A Family For Christmas

by Linda Finlay

  ‘I wish you could, but it seems his lordship lost a fortune at the betting tables so they’ll not be hiring anyone. Oh, Eliza, you didn’t really think you’d get a job here? I mean, your …’ Izzie’s voice tailed off as she stared at Eliza’s foot.

  ‘That doesn’t stop me working,’ Eliza pointed out. ‘I already tend the cot …’

  A bell chiming in the distance interrupted their conversation and Izzie jumped to her feet.

  ‘I hate to leave you, Eliza, but I daren’t risk losing my job. You do understand, don’t you?’ she asked. Swallowing her disappointment, Eliza nodded. Izzie kissed her cheek. ‘Go home, Eliza,’ she pleaded. ‘Father will have calmed down by now; you know how he blows hot and cold. Please?’

  Bravely, Eliza forced a smile. Izzie didn’t know the half of it, for she’d always been their father’s favourite. Sadly she watched as Izzie picked up the tray and hurried back up the path, taking her hopes for the future with her.

  Dashing away the tears that were now running freely down her cheeks, Eliza clambered to her feet and prepared to brace the elements once more. She’d only just stepped outside when she heard her sister shout. Her heart soared. Could there be a job for her after all? But as Izzie ran towards her, Eliza noticed she was holding out a shawl.

  ‘Here, take this. It’s perishing out here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her heart plummeting. ‘But won’t you be needing it?’

  Izzie shook her head. ‘I’ve got a fine fellow to keep me warm,’ she giggled, draping the woollen garment around Eliza’s shoulders. ‘Anyhow, it’ll soon be spring and I’ll be coming home for Mothering Sunday. You can give it me back then.’ A gong sounded from inside the house and, with a quick peck on Eliza’s cheek, Izzie disappeared.

  Wending her way back along the path the cart had taken, Eliza looked around, disappointed to see no sign of Carrots. She trudged on and, fortified by her stew, made good progress. Even the wind had dropped and before long she reached the lane. Knowing the right turn would take her back towards South Wood and the Mole Valley Mine, she resolutely turned left. Barnstaple was a big town and she’d surely be able to find work there.

  Hefting her bundle, Eliza continued her journey, hoping a passing carter would stop and offer her a lift. It had been good to see Izzie but was it so far-fetched to think she could have found her some work at the manor? She was her sister, after all. Her foot began to throb, but thoughts of how intolerable life would be at home if her father lost his job spurred her on. Devil child indeed! How dare he? She was no longer a child and knew no man would want to marry her but she was prepared to work hard, get a job, become independent and show them all.

  Thick cloud was building and lowering over the moor. It was growing darker by the minute and as a biting wind cut right through her, she sighed and pulled the shawl tighter round her. More bad weather was on the way. Despite her foot, she quickened her pace. Surely Barnstaple couldn’t be far?

  Then she heard the approaching sound of hooves and the rumbling of carriage wheels. Her spirits rose and, hopeful of a lift, she turned and waved. To her horror, instead of slowing, the driver whipped the horses, urging them on faster. Momentarily, Eliza was frozen to the spot. Then reason returned and she threw herself into the ditch as the carriage wheels missed her by inches. Shaken, she lay there gasping for breath as the thundering and rattling receded into the distance. Only when the lane was silent once more did she reach for her stick and scramble back up onto the lane. Bending to retrieve her bundle she saw her skirt and stockings were torn, revealing scraped knees. Although they stung, they weren’t bleeding, and apart from being mud-spattered, her sister’s shawl hadn’t suffered any damage. Brushing herself down as best she could, she continued her journey.

  Anger at the driver’s behaviour fuelled her steps, but she knew it would be foolish to stay on the highway. Hitching up her skirts, she clambered awkwardly over the next stile and began making her way along the edge of the moor. If she kept to the line of the fence, she would surely be following the lane to Barnstaple, she reasoned. But the ground was uneven, with bushes and boulders impeding her progress. Then the dimpsy light began playing tricks on her orientation and she lost her way. When she’d passed the same gnarled tree with its spreading roots for the third time, she knew she had strayed up onto the moor itself.

