by Dilly Court
She left Parker seated on a tomb in the crypt and set off along the deserted main street. A dog barked at her but no one bothered to investigate and she arrived at the Hawkeses’ cottage without incident. She knocked on the door and when there was no reply she lifted the latch.
Mary was seated in the rocking chair by the fire, darning a sock. She leapt up as Sarah entered, and her quick smile turned into a frown. ‘Oh, it’s you. I thought it was Davey.’
‘He hasn’t come home?’
Mary laid her finger on her lips. ‘Shh. Keep your voice down. The boys have only just fallen asleep.’
‘I’m worried about Davey. He should have returned hours ago.’
‘He’s risking everything to help you and your London friend. The excise men won’t care if he’s guilty or innocent if they catch him with the free traders.’
‘Then we must hope that hasn’t happened. I don’t blame you for being angry with me, Mary. But none of this was my doing.’
‘I was pleased that you’d come back to us, but it’s all gone wrong. You brought that man to Blackwood and you got Davey involved in your problems. I wish you’d stayed in London.’
‘You and I used to be friends, Mary. I’m still the same girl I was back then, and you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Davey or you and the boys. I love you all.’
Mary’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You was good to us when Pa died. You used to sing me to sleep and give me a cuddle when I fell over and hurt myself.’
‘And Grey looked after me when I was a little girl. It’s not his fault that he’s in trouble, and I’ve got to do all I can for him, Mary. You do understand, don’t you?’
Mary nodded mutely.
‘I’m as worried about Davey as you are, and that’s why I came here this evening. I was hoping he might have come home.’
‘I know something’s wrong. I felt like this when Pa was lost at sea. I couldn’t bear it if Davey was drownded too.’
‘Where would the ship have sailed from?’ Sarah struggled to contain feelings of panic. Tiredness had crept up when she relaxed in the warmth of the fire. Try as she might to put the nightmarish events of the day from her mind they now came flooding back with frightening clarity, and she began to tremble. ‘Would they have gone to the Ferryboat Inn? Or did they set sail from one of the deeper creeks?’
Mary’s bottom lip began to quiver. ‘I dunno and that’s God’s honest truth. Davey never lets on. He says the least we know the better.’
‘Then I’ll start at the inn.’
‘Let me come with you.’
‘You can’t leave the boys on their own.’
‘But I want to do something.’
‘You must be here in case Davey returns. He’d be out of his mind with worry if he came home and you were missing. You wouldn’t want that, would you?’
‘No. But . . .’
‘I’m leaving now, and I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I ever do. You can help by keeping the fire going and having some supper ready for Davey. Will you do that, Mary?’
‘I suppose so.’
Sarah left before Mary could raise any further objections. She slipped out of the cottage, heading towards the creek and the pub frequented by sailors, smugglers and excise men alike.
‘Don’t know anything about it, duck,’ the landlord said, drawing a pint of ale from a barrel behind the bar. ‘All sorts of craft come and go from here. I’m too busy to take much notice.’
The men gathered around the fire turned away and resumed their conversation. They had stopped talking to stare when Sarah walked into the taproom and the silence had been unnerving. The smoky atmosphere was thick with the smell of stale beer, tobacco and the hint of tar and fish oil that clung to the hands and clothes of men who worked the sea for a living. ‘But you must know Davey Hawkes,’ Sarah insisted. ‘Alfred Hawkes’ son.’
The landlord glanced around the bar. He leaned across the counter. ‘Keep your voice down, miss. You never know who’s listening.’
‘But you do know Davey.’
‘What’s your business with the lad?’
‘He didn’t go home tonight and I’m worried about him.’
He pushed a tankard of ale along the bar to a rough-looking individual wearing a fisherman’s smock. ‘This young lady wants some information, Moses. Have that on the house, mate.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Take her outside and tell her what you know.’
Moses snatched up the tankard and took a swig of beer. He wiped his lips on the back of his hand. ‘What’s it worth?’
Sarah put her hand in her pocket and took out the change from her purchases at the farm. She laid the coppers on the counter. ‘That should buy you another pint, mister.’
