by Val Wood
Robin smiled. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because she’s such a nice little girl. My mother says that children shouldn’t be smacked because, then, when they grow up they won’t smack their children either.’ His face grew solemn. ‘I think she was smacked when she was young, but she’s never smacked me even though sometimes I have been very naughty.’
‘Come here to me,’ Peggy said.
He went across to where she was standing by the range and stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back.
‘Do you miss your ma?’
‘Yes, I do,’ he said in a small quavering voice. ‘But I know that whatever has happened or wherever she’s gone will be for my own good.’
‘How do you know that?’ she asked softly.
‘Because …’ Robin stumbled slightly over his words, ‘I know that she loves me and wouldn’t do anything to make me unhappy.’
She rested the spoon in the pan and pulled it off the heat and sat down on the nearest chair, pulling Robin towards her. ‘And are you unhappy now?’
He paused for a moment, as if considering. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not. I liked it yesterday when I was able to play with the other children, and I like the sounds out here much better than those in the city.’
‘What kind of sounds?’ Peggy wrinkled her forehead and he saw how her eyes creased as if she were concerned.
‘The birds in a morning; they do such a lot of chirping. And I think I might have heard cows; and a fox, I definitely heard a fox barking the first night we came.’ He was proud to share the knowledge that his mother had passed on. ‘And in cities like London or Manchester there’s a lot of noise from traffic and people shouting in markets and suchlike. It can be quite deafening at times,’ he added.
She nodded. ‘Well, threshing time is a noisy old job here now that farmers are using steam engines and other such new-fangled to-do-ments, and there’s a good bit o’ banter goes on at harvest time, but nowt that would give you a headache. And we also have to be wary of Mr Fox in ’countryside, so it’s a good thing he barks so that we know he’s about somewhere. He’ll be after our chickens, so we must be sure to lock them up securely every night.’
‘Oh, I could do that,’ he said eagerly. ‘I’m very good at locking doors.’
Peggy heaved herself to her feet. ‘Righty ho,’ she said. ‘You and I will have a drive across to Hedon when ’other bairns have gone to school and see if ’local bobby is around, and then we’ll decide what to do about you.’
Then came a clattering of footsteps and a chattering of voices and four little girls came rushing into the kitchen. First was Emma, followed by young Rosie who was rubbing sleep from her eyes, then Louisa shepherding Molly in front of her.
‘Can I go to school today? Please!’ Molly pleaded with her grandmother. ‘I’ll be ever so good.’
Peggy patted the side of her nose with her forefinger and whispered, ‘No. But there’s a treat in store for you.’
‘What? What?’ The little girl jumped up and down. ‘Tell me, tell me!’
Her grandmother shook her head. ‘Go and sit down for breakfast with ’others. Sit next to Robin.’
Molly rushed to claim the seat just as Louisa was about to sit on it, and Louisa gave way to her younger sister.
‘We go to Thorngumbald school,’ Louisa told Robin. ‘We walk on our own now that I’m ten. Gran used to take us, but she says that I’m big enough to be in charge.’ She looked across at Emma. ‘Emma doesn’t always behave, though, and runs off in front.’
‘Tell-tale.’ Emma put her tongue out at Louisa but her grandmother saw her and shook a finger.
‘If you don’t behave, Emma, and stay with ’others, you won’t be allowed to walk with them but will have to wait until somebody’s free to tek you and it won’t be me. It’ll be your ma or da.’
‘Ma can’t,’ Emma said pettishly, ‘cos she’s expecting.’
‘Your da, then, and he’ll be pleased, won’t he?’
The child didn’t answer, but reached across the table to grab a slice of bread, elbowing Rosie out of the way; Peggy made her get down from the table and stand by the window. She then doled out porridge from the pan for all of them, including Emma, but her dish was left on the table.
Emma’s mouth drooped and she glanced at the clock on the wall, but her grandmother ignored her and poured a glass of milk for each of the other children. When they had finished their porridge and milk Louisa asked, ‘Please may we get down, Gran?’
‘You may, and now go to ’privy all of you – not you, Robin – and don’t forget to wash your hands. Come on, chop chop or you’ll be late.’
