook her head. ‘What good do you think that would have done? Who would they have believed?’
‘It’s their job to look into crimes such as these.’
‘Well, it’s too late now.’
‘I wish you had come to me. Why didn’t you?’
‘We couldn’t possibly impose on you. You are …’ Rose paused, noticing the hurt in her aunt’s expression.
‘I am old. That’s what you’re saying?’
‘No, not exactly.’
‘Well, I am. I have lost three teeth since I last saw you – from the ones at the back, fortunately – and I have gained more wrinkles, but it doesn’t mean I’m ready to be put out to grass.’
‘I’m sorry. Aunt Marjorie, you have enough to cope with without worrying about us. All is well. We did the right thing in coming here. We don’t have much, but we have hens and a pig, and a place to grow our own vegetables and fruit. Donald has work on the farm, while Minnie and I do what we can. I wonder if you’d like to call on our grandmother while you’re in Overshill?’
‘Has she expressed an interest in meeting me?’
‘No, she hasn’t. I just thought—’
‘I won’t then,’ Aunt Marjorie cut in. ‘It would be wrong to disturb her without an invitation. What about Arthur? Have you heard from him?’
Rose shook her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid not. I hope he and Tabby are well and happy.’
‘He has not sent you money?’
‘Not yet,’ she said.
‘I trust that he will one day.’ Aunt Marjorie looked older and frailer than before, and Rose wondered how she found the energy to run around after small children. ‘Shall we eat? I’ve had a long journey on an empty stomach.’
As always, she declared the brawn to be the best she’d ever tasted.
‘Are there any handsome young men in the village, Rose?’
She shook her head.
‘Sam White still has a fancy for you,’ Donald said, grinning. ‘He isn’t walking out with anybody now. I reckon he’ll ask you again one day.’
‘Tell him not to bother because I would turn him down for a second time,’ Rose said.
‘That’s right, my dear. Don’t marry unless it’s for love or at least two thousand a year.’ Aunt Marjorie turned to Donald. ‘You’ll have no trouble finding love. You’ve grown
into a fine young man, looking after your sisters like this.’
If only she knew, Rose thought, as Donald gave her a wink.
The three of them were a family now, keeping their own secrets between them.
Chapter Eighteen
Don’t Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth
One afternoon not long after Aunt Marjorie’s visit, Rose was on her way to deliver a saucepan that Matthew Carter had repaired for Mrs Greenleaf, who called herself the wise woman of the village, dispensing advice, herbal remedies, and some said casting spells for a fee. One of the farm boys could have gone in her stead, but Rose had jumped at the chance to earn another penny or two, running errands for the Carters.
She hurried along towards the row of cottages that stood opposite the village shop and the chestnut tree, looking for number two.
‘Miss Cheevers,’ she heard someone call.
‘Mr Wild,’ she said, a little embarrassed at the way he hastened across the road to her, drawing the attention of the passers-by, including one of the regulars at the Woodsman’s Arms and Mrs White, Sam’s mother.
‘How lovely to see you again,’ he said, his eyes twinkling with humour as his gaze settled on the saucepan in her hand. ‘Do you make a habit of carrying cooking implements around the village?’
‘Oh no. I’m running an errand for the Carters. Anything for a little extra money.’ She shut her mouth quickly, wishing she hadn’t said that, and hoping that he hadn’t noticed. ‘My brother and I work at Wanstall Farm in return for the cottage at Toad’s Bottom and just enough to make ends meet.’ She changed the subject, sure that Mr Wild could have no idea what it was like to struggle from day to day to put food on the table. ‘How are you finding Overshill? Have you moved into Churt House yet?’
‘I took possession of the keys this morning, intending to stay there for the first time tonight. The rooms smell musty with damp and it’s so empty that your footsteps echo around the place.’ He sighed. ‘It’s going to take a long time to make it feel like home. I’d better let you go on your way, much as I enjoy talking to you. Good afternoon.’