by Dilly Court
Wilfred uttered a growl and took a step towards Nancy, who hid behind Judy. ‘Get out,’ he bellowed, ‘and take that harpy with you.’
‘Go, please,’ Hilda pleaded. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I should do as she says,’ Nancy whispered in Judy’s ear. ‘I’ll keep an eye on things, or perhaps I should say I’ll listen, and the first sign of trouble I’ll be off down the lane to fetch the constable.’
Hilda nodded and Judy was left with no choice other than to do what her mother wanted, even though it felt completely wrong. She turned to Nancy, grasping her by the hand.
‘Promise me that you’ll watch out for my mother.’
Nancy’s small eyes glittered with excitement. ‘I most certainly will. You can’t trust men. I’m glad I never tied meself to one, although I had offers. I was pretty once.’
‘I’m sure you were,’ Judy said vaguely. ‘I’m sorry, Nancy, but I have to start walking. It’s three miles to Colneyhurst and it’ll be dark by the time I get there.’
‘Good luck, love,’ Nancy said gloomily as she climbed over the low wall and disappeared into her cottage, slamming the door behind her.
Faced with a long walk in the gathering gloom, Judy set off, heading towards Colneyhurst. The road took her along the margin of the saltings and as it grew darker she could see the tiny darting lights of the will-o’-the-wisp that had lured many a traveller to wander into the marshes. It was not until she reached the headland that the moon came out from beneath a thick blanket of clouds and the calm waters were bathed in a silver light. It was then that she spotted the almost forgotten and long-deserted smugglers’ inn. The landlord of this infamous hostelry, a relation of the notorious Dorning brothers, had been arrested and jailed along with his accomplices, and the pub had been empty for as long as Judy could remember. She could only imagine what it must have been like when the gangs were in operation, and the surrounding villages had been complicit in helping them to evade the revenue men.
Her feet were sore and she was exhausted, but she walked on despite the pain from her injuries. The road was deserted and she saw no one until she had almost reached Colneyhurst, but by this time it was pitch-dark and growing colder by the minute. Her thin cotton gown was no protection and she sighed with relief when she saw the lights of the Georgian mansion glimmering like tiny diamonds amongst the surrounding trees. An old man tipped his cap as he walked past her, and she acknowledged him with a nod.
‘If you’re planning on visiting the Hall, you’ll not find the master and mistress at home,’ he said gloomily. ‘Gone to London, they have.’
‘Thank you,’ Judy murmured as she hurried past him. She had been banking on finding Daisy at home, but perhaps Molly was there and she could share her room or, failing that, there were Pip and Nate. She headed for the servants’ entrance at the rear of the building and was met by a startled scullery maid. When Judy explained that she had come to visit her sister, the girl looked even more worried.
‘Molly’s gone to London town, miss. She’s looking after the little ’un, although Master Henry and Master Edward don’t need no nursemaid. They’re big boys now.’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Judy turned to go but the girl caught her by the hand.
‘It’s getting late. I expect Cook would give you a cup of tea or something.’
‘Thank you, that’s kind, but I’m going to the stable block to find my brothers.’ Judy walked off before the curious girl had a chance to ask any more questions. She picked her way across the cobbled yard to the stable block, and a dim light over the tack room indicated the presence of the stable lads. None of the doors was locked and Judy made her way in the darkness to the ladder leading up to the place where the boys slept. The smell of unwashed adolescent bodies hit her forcibly as she reached the loft, which was dimly lit by a couple of oil lamps. Pip, Nate and two other boys were sprawled on their beds, and the eldest boy was smoking a clay pipe. He jumped to his feet when he saw Judy and hid the pipe behind his back.
‘There you are, Davey. I told you you’d get caught smoking that filthy tobacco,’ Pip said gleefully. ‘Lucky for you it’s only my sister.’
Judy looked round at the chaotic jumble of clothes, boots, empty beer bottles and racing papers. ‘What a mess. Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves, living like pigs?’
Nate scrambled to his feet and gave her a hug. ‘Don’t scold us, Judy. I’m pleased to see you. How’s Ma getting on?’