  Exhaustion and the rougher terrain made her limp more pronounced. Knowing she couldn’t walk much further, she peered around, hoping to see the flickering light from a homestead or farm. In every direction the barren landscape brooded under the prospect of bad weather and dark, sinister shapes loomed out of the darkness. Recalling tales she’d heard of people blundering into bogs and being sucked to their deaths, she shivered. Then the clouds parted and she saw one single star shining brightly out of the inky sky. If she used that as a guide, it would surely save her from going round in circles again.

  With renewed hope, she trudged on, but had only gone a short way when large white flakes of snow began to fall, quickly covering her hair and the ground before her. The howling wind soon whipped the snow into a blizzard and before long she couldn’t tell where sky met ground. There was no way she could continue walking, yet to stay in the open would mean certain death.

  She squinted into the darkness and her heart leaped. Surely that was a tumbledown shed? Summoning the last of her energy, she made her way towards it and stumbled inside. Exhausted, she sank down onto soft dry hay, hardly noticing the ponies eyeing her curiously. As if sensing her distress, they moved closer and before long the heat from their bodies began to thaw her icy bones. Their snuffling and shuffling was comforting and she snuggled further into the hay. With the warmth from their breath wafting over her, she was asleep in moments.

  Eliza came to with a start, almost blinded by dazzling brightness. The ponies, with their long shaggy coats, stood munching contentedly and through the doorway beyond, all she could see was shimmering whiteness. Struggling to her feet, she stretched her cramped body and pulled the shawl tighter around her. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d had nothing to eat since noon the previous day. Picking up a mangold from the heap in the corner of the shed, she bit into it and grimaced. A pony lifted his head and whinnied as if he was laughing at her reaction and, despite her hunger, she couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ she whispered, picking out burrs and gorse from his grubby grey coat and patting his head. ‘Well, boy, it’s been lovely sharing your shed but I must be making tracks,’ she added, more to convince herself than her companions.

  Stepping out into the glistening wonderland, she shook her head. Talking to animals indeed! Carefully picking her way across the snow-covered ground, for the first time in her life she was glad for the protection her thick, ugly boots afforded. The sparse vegetation was bent away from the wind, rimed with frost and capped with snow. It looked so pretty, and despite the cold air that almost took her breath away, she felt her spirits lifting. If she kept going in the same direction, she’d surely come to a farm or dwelling before long.

  She plodded on but as the terrain rose higher the drifts became deeper impeding her progress. All she could see was an endless expanse of white as sky merged with ground. The crunch of her footsteps was accompanied by the lone call of the stormcock, the only bird brave enough to sing in this wild weather.

  Then the singing stopped, the sky darkened and out of the east came more snow, blotting out the moor ahead. Tears rolled down Eliza’s cheeks and she felt as if they were frozen to her skin. Stopping to pull the shawl further over her head, she caught a whiff of smoke. She
sniffed again, her spirits rising. Was civilization close after all? Hope lending her strength, she followed the scent until she found herself at a rickety fence. Beyond, a low building, its sloping turf and gorse roof powdered with snow, huddled into the side of the moor.

  Unlatching the gate, Eliza limped up the white-blanketed path. As she stood there plucking up courage to seek refuge, the door burst open and a strange-looking woman appeared, shot-gun in hand.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she demanded. Then, spotting Eliza, she lifted it to her shoulder and aimed directly at her head. Eliza slumped to the ground, her clothes and her precious box spilling out over the snow.

  Red eyes grinned. ‘We’ve come to get you,’ the goblins hissed, long arms reaching out to snake around her body.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Drink this,’ a voice urged. Liquid wetted her lips. They were poisoning her. No goblin was going to get her. She tried to spit it out but her head was heavy and wouldn’t move. Darkness closed over her.

