Daniel cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid there is some urgency—’
The magistrate had turned his cold, comprehending glance to where Molly’s gloved hand lay on her belly. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I thought it was an unusual match. I am unused to such – rural customs.’
Daniel had flushed with a shame he did not own.
‘I am sure the new minister will be delighted to arrange such a happy occasion at the very moment of his arrival, and I shall inform him of his duty to do so.’
He stood, indicating the door.
‘May – can I ask,’ Daniel said, ‘how your studies into the parson’s death progress?’
Silence for a moment.
‘I am all but certain I have discovered those responsible. I never rush such matters. The more thorough my examinations, the more sure that just punishment is carried out.’
The air had thickened around him and Daniel allowed Molly to thread her arm through his and lead him to the door.
‘It’s odd,’ Magistrate Wright had said from behind. ‘I must have been mistaken, but from my previous observations I would have supposed it to be the dairymaid that had taken your fancy.’
He had sealed his own fate. Not one filled with light as he had dreamed of with Sarah, but one that might atone for the pain he had unwittingly caused. Perhaps he could discard the shame that weighed so heavy.
His night visit to the river had left him walking home just as the tavern emptied. Someone whistled, hiccupped and then laughed. Daniel sighed, and turned to face his tormentor. Gabriel.
‘Been taking a drink, I see,’ he said.
Gabriel swayed before him, smirked. ‘Oh, do you, you see, do you? I’ve been where the men go, milksop.’
Daniel made to leave, but Gabriel caught his shoulder, shook it. Breath sour with ale. ‘Hear you’ll be cleaning up my filings, Danny.’
‘If you mean your cowardice in abandoning Molly, yes I shall step in where you had not the backbone.’
‘Dare a snivelling shrew like you call me coward?’ Gabriel’s voice rose, but he was so unstable on his feet that Daniel had no fear. Were he to raise a fist he would likely fall to the ground. ‘Take care yet, for the last to offend my honour came badly out of it.’
‘I am in no mood to hear of your brawls.’
Gabriel bent forward, leaning on Daniel’s shoulder with such unsteady weight that he almost fell. ‘And of this one you nor no one ever shall, for another has took the blame and can speak of it no more.’
‘Well, that’s not – wait, taken blame for what? Who has?’
Gabriel smirked. ‘Do not cross me. For I can do as I please and a ready-made villain shall bear the guilt and no one shall question.’
Daniel dared not breathe, dared not move. He must do nothing now to bring Gabriel to the ground beneath his feet, the stars above his head, and the truth he was about to utter. His heart drummed. He must know, and feared to know, what would be said next.
‘If I can stake out a church man and not be found, then there is nowt beyond me.’
Daniel staggered. ‘You?’ he said, voice cracked. ‘You killed the parson?’
Gabriel smiled.
‘But – surely not.’ Daniel’s mind raced, understanding then denying what he had been told. ‘Even you would not – you could not …’
Gabriel stepped towards him, lurching to the side and righting himself. He scrabbled at the pocket of his breeches. ‘You think I have not the courage? I am not man enough?’
Man, enough. Brute, enough. But not the demon it would take to commit such an act. Surely.
‘Then what do you think of this?’
Daniel could not at first comprehend Gabriel’s meaning, could not recognise the piece of black cloth that was waved in his face. Soft. Bloodstained.
He could barely speak the words. ‘The parson’s hat.’
Gabriel sneered, fumbling to place it back in his pocket. ‘Aye. And I keep it about me all the while, so I may have a reminder that I do whatever I please.’
Gabriel. Not Sarah’s brother. No demon.
She had told him as much. He had not stopped to listen.
‘And you said she pressed against you, was that—?’
‘Oh, yes. I pressed her against me, I laid my lips on hers. Felt her.’ He made a drunken attempt to mime his actions.
Daniel swallowed, swallowed again. Mouth still full.
