The Workhouse Girl (33 page)

She pointed to the oak dresser. ‘Grey must leave the country as soon as possible, Davey.'

He fetched a cup and saucer and passed them to her. ‘That's why I've come here in daylight. We need to move quickly, Grey. The ship's master will take you but he's sailing within the hour. He needs to leave the country in a bit of a hurry.'

Grey shook his head. ‘I can't go now. What happens if the police come here and start poking around? Someone is sure to report Trigg as missing and there were two witnesses. They'll say it was me if only to save their own skins.'

‘All the more reason for you to go now,' Sarah said earnestly.

‘But there's still the matter of a dead body. I can't leave that to you and Parker. Trigg was a big man.'

Davey leaned both hands on the table. ‘Look, mate, I don't care what happens to you but I don't want Sarah mixed up in a murder, and you're putting her in danger by staying. Let's get you away safely and I'll return after dark and help Parker to do what's necessary.'

‘He's right, Grey. You must go now.' Sarah rose to her feet and went round the table to give him a hug. ‘Please do as Davey says. It's your only chance.'

He stood up slowly, wrapping his arms around her. ‘Take care of yourself, kid.'

Davey tapped him on the shoulder. ‘We're running out of time.'

Grey released Sarah, dashing his hands across his eyes. ‘You will look after her for me, won't you?'

‘I will.' Davey nodded his head. ‘Hurry up. The ship will sail with or without you.'

Minutes later Sarah stood on the carriage sweep watching Davey drive the horse and cart through the gates of Blackwood House. Grey was concealed beneath a tarpaulin, sharing the space with empty but smelly fish boxes. She waved even though neither of them could see her, and she stood motionless until it was out of sight and the sound of the horse's hooves had faded into the distance.

Grey was leaving the country and might never return. He had played a large part in her life and there had been long periods of separation, but she had always known that he would turn up eventually. She had come to depend upon him and now he had gone from her life, possibly forever. Trigg's untimely death had put the final seal on Grey's fate and the irony of the situation was not lost on her. She walked slowly back towards the house, skirting the yew tree tunnel and trying not to think of the corpse that lay within its dark embrace.

She did not go indoors immediately and, needing time to think, she took a walk in the gardens. She knew that she would have to face the future sooner rather than later. She must decide whether to return to London or to remain in Blackwood and make a life for herself. Her childish dreams of marrying Davey and living happily ever after seemed irrelevant now and had simply been wishful thinking. Trigg might be dead but his evil lived on and sooner or later someone would come looking for him. She dared not even consider the consequences if his mutilated remains were found.

She waited all afternoon to hear from Davey and when darkness fell she was beginning to think that something had gone drastically wrong. She did not want to sit in the drawing room on her own that evening and she kept Parker company in the kitchen, but it was obvious that he too was becoming anxious as he kept glancing at the clock above the mantelshelf. ‘We ought to be doing something about the body, miss,' he said, rising from his usual seat by the range. ‘If I was a younger man I'd do it by myself, but he were a big chap and I don't think I've got the strength to drag him far.'

‘Davey promised to help.'

‘Well, he ain't here, is he? Maybe the lad forgot.'

‘He wouldn't do that. Not Davey.'

‘Then something's happened to prevent him. I don't like the look of it, miss.'

She stood up, reaching for her shawl. ‘I'll have to go to the village, Parker.'

‘It ain't safe for you to be seen.'

‘I'll take the secret passage to the church. Davey's cottage isn't too far from there and it's pitch dark outside. There's no moon.'

‘All right,' he said grudgingly. ‘I'll see you safe down the tunnel and I'll wait for you, but we'll have to be on the lookout for the smugglers. There are those amongst them that would slit your throat as soon as look at you, or worse.'

She left Parker seated on a tomb in the crypt and set off along the deserted main street. A dog barked at her but no one bothered to investigate and she arrived at the Hawkeses' cottage without incident. She knocked on the door and when there was no reply she lifted the latch.