  Green lips grinned. ‘Devil child …’ the dragons hissed, breathing red flames over her face.

  ‘On fire,’ she mumbled, her throat burning. Damp material smothered her. It smelled vile. She couldn’t breathe. Darkness descended.

  Icy laughter crackled. ‘Turn hideous child to toad,’ the witch cackled, rubbing her long fingers together with glee.

  ‘No!’ she croaked.

  Something washed over her face, damp, harsh-smelling. More liquid was poured down her throat. Cold, it was so cold. White powder drifted down, enfolding her in its soft cloud.

  Through the fog, came voices. Cackling and croaking; spitting and smoking. She tried to open her eyes but couldn’t. Cotton wool engulfed her, thick, warm and so snug.

  Slowly, the veil inched upwards. A witch’s face stared down at her.

  ‘Decided to join us, have you?’ she cackled.

  ‘Don’t put a spell on me,’ Eliza whispered.

  The crone gave a harsh laugh and, cloth in hand, leaned closer. Eliza’s eyes widened in terror, she opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came.

  3

  Eliza tried to open her eyes but they were too heavy. She tried again, shocked to see a giant hovering high above her. As she opened her mouth to scream, he grinned and patted her hand. Through her wooziness, fragments of nightmare returned.

  ‘The witch?’ she muttered, trying to sit up. He frowned, gently pushing her back down again.

  ‘Lie still or you’ll get dizzy. High temperature has made you delirious. Even the storm raging outside’s no match for your moaning and thrashing.’ Leaning forward, he moistened her lips with a cloth.

  ‘No more poison,’ she protested. But the effort was too much and the last thing that registered was the giant shaking his head, a halo swirling around him.

  When she next surfaced, the first thing she heard was that crackling sound. This time, piercing green eyes stared down at her, seemingly seeing right into her soul. Long bony fingers clutching a cloth reached out to cover her face. She gasped.

  ‘Go away, you witch.’

  ‘You’ll do,’ the woman chortled. ‘You had us worried for a while, child.’

  ‘Fever’s broken. Give her some cooled water and let her sleep.’ As the giant’s voice came out of the shadows, she felt the damp cloth on her forehead, then more liquid spooned into her mouth. She tried to speak but the effort was too much. Her head swirled and whirled then darkness descended, claiming her once more.

  Next time Eliza opened her eyes no one was peering down at her, and to her relief, the room wasn’t moving. She struggled to sit up.

  ‘Welcome back to the world, little one.’ The giant, seemingly appearing from nowhere, grinned down at her, his voice soft and reassuring. Then she heard the crackling.

  ‘The witch,’ she croaked.

  ‘Hush, there’s no witch here. Fever probably gave you strange dreams.’

  ‘I think she means me,’ the woman grunted, bending over her again. ‘Here, have a drink.’ She held a mug to Eliza’s lips, snorting when she recoiled. ‘It’s only boiled water.’ Tentatively Eliza took a sip then, realizing how thirsty she was, gulped greedily.

  ‘Gently does it, little un,’ the giant urged. ‘You’ll be sick if you drink too much.’

  Hearing another crackle, Eliza looked round and saw she was lying in front of a roaring fire. For a few moments, she lay watching the flames shooting up the chimney like orange rockets. Then the wood spat, giving a loud crack that made her jump. Another memory surfaced and she turned back to face the woman.

  ‘You shot me,’ she exclaimed.

  The giant laughed. ‘Believe you me, if Fay had, you’d be dead meat. She’s a crack shot; never missed a rabbit or pigeon in her life.’

  ‘But you pointed your gun at me,’ she insisted.

  ‘Indeed I did,’ the woman nodded. ‘I thought you were an intruder, prowling around my homestead like that. I didn’t need to shoot; you fainted clean away in the snow.’

  ‘Oh,’ Eliza muttered, sinking weakly back onto the mattress.

  ‘Oh? Is that all you can say after I let you sleep in my bed?’ the woman retorted.