‘Just going outside for a piss.’ Moses ambled out of the bar and a gust of salt-laden east wind shredded the smoky air.
‘Best give him a moment, miss,’ the landlord said, grinning. ‘He weren’t joking. Moses has got the manners of a farmyard beast and he smells like a goat, but you can believe what he tells you.’
Sarah waited for a few more seconds before going outside, where she found Moses standing by the chain ferry, gazing across the creek. He appeared to have tidied himself up after responding to the call of nature, and she approached him cautiously. ‘Mr Moses.’
‘I saw it all,’ he said, staring into the distance.
‘What did you see?’
‘The ship had sailed and the two of ’em set after it in young Davey’s boat. That’s the last I saw of them.’
She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I thought you were going to say that they came to grief.’
He glanced at her over his shoulder and she noticed that he had one blue eye and one brown, like a wall-eyed dog. ‘They might’ve or they might not. Can’t say for certain, but the tide was running fast and furious and the wind weren’t in their favour. And the stranger stepped on board left foot first.’ He shuddered and pushed past her as he hurried back to the pub.
‘What does that mean?’ Sarah hurried after him.
‘Bad luck.’ He stopped in the doorway, turning to her with his blue eye glittering and his brown eye half closed. ‘Very bad luck.’ He barged into the pub, slamming the door in her face.
She chose her words carefully as she attempted to comfort Mary. ‘Davey knows what he’s doing. He’s been sailing these waters since he was even younger than you.’
Mary wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her worn and much-darned print frock. ‘He shouldn’t have gone to sea so soon after the storm. There’ll be a huge swell and waves higher than the church spire. I’ve heard my pa speak of such things.’
‘You mustn’t worry, Mary. Davey won’t do anything to risk the boat or their lives.’
‘Do you know how many of the village men have been drowned even though they never took chances?’ Mary demanded angrily. ‘There’s hardly a family here that hasn’t lost someone to the sea, including ours.’
‘There’s nothing we can do but hope and pray,’ Sarah said softly. ‘I’m as anxious as you are, but we’ve got to be brave.’
‘It’s easy for you to say, living in the big house. But how am I supposed to feed us and pay the rent without the money that Davey brings in? I could probably find work at the squire’s house, but who would look after the boys?’
Sarah shifted uneasily in her seat. ‘Davey will be back soon. You’ve got to believe that, Mary.’
‘But what if he ain’t? It’ll be the workhouse for us if anything’s happened to him.’
‘No.’ Sarah leapt to her feet. ‘I won’t let that happen, and I refuse to believe that anything has gone wrong with Davey’s boat. He knows what he’s doing and he’ll be back before you know it.’ She made a move towards the door but Mary barred her way, folding her arms across her chest.
‘So you’re going to leave us again, are you? You’re going back to Blackwood House and you’ll forget all about us.’
‘That isn’t fair,’ Sarah cried passionately. ‘I neve
r forgot you and I’ll do everything I can to help you now, but I haven’t got any money. I’m as poor as you are.’
‘What about them toffs in London you spoke about? They can’t be short of a bob or two.’
‘They aren’t rich, Mary, and they don’t owe me anything. I’m not their problem and I’ve got to find a way to earn my living.’
‘Then come and live with us,’ Mary said earnestly. ‘Stay here tonight and keep me company until Davey comes home.’
‘I would if I could, but Parker is waiting for me.’ Sarah gave her a hug and moved her gently out of the way. ‘I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning. That’s a promise.’
‘I’ll wait up all night,’ Mary said with a stubborn lift of her small chin. ‘I’ll keep the fire burning for Davey and leave the kettle on the trivet so I can make him a cup of tea the moment he walks through the door.’
Sarah blew her a kiss. ‘You’re a good girl. I don’t know what he’d do without you.’ She felt her throat constrict as she left the tiny cottage and emerged into the cold night air. Tears that she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks as she hurried towards the church, where she hoped that Parker would be waiting for her. The last thing she wanted was to negotiate the eerie tunnel on her own. Her feet felt as leaden as her spirit as she faced the fact that Davey and Grey had a perilous journey ahead of them. She had tried to be positive with Mary but she knew only too well the dangers of the sea and the fragility of a small fishing boat when faced with the might of the wind and waves. She sighed with relief when she found Parker asleep on the stone tomb with a pipe of baccy clasped in his bony hand.
They walked back through the tunnel in silence, but when they were safe in the kitchen of Blackwood House Parker brought up the subject of the body in the yew tree tunnel. ‘I’ll have to dispose of it, miss,’ he said wearily. ‘It’ll start to smell something terrible if it’s left too long, and with young Hawkes still at sea there’s no one else I’d trust to keep their mouth shut.’
‘What will you do with him, Parker?’
‘I’ll wait till first light and then I’ll do the necessary. You needn’t worry about it, miss. Leave it to me.’
Sarah had to put her trust in Parker, and next morning when she somewhat nervously went to examine the site, all traces of Trigg had disappeared.
The next few days passed in an agony of waiting for news of Davey and Grey, but hope was beginning to fade and although Sarah did her best to keep the children’s spirits up, she too was beginning to fear the worst. It had become impossible to keep her presence in the village a secret, and after the first shock that people had expressed on seeing her alive and well, she was accepted back into the community as though nothing had happened. She was saddened to learn that Elsie’s demise had passed largely unnoticed, but she realised that very few people had known her well enough to mourn her loss, and Elsie’s hermit-like existence had alienated her from the rest of the population. They had been pleased to accept her ministrations when they were sick, but they had regarded her more as an itinerant pedlar than a trusted apothecary.
Sarah spent the best part of each day with the children, and although everyone in the village knew the reason for Davey’s sudden disappearance, no one mentioned the fact that he was helping a known criminal to escape and questions were never asked. The people of Blackwood knew how to protect their own, and when Sarah arrived at the cottage each morning she found small packages on the doorstep left by unseen hands – a loaf of bread, a piece of cheese, a box of herring or a meat pie. The gifts of food helped to eke out the few pennies that Mary had left in the old sock which she hung on the beam above the chimneypiece.
Sarah dug vegetables in the walled garden and cut cabbages. There were plenty of windfalls in the orchard and she collected the ones that had not been consumed by birds, wasps or field mice, and she took baskets of fruit and root vegetables to help feed the children, but winter was coming and there was no money to pay the rent on the Hawkeses’ cottage.
She paid a call on Mr Wills at the schoolhouse but the reception she received was off-handed and he turned down her offer of help as he had taken on Bertha Smallgood, the vicar’s youngest daughter, who had attended a Church of England school in Colchester and had excellent qualifications. His cold demeanour was enough to convince Sarah that he had not forgiven her for repulsing his clumsy advances or for her sudden and unexplained departure. She was aware of the smug glances that Bertha gave her as she left the schoolhouse, and it was safe to assume that this was now Mr Wills’ firm favourite. She said as much to Mary when she arrived at the cottage.
‘Everyone knows that Bertha’s set her cap at old Wills,’ Mary said, pursing her lips. ‘Who else is going to marry the vicar’s ugly youngest daughter?’
Sarah chuckled in spite of everything. ‘You’re so worldly wise, but I still think of you as a little girl.’
‘I’m eleven. Almost a woman.’
Struggling to keep a straight face, Sarah nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, indeed you are.’ She turned with a start as the door flew open and Lemuel barged into the room followed by Jonah. ‘What are you boys doing here?’ she demanded. ‘You were in school just now.’
‘They’ve found it,’ Lemuel gasped, clutching his side as he struggled to catch his breath.
‘Davey’s boat,’ Jonah added tearfully. ‘Washed up on the shore. Mast’s snapped in two and both oars are missing.’
Chapter Nineteen
THE WRECKED BOAT had been found but no bodies had been washed ashore. Sarah could only hope that this was a good sign, but Parker was not optimistic. ‘Sometimes they never surface,’ he said gloomily. ‘Or else they appear further up the coast. It doesn’t mean a thing, miss.’