Mary was seated in the rocking chair by the fire, darning a sock. She leapt up as Sarah entered, and her quick smile turned into a frown. ‘Oh, it's you. I thought it was Davey.'

‘He hasn't come home?'

Mary laid her finger on her lips. ‘Shh. Keep your voice down. The boys have only just fallen asleep.'

‘I'm worried about Davey. He should have returned hours ago.'

‘He's risking everything to help you and your London friend. The excise men won't care if he's guilty or innocent if they catch him with the free traders.'

‘Then we must hope that hasn't happened. I don't blame you for being angry with me, Mary. But none of this was my doing.'

‘I was pleased that you'd come back to us, but it's all gone wrong. You brought that man to Blackwood and you got Davey involved in your problems. I wish you'd stayed in London.'

‘You and I used to be friends, Mary. I'm still the same girl I was back then, and you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt Davey or you and the boys. I love you all.'

Mary's eyes filled with tears. ‘You was good to us when Pa died. You used to sing me to sleep and give me a cuddle when I fell over and hurt myself.'

‘And Grey looked after me when I was a little girl. It's not his fault that he's in trouble, and I've got to do all I can for him, Mary. You do understand, don't you?'

Mary nodded mutely.

‘I'm as worried about Davey as you are, and that's why I came here this evening. I was hoping he might have come home.'

‘I know something's wrong. I felt like this when Pa was lost at sea. I couldn't bear it if Davey was drownded too.'

‘Where would the ship have sailed from?' Sarah struggled to contain feelings of panic. Tiredness had crept up when she relaxed in the warmth of the fire. Try as she might to put the nightmarish events of the day from her mind they now came flooding back with frightening clarity, and she began to tremble. ‘Would they have gone to the Ferryboat Inn? Or did they set sail from one of the deeper creeks?'

Mary's bottom lip began to quiver. ‘I dunno and that's God's honest truth. Davey never lets on. He says the least we know the better.'

‘Then I'll start at the inn.'

‘Let me come with you.'

‘You can't leave the boys on their own.'

‘But I want to do something.'

‘You must be here in case Davey returns. He'd be out of his mind with worry if he came home and you were missing. You wouldn't want that, would you?'

‘No. But . . .'

‘I'm leaving now, and I'll find him if it's the last thing I ever do. You can help by keeping the fire going and having some supper ready for Davey. Will you do that, Mary?'

‘I suppose so.'

Sarah left before Mary could raise any further objections. She slipped out of the cottage, heading towards the creek and the pub frequented by sailors, smugglers and excise men alike.

‘Don't know anything about it, duck,' the landlord said, drawing a pint of ale from a barrel behind the bar. ‘All sorts of craft come and go from here. I'm too busy to take much notice.'

The men gathered around the fire turned away and resumed their conversation. They had stopped talking to stare when Sarah walked into the taproom and the silence had been unnerving. The smoky atmosphere was thick with the smell of stale beer, tobacco and the hint of tar and fish oil that clung to the hands and clothes of men who worked the sea for a living. ‘But you must know Davey Hawkes,' Sarah insisted. ‘Alfred Hawkes' son.'

The landlord glanced around the bar. He leaned across the counter. ‘Keep your voice down, miss. You never know who's listening.'

‘But you do know Davey.'

‘What's your business with the lad?'

‘He didn't go home tonight and I'm worried about him.'

He pushed a tankard of ale along the bar to a rough-looking individual wearing a fisherman's smock. ‘This young lady wants some information, Moses. Have that on the house, mate.' He lowered his voice. ‘Take her outside and tell her what you know.'

Moses snatched up the tankard and took a swig of beer. He wiped his lips on the back of his hand. ‘What's it worth?'

Sarah put her hand in her pocket and took out the change from her purchases at the farm. She laid the coppers on the counter. ‘That should buy you another pint, mister.'

‘Just going outside for a piss.' Moses ambled out of the bar and a gust of salt-laden east wind shredded the smoky air.

