by Val Wood
Susannah chewed on her finger as she gazed down the tree-lined road leading into the town. At the end of it, as if guarding the entrance to Hedon, was a noble ancient mansion.
The carrier drew up, calling ‘Whoa, fella’ to his horse. ‘You don’t really know anybody in Hull, do you?’ he asked. He was an oldish man and had a lined compassionate face. ‘You’re onny a bairn. I don’t like to think o’ you wandering about on your own. Let me tek you up to ’hostelry and I’ll see if they’ll do a special rate for you.’
Susannah nodded. Now that she had arrived she felt frightened and unprotected, exposed to danger. She didn’t know Hedon or anyone who lived there, though she had heard that it was a busy place with a town hall and a regular market every Saturday. She had also been told by her schoolteacher that it had once had a profitable haven where ships came up from the Humber, but that it was now silted up to a mere trickle.
‘Yes, all right. Thank you,’ she said, pressing her lips together in her anxiety. ‘But you won’t tell them where you picked me up or anything, will you?’
‘Are you running from somebody?’ he asked kindly. ‘Are you in trouble?’
‘I’m not in trouble,’ she murmured, unsure of how much to tell him. ‘But – there’s a man – he takes my wages and – he’s hit me and he beats Aunt Jane.’
He frowned. ‘Thought you said she’d died?’
‘No, not her,’ she said. ‘It was her mother who used to look after me who died; and Jane married this man who takes our wages, and he gives her a thrashing if she does anything he doesn’t like.’
‘Ah!’ He meditated for a moment, and then pulling on the reins he urged the horse off the road and up a rough track which ran alongside a narrow strip of water. ‘So this fellow is no relation o’ yourn?’
‘No!’ Susannah said positively. ‘So I can do what I want and I’m old enough to work, so I left!’
He whistled tunelessly through his teeth and then murmured, ‘Fair enough, I suppose. You’re tekking charge o’ your own life.’
Her lips trembled as she agreed with him. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I suppose I am.’
Halfway along the track they came to an old building with a brick archway. Above the arch was a painted sign of an alehouse with the name the Fleet Inn. He pulled through into a cobbled courtyard which was surrounded by dilapidated old buildings. ‘Here we are,’ he said, climbing down from his seat. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to ’landlady. Don’t be scared. She’s a grand owd lass.’
Susannah jumped down and followed slowly. Have I done right in telling him? she worried. Suppose he goes back to Patrington and tells the constable or somebody? Though if nobody reports me missing it won’t matter. Aunt Jane won’t; she wants me to get away from Wilf. And he won’t tell – won’t dare!
The carrier, who said his name was Bill, led her through a doorway into a low-ceilinged room which had pewter tankards hanging from the beams. It smelled of ale and strong tobacco, and had a fire blazing in the grate which lit up the dark corners. There were benches and wooden tables and along one wall were several ale casks. At the back of the room was a small counter and behind this was a door. The carrier rang a brass bell on the counter, and then turned to the fire, stretching his hands to warm them in front of the flames. ‘They’ve allus got a good fire here,’ he told Susannah. ‘And good vittles. Come and have a warm. It’s cold sitting on ’cart.’
An elderly woman appeared behind the counter in answer to the bell. She was dressed in black and wore a starched white apron over her dress and a buff-coloured pleated bonnet on her grey hair. She was very small and her back was bent. ‘Didn’t expect you today,’ she said to the carrier. ‘You don’t usually call here on a Friday. Have you got summat for me?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Well, not exactly. I’ve given this young lass a lift, but she’s missed ’Hull carrier so I suggested she might get a bed here till Monday morning.’
‘We don’t normally tek folks,’ she said, peering at Susannah from dark beady eyes. ‘We’re not licensed for visitors. She’d best go to ’Sun. They’ve got more room than us.’
‘Aye, but that’s a busy inn and not suitable for a young lass on her own,’ he persuaded her. ‘She’d be safer here wi’ you and Mr Brewster.’
‘Safer? Is she in trouble?’ She came up closer to Susannah, who was taller than she was.
‘I’m not in any trouble,’ Susannah replied. ‘I’m going to try to find a job of work in Hull, but I can’t get there until Monday.’
‘Hull!’ Mrs Brewster exclaimed. ‘Why, you’re a brave bairn if you’re going to Hull on your own! I wouldn’t like to do that. Is there nowt you can do in Hedon to save you going all that way?’
