A Place to Call Home

by Evie Grace

  They stopped at the crossroads. ‘Will I see you before you leave?’

  ‘I’m leaving for Southampton in the morning, then taking the steamship to New York.’ He hesitated, gazing into her eyes. ‘You will be all right until I come back? You have money to pay your rent on the cottage? I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.’ He handed her the basket. ‘Goodbye, Miss Cheevers.’

  ‘I wish you a safe journey and successful trip,’ she said. ‘Good day, Mr Wild.’

  Deeply regretting that she couldn’t start at Churt House straight away, she turned and walked back to the cottage, watching the swallows darting through the sky, catching insects to feed their chicks. Even though she hardly knew Freddie, she was going to miss him, as well as the chance of a steady income. Luckily, they had the rest of Arthur’s money to tide them over for a while, although she bitterly regretted going on such a spend-up at the beginning.

  1879

  Chapter Nineteen

  Let the Punishment Fit the Crime

  ‘I’m home. Is all well?’ Rose called as she hung her summer bonnet on the hook in the wall at the bottom of the stairs. She’d just returned from doing some chores for their grandmother at the farmhouse. It was the middle of May and she’d turned nineteen, almost without noticing. She was still waiting for Mr Wild to return from his travels and each time she walked past the end of the drive leading to Churt House, she had a spring in her step, thinking ahead to when she would be housekeeper.

  Minnie appeared, her figure silhouetted against the doorway leading to the back garden.

  ‘I hope you’ve kept yourself busy,’ Rose said, walking towards her.

  ‘I’ve finished the mending that Mrs Greenleaf wanted. I don’t know why she doesn’t do it herself.’

  ‘It’s because she’s as blind as a bat – according to Donald, anyway. It is one of those afflictions which comes with advancing age. Did you collect the eggs and feed the hens?’

  Minnie looked down at her shoes. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Oh, go on. Go and do it now.’

  Minnie turned away and picked up the basket from the windowsill. Just as Rose sat down on the bench and began to untie her bootlaces, she was disturbed by a hammering at the door. She rushed to open it, finding one of the younger village boys on the doorstep. She didn’t know his name, but she’d seen him out scaring the birds from the fields and herding a lively goat and her kids through Overshill.

  ‘Miss Cheevers, come quickly!’ he cried.

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’ She pulled her shawl around her shoulders.

  ‘It’s Donald.’

  ‘Has he been hurt?’

  ‘No, miss. He’s bin caught thievin’.’

  Her heart plummeted. ‘Why? What? Where is he?’

  ‘Mr Carter’s got hold of ‘im,’ he said. ‘Have you got a penny for a poor messenger boy who’s put himself out to come and find you?’

  She felt in her pockets, but they were empty, so she tipped the contents of the jug on the mantel out on the table, finding a feather, a cherry stone and a coin which she handed to the boy.

  ‘Thank you, miss.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I’ll show you the way.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ She ran out to the back garden where her sister was scattering handfuls of corn for the hens.

  ‘I have to go out. I won’t be long.’

  ‘But you’ve only just come in. I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No, you wait here.’ She didn’t want to worry her yet – she would find out soon enough. ‘I haven’t time for questions. Make a start on the vegetables – there’s a cauliflower and some carrots.’

  Rose hurried into the village with the boy.

  ‘Can you tell me what happened?’ she said, trying to catch her breath.

  ‘Oh no,’ he said quickly. ‘I wa’n’t nowhere near the scene of the crime. My ma’s brought me up to be as honest as the day is long.’

  Rose was disturbed by what she felt was an accusation. She had tried to be a good sister and mother to Donald.

  They stopped where a crowd was assembled at the chestnut tree outside the village shop.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Rose.’ Mr Carter showed her through to where Donald was tied by the wrists to the ring in the tree. ‘You have found your brother in a bit of a pickle, I’m afraid.’

  ‘What’s he gone and done this time?’

  ‘I ha’n’t done nothin’.’ His face was white, but the set of his chin remained defiant.

  ‘You were caught red-handed,’ Mr Carter said. ‘Mrs Greenleaf here saw him at her window with a cherry pie half in his mouth and a meat one stuffed in his pocket.’