‘Best give him a moment, miss,' the landlord said, grinning. ‘He weren't joking. Moses has got the manners of a farmyard beast and he smells like a goat, but you can believe what he tells you.'

Sarah waited for a few more seconds before going outside, where she found Moses standing by the chain ferry, gazing across the creek. He appeared to have tidied himself up after responding to the call of nature, and she approached him cautiously. ‘Mr Moses.'

‘I saw it all,' he said, staring into the distance.

‘What did you see?'

‘The ship had sailed and the two of 'em set after it in young Davey's boat. That's the last I saw of them.'

She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I thought you were going to say that they came to grief.'

He glanced at her over his shoulder and she noticed that he had one blue eye and one brown, like a wall-eyed dog. ‘They might've or they might not. Can't say for certain, but the tide was running fast and furious and the wind weren't in their favour. And the stranger stepped on board left foot first.' He shuddered and pushed past her as he hurried back to the pub.

‘What does that mean?' Sarah hurried after him.

‘Bad luck.' He stopped in the doorway, turning to her with his blue eye glittering and his brown eye half closed. ‘Very bad luck.' He barged into the pub, slamming the door in her face.

 

She chose her words carefully as she attempted to comfort Mary. ‘Davey knows what he's doing. He's been sailing these waters since he was even younger than you.'

Mary wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her worn and much-darned print frock. ‘He shouldn't have gone to sea so soon after the storm. There'll be a huge swell and waves higher than the church spire. I've heard my pa speak of such things.'

‘You mustn't worry, Mary. Davey won't do anything to risk the boat or their lives.'

‘Do you know how many of the village men have been drowned even though they never took chances?' Mary demanded angrily. ‘There's hardly a family here that hasn't lost someone to the sea, including ours.'

‘There's nothing we can do but hope and pray,' Sarah said softly. ‘I'm as anxious as you are, but we've got to be brave.'

‘It's easy for you to say, living in the big house. But how am I supposed to feed us and pay the rent without the money that Davey brings in? I could probably find work at the squire's house, but who would look after the boys?'

Sarah shifted uneasily in her seat. ‘Davey will be back soon. You've got to believe that, Mary.'

‘But what if he ain't? It'll be the workhouse for us if anything's happened to him.'

‘No.' Sarah leapt to her feet. ‘I won't let that happen, and I refuse to believe that anything has gone wrong with Davey's boat. He knows what he's doing and he'll be back before you know it.' She made a move towards the door but Mary barred her way, folding her arms across her chest.

‘So you're going to leave us again, are you? You're going back to Blackwood House and you'll forget all about us.'

‘That isn't fair,' Sarah cried passionately. ‘I never forgot you and I'll do everything I can to help you now, but I haven't got any money. I'm as poor as you are.'

‘What about them toffs in London you spoke about? They can't be short of a bob or two.'

‘They aren't rich, Mary, and they don't owe me anything. I'm not their problem and I've got to find a way to earn my living.'

‘Then come and live with us,' Mary said earnestly. ‘Stay here tonight and keep me company until Davey comes home.'

‘I would if I could, but Parker is waiting for me.' Sarah gave her a hug and moved her gently out of the way. ‘I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning. That's a promise.'

‘I'll wait up all night,' Mary said with a stubborn lift of her small chin. ‘I'll keep the fire burning for Davey and leave the kettle on the trivet so I can make him a cup of tea the moment he walks through the door.'

Sarah blew her a kiss. ‘You're a good girl. I don't know what he'd do without you.' She felt her throat constrict as she left the tiny cottage and emerged into the cold night air. Tears that she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks as she hurried towards the church, where she hoped that Parker would be waiting for her. The last thing she wanted was to negotiate the eerie tunnel on her own. Her feet felt as leaden as her spirit as she faced the fact that Davey and Grey had a perilous journey ahead of them. She had tried to be positive with Mary but she knew only too well the dangers of the sea and the fragility of a small fishing boat when faced with the might of the wind and waves. She sighed with relief when she found Parker asleep on the stone tomb with a pipe of baccy clasped in his bony hand.