‘I’m coming to the brewery with you,’ she decided. ‘I’ll say I got down but climbed back when you weren’t looking and hid in one of the barrels. Then none of it is your fault.’
Boyd pursed his mouth and frowned. ‘You’ve got an answer for everything, you have. And you’ve put on your good gown. Oh, Daisy, why do you do these things?’
Daisy smoothed down her skirts. ‘I like it and I’m only allowed to wear it on Sundays. It’s not fair.’
‘Well, it certainly won’t be if you get it dirty or tear it. Go home to Mother.’
‘No, I won’t. She’ll make me scrub all the floors – even the ones that don’t need doing – while she reads the Bible at me. I can’t spend my days doing that for ever. I only want a little fun. Is it too much to ask?’
‘No, it isn’t. It’s just that I’m worried for you. More so now I know about the beatings. I’ll make a detour and drop you in the village to sell your eggs.’
‘But I want to go to the brewery,’ she insisted.
Boyd gave an exasperated sigh and flicked the reins. ‘Well, I don’t want to waste my time going to the village just for the eggs.’
‘Then don’t.’
‘Listen to me. When we get there, you’re not to go off on your own. I mean it, Daisy. A young girl like you can get into a lot of trouble.’
‘I can go with you, then?’
‘I suppose so. I’ll think of something to tell Mother and Father, but I’m not that good at lying.’
‘I’ll explain. You’re not to say anything. It only makes it worse for me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’ Daisy dwelt briefly on the real possibility of a beating, pushed the notion to the back of her mind and commented, ‘Father let you go with him to the brewery when you were only ten.’
‘It’s different for lads.’
Daisy didn’t have an answer for this because she knew that it was. She’d had lessons at Sunday school until Mother put a stop to it as she needed her home to cook the Sunday dinner. So although she could read and write well, apart from the few sermons she’d listened to, Daisy knew very little about the world around her except for what her parents told her.
The wagon with its valuable load of empty barrels bumped along the track until it left the woodland and joined the turnpike for town. The cooper’s had made barrels since before the brewery came into existence. Boyd Higgins was welcomed as a more reliable carrier than his father had been. Daisy was serious about wishing her parents dead. As soon as he was one and twenty Boyd could set up as a carter in his own right. Daisy could keep house for him and even though they could not marry they could be together and look out for each other. Boyd couldn’t argue with that. It’s what brothers and sisters were for, wasn’t it?
Daisy dreamed of that day. In her dream there were no parents, only the two of them, a horse and cart, the hens and – and some geese and a pig to see them through the winter.
‘Do you think the cooper will always want to send barrels to the brewery?’ Daisy asked.
‘They will. The South Riding pits and furnaces produce thirsty workers as well as coal and iron. There’s a tavern on every corner in the town. But they might not always want me to be their carrier, unless I do a good job. So you behave yourself, Daisy Higgins.’
Chapter 16
Boyd turned the horse’s head into the brewery yard. Daisy inhaled the heady smells and her eyes darted backwards and forwards taking in the tall brick buildings and chimneys. Boyd carefully negotiated his wagon and several working men wandered outside to watch. One took the horse’s bridle and Boyd tossed him the reins. ‘Wait here, Daisy, while I’m in the office.’
‘Let me take the eggs round to the kitchen. I want to see in the house,’ Daisy said as she hitched up her skirt and clambered over the front of the cart to the driving seat.
‘Daisy, keep your legs covered! I can see your garters.’
Boyd was too late to stop her. A ripple of comments and whistles from the brewery workers attracted more of their fellows outside and when she righted herself and straightened her bonnet she had a gathering audience. Boyd had covered his eyes with his hand and was shaking his head slowly. ‘You’re too old for those capers now, Daisy,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll get a reputation.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She should have thought! She clutched the egg basket tightly and began counting them earnestly.
A voice called, ‘What do you do for an encore, lass?’
Daisy blushed and looked at her feet. When she glanced at Boyd his face was like thunder.
‘Haven’t you got work to do,’ he growled at the man.