‘We haven’t seen her for weeks,’ Nate added angrily. ‘Pip and me walked all the way to Little Creek on our one day off in a month, only to be turned away by Faulkner. He said she was too busy to see us.’
The boy called Davey swaggered nonchalantly towards Judy with the pipe clenched between his teeth, although the rising spiral of smoke made his eyes water. ‘Won’t you introduce us, Pip, old chap?’
‘It’s nice to meet you, Davey,’ Judy said, trying not to laugh at the boy, who could not have been much older than twelve-year-old Pip. ‘The same goes for you, too,’ she added, smiling at the lad who was sitting cross-legged on the floor.
He jumped to his feet and bowed, causing the other boys to roar with laughter.
‘Pleased to meet you, miss.’
Judy shook his hand solemnly. ‘What’s your name?’
‘That’s Eric,’ Nate said importantly.
‘Why are you here, Judy?’ Pip gave her a searching look. ‘What happened to your face?’
Judy hesitated. She did not want to tell her brothers the whole story, especially with Davey and Eric listening intently. ‘Just a bit of an argument at home. Nothing to worry about.’
‘It must be something bad to bring you here at this time of the evening,’ Pip insisted. ‘Did he do that to you, Judy? If he did I’ll fetch him one. I ain’t afraid of Faulkner.’
‘He did, but I don’t want either of you to get involved.’
Pip glowered at his curious friends. ‘Can you give us a bit of private time, lads? I want to talk to my sister.’
The two older boys shuffled off to the far end of the large loft, taking one of the lanterns with them.
‘Sit down, Judy,’ Pip said, taking the lead. ‘Tell us what happened?’
She sat on the floor next to Nate and told them what had occurred between herself and their stepfather, without giving too many details, although both the boys were plainly shocked and upset. Nate jumped to his feet and fisted his hands.
‘I’ll give him what for.’
Pip tugged at his brother’s shirt-tails. ‘Sit down, you looney. We can’t do anything without making things worse for Ma. What we have to do is get her away from that brute.’
‘Yes,’ Judy said, nodding. ‘That’s right, Pip. I think I have an idea, but I’m not saying anything yet.’
Nate grabbed her hand. ‘Will it include us? I like it here, but I miss Creek Manor. Mrs Marshall is very kind, but it’s not the same.’
‘If my plan works things might fall into place. I can’t say any more than that.’ Judy glanced into the shadows beneath the sloping roof. ‘Is there room for me to sleep here tonight? I haven’t anywhere else to go.’
Pip pointed to his palliasse. ‘You can have my bed, Judy. I’ll double up with Nate, even if he does talk in his sleep. But you’ll have to leave very early in the morning, because Old Puckett, the head groom, wouldn’t approve of a girl sleeping up here, even if you are our sister.’
‘She can share my bed any time,’ Davey called out from the far end of the loft and was immediately leaped upon by Eric, who pinned him to the floor.
‘That was rude. Say sorry to her.’
Davey threw his smaller friend off with the ease of a dog shaking off a flea. ‘Pick on someone your own size, you little tiddler.’
At this insult, Eric threw himself once again at Davey and they rolled around on the dusty floor like a couple of playful puppies.
Judy smiled at their antics. It was good to be with her brothers again, and if her plan worked out maybe
she could reunite her family and they could all live together.
‘I’m worn out,’ she said, yawning. ‘Would you mind if I turn in now, Pip? I’m sorry to take your bed, but as you say, I’ll leave at crack of dawn.’
It was not the best night’s sleep that Judy had ever had. The palliasse was well used and she could feel the floorboards through the crushed straw. Davey snored loudly, while Eric talked in his sleep. She was awakened time and again by the sound of Eric calling for his mother, and the boy’s obvious homesickness wrung her heart. She wondered if that was how Nate was feeling, although he would be too proud to admit such a weakness.
She was still awake when the first light of dawn filtered through the gaps in the roof where tiles had blown off in the gales last winter. The boys were sleeping soundly and she had not the heart to wake her brothers. She had slept fully clothed, removing only her boots, and she picked them up and tiptoed across the creaky floorboards to the ladder, which led down to the tack room, but as luck would have it she found she was not alone.
