by Dilly Court
By the time the afternoon session ended Nettie was aching all over and her fingers were stained black from the hop juice, and bleeding from tiny cuts from the spiny stems. She rose stiffly, stepping aside as the other hoppers streamed towards their respective huts, laughing and talking, with the younger children and dogs gambolling on ahead.
‘What will we have for supper?’ Constance looked round as if hoping that the maid would appear again, bringing a basket from the kitchen.
‘We can’t depend on food sent from the big house.’ Nettie turned to Percy. ‘There’s a river nearby – are you any good at fishing?’
‘I haven’t fished since I was a boy.’
Byron came up behind him. ‘We haven’t done badly considering it’s our first day.’
‘Are you handy with a fishing line?’ Percy asked. ‘It looks as if we have to find our own dinner tonight. Unless I throw myself on Rufus’s mercy, which I don’t want to do.’
‘I am going to lie down. I’ve never worked so hard in my life,’ Lisette said, sighing. ‘This was not a good idea.’ She wandered off in the direction of the hut.
‘We must eat,’ Nettie said firmly. ‘I caught a glimpse of water through the trees, so we aren’t far from the river. We’d better do something or we’ll go hungry.’
‘Maybe one of the men could lend us some hooks and lines. I had a chat with that fellow over there. He’s seems friendly enough. I’ll go and ask him.’ Byron walked over to the man, who was tipping the last of his afternoon’s work into a poke, and exchanged a few words. ‘It’s all right,’ he called. ‘Ben is going to lend us what we need. You go on and I’ll collect the lines and follow you to the river.’
Percy took Constance by the hand and Nettie led the way, following a well-trodden path past the huts and into the cool shade of a spinney, through which the silver ribbon of water was clearly visible. They emerged once again into the sunlight and the river stretched out before them, curving snake-like through open countryside. Weeping willows dipped their leaves in the water, and dragonflies hovered over the surface, their wings beating so fast that they barely seemed to move. Percy uttered a triumphant yell and kicked off his boots before wading into the river and using his hands to scoop up water and toss it over his head, creating tiny rainbows in the still air.
‘Come out,’ Constance cried. ‘You’ll drown.’
‘I can swim like a fish.’ Percy demonstrated by diving into the water, disappearing from view for a few seconds and then surfacing in a shower of spray as he swam for the shallows. ‘The water is so cool. You should try it, girls.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Constance turned her back on him as he stood and made his way to the bank. ‘We have more sense, and anyway, I can’t swim.’
‘Neither can I,’ Nettie said wistfully. ‘But the water does look inviting.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps on the gravel path and saw Byron coming towards them with crudely made fishing rods, just as Percy emerged from the river with waterweed clinging to his clothes.
‘Percy, you fool. You’ve probably frightened all the fish for miles.’
Percy threw back his head and laughed. ‘Don’t be such a misery. You want to try it, Byron.’
Nettie could see that the brothers were about to argue and she stepped in between them. ‘I don’t know anything about fishing, but perhaps we ought to go downriver and try there, or I can see us going to bed tonight without any supper.’
Chapter Fifteen
That evening they sat round a campfire eating the trout they had caught and cooked over the flames. Byron was a townsman, lacking the necessary skills to provide food from the wild, but Percy had had a different upbringing in Catalonia, with freedom to roam as he pleased, and during his time at Cambridge he boasted about weekends spent with friends whose fathers owned large country estates. He knew how to gut fish and prepare it to be roasted on stones, heated in the fire, or cooked on a makeshift spit. The results varied from reasonably well done to slightly charred, but they were so hungry by the time the fish were cooked that they devoured every last morsel.
They had just finished their meal when Rufus joined them. ‘I’m not too late, I hope. My mother is a stickler for punctuality at the dinner table, or I would have come sooner.’ He placed the hamper he was carrying on the ground and handed out bottles of ale. ‘The best from Norwood’s Brewery.’
‘I don’t drink beer,’ Lisette said huffily.
‘I’ll have yours then, Mama.’ Percy went to take it from her but she shook her head.