At the same time the brewer appeared from his office building and strode across to the wagon. ‘What’s going on out here? Get back to work, all of you. I’ll tell you when you can unload.’ He looked angry too and Daisy concentrated on the contents of her basket.
‘My sister Daisy, sir,’ Boyd explained. ‘She has some new-laid eggs from our hens.’
‘Take them into the house, lass. The kitchen is round the back.’
The house was another high brick-built affair across the yard from the brewery. The brewer and his family lived there behind a large front door at the top of a flight of stone steps. The kitchen was underneath. Daisy followed a stone-flagged footpath round the side of the house and found a girl hanging out bedsheets on a network of washing lines in the yard. She was older than Daisy and quite plump. Her breasts pushed out her apron top. Daisy noticed these things on other girls and compared herself with them. She was thinner than this girl and her breasts were smaller.
The girl’s hair was hidden by a plain cotton cap. ‘Who are you?’ she asked Daisy. She didn’t sound like a servant.
‘Daisy Higgins. I’ve brought these eggs.’ She held out her basket.
The girl ignored the contents and asked, ‘Is Boyd here with you?’
‘He’s unloading barrels in the yard.’
‘Take the eggs in the kitchen.’ The girl jerked her head in the direction of the house, smoothed down her apron and disappeared down the path to the front.
Alone, Daisy hesitated. The kitchen door stood ajar and she heard voices. Purposefully she walked towards them and stood on the threshold. It was a cavernous room with a big cooking range, cupboards and shelves of pots around the walls. Several women of different ages were sitting at a large deal table preparing vegetables and talking.
‘Is that you standing in the light again, Mattie?’ one of the older women called. ‘In or out but don’t dawdle.’
‘It’s not Mattie. It’s me.’
‘Who’s me? Come over here where we can see you, then.’
One of the younger women recognised her. ‘I know you. I’ve seen you in Sunday school. You’re Boyd’s little sister, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve brought these if – if you need any.’
One of the older women stood up and came to look in her basket.
‘They’re new-laid,’ Daisy added. Then she remembered her manners, gave a curtsey and said, ‘Madam.’
‘Ee, you don’t call me madam, me ducks. Madam is over there.’ She took the basket from her.
The mistress smiled and rose to her feet and it was then that Daisy noticed her lace cap and clean neat gown half-hidden by a large white apron.
She curtseyed again. ‘Sorry, madam.’
The brewer’s wife smiled and said, ‘Do you know my children?’
Daisy thought how lovely she looked. Her face was lined but her eyes and cheeks seemed to glow when she smiled. Her own mother hardly ever smiled and for a moment Daisy envied the brewer’s children, not for their big house and thriving brewery, but for their cheerful, friendly kitchen that was so different from the one at home.
‘Wait there, dear,’ the mistress said and disappeared up a flight of stone steps in the corner of the kitchen.
There were three girls left at the table and one of them said, ‘Come and sit down. Are they from your hens?’
‘The hens belong to Father,’ Daisy answered. Everything belonged to Father. He told them that regularly.
Another girl said, ‘Shall we ask our father if we can keep hens?’
‘Oh, don’t do that,’ Daisy responded. ‘I want you to buy our eggs.’
They all looked at her and laughed. But it was in a good-natured kindly way and Daisy smiled nervously.
The older girl who knew her said, ‘Of course you do.’ She paused then added, ‘I haven’t seen you in Sunday school lately.’
‘I have to cook the dinner for Mother.’
‘I see. I expect Boyd brought you today. How old are you, now?’
Daisy told her and added Boyd’s age for good measure.
‘Our Mattie’ll be seventeen next week!’ one of the younger girls exclaimed.
The mistress returned with some coins that she handed to Daisy along with the empty basket. ‘Thank you kindly, Daisy,’ she said. ‘Please give my good wishes to your mother. I shall be pleased to receive any eggs that she can spare.’
‘Really?’ Daisy’s eyes shone. Her fingers curled tightly around the coins. If she told that to Mother when she got home she wouldn’t be angry with her. Would she?