As the days dragged on it seemed that Parker was right. The vicar had visited the cottage to offer comfort to Mary and the boys, but she refused to believe that Davey was dead. Sarah was not so certain. She tried to be positive but she feared that they had perished beneath the waves. The strange thing was that she felt nothing. She could not grieve and her heart felt like a stone, weighing heavily inside her. She wanted to scream and shout but it was physically impossible. There were no more tears to shed and her emotions were numbed. She doubted if she would ever feel anything again. She thought about returning to London, but she could not abandon the children. She must find work, but there was nothing for her in the village. It was this dilemma that occupied her mind as she trudged through the first snowfall of early winter, making her way to the cottage.
She arrived to find Mary in tears, clutching a piece of paper in her hands. ‘Is it news of Davey?’ Sarah snatched it from her. Her hand shook as she realised that it was a notice to quit the cottage.
‘No,’ Mary said, sniffing. ‘It’s the rent. I haven’t been able to pay it since he was lost at sea.’
‘Don’t say that.’ Sarah spoke more sharply than she had meant to. ‘I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but you mustn’t give up hope.’
‘There’s no money left,’ Mary said dully. ‘It’ll be the workhouse for us.’
‘Nonsense. I won’t let that happen.’
Mary gazed at her with the eyes of a much older woman. ‘You can’t help us, Sarah. You’re as hard up as we are.’
‘Perhaps your landlord will give you more time to raise the money.’ Sarah paced the dirt floor, wringing her hands. ‘If I could find work I could do something to help. Perhaps the squire would take me on as a housemaid.’
Mary slumped down on the rocking chair. ‘I went there yesterday, but the housekeeper said they don’t need anyone. I asked the vicar, and he said the same.’
Sarah came to a halt, smiling as an idea came to her. ‘There’s the boat. Someone might want to buy it, even though the mast is broken and there’s a hole in the hull. It could fetch enough to keep the landlord happy for a week or two.’
Mary glanced at the fireplace. ‘It’s been keeping us warm since the weather took a turn for the worse.’
Horrified, Sarah stared at the flames licking up the chimney. ‘You’ve been chopping up Davey’s boat for firewood?’
Mary nodded, casting her eyes down as if anticipating a scolding. ‘Parts of it, yes, I have.’
It might have been funny had it not been so serious. Sarah slipped her arm around Mary’s skinny shoulders. ‘I could have sent Parker with a barrowload of logs if you’d told me what you were doing. Now if Davey returns . . .’
Mary pushed her away. ‘Stop saying that. You know very well that he’s drownded and so is your friend Grey. They won’t be coming back. Not ever.’
‘You don’t know that for certain,’ Sarah said gently. ‘None of us can know what the future holds. They might have been picked up by a passing boat. We mustn’t stop hoping.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. Sooner or later you’ll go away and leave us. Me and the boys have got to find a way to keep out of the workhouse.’
The logic of this was inescapable and Sarah was trying to think of an answer when someone pounded on the front door. Mary leapt to her feet and ran to open it. ‘Who are you?’ Her childish voice cracked with fear.
‘I’m here to collect the rent.’
Sarah spun round to see a large woman whose ample frame seemed to fill the doorway. Her back was to the light and her face was in shadow but there was something frighteningly familiar about her. She stepped into the small room, overpowering it with her formidable presence. ‘Well, well. Look who we have here. It’s Sal Scratch, the devil’s daughter. You’re all grown up now, but I’d know you anywhere.’
Sarah’s worst nightmares seemed to crowd in on her as she stared at Mrs Trigg. Momentarily lost for words, she gulped and swallowed hard.
‘Cat got your tongue, dearie?’
‘What do you want?’ Sarah demanded, controlling her voice with difficulty.
‘The rent that’s owed. That’s what I come for.’ Mrs Trigg seized Mary by the scruff of her neck and shook her. ‘Don’t give me no excuses, little girl. I could snap your neck with one hand.’