Robin stayed where he was at the table. He and his mother always ate breakfast and lunch together, unless she had a matinee performance when she gave Robin his first so that she could concentrate on her hair and pack what she called her slap in a make-up box. He used to laugh when he was little and slap his hands together and pretend to put it into the box, but he didn’t do that now that he was nearly grown up. He was astonished that Emma should be so rude and speak to her grandmother as she had.
He looked at her defiant face and wondered what would happen when her father came in and if he would be angry that she hadn’t gone to school with the others, but then he saw her mouth screw up, and she muttered, ‘Sorry.’
Peggy looked round. ‘Did I hear summat just then? Was it a mouse squeaking?’
‘Sorry, Granny,’ Emma said in a louder voice.
‘For what?’
‘For misbehaving and answering back,’ she said sullenly, ‘and not waiting for ’others.’
Peggy nodded. ‘Thank you. Now go and eat your breakfast. You’ve got five minutes. I’ll not have ’others late for school because of you.’
‘I’ll get ’cane if I’m late.’ Emma spooned the porridge into her mouth.
‘You’ll know another time then, won’t you? Now no talking, just eat. You can tek ’bread wi’ you and eat it at dinner time.’
In the nick of time, Emma finished her porridge and dashed to and back from the privy as Louisa and Rosie were putting on their coats and galoshes. Robin saw the palpable relief on her face as she came back from the scullery where she had washed her hands, just as their father walked through the door. Quickly, she pulled on her boots and put on her coat.
‘Off you go, girls,’ Jack Robinson said. ‘Behave yourselves; don’t let me hear of you getting up to mischief. Come on, Emma, look sharp. You’re allus such a slowcoach.’
‘Goodbye,’ Robin called after them, and Molly, glancing at him, put her warm hand in his.
‘Where are we going, Robin?’ she asked. ‘Are you staying to play wiv me?’
Robin looked up at Granny Robinson and then chanced a glance at Jack’s grim expression. ‘I’m not sure, Molly,’ he said. ‘But I think we might be going on a great adventure.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Whilst Jack was washing his hands Peggy took his breakfast – bacon, eggs and sausages – out of the bottom oven where it had been keeping warm and put it on the table, then went to the bread crock, brought out a large loaf and put it on a wooden board with a knife.
‘Don’t let it get cold,’ she told him. ‘Where’s your da? Is he done wi’ milking?’
‘Aye. He said he’ll be in in a minute.’
Peggy went into the scullery to wash up the girls’ breakfast crockery and called to Molly to fetch her coat from the hook in the lobby. ‘Ask Robin to help you wi’ buttons.’
‘I can do them by myself,’ she said as she went to do as she was bid, ‘but he can help me wi’ my boot laces.’
Robin followed her into the lobby and helped her on with her coat, whispering, ‘You fasten the top buttons, Molly, and I’ll fasten them from the bottom and then they’ll be done in double quick time and won’t Granny be surprised?’
Molly screwed up her face in delight, but struggled to fasten the top one and lifted her chin so that Robin could do it. He tied her boot laces and then pu
t on his own jacket whilst she went back into the kitchen.
‘Look Gran! Look Da,’ he heard her say. ‘I’m ready in double quick time.’
‘So you are, honey lamb,’ her granny said. ‘What a clever girl.’
‘Where are you off to?’ he heard her father say. ‘You don’t usually go out at this time of a morning.’
‘I’m going on a great ’venture,’ she answered. ‘Wiv Robin.’
‘Are you now?’ Jack’s chair scraped back from the table as Robin came back into the kitchen and he sat with a sausage skewered on his fork as he gazed at Robin. ‘Who says?’
‘I do,’ Peggy said, drying her hands on a cloth as she came back in. ‘I’m going into Hedon and was planning on tekking Molly with me, but if you’ve got other ideas for her that’s all right. Or mebbe your wife will get out o’ bed and stop with her?’
Her tone was challenging and Jack turned back to the table to continue with his breakfast. ‘You know Susan’s not well,’ he mumbled.
‘You don’t have to mek excuses to me about her,’ his mother said sharply. ‘Pregnancy isn’t an illness, and after having four bairns she should know that.’