The older girl walked with her to the kitchen door and said goodbye. Daisy dodged her way though the flapping wet sheets and round to the front of the house where Boyd was unloading the brewery barrels alone, watched by the brewer. And by Mattie.
Daisy didn’t notice her at first because she hovered on the corner of the house and shrank back out of sight when her father turned to say something to Boyd.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be here?’ Daisy asked.
‘Be quiet,’ Mattie whispered.
‘Why?’
‘Why do you think?’
Daisy took a step sideways and stood in front of her as the brewer twisted his head and called out, ‘Who’s there?’
Boyd turned around and noticed her. ‘It’s only my sister, sir.’
‘Come forward and show yourself, lass.’
Daisy edged out of the shadows.
‘Who is that with you?’
‘It’s me, Father. I was showing Daisy the way out.’ Mattie fell into step beside her and Daisy saw Boyd’s face light up with a smile. She glanced at Mattie who was looking at the ground, biting her bottom lip.
‘That’s very civil of you, Mathilda.’
‘Thank you, Father. Good morning, Master Higgins.’
Daisy watched her brother pull off his cap, bow his head formally and murmur, ‘Good morning, Miss Mathilda.’ Daisy frowned, turning down the corners of her mouth and remembering his words from earlier. When you grow up you meet someone from outside your family and you fall for them and then you marry that person. Alarmed, Daisy realised that person was Mattie.
Mathilda was from outside of Boyd’s family and Daisy reckoned he must have fallen for her because she had never seen him behave in this way towards a girl before. He’d fallen for her and by the look of it Mattie had fallen for him. Well, she couldn’t have him. He was her brother and she wasn’t going to let any Mattie take him away from her.
‘Are we going home now, Boyd?’ she asked, as he heaved down the last of the barrels. ‘We have to hurry.’
‘I just need a signature for the cooper’s. Go and wait by the cart.’
He turned his attention to the brewery owner and the two girls walked away.
‘You don’t have to stay with me,’ Daisy said.
‘I don’t mind. I like you,’ Mattie replied.
Daisy didn’t believe her and it must have shown on her face but Mattie persisted. ‘Will you be my friend?’ she asked.
Why would she want to be friends with her? Daisy’s immediate reaction was, No! You want to take my brother from me! But Daisy did not have any friends. Their cottage was isolated and the only other children she had met were at Sunday school. The brewer’s kitchen had been warm and friendly. Daisy would enjoy being a part of it as Mattie’s friend.
This made her feel better, although she had a niggling doubt that she was being selfish. If you’re lucky, you marry her, Boyd had said. Mattie wasn’t interested in her. It was obvious to Daisy who Mattie was really interested in. Daisy didn’t think the brewer would care for one of his daughters striking up a friendship with a carter’s daughter, and definitely not a carter’s son.
‘I can’t be your friend,’ she answered. ‘I have to look after the house.’
‘Well, I could walk over to your cottage to – to collect our eggs then.’
And then I’d have no reason to go anywhere myself, Daisy thought. ‘It’s a long way,’ she replied.
‘Don’t you want me to be your friend?’
‘Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know!’
‘Mattie!’ An adult voice called from behind them and Mattie’s mother came along the a path carrying a calico-wrapped parcel and a corked stone bottle. ‘I wondered where you were.’
Mattie swivelled round. ‘I have been talking to Daisy. Mother, can I go and visit Daisy on Sunday afternoons? She wants me to be her friend.’
Daisy just stopped herself from saying, ‘No I don’t!’
The older woman looked thoughtful. ‘It’s too far to walk back alone, dear.’
‘You could meet me halfway in the trap. Daisy and Boyd will wait with me.’
‘Your father likes us all together on Sundays, dear.’
That means no, then, Daisy thought and was pleased. Mattie’s mother offered Daisy her parcel. ‘I’ve packed some bread and meat for your luncheon.’
Luncheon? Daisy had never heard of luncheon before. It was dinner or it was tea but no matter, Boyd was always hungry. Daisy took the bulky cloth with a thank you and a curtsey and found herself alone as Mattie was ushered away to finish her chores.