‘I’m thirsty, so I’ll try it, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.’
‘You’ll find it quite refreshing.’ Percy took the bottle, uncapped it and handed it back to her.
‘I prefer wine,’ Constance said, pulling a face.
‘Then you should have found work in a vineyard. I’m afraid we only brew beer.’ Rufus opened a bottle and passed it to her. ‘Take a sip, Constance. It’s not so bad.’
‘I quite like ale.’ Nettie took a drink and nodded. ‘This is good. I could get used to this.’
‘At last – a connoisseur,’ Rufus said, chuckling. ‘You’re a woman after my own heart, Nettie.’ He raised his bottle to her in a toast. ‘You’ve survived the first day in the hop garden. I hope it wasn’t too terrible.’
She shot him a wary glance and realised that he was teasing her. She smiled and relaxed. Perhaps it was the strong ale, or maybe it was the moon rising over the horizon that made her feel warm and safe. Its beams reflecting on the water turned the river to ripples of molten silver, and somewhere in the spinney a nightingale began to sing.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lisette said, breaking the spell as she scrambled to her feet, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to English beer. It isn’t the drink for a lady. Anyway, I’m going to bed. Come with me, girls. I’m not walking through the woods on my own.’
‘Would you like me to see you safely to the hut, Mama?’ Byron asked politely.
It occurred to Nettie that he might have been speaking to a stranger and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. She knew how much he needed some show of affection from his mother, but so far their relationship had been cordial, if not overly warm. It seemed that Percy was still very much his mother’s favourite, and it hurt Nettie to see Byron pushed aside. She longed to say something to Lisette, but she was afraid any intervention might make matters worse.
‘No, you stay and chat,’ Lisette said coolly, adding as an afterthought, ‘Thank you, anyway, Byron.’
Constance rose to her feet, handing the bottle back to Rufus. ‘I suppose beer is good, if you like that sort of thing.’
‘Come along,’ Lisette said impatiently. ‘I’m tired.’
Nettie glanced at Byron and gave him an encouraging smile. ‘I’ll go with them. We’ll be quite safe.’ She hesitated for a moment, turning to Rufus. ‘I haven’t seen my father since this morning. Did he dine with you tonight?’
‘My mother insisted on it.’ Rufus’s lips twitched as if he were suppressing a chuckle. ‘Your father didn’t have much choice, but a glass or two of our best ale seemed to ease talk at the table, and Mama was in fine fettle.’
Nettie had no answer for that and she hurried after Constance and Lisette as they made their way back to the hut.
Nettie slept reasonably well, and she was first to rise from her bed. Her first task was to fetch water from the pump, but as she stepped outside she found two dead rabbits, hanging from a nail in the hut wall. On the ground beneath them was a basket filled with onions, potatoes, carrots, parsnips and a turnip. The sight of dried blood on the animals’ fur made her feel physically sick, and she covered her lips as bile rose to her throat.
‘What’s the matter, ducks? Never seen a dead coney afore?’
Nettie looked round and saw an elderly Romany women, whose face was tanned and weathered so that it gleamed liked polished leather. Her shrewd brown eyes twinkled and Nettie recognised her as the woman who had smiled a
t her the previous day.
‘Coney?’
‘Rabbit, dear. Someone has been generous, and you can make a stew that will fill your bellies for a day or two.’
‘I can make soup,’ Nettie said shyly, ‘but I don’t know what to do with a dead rabbits.’
‘I’ll show you. It’s early yet and not many are about. If you fetch water for me, I’ll make a start on the coneys.’
‘Thank you, I’d be very grateful.’ Nettie hesitated. ‘I’m Nettie, what’s your name?’
‘I’m Florica. Now hurry before the others rise and form a queue. We have to begin work early or we won’t fill enough baskets today.’
Nettie did as she was asked and filled the two buckets to the brim. When she returned she found Florica seated on the ground outside the hut, having skinned the rabbits, and about to prepare them for cooking.
‘You’ll need a stew pot, Nettie.’
‘We haven’t got anything like that.’
‘I have a spare one I can lend you, but I want it back, mind!’