Jack shrugged and went on eating and then Aaron came in, saw Molly dressed in her coat and remarked, ‘Well you look very nice, Molly. Are you going off somewhere?’
She repeated what she’d already told her father and Robin glanced with interest from one to the other, wondering who would be the next to comment, but Aaron simply glanced at his wife, who said, ‘I’ll put your breakfast out, Aaron, if you’re ready. Molly, why don’t you show Robin the chickens?’
Molly at once took Robin’s hand, and as they went out of the outer door, he heard Jack arguing with his mother.
The air was cold and damp, the morning mist hovering over the fields, and the bare branches of trees stretched out like dark limbs against the grey sky. Robin looked into the near distance and saw shadowy shapes of animals cropping the ground.
‘Are those pigs?’ he asked.
‘Yes!’ Molly laughed. ‘They’re having their breakfast.’
‘Not bacon and eggs?’ he joked. ‘Like your da’s having?’
‘No, silly. Course not. They’ll be having barley and apple and leftover dinner, and milk! They like everything and they’re really, really greedy.’
‘Yum yum!’ Robin grinned. ‘Shall we go and have a look at them?’
‘If you like,’ Molly said. ‘But we can’t go into ’field cos there’re some pregnant ones – that means having babies,’ she explained, looking up at him, ‘and they don’t like being disturbed. My ma doesn’t either. She’s allus telling me to go away and play.’
They wandered over to the fence and stood on the bottom rail to look over into the field where the pigs were rooting about in straw and apples.
‘Those little roundish tin sheds. Is that where they sleep?’ he asked.
‘You are funny, Robin. Don’t you know anyfink?’
‘Not about farming, Molly,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to teach me.’
The little girl took a deep breath and then beamed at him. ‘I will,’ she said eagerly. ‘Nobody’s ever asked me afore and I know loads o’ fings.’
Granny Robinson called them from the doorway to come and get ready to go out.
‘I am ready,’ Robin said when they reached her. ‘Apart from my cap and scarf. I’ll get them now.’
‘Will you be warm enough?’ she said, and Robin saw her glance at his thin and rather worn jacket. ‘I’ll fetch a thicker scarf for you.’
As Peggy clicked her tongue and urged the old horse on towards Hedon, the thought trickled into her head that if she couldn’t find his mother and there was nowhere else for him to stay but with them, then he’d need winter clothes. I don’t know what I’m thinking of, she ruminated. We must find his mother.
She’d brought him a woollen muffler and a blanket, which she said they could put over their knees if they were cold.
‘This is lovely, isn’t it, Robin?’ Molly said gleefully, tucking the blanket around hers and Robin’s knees. ‘Is this our ’venture?’
‘You’ve been to Hedon lots o’ times, Molly,’ Peggy said. ‘We were there for ’hiring fair yesterday, weren’t we?’
‘But I haven’t been wiv Robin afore and Robin asks me fings that he don’t know and I do.’
‘What kind o’ things?’
Molly giggled. ‘About pigs and their little huts; they’re called pigsties, Robin, or they would be if they were in ’yard and built o’ brick; and do you know what, Gran? He asked me if they were having bacon and eggs for breakfast!’
‘I reckon he’s a town or city boy, don’t you, Molly?’ Peggy called over her shoulder and wondered if innocent little Molly might find out more about Robin than they could.
‘He doesn’t know very much, but I’m going to teach him.’ Molly smiled disarmingly up at Robin and he grinned back at her.
Peggy drove into the Sun Inn yard from the back lane – Church Lane, she called it – and asked one of the stable lads to keep an eye on the old horse. Robin stroked the mare and said to Peggy how lovely she was, so quiet and calm.
‘Does anyone ride on her, or does she only pull the trap?’
‘She’s old now, so she doesn’t get ridden, though she used to.’ Peggy patted her too. ‘She’s a grand girl, aren’t you, Betsy?’ she murmured and the animal snickered and snorted at her. ‘She lives a quiet life nowadays, though she likes to be useful.’
‘Just like me, then.’ Robin grinned.
They walked into the back entrance of the inn and Peggy called out, ‘Is anybody about?’