‘Oh, she squeaked and struggled a bit but she wanted it, the little whore, I was not the first to make his mark, eh? Only because the parson saw did she protest, and I was forced to stop. But I made him pay.’
Daniel’s jaw clenched.
No demon. No enchantment. She had not betrayed him.
He was a bigger, weaker fool than he had known.
‘We should have been wed,’ he said.
Gabriel swayed. ‘What?’
‘We would have been wed, and away by now. In another life. The life we said, it was real, we would be living it now.’
‘What?’
Fury as he had never known surged through him. ‘You took it away. You took it all away.’
As Gabriel opened his mouth to speak again, Daniel gave way to his anger, shoved him off his unsteady feet and sent him tumbling to the ground.
Tomorrow, he would visit Magistrate Wright. Tell all he had seen and heard. Gabriel would be found with his own guilt carried in his pocket.
Daniel turned back towards the river. Didn’t know why.
Breadcrumb
I watch the lights gather into a line and weave their way down the hill.
John’s blanket has fallen to the floor, and I pull it back over Mam as she sleeps, curled on her side like a child, and crawl at last to my bed, as dawn begins to make itself known. The ring of ash is unbroken around the mat. Sleep overcomes me at last.
I jerk awake, dazed from the first full sleep for days, feared that something dreadful has happened in the time that’s passed.
‘Annie,’ I call. ‘Annie, come here, where are you?’
Rise from the bed, not yet fully woken, stagger with the blanket wrapped around me to the door. Annie is at the table, spooning milk into Mam’s mouth as she sits on a stool, empty stare seeing another, happier day perhaps.
Annie’s eyes small and brown like a spadger’s behind her mop of hair. ‘What are you shouting for?’ she asks.
‘I didn’t know where you were. I was worried.’
‘You stayed in bed all day. Mammy was hungry.’
I look at Mam. Older and younger than I’ve ever seen her, her eyes hollow, face sagging and hanging in heavy lines, she opens her mouth obediently as Annie waves the dripping spoon in front of her.
‘You’re such a good lass,’ I say, sitting next to Annie and putting my arm around her shoulder.
She wriggles from my grasp, spilling the milk down Mam’s chin. ‘Then why did you give me away?’
‘I’d never choose to be away from you.’
‘You gived me to that lady.’
‘I’m sorry. I thought you might be better with her. Happier.’
‘But you’re my sister.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
I pull her on to my lap. She resists at first, then turns in towards me.
I am feared, breathing in the scent of Annie that no longer carries traces of fresh air or trees or mud, but just decay. We wait, and I lose track of time, of days, and for what? For them to return with weapons instead of candles? For the magistrate to take us to the assizes and we languish until the noose?
If only Annie can be saved, that will be enough. She is so small. They’ll know she is innocent, surely.
I carry her over to the door, open it, though night has fallen and there is only moonlight to see by.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks.
‘We’ve to search.’
She tries to break free from my grip, struggles so that I am forced to tighten my hold. ‘Nay,’ she says. ‘I don’t want to, leave me be, let go.’
‘Annie, stop. Don’t be silly, we’ve always done it. Let me look.’
‘Nay,’ she shouts, sobbing. ‘I don’t want you to see.’
I let go. She stands, covering her face with her hands, tears dripping through her fingers.
My worst fear come about. I can barely speak. Gently, I pull her hands from her face, crouch so I am level with her. ‘Show me.’
She rolls up her sleeve, crying, shows me the underside of her arm, just above the wrist. And I see the mark. Flat and dark, hardly bigger than a breadcrumb.
Enough to condemn her should the magistrate come looking.
‘He’s been, hasn’t he?’ she asks, turning her tear-sodden face to me.
I smile. Steady my voice. ‘Oh, this? Nay, that’s not him. That’s nowt. I’ve seen the like on calves and pups and piglets, at the farm.’
She dries her face, gulps. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, aye.’ I take her in my arms. She wipes her nose on my shift. ‘Silly me, I thought he’d been.’ Laughs through tears, her eyes both hopeful and fearful.