‘I don’t know,’ Susannah said, considering that it was Jane who had put the thought of Hull into her head, so as to put a great distance between her and Wilf Topham. ‘Perhaps there might be.’
‘All right, you can stay,’ Mrs Brewster told her. ‘But if anybody asks, you tell ’em you’re a niece. We’ve got dozens, so nobody’ll be any ’wiser.’
The carrier left and the landlady led Susannah through the door behind the counter into a small room which was furnished with a horsehair sofa and two wooden chairs. A round mahogany table with a fringed chenille cloth and another white cloth over it was set for a meal with two knives and forks, a pewter cruet and two tin plates. A wooden clock ticked on the wall above shelves which held blue and white ware. A shiny black range held a kettle and a roasting jack, and on the floor at the side of it in a wooden box were various other accoutrements: a frying pan, a fish kettle, sieves and meat skewers.
‘I’ll set another place,’ Mrs Brewster said. ‘You’ll not have had your dinner?’
‘Erm.’ Susannah could smell roast beef and felt hungry. ‘I’ve had a bit of bread and bacon,’ she said.
‘Well, no doubt you could eat a bit more, a growing lass like you? Go through yonder and wash your hands,’ she told her, nodding towards one of two doors. ‘Cleanliness is next to godliness,’ she said. ‘You’ll find ’sink through there and if you need ’privy it’s across ’yard.’
Susannah dashed across the yard. She was bursting to use the privy but hadn’t liked to ask the carrier to stop so that she could go behind a hedge. She opened the slatted door and saw that the wooden seat had two holes side by side just like the privy they’d had at Welwick.
She came back and pumped water into the stone sink, in a room not much bigger than a small cupboard, and washed her hands and face. She was beginning to feel more at ease now and the prospect of a hot dinner cheered her. She peeped through the other door and saw that the room behind it was slightly larger than the one with the sink in it, and had whitewashed walls and stone ledges with a butter tub, a jug of milk and a cheese dish on one, and on another a ham and a plucked chicken, both covered over with muslin cloths.
‘Mr Brewster will be through in a minute,’ Mrs Brewster said, when she came back to the kitchen. ‘Sit yourself down. He’s just rolling another barrel in. We keep ’em in one of ’old stables until we’re ready for ’em. We don’t use ’stables for hosses these days. Most folks from outside Hedon leave their transport at ’Sun. But I expect they’ll come in by train when ’line gets here, as they say it will.’
She took the roasted beef from the side of the fire where it had been resting, and placed it on a large platter. ‘Travelling folks today expect more than we can offer at ’Fleet, though walkers come every summer, them that’s walking by ’haven or going towards Spurn Point. They say it’s very pleasant at Spurn. Not that I’ve ever been.’ She took up a carving knife and fork and started to slice the meat. ‘Never been out of Hedon,’ she chatted. ‘Lived here all my life and not once been anywhere else.’ She reported this with some pride and not with any dissatisfaction. ‘Been some changes though,’ she went on. ‘Why, I remember when I was just a little lass ’town was full o’ ditches and streams and becks where us bairns used to go fishing for tiddlers and
sticklebacks; but most of ’em have been filled in or rerouted, like the one that runs alongside us.’
‘It’s lovely at Spurn,’ Susannah said. ‘I went there when I was a little bairn and paddled in ’sea.’
‘Did you?’ Mrs Brewer said in astonishment. ‘What – do you mean to say you took your boots and stockings off?’
When Susannah said that she had, she exclaimed, ‘Well, I never!’ in such a startled voice that Susannah laughed out loud.
Mrs Brewster looked at her as she finished carving the joint. ‘What a pretty little thing you are when you laugh,’ she murmured. ‘Am I wrong in thinking you haven’t laughed very much lately? You looked such a dowly bairn when you first came in.’
Susannah felt a mixture of emotions all coming together: the worry of leaving home, the indecision, the laughter. Suddenly she burst into tears and sobbed and sobbed.
Mrs Brewster didn’t say anything at first, but let her cry whilst she fetched another plate from a cupboard, took a knife and fork from a drawer and set them on the table. Then she drew up a chair and sat beside her. ‘There now,’ she said softly. ‘You’ll feel better now that’s out. If you want to tell me about it, you can, but if you don’t then that’s all right. As long as you haven’t run off and left your ma worrying about you, you can stop here and no questions asked.’
Susannah was saved from answering by Mr Brewster’s coming in. He was tall and thin with a stoop. ‘Noo then,’ he said in a slow manner. ‘Didn’t know we had company.’
‘We haven’t got company, Mr Brewster,’ said his wife, screwing up an eye in Susannah’s direction. ‘This is one of your nieces.’
‘Is it?’ Mr Brewster took off his cap and scratched his thinning head of hair. ‘Don’t remember this one. What’s your name, m’dear?’
Susannah wiped her eyes and snuffled. ‘Susannah,’ she croaked. ‘Is it all right if I stop for a bit?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next morning Susannah woke to the sound of Mr Brewster whistling. She felt a lurch of nostalgia as she remembered how Uncle Ben used to whistle in a morning.
After they had finished their dinner yesterday, Mrs Brewster had taken her upstairs to show her where she would sleep. It was a tiny room beneath the eaves with a sloping floor and a window which overlooked the narrow strip of water. A fireplace was laid ready for lighting. On a single bed with a patchwork cover over it a black cat was curled up sleeping. It opened one eye as they came into the room and then closed it again. Susannah had squealed in delight.
‘You bad cat,’ Mrs Brewster exclaimed. ‘Off that bed this minute!’
‘Oh, please, let it stay!’ Susannah pleaded. ‘I don’t mind at all.’
‘She’s not supposed to come upstairs,’ Mrs Brewster had said. ‘But she allus sneaks up when I’m not looking.’
The cat had stretched and yawned and come to push its nose against Susannah’s hand, and then jumped down from the bed and scurried downstairs. Susannah had hoped it would come back, but it didn’t and she saw it later running down the bank of the stream.
She rose from her bed. It seemed strange not having to rush to get ready to go to the mill and she thought of Jane going off on her own and then returning later to an empty cottage. But no, it won’t be empty. Wilf will be waiting for her – us. I hope he isn’t angry with her when he discovers I’ve gone. I wonder if he will tell anybody, like Daniel or Thomas. But then she surmised that he wasn’t likely to, in case Mr Ellis got word of it and wanted the school money back.
Mrs Brewster had said yesterday that she would send Mr Brewster up later to light the fire for her, but Susannah told her that she could do that herself without bothering Mr Brewster. As it got dark, Mrs Brewster had reminded her to go up and put a match to it, and there was soon a warming glow flickering round the room. She had sat back on her heels and contemplated that it was nice to have a bedroom of her own rather than a bed in the kitchen as she had had at Aunt Lol’s house. She still thought of it as Aunt Lol’s house, even though strictly speaking it now belonged to Wilf.
A tiled washstand had been placed near the window and on it stood an earthenware jug with water in it, a bowl and a soap dish; underneath was a small cupboard containing a chamber pot and at the side was a rail with a clean towel hanging on it. Susannah washed her hands and face and then dressed. It was a very cosy room, she thought, and she had slept well.
Her boots clattered on the bare wooden stairs as she went down and Mrs Brewster turned from the range where she was stirring something in a saucepan. ‘Good morning, m’dear,’ she said. ‘I hope you slept well.’
‘I did, thank you,’ Susannah said. ‘Mrs Brewster, you haven’t said how much I’ll have to pay for my board and lodgings.’
‘Oh, nor I did!’ Mrs Brewster continued stirring the pot. ‘Well, let’s wait and see how much you eat, shall we? If you onny eat like a sparrow then I’ll not charge as much as I will if you eat like a trencherman.’ She looked up and smiled at her, her plump cheeks dimpling. ‘I quite like having company,’ she said. ‘We don’t get many folks here in ’winter.’
There was crusty bread on the table and a slab of yellow butter. Mrs Brewster set out three bowls and asked Susannah to fetch spoons and knives from the dresser drawer. Then she ladled generous helpings of gruel into the bowls. ‘Go and shout Mister in, will you?’ she asked. ‘He’s just out in ’yard.’
As Susannah called, the black cat ran in. Mr Brewster came in and washed his hands and then sat down at the table. Susannah followed suit. She was hungry. The gruel was thick and creamy and quite unlike the thin offering that Aunt Jane made for breakfast. But she was torn between eating a large helping and only eating a little so that the amount she had to pay would be small.
Mrs Brewster saw her hesitation. ‘I seem to have made too much this morning,’ she said. ‘Eat up, m’dear. I can’t abide waste and Mr Brewster never has a second helping.’
The cat meowed and jumped onto Susannah’s knee. ‘I think she’s hungry,’ she said. ‘Can I save her some of my gruel?’
‘You’ll spoil her,’ Mrs Brewster warned. ‘She’s a madam, that one. Mek her get down and you can give her some when you’ve finished.’
Susannah stroked the silky fur and lifted the cat down. They had never had a pet at Aunt Lol’s. Sometimes she and Thomas fed the wild cats that hung around the garden waiting for scraps, but they were never allowed to entice them into the house.
‘After we’ve finished breakfast’ – Mrs Brewster poured honey onto her gruel and handed the jug to Susannah – ‘I need to go to ’Market Place and buy a few odds and ends, and Mr Brewster needs his boots mending so I mun call at ’cobbler’s.’
‘And buy me a newspaper if you will, Mrs Brewster,’ the old man said. ‘I’d like to know about ’price o’ barley. Rumour has it that there’s to be an increase.’
‘May I come with you?’ Susannah asked. ‘I could help to carry your shopping and find out what time ’carrier leaves on Monday.’
‘Not staying long, then?’ Mr Brewster said. ‘Where did you say you lived?’
‘She didn’t say, Mr Brewster,’ his wife replied. ‘But she’s going into Hull on Monday. Yes, you can come, m’dear, and I’ll show you our fine town. We have our own mayor, you know, and a town hall! We’ve got churches and chapels, inns and schools, tanneries and brewers.’ She nodded her head. ‘We’ve even got a lamplighter to light ’gas lamps for them as likes to go out at night. Everything any single body would want. No need at all to go anywhere else.’ She wrinkled her eyebrows and gazed at Susannah. ‘But there we are. If you’re set on travelling …’
‘It’s not that I’m set on travelling, Mrs Brewster.’ Susannah scraped her bowl clean. ‘But I have to find work of some kind or how else will I live?’
Mrs Brewster took the bowl from her and filled it up with more gruel. ‘You seem very young to me to be going off on your own. Where will you eat and sleep after a day’s work?’
Susannah l
ooked down at her breakfast. Suddenly she had lost her appetite. ‘I don’t know.’ Her mouth trembled. She had never before made such decisions; neither had she ever spent time alone. ‘I’ll have to try for lodgings, I suppose.’
‘Without recommendation!’ Mrs Brewster looked aghast. ‘Why, you could end up in some terrible place.’
‘Shouldn’t be going there on your own.’ Mr Brewster shook his head. ‘What does your ma say about that? Who is your ma?’
‘Never mind about that just now, Mr Brewster.’ Mrs Brewster poured tea into a large cup and handed it to him. ‘We’ll have a talk a bit later on. See if we can come up wi’ a solution.’
Susannah offered to wash the breakfast dishes whilst Mrs Brewster went outside to feed the hens. Mr Brewster was getting ready to go into the tavern to prepare for the customers. ‘Sat’day’s a busy day,’ he told her. ‘We have our regulars on a Sat’day. Some of ’em fetch their newspapers and stay all day. Don’t know what their wives mun think.’
‘I suppose if they know that they’re here, they won’t mind so much, Mr Brewster,’ Susannah said, recalling that Aunt Lol always knew what time Uncle Ben would be home after visiting the Wheatsheaf.
She finished drying the dishes and looked round the room to see if there was anything else she could do. But all was neat and tidy, the cushions on the wooden chairs plumped up, the rag rug in front of the fire looking as if it had been freshly shaken. She thought how different it was from home. Aunt Jane wasn’t at all house-proud. She said she had scrubbed enough floors at the Ellises’ to last her a lifetime. Neither could she cook. After all the years spent in the kitchens at Burstall House, the only thing Jane had learned to do was peel potatoes, scrub carrots or pod peas. Since Aunt Lol had died that was all they had eaten, apart from an occasional burnt chop.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily and Susannah glanced at it. Eight o’clock. Twenty-four hours had passed since she had collected her wages at Enholmes and walked away from all she knew and was familiar with. Suddenly she felt frightened and sat down abruptly, cradling her chin in her hands. What shall I do? I don’t know if I’m brave enough to go into Hull on my own. The town will be full of seamen. My teacher said it’s a busy port. What if I can’t get work? Do I want to work in another mill? What if I can’t find anywhere to stay? Aunt Jane, you shouldn’t have told me to run away! I wouldn’t have thought of it if you hadn’t put the idea in my head.