  ‘I spent all morning baking.’ The victim of the crime, an elderly woman who lived alone, was trembling and crying. ‘When I saw ’im at the window – well, he frightened the life out of me.’

  Rose frowned. Mrs Greenleaf obviously had sharper vision than Donald had previously claimed.

  ‘It isn’t right,’ someone else said. ‘How can we sleep soundly in our beds at night when there are scoundrels like him roaming the village? We warned you there’d be trouble, bringing strangers into our midst. I put the blame on you fair and square, Mr Carter.’

  ‘They are my wife’s family,’ he said somewhat snappily. ‘They needed a roof over their heads. What was I supposed to do? Send them on their way, a penniless young woman with a crippled sister and a numskull for a brother – for it turns out he is a numskull with no respect for anyone else’s property. I’ve been let down, and right now, I could cheerfully wring his neck for what he’s done.’

  Not if she got her hands on him first, Rose thought, her cheeks burning with shame.

  ‘What are you going to do with him?’ she said, afraid that the baying crowd were about to take Donald’s punishment into their own hands, and give him a good hiding.

  ‘The constable will be here soon,’ Mr Carter said. ‘Mrs Greenleaf, it is up to you to decide if you wish to press charges.’

  Rose could hardly breathe. This wasn’t a petty crime. It was larceny. If Mrs Greenleaf pursued her complaint, Donald could end up in prison. Her hands clenched with sudden anger. What had he thought he was doing? How many times had she told him?

  ‘In my ’umble opinion, he should be l’arned his lesson,’ Mrs Greenleaf said. ‘Send the boy for the vicar. He’ll be in the vestry.’

  Frowning, Rose wondered what she meant. Were they to pray for Donald’s soul? But then she recalled how Mr Carter had once told her that the Reverend Browning was also their local magistrate.

  ‘Please, not that,’ she said quickly. ‘Mrs Greenleaf, he’ll work for you for nothing, until he’s paid his dues, and I’ll bake pies to replace the ones you’ve lost.’

  ‘Oh no, that won’t do at all. I wouldn’t want the likes of him anywhere near me. He needs to be corrected so he can see he’s done wrong, then he can be reformed and come back into society.’

  ‘There are reasons why he did it,’ Rose said, desperate to keep her brother away from the courts.

  ‘There are no reasons, just excuses,’ Mr Carter said sharply. ‘I have to agree with you, Mrs Greenleaf. I’ve done all I can for that boy and his sisters.’ He turned and looked along the street in the direction of the Woodsman’s Arms where a young man was walking towards them, stumbling now and then as if he was in his cups. ‘Ah, here is the constable.’

  Mr Carter and Mrs Greenleaf stepped across the road to have a private discussion with him while Rose went to speak to her brother.

  ‘How could you?’ she said coldly. ‘How could you do this to yourself, to us? What would Ma and Pa have thought? And Aunt Marjorie? And Arthur?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry,’ he sobbed. ‘It were for nothing too. I saw them pies on the windowsill cooling down. And I could smell ’em as I moved closer, and my fingers twitched … I was drooling for ’em …’

  ‘Why didn’t you walk away when you knew they weren’t yours?’

  ‘Sometimes,
I have these pains in my belly so bad I can’t think straight.’

  She recognised that frantic, gnawing hunger, but she couldn’t excuse his response. She wasn’t sure how she felt. Sympathetic? Angry?

  ‘I was bringing the rest back for you and Minnie. Rose, what will happen to me?’ he asked, his voice wavering.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Donald had been selfish and taken advantage of an old woman, but she blamed herself – she had let him run too wild.

  Five minutes later, the vicar arrived, dressed in his dog collar and with his shirtsleeves rolled up.

  ‘You sent for me, Mr Carter?’ He surveyed the crowd. ‘It’s time you good people went home. I’m sure you have better things to do.’

  The crowd began to disperse, a handful of them retiring to the Woodsman’s Arms to discuss the day’s turn of events over a tankard of ale.

  ‘You can tell these men to let me go now, Vicar.’ To those who didn’t know him, Donald sounded confident, but behind all the bluster, he was scared. He’d thought he would get away with it.