I will not see her hunted down. Will not see her taken by the magistrate. Darkness has closed in on us so completely that there is only one choice left to me.
‘Let’s go to the beck,’ I say. ‘Find a moon fish.’
She glances out of the door, uncertain. ‘It’s dark.’
‘Aye. They’re moon fish. That’s when they come out.’
‘All right.’
‘Say farewell.’
Annie walks over, puts her arms round Mam, and Mam strokes her hair. As though she knows. I kiss her soft, sunken cheek.
‘Goodbye, Mammy,’ Annie says.
Mam turns her watery eyes to me, says nothing.
The beck is dark and deep, slow today. I take Annie’s hand, walk her in.
‘It’s cold,’ she says. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Just a little further.’
The freezing water is past my knees, up to Annie’s chest. She gasps and clings to me.
‘Where are the moon fish?’ she says.
‘Underneath.’
‘We’re going under?’
I force myself to smile down at her. ‘Aye.’
‘I won’t like it.’
‘Aye, you will. I’ll be there.’
She starts to cry. ‘I want to go home.’
She scrabbles at my legs, climbing up me, and I lift her on to my hip. Wade deeper, deeper until weeds taffle round my legs and the water reaches our chins.
‘I’m feared,’ she says. ‘I don’t like it, I want to go home.’
‘It’s all right.’ I try to stop my teeth chattering. ‘We’re going to see the moon fish.’
She is sobbing now, shaking. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘Just be brave a while,’ I say. ‘And then it’ll be so beautiful, we’ll be under and it’ll be filled with sparkling fishes.’ I spit water from my mouth. ‘Not long now.’
Two more steps, and the riverbed falls away. I kick my feet into nothing. Annie’s scream bubbles through the water that closes over our heads.
A sour, cold mouthful. Eyes stinging, chest burning. I hold tight to Annie as she struggles. Open my eyes and see her through the water, pale face, brown eyes, hair spreading. Little fox pendant rising between us.
I’m sorry, I say, but there is no space for the words. I just want you to be safe.
I watch her until the blackness closes in.
See the Storm
He looked out from the cover of the trees. Thought perhaps, with witchly power, she had sensed his longing and regret, appeared to him when he most yearned for her.
He did not understand what she was doing until it was almost too late. Waded and splashed through the water, fully clothed, boots still on, breath knocked out of him. Gasping, coughing, spitting. An undignified rescuer.
Reached for the sister first, knew it was what Sarah would want. She was so small and light. A tiny dark shadow, unmoving under the surface. Threw her on to the bank and staggered back for Sarah.
Don’t let her be dead. Please don’t let her be dead.
Dragged her by her clothes, lurched up the bank and fell, dropping her on the mud. The little girl was on her hands and knees, gasping and crying. Sarah began to cough as soon as she hit the ground. He crawled over, cradled her head, pushed the soaking hair away from her face. Waited to see the storm when she opened her eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
What Remains
I know I am not dead. I’m too cold and sore. My chest hurts and I’m chilled to the bone.
‘Annie.’ I try to shout but it comes out as a croak.
She crawls over and climbs on to my lap. I wrap my arms around her. Both shivering. ‘I don’t want to see the moon fish,’ she says.
‘All right.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel says. ‘I’m so sorry. I know it was Gabriel.’
I nod. He knows it, and I’m glad, but that will not help us. I cannot face the water again. He hasn’t saved us, but taken our last escape.
‘What will you do?’ he asks.
‘This was our only path.’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘No, it cannot be. I will not have it so.’
Just as Bett said. He can do no more than she. I hold Annie close.
‘I should have believed you all along,’ he says. ‘Stood by you. Married you and gone away, like we said.’
‘You couldn’t. Seth was dead before we had the chance.’
‘I will wish it always.’
I stare out over Annie’s head. Dare not wish it, even. That life so far out of reach now. All I wish for is to save Annie from the magistrate, and I have failed.
He stands abruptly, pulls me to my feet. ‘Go,’ he says. ‘Return in dry clothes, bring your mother and all you can carry. Come back here, wait for me. I shall not fail again.’
‘Where are we going?’ Annie asks, over and over.
‘Away,’ is all I can answer.
She is dressed in rags, but they’re dry at least, grasping the whispering shell. Her most precious possession. I check her arms, her legs, the underside of her feet and between her fingers, looking for injuries from the beck. Scratches, bruises, but nothing that will last. I wrap a blanket around her. Change into my old clothes, the ones from before the mop.
Mam sits on the stool where we left her. I kneel at her feet, take her face in my hands. She looks at me, but I see no recognition there.
‘Mam,’ I say. ‘Come with me.’
She looks towards John’s bed.
I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry. He’s gone. Annie and I remain. You must come with us now.’
I ease her to her feet. She barely weighs more than Annie. I place a blanket around her shoulders and guide her. Our route veiled by night. One step. Another. Another. Annie takes her hand, walks with us.
Ours will be a slow journey.
Daniel waits on the riverbank. Annie has grown tired and I carry her, supporting Mam with my free arm. He runs, takes Annie from me.
‘Here,’ he says. Leads the way, and we follow.
On the path, tucked beneath an oak, stands Bonny, shackled to the Taylors’ cart. Daniel lifts Annie and helps me to guide Mam in. She looks at him as she steps up.
‘She was a good woman, your mother,’ she says. ‘The sweetest ever I knew. She gave you her spirit.’
Daniel swallows. ‘Thank you.’
Annie curls under the blanket, thumb in mouth and head on Mam’s knee, closes her eyes. Mam strokes her hair. ‘There, there,’ Mam whispers. ‘Sweet babby.’
‘Food,’ Daniel says, indicating three cloth parcels. ‘And the last of my mother’s clothes.’
Peeking from the knot of one of the bundles is my bracelet, gleaming in the moonlight. The comb I clutch in my hand. I look at him. Tears stand in his eyes.
‘You remember the name of the family the parson was sending us to?’ he asks.
I nod.
>
‘You remember the name of the village? The way?’
‘Aye. But they’re expecting a farmer’s wife.’
He opens his palm, and there sits his mother’s ring. Takes my hand, places it on my finger. ‘Farmer’s widow,’ he says, voice shaking. He takes a shuddering breath, tips his face to the sky. A tear falls down each cheek. ‘I would give anything to join you, but I cannot. There will be blood on my hands if I do. Molly is—’
‘The brew didn’t work.’
‘I promised myself as husband to keep her from finishing her life. I’m sorry. I thought that—’
I taste my own tears. Look down at the ring. The gentle warmth that his presence brings will be lost forever, leaving me to face an unknown path alone.
Cold, the darkness that stirs in me now. He is to be Molly’s husband, and I a widow. The flare of the dog’s eyes is a white flame, the growl shuddering through me spiked with frost. I cannot see his face beyond the shadows of my fury.
I could let this creature take me over. One last time. Could wish upon him all the pain I feel at this moment, equal in depth to the joy we shared.
Mam’s voice is dry and brittle, barely breaking through to me. ‘They will always find a way to leave,’ she says. ‘I told you he takes them. The men we love.’
All that she feels for my father races through me, and is met by my own thoughts of Daniel. Love, rotted to bitterness. I blink, breathe. Tear myself free of it. I will not let myself hate him. I will not become Mam.
‘Tell them you are a widow,’ he says. ‘And brought your mother and sister out of desperation.’
He helps me on to the horse, places the reins in my hand. From his pocket he takes the hag stone, unties the strip of cloth and fastens it around my wrist.
‘For protection,’ he says, voice cracking. ‘Go, before light comes.’
‘Daniel?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’
He shakes his head. ‘I wish—’
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