A grey-haired woman popped her head up from behind the bar counter and groaned as she got off her knees. ‘Onny me. Clearing up after everybody. What ’you doing here again, Peg?’
‘Come for information,’ she said, drawing Robin forward to stand beside her. ‘Do you know this young feller-me-lad, Mary?’
The woman scrutinized Robin and then shook her head. ‘Don’t think so; he’s too young to drink in here. Why? Where did you find him?’
‘He was in here yesterday at ’hirings and then turned up at our place. I’m looking for his ma and wondered if she’d been in here looking for him.’
‘Well, who is she?’ Mary frowned.
‘That’s just it. I don’t know and he’s not saying much. Just that his name’s Robin Jackson,’ Peggy said on a huff of a breath.
‘Jackson’s a common enough name round here, but I can’t think that I know anybody wi’ that moniker wi’ a son; but in any case,’ she peered at Robin, ‘he’s old enough to know who his mother is. Cat got your tongue?’ she asked him and he grinned and put just the tip of his tongue out, so that she wouldn’t think him cheeky.
‘You’ll have to tell ’police, mebbe,’ she advised Peggy. ‘Perhaps he’s been abandoned, though it’s a bit unusual; it’s generally babbies that get left behind if their mothers can’t look after ’em, not grown lads that are coming up to working age.’
‘He’s not old enough to work; he’s onny ten, aren’t you, Robin?’ Peggy said. ‘I don’t really want to involve ’coppers, though Aaron said I should go to ’cop shop to see if there’s anybody there who can help. There never is, o’ course, when you want ’em. And anyway,’ she added, ‘who knows where he’ll end up if they get their hands on him, so I came in to say that if you get any enquiries – cos this is where he was left – he’s staying wi’ us.’ She made the statement flatly. It wasn’t in her nature to leave the bairn to cope alone. ‘And I might pop into ’town hall and see if there’s anybody there who might know what to do next.’
‘You’re a bit soft in ’head, Peggy,’ Mary said. ‘He’s a waif and stray. You might get into bother for keeping him.’
‘I’d like to stay,’ Robin interrupted. ‘I like it where you live, and my mother wouldn’t mind; she’ll come back eventually.’
The two women stared at him. ‘So do you know where she’s gone, Ro
bin?’ Peggy asked.
‘No, I’ve no idea, but I expect she’ll have a plan in mind; and this is only a small place, not like London or Manchester, so she’ll soon find me again when she’s ready.’
Molly, who had kept silent whilst the conversation was going on, tugged on Robin’s jacket. ‘Mebbe she’s gone on a ’venture, Robin, and knows that you’ll be safe wiv us. I’ll look after him,’ she said to her grandmother. ‘He’s my best friend.’
Peggy looked down at her and smiled. ‘I suppose that settles it then, but I don’t know what your da and grandda are going to think about it.’
‘Will it make any difference what they think?’ Mary folded her arms across her chest. ‘If Peggy Robinson’s made her mind up there’s nowt else to say, is there?’
Peggy laughed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
Mary shook a finger at her. ‘I’ve onny known you lose one battle.’ She gave a swift glance at Molly, whose attention was wandering elsewhere. ‘And that was when your lad got married.’
Peggy sighed. Her expression was cynical. ‘Aye, well, he had a shotgun at his head so to speak, didn’t he? Nowt I could do about that, but I reckon he’s lived to regret it. It’s not a marriage made in heaven, that’s for sure.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Delia held back her tears until reaching the Hedon railway station and then wept and wept on the train back to Hull. She had beaten a hasty retreat out of the Sun Inn when she saw the Robinson family seated at a table, and her own boy chatting to the little girls and tucking into an enormous plate of food.
It was as if he belonged with them, she told herself in justification of leaving him there; and Peggy Robinson is a kind woman, though a no-nonsense type.
She’d hovered outside in the street, hidden within a crowd watching a juggler, and had seen the Robinson family and their in-laws and several children, including her own son, pile into various wagons, gigs and carts. She’d anxiously waited to see if he’d turn to look for her as they pulled away, but he didn’t, so busy was he, chatting to the little girls and another boy who had climbed in with them.