‘Of course. Thank you.’
‘It’s in my vardo.’ Florica beckoned to a small child, who had appeared and was staring at them, sucking her thumb.
‘Daria, fetch the old cooking pot for the young lady.’
The little girl backed away, still staring wide-eyed at Nettie, and then she turned and ran.
‘Is she scared of me?’ Nettie asked anxiously. ‘She’s a pretty child.’
‘She’s a bit shy of gorgios, but she’ll be back. Now pay attention – this is how you gut a rabbit and cut it up for the pot. You can peel and chop the vegetables, while I do this.’
They worked quickly and in silence until the pot was full.
‘How will I cook it?’ Nettie asked anxiously. ‘I mean, isn’t it difficult without a range?’
‘As soon as you finish for the day you must get the fire going and hang the pan on a tripod over the flames.’ Florica nudged her, grinning. ‘I know you haven’t got such a thing, but I’m sure that handsome young master’s son could find you something from the big house kitchens. I saw him follow you down to the river last evening. I think he’s got his eye on you, missy.’
Nettie shook her head. ‘No, you’re mistaken. If Rufus Norwood fancies anyone it will be Constance. All the men fall for her.’
‘Trust Florica to know better.’
Nettie jumped to her feet as Byron stepped out of the hut. ‘Thank you for your help, Florica,’ she said hastily. ‘If there’s anything I can do for you, just say the word.’
‘We all help each other.’ Florica rose to her feet with surprising agility. ‘But I’ll take the rabbit skins, if you don’t want them. When I’ve finished with them they’ll make a pair of fur gloves for my granddaughter, or a warm hat.’
‘Oh, yes, please. I wouldn’t know what to do with them.’
Florica snatched the skins and scuttled off in the direction of her caravan. Byron leaned over to examine the contents of the pot.
‘Where did this come from?’
Nettie jerked her head in the direction of the gypsy caravan. ‘I don’t know who gave us the rabbits or the vegetables, but the gypsy woman loaned us the cooking pot, and she showed me how to prepare a rabbit stew.’
‘That should be tasty. I’ll look forward to my dinner tonight.’
‘Have you any idea who might have done this?’
‘Well, it wasn’t me. I’m not much use when it comes to being a hunter or a fisherman.’
‘You make a good fire,’ Nettie said, smiling. ‘And that’s what we’ll need later. We’ll also need some sort of stand so that we can hang the pot over the flames.’
‘I think that’s a job for Percy. I’ve heard him talking to the female servants. You’d think he was courting them, by the way he behaves, but it seems to work and he’s definitely a favourite below stairs. I wish I were half as charming as my brother.’
Nettie laid her hand on his arm. ‘You are just as good as Percy – in fact you’re the better man. He’s nice, but he’s a spoiled boy and you’re someone who can be trusted.’
Byron smiled ruefully. ‘How dull you make me sound, Nettie.’
She released him with a sigh. ‘Oh, well. If you’re determined to feel sorry for yourself I’ll leave you to wallow. I’m going to walk to the village and see if I can buy some bread for breakfast, or we’ll have to work on empty stomachs.’
Byron put his hand in his pocket and produced two pennies. ‘This is all I have.’
‘That will do. I have a penny so that should be able to get enough for a loaf and maybe a pat of butter.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Byron fell into step beside her. ‘We’ll have to hurry or we’ll be late starting and the foreman won’t be pleased.’
‘You stay here, Byron. You’re the fastest worker out of all of us. I’ll hurry and be back before you know it.’
‘Will you be all right on your own?’
‘I don’t think the big bad wolf will be lying in wait for me and I’m quite capable of finding the bakery, but thank you anyway.’ She hurried on, but had gone only a short distance when someone called her name and she looked round to see Rufus emerge from the stables. He was dressed for riding and carried a crop.
‘Where are you off to so early in the morning, Nettie?’
‘I’m going to the village for some bread.’
‘You’ll have a wasted journey then. There is no bakery in the village, which is little more than a hamlet, but Cook makes very tasty bread,’ he added with a twinkle in his dark eyes.