A middle-aged man was bending over the fireplace, poking at the embers and swearing volubly. He turned with a start and glared at Judy.
‘Who the hell are you? Women ain’t allowed in here.’
Judy drew herself up to her full height, hoping he had not noticed that she was in her stockinged feet. She hid her boots behind her back. ‘Are you Mr Puckett?’
‘What if I am? What’s it got to do with you? Who are you, anyway?’
‘I’m Pip and Nate’s sister. I came here to see Mrs Walters, but I’m told she’s gone to London.’
‘That’s right.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You look a mess. What’s a young lady like yourself doing sleeping in the stables?’
‘It’s a long story and I won’t bore you with it, Mr Puckett. I’m on my way now, so you can forget I was here.’
He straightened up, pushing his cap to the back of his head. ‘Are you any good at lighting fires, Miss Begg? I don’t seem to be having much luck.’
Judy hesitated. ‘I really should be on my way.’
A wry grin creased his leathery face into a maze of tiny wrinkles. ‘You won’t get far without shoes on your feet. If you get the fire going I’ll make a brew and you can have a cup of tea before you go.’
Judy smiled. Perhaps Old Puckett was not as bad as the boys thought. ‘All right. That’s a fair swap.’ She placed her boots on the floor and set about lighting the stubborn fire. With luck on her side she got it going quite quickly and Puckett placed the smoke-blackened kettle on a trivet in front of the flames. He took a chipped Brown Betty teapot from the shelf and placed it on the table in the middle of the tack room, together with a poke of tea leaves and another filled with coarsely grated sugar.
Judy sat down and put her boots on while they waited for the kettle to boil. ‘I really should go before my brothers wake up,’ she said warily.
‘You’re going back to Little Creek? That where you come from, ain’t it?’
‘It is, but I wasn’t planning to return so soon.’
‘It ain’t none of my business, but you seem to be in a bit of bother.’
‘You might say that. I had a difference of opinion with my stepfather.’
Puckett gave her a straight look. ‘He done that to you, I suppose.’
Judy’s hand flew to the cut on her forehead and she nodded wordlessly.
‘Some men can’t keep their fists to themselves,’ Puckett said drily. ‘So you got nowhere to go?’
‘I was hoping that Mrs Walters could help.’
‘Well, she ain’t here, so what now?’
It was a good question and one for which Judy had no answer. ‘What do you know about the old smugglers’ inn on the headland?’ she asked cautiously.
‘What’s that got to do with you? That place has been empty for at least ten years to my knowledge.’
‘Do you know who owns it?’
Puckett shook his head. ‘Don’t think anyone does right now. Certainly no one has taken it over since old Abel Parrish got hisself transported to Australia. Why do you ask?’
‘I need somewhere to live and I need to keep myself and my mother, if I can get her away from the brute she married. We haven’t had a decent home since Creek Manor was sold, and now it’s no more.’
Puckett stood up and reached for the kettle. ‘I heard that some toff from London bought the place before someone put a torch to it. Maybe he’s going to build hisself a mansion to rival the old house.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Judy said carefully. ‘But I want to be independent. I don’t want to rely on any man.’
Puckett made the tea and replaced the kettle on the trivet. ‘Well, good luck to you, that’s all I can say. I tell you one thing, though. If you try to reopen the Crooked Billet, you’ll get a rough crowd of customers. It’s always been the sort of place that attracts wrong ’uns.’ He filled a cup with tea and handed it to Judy.
‘I’m not planning to encourage a smuggling ring. I don’t think they do that sort of thing these days.’
‘You’d be surprised.’ Puckett raised his cup in a toast. ‘Good luck to you, anyway, Miss Begg. You’ve got spirit, I’ll say that for you.’
Half an hour later Judy was back on the road, only this time she was retracing her steps and walking in the direction of the abandoned pub on the headland. It was still very early but the sun had risen and it was already warm, with the promise of a fine autumn day ahead. As she drew nearer to the building she could hear the creaking of the inn sign as it dangled from one rusty hook. The sound of the waves lapping on the foreshore mingled with the mournful cry of the seagulls as they soared overhead, adding to the desolate atmosphere of the deserted inn.