  ‘Now then, Fay, don’t torment the girl. She’s frail as a feather. Give her some of your beef tea. I’ll be back to see how you are tomorrow, little un,’ the giant said, leaning closer. Eliza noticed he had kind eyes, the colour of ripe chestnuts, and realized the halo she had seen was the riot of dark curls tumbling around his head. Reassured, she smiled back at him, but even that effort was too much and her eyelids fluttered closed. She barely registered the door shutting or the woman moving around before sleep claimed her once more.

  Next time Eliza woke, her head felt clearer. She tried to sit up, only to collapse again.

  ‘Steady, child, you’re feebler than a runt. Hold onto me,’ the woman urged, helping her into a sitting position then propping her up with soft sheepskins. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Eliza.’

  ‘Well, Eliza, people around these parts call me Fay. Now we’ve been properly introduced, let’s see about getting you something to eat.’ She lifted a blackened iron pot from the crook over the fire and deftly poured liquid into a mug. As a savoury aroma wafted Eliza’s way, her stomach growled with hunger.

  ‘Drink this,’ the woman ordered before settling herself onto the chair beside the hearth. Eliza did as she’d been bid and before long she felt her strength returning.

  ‘I’m sorry for turning up like that yesterday,’ she said, thinking an apology was in order.

  To her surprise Fay gave a harsh laugh. ‘Yesterday? Ten days ago, more like.’

  ‘Ten days!’ Eliza spluttered.

  ‘You’ve been really poorly, my girl. In fact, on a couple of occasions, you very nearly went to join your Maker. The fever was so high, even my curatives couldn’t contain it. Thank heaven for Duncan the Druid and his greater knowledge or you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Duncan the Druid – he’s the giant?’ Eliza asked.

  ‘He is tall, I grant you, but I can’t say I’ve ever thought of him as a giant. Anyhow, you’ve much to thank him for, my girl. He refused to leave your side until that fever finally broke. Satisfied you’re on the mend, he’s finally gone to get some rest.’ Fay stifled a yawn and Eliza guessed Duncan wasn’t the only one who’d gone without sleep.

  ‘I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done.’

  ‘Couldn’t leave you outside to perish, could we?’ she said brusquely. ‘Now, if you’ve finished that broth, I’ll take the mug and have some my
self. Lie down and get some more sleep. It’s the most restorative thing for you now.’

  ‘I can’t spend all my time sleeping,’ Eliza protested. ‘I need to find somewhere to shelter, get a job and …’ She slumped back against the sheepskins, drained of energy. In truth she had no idea where she could go.

  ‘You must rest. It’s Mother Nature’s way of helping you recover. Besides, the sooner you’re better the sooner you can be on your way to wherever it was you were going.’ Sensing Fay’s animosity, Eliza turned over and eased herself further down the cover. The woman obviously resented her presence so the best thing she could do was get well and leave. Although where she was going to, goodness only knew.

  She must have drifted off again for it was dark when she woke. The only light was coming from the fire, which cast flickering shadows across the walls, scenting the room with the sweet smell of applewood. She heard soft snoring and saw Fay asleep in the chair, covered by an old greatcoat. Despite her gruff manner, the woman was still keeping a watch over her and Eliza felt guilty for putting her to so much trouble. Even thinking made her head hurt. She closed her eyes and it wasn’t long before sleep claimed her once more.

  When next she woke, soft grey light of morning was filtering through the window. The room was quiet and she saw the chair was empty. Feeling stronger, she eased herself into a sitting position. Holding the cover around her, she struggled to her feet but the room started spinning. Eliza reached for the chair, collapsing onto it just as the door clattered open. Fay stood there, wearing the greatcoat that had been keeping her warm the night before, a length of string tied around her middle. She was laden with sticks and logs, but as soon as she saw Eliza she tossed them in the direction of the fireplace where they landed on the stone hearth with a clatter. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she eased Eliza back down onto the mattress.