‘Thank you, but I can hardly go begging at your kitchen door.’ Nettie was about to retrace her steps and return to the hut when Rufus barred her way.
‘Don’t be so hasty. I know you’re in a difficult position, but your situation and that of your friends is different from the other hoppers. They come every year and they know the score, but Percy is my friend, therefore he and his family deserve to be treated as guests.’
‘No,’ Nettie said firmly. ‘We’re working for your father now, and that puts us in another class altogether. I’ve already had one of the Romany women remark on the fact that you joined us at the river last evening.’
‘It’s none of their business.’ Rufus frowned angrily. ‘I do as I please.’
‘That’s just my point. You are in a privileged position – we aren’t.’ Nettie started to walk away, but paused and turned her head to give him a straight look. ‘Do you know anything about two dead rabbits left outside our hut? There was also a basket of vegetables.’
‘Rabbits are a pest and our head gardener likes to keep them under control. The kitchen garden provides us with all our needs, so I thought you might be able to use them.’
‘Thank you, but without wanting to sound ungrateful, I think it best if we try to get by on our own. It really isn’t fair on the other workers – some of them are so poor that their children go barefoot. You’ll have a rebellion from the other hoppers if we’re seen to receive special treatment.’
Rufus shrugged. ‘It’s still summer. The children don’t need shoes in the country.’
‘And their clothes are in rags.’
‘Only a fool would wear their Sunday best to pick hops.’
‘Are you so blind to the lives of those less fortunate?’ Nettie demanded angrily. ‘These people work ten hours a day to bring in your harvest, out of which your father has made a fortune.’
‘They get paid well enough. I believe that most take home more than they would earn in London.’
‘But you know nothing about their lives or the hardships they endure.’
‘We run a business, not a charity.’
Nettie faced him, arms akimbo. ‘What do you do, exactly? You were at Cambridge with Percy, but you’ve graduated.’
He eyed her coldly. ‘That’s correct.’
‘So now you live here, riding your horse, going to parties and entertaining your friends.’
‘You say that as if it
were a bad thing. I will join the family business, when I am ready.’
‘Oh, well, that’s all right then, I suppose. Anyway, it’s none of my business.’ Nettie was about to walk away but he caught her by the wrist.
‘You are a stubborn young woman. I was trying to help, but it seems that I’m wasting my time.’
‘Leave us alone,’ Nettie said in desperation. ‘All we want to do is earn enough money to get us back to London, and the way of life we knew. It wasn’t easy, but we managed somehow. You’ve grown up in the lap of luxury, so you wouldn’t understand.’ She walked away without giving him a chance to answer.
After a long morning stripping the vines Nettie was beginning to wish that she had accepted Rufus’s offer of bread. They had eaten nothing since the previous evening, and with only water to drink Nettie was feeling faint, and Constance and Lisette worked so slowly that they were in danger of being laid off by the foreman.
‘I can’t and won’t work on an empty stomach.’ Lisette stood up, shaking the dust and dried leaves from her grimy skirt. ‘This is my idea of hell, and I refuse to do it any longer.’
Constance followed her example. ‘I’m going to the hut to lie down,’ she said crossly. ‘I’m hot and hungry, and my hands are ruined. I wish I’d gone with Duke. At least he treated me like a lady.’
‘He tricked you into marriage so that he could get his hands on your property,’ Nettie countered. ‘We have to work, or we’ll starve.’
‘Come along, Constance. We’ll return to the hovel, where at least it’s cool and there are no plant lice crawling all over us. If I can’t eat, I won’t work.’ Lisette marched off with her skirts held above her ankles, and Constance hurried after her.
Nettie was expecting the foreman to roar at them, but he chose that moment to call ten minutes for the midday break, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She rose to her feet and moved swiftly to where Percy was finishing off a vine.
‘We need food. It’s going to be nigh on impossible to do an afternoon’s work if we don’t eat.’
Percy stood up, brushing a shower of greenfly from his clothes. ‘I suppose you want me to whisper sweet nothings to Cook.’