  ‘You aren’t going anywhere, my lad,’ Mr Carter said.

  ‘He will be. He’s going to Canterbury Gaol where he’ll be placed on remand until he comes to trial.’ The constable glanced towards Mr Carter, his eyebrows raised in question. ‘That is the usual procedure unless—’

  ‘I won’t intervene this time,’ Mr Carter cut in.

  ‘Please, I beg you to have mercy,’ Rose said, as the sun burned the back of her neck. ‘He’s only a boy – young, foolish and hungry.’

  ‘He’s old enough to know better. I turned a blind eye before – for your sake, not his. I can’t do it again. He promised me, and he broke his word. Take him away. I can’t stand the sight of him.’

  ‘Ah, let’s not be too hasty,’ the vicar lisped. ‘How old are you, Donald?’

  ‘Fifteen, sir.’

  ‘Plenty old enough to be treated as a man,’ Mr Carter said.

  ‘He’s still a juvenile in the eyes of the law, though,’ the vicar pointed out.

  ‘What would you recommend then?’ Mr Carter asked.

  ‘I want him locked up,’ Mrs Greenleaf joined in.

  ‘He’ll be placed under house arrest – I’ll take him to the vicarage where he’ll remain overnight under lock and key. This appears to be a straightforward case with witnesses.’ The vicar turned to Mrs Greenleaf.

  ‘I saw him, the thieving rascal. And Mrs Cole, my neighbour, can vouch for him having the pie in his pocket. Search him, Constable.’

  ‘There is no need – I can see the crumbs,’ the constable said.

  ‘Then there is little question of his guilt.’ The vicar sighed and rolled his eyes towards the sky. ‘It is a sorrow to me when my sermons fall on deaf ears. Never mind. Constable, if you will take witness statements now before time erases important details from the complainant’s mind …’ He thought for a moment. ‘I can discharge the accused, but this is a serious charge. Theft is an indictable offence, and I could, of course, commit him to be tried at the Quarter Sessions, but he is not quite sixteen and minor larcenies of juveniles may be tried summarily, even though the offence itself remains indictable. So, I will send for the magistrate, Mr Lunt from Selling, and meet tomorrow at the vicarage to settle this sorry affair. Bring your statements and witnesses, Constable, and I will see you then.’

  Rose pressed her hand to her mouth as the constable untied Donald from the tree and led him off, still protesting his innocence while the crumbs of pastry fell from the front of his jerkin.

  ‘Please, let him come home with me. You know where we are – you can come and fetch him tomorrow.’ Rose tightened her shawl around her shoulders as Mrs Greenleaf turned her back, and Mr Carter picked up his stick and walked in the direction of Wanstall Farm without a word.

  How could she ever face their neighbours again? And Mr Wild? The shame was almost unbearable, making her scurry away like a rat on its belly.

  ‘Rose, what has happened?’ Minnie pulled herself up from the bench when Rose arrived back at the cottage, slipping off her shawl as the front door scraped closed behind her. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I wasn’t that long, was I?’ Rose said, wondering how to break the news to Donald’s twin.

  ‘It seemed like for ever. Well, what is it?’ She shrank back. ‘Your silence is scaring me.’

  ‘It’s Donald,’ Rose began.

  Minnie’s reaction was more muted than she’d expected. In fact, she tried to console Rose with a boiled egg and toast.

  ‘I’m sad to think of our brother spending the night under lock and key, but you mustn’t blame yourself. It was his fault.’

  ‘I must bear some of the responsibility,’ Rose sighed. ‘I haven’t been firm enough with him. It was easier to back down than confront him over his escapades.’

  The next morning at the appointed time, she left Minnie at home doing her sewing and went off to the vicarage, but on her way up the lane, Sam waylaid her.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said.

  ‘Hardly,’ she said glumly.

  ‘Morning, then. I can guess what brings you here.’

  ‘I’m sure everyone has heard about Donald by now. I’m on my way to offer him my support in any way that I can.’

  ‘Even though he’s as guilty as sin?’

  ‘I know what he’s accused of. I wasn’t there, so I can’t say exactly what happened.’

  ‘I hope it goes right,’ he said.

  Rose thanked him.

  ‘We should meet later,’ he blurted out. ‘Perhaps we could sit up at yours.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Oh Rose, let’s stop pretending. You’re a very fine woman, and in spite of what happened with the apple picking last year, I’m still fond of you and I reckon you’re sweet on me. I don’t see what’s to stop us having a kiss and a cuddle.’

  ‘Why are you talking of this now when I have other things on my mind?’ She gazed at him, at the look of rejection in his eyes. She had hurt his feelings, but then he hadn’t shown her much respect when he’d gone off with the Irish girl. ‘I’m sorry. Let’s leave this for today.’

  ‘Tomorrow then?’ he said, but it was more of a statement than a question.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she agreed reluctantly, but if they did end up spending the evening together, she would make sure Minnie or Donald sat up with them. Could they be right for each other? She wished she had someone to advise her, but in the meantime, she had her brother to worry about.

  ‘I’ll be thinking of you more than usual today,’ Sam said before touching the peak of his cap and walking on towards the farm, his jacket slung over his shoulder.

  Rose continued into the village.

  Reverend Browning had turned one of the rooms in the vicarage into a mock court with a table across the far end under the window, and chairs set out in two rows like the pews in the church. To one side of the table, there was a pair of wingback chairs in which the constable was sitting alongside the prisoner.

  Poor Donald. Rose’s heart went out to him. He looked more like a boy than a young man with his head bowed, and his eyes darting from person to person. When he caught sight of Rose, standing waiting with Mr and Mrs Carter, the vicar’s wife, Mrs Greenleaf and several other villagers, he gave her a brief smile.

  ‘Please be seated,’ the vicar lisped when he and the other magistrate had taken their places at the table. ‘Allow me to introduce you to Mr Lunt, the magistrate for Selling, whom I called to the bench today, in order to deliver a verdict and pass sentence if necessary on the prisoner who stands before us, according to the evidence from the witnesses and statements gathered.’

  The constable gave Donald a nudge, and he stood up, trembling.

  ‘The prisoner – Donald Cheevers of Toad’s Bottom Cottage, Overshill – stands charged of the following offence: that on the twelfth day of May 1879 in the county of Kent, he did feloniously steal two pies, the property of Mrs Greenleaf. I call on the prosecution to state
their full name and occupation for the record.’

  ‘I am Mrs Greenleaf, widow and wise woman of this parish.’

  ‘Explain to the court the events of the day concerned.’

  She told them how she had found Donald with the pies.

  ‘I sent for the constable, who tied him up because he seemed to be at risk of making his escape,’ she went on.

  Mr Lunt asked a few questions then let her sit down again before he called the constable to give his account. He was well known for his acquaintance with the Woodsman’s Arms and Rose wondered, as he stood and faced the magistrates, how much weight could be given to his testimony.

  ‘How did you respond to Mrs Greenleaf’s complaint? How much of the stolen goods did you recover?’

  ‘The boy came to fetch me, and I attended the scene of the alleged crime straight away. The window of the cottage was open. The accused was with Mr Carter. I spoke with Mrs Greenleaf, then I recovered a whole pie from one pocket of the prisoner’s coat, and some crumbs on his face and hands.’

  The prosecution called another witness who gave a history of Donald’s misdemeanours.

  ‘He’s done it before. He’s well known around our way, but folks turn a blind eye, seeing he’s an orphan and all that.’

  ‘I have no more questions,’ Mr Lunt said. ‘I’ve read the witness statements and it seems clear that there is no confusion in the events which took place. I see no need to call further witnesses. Is there anyone to speak in this young man’s defence?’ There wasn’t, so the magistrate went on to address the prisoner.

  ‘You have pleaded guilty. Do you have anything to say?’

  ‘Nothing, sir.’

  Mr Lunt rubbed at his chin as he thought for a moment.

  ‘Reverend Browning, there is nothing to discuss. The evidence is straightforward and compelling, is it not?’

  The vicar nodded. ‘I feel that society should be delivered from the prisoner’s malpractices for some time. There is no doubt of the defendant’s guilt.’

  Mr Lunt turned to the prisoner. ‘Donald Cheevers, the Bench awards you six months’ hard labour, followed by eighteen months’ imprisonment.’