Daisy was hungry too when a sweaty thirsty Boyd clambered up to the driving seat beside her and flicked the reins to drive out through the brewery gates. He wiped his throat and chest on a grubby cloth and asked, ‘What did Mattie have to say?’
‘Nothing. Her mother came for her. Do you want a drink?’
‘Is it ginger beer?’
‘I don’t know.’ Daisy took the cork out of the stone bottle and sniffed its contents. ‘Yes. Here.’ She shoved it in his hand and watched him swallow. ‘This is for our luncheon,’ she said, unwrapping the calico. ‘What is luncheon?’
‘It’s what the gentry have to keep them going until dinner because they have their dinner late on.’
‘Can we go and eat it on Kimber Hill? You can see for miles up there.’
‘Best not, Daisy. I want to get you back before Father’s home from his shooting. We’ll eat as we drive.’
‘Look, there’s a rabbit on the step. Father is home already!’
‘But he was supposed to be out all day!’ A shiver of fear went down Daisy’s back. ‘He’ll be furious with me.’
‘Don’t go in alone. I’ll come with you and give him your egg money. Wait for me to stable the horse.’
‘What about the rest of this food?’
‘I’ll hide it in the shed. Let me do the talking, Daisy.’
‘No, don’t,’ she cried, but he was halfway to the shed.
When they walked into the kitchen Mother was sitting at the table with her hands clasped and Father was standing in front of the fire with his hands behind his back.
‘Where have you been?’
Boyd answered. ‘To the cooper’s and the brewery as you ordered, Father.’
‘Don’t lie to me. You should have been home hours ago.’
‘I’m not lying to you, Father. I had to unload on my own. It took me ages.’
Mr Higgins clenched his fists by his side and grimaced. ‘Tell me the truth!’
‘It is the truth,’ Daisy answered. ‘I watched him.’
‘Be quiet, Daisy,’ Boyd hissed. But he was too late.
Father’s face turned a dark red as he addressed Daisy. ‘You went with him to the brewery, a
place occupied by lewd men who drink and gawp at women?’ Then his wrath focused on Boyd and he thundered, ‘You allowed her to go with you, knowing your poor dear mother would be struggling alone at home?’
‘She took eggs to sell,’ Boyd replied. He held out the money. ‘Look how much she has made for you, Father.’ He placed the coins on the table.
‘Mother said I could take the eggs, Father,’ Daisy added. Her mother was sitting silently at the kitchen table. Her face was expressionless. ‘Tell him, Mother,’ Daisy pleaded.
But her mother looked fearful and replied, ‘I didn’t say you could go to the brewery. You are a wilful wicked child. Tell your father what you are.’
Daisy resigned herself to a beating and repeated, ‘I am a wilful wicked child.’ She had learned, sometimes painfully, that she must show remorse. If she did then her punishment was less severe. But her eyes were filled with dread. ‘I am sorry, Father,’ she added.
He brought his arms from behind his back and flicked his cane in his right hand. The tip sang in the air. Daisy swallowed. She wanted to rip it from his grasp, break it in two and put it on the fire. But any sort of retaliation would only make her punishment worse. She had learned to be docile and repentant to lessen the hurt.
‘I should not have disobeyed Mother and I am sorry,’ she said.
Her father smirked with satisfaction. ‘You think that makes your sin less wicked? Well, it doesn’t. A double sin deserves a double penalty.’ He flicked his whip through the air again.
‘No, Father,’ Boyd protested. ‘It was my fault and mine alone. I said she could come with me. If anyone deserves a beating it’s me.’
‘Be quiet and get yourself off to the shed where you belong!’ He swayed and sneered. ‘On second thoughts, I think you should stay. You’re fond of your little sister aren’t you? Well, I’ll teach you to encourage her disobedience. You will observe her suffering so that you will not be so inclined to be a part of her wickedness in future. What did we do, Mother, for the Lord to punish us with such sinful children?’
‘It is God’s will, dearest husband, that we must suffer too.’
The Lost And Found Girl Page 15