Judy was apprehensive, but determined. She approached the building nervously and she was tempted to retreat, but the thought of another night sleeping on the floor in the loft over the tack room was enough to make her continue her investigation. She tried the front door but, as she had suspected, it was locked, and she made her way round to the back of the building.
There was a stable and a store of some sort, plus a couple of sheds that might have had many uses. A pump sat rusting away in the middle of a yard where grass and moss had almost obscured the cobblestones. A little further away was a privy, which she examined briefly and then closed the door. It might not have been used for many years, but the smell lingered, and it was obvious that the last landlord had not been too particular when it came to cleanliness. She crossed the yard and tried the back door, but that, too, was locked, and most of the windows were closed, even though some of the panes had been broken.
She was wondering who had the keys when she spotted a small window that was partly open. If she stood on one of the empty kegs she might be able to climb into the building. It was a risky thing to do, but she was driven by necessity. Her feelings of apprehension were replaced by the desire to investigate further, even though she remembered the ghostly tales about the old inn that had circulated in the village. However, it was broad daylight and she doubted if any of the ghouls or ghosts would bother her today. She hitched up her skirts and raised herself up on a keg, balancing with difficulty as she opened the window wide enough for her to climb through.
It was dark inside the building and she dropped onto the floor in what appeared to be a small storeroom. Cobwebs brushed her face and a huge spider landed on her arm. She shook it off, stifling a cry of alarm, and let herself out into a narrow passageway where she came to a halt. She stood very still, hardly daring to breathe as she listened for any sound that might indicate another presence.
‘Is anyone there?’ she asked anxiously, but the only answer was an echo of her own voice.
Emboldened, she began to explore the ground floor. The main taproom was still furnished with tables and chairs, and a multitude of spiders, cockroaches and probably a few rats, although the rodent population kept well out of sight. Cautiously, she opened the shutters and allowed the sunlight to filter throu
gh the salt-encrusted windowpanes. She had expected complete devastation, but oddly enough the taproom and its furniture seemed intact, although filthy, and the hearth by the inglenook was covered in cinders and ash. The shelves behind the bar were empty and if any bottles or glasses had been left behind, these must have been looted years ago. The same was true in the snug bar and in the kitchen. All the cupboards were empty and although she did not venture down to the cellar, she was quite certain that there would be nothing of value down there.
A private parlour at the rear of the pub had been stripped of its furniture, and there were oblong patches on the walls where pictures must have once adorned the room. The flagstone floor was muddied and bare of rugs, and the whole ground floor smelled of damp, must and the stench of cockroaches and rat droppings. She needed to take a look at the upstairs room, but her nerve began to fail her now that she was in the sombre shell of the building. She plucked up the courage to make her way to the first floor, and her heart was pounding when she reached the top of the stairs. She took a deep breath: she had come this far and she was determined to see the investigation through.
There were six bedrooms, all empty except for iron bedsteads minus their mattresses. A narrow flight of stairs led to three small attic rooms, which were filled with the rubbish that the last tenant had left behind, and that had been unwanted by looters. Judy closed the door on the higgledy-piggledy mess, but by the time she reached the ground floor she had made up her mind as to what her next move would be. She secured the window in the storeroom and a search of the drawers in the kitchen produced a bunch of rusty keys, one of which opened the back door. To her delight another key unlocked the front door. It was obvious that the persons who broke into the building were not domesticated, or they would have thought to search more thoroughly for the keys that would give them freedom to return as often as they pleased.
With the set of keys in her pocket she left the inn and set off at a brisk pace for Little Creek. It was midday by the time she reached Creek Hall and she found her mother in the kitchen with Mrs Bee. They both welcomed her as if she had been gone for a year, and Mrs Bee made her sit down at the large pine table while she ladled mutton stew into a bowl. Judy was made to eat before she was allowed to tell them where she had been all night. She ate ravenously, mopping up the last of the soup with freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven.