The Workhouse Girl (34 page)

They walked back through the tunnel in silence, but when they were safe in the kitchen of Blackwood House Parker brought up the subject of the body in the yew tree tunnel. ‘I'll have to dispose of it, miss,' he said wearily. ‘It'll start to smell something terrible if it's left too long, and with young Hawkes still at sea there's no one else I'd trust to keep their mouth shut.'

‘What will you do with him, Parker?'

‘I'll wait till first light and then I'll do the necessary. You needn't worry about it, miss. Leave it to me.'

Sarah had to put her trust in Parker, and next morning when she somewhat nervously went to examine the site, all traces of Trigg had disappeared.

The next few days passed in an agony of waiting for news of Davey and Grey, but hope was beginning to fade and although Sarah did her best to keep the children's spirits up, she too was beginning to fear the worst. It had become impossible to keep her presence in the village a secret, and after the first shock that people had expressed on seeing her alive and well, she was accepted back into the community as though nothing had happened. She was saddened to learn that Elsie's demise had passed largely unnoticed, but she realised that very few people had known her well enough to mourn her loss, and Elsie's hermit-like existence had alienated her from the rest of the population. They had been pleased to accept her ministrations when they were sick, but they had regarded her more as an itinerant pedlar than a trusted apothecary.

Sarah spent the best part of each day with the children, and although everyone in the village knew the reason for Davey's sudden disappearance, no one mentioned the fact that he was helping a known criminal to escape and questions were never asked. The people of Blackwood knew how to protect their own, and when Sarah arrived at the cottage each morning she found small packages on the doorstep left by unseen hands – a loaf of bread, a piece of cheese, a box of herring or a meat pie. The gifts of food helped to eke out the few pennies that Mary had left in the old sock which she hung on the beam above the chimneypiece.

Sarah dug vegetables in the walled garden and cut cabbages. There were plenty of windfalls in the orchard and she collected the ones that had not been consumed by birds, wasps or field mice, and she took baskets of fruit and root vegetables to help feed the children, but winter was coming and there was no money to pay the rent on the Hawkeses' cottage.

She paid a call on Mr Wills at the schoolhouse but the reception she received was off-handed and he turned down her offer of help as he had taken on Bertha Smallgood, the vicar's youngest daughter, who had attended a Church of England school in Colchester and had excellent qualifications. His cold demeanour was enough to convince Sarah that he had not forgiven her for repulsing his clumsy advances or for her sudden and unexplained departure. She was aware of the smug glances that Bertha gave her as she left the schoolhouse, and it was safe to assume that this was now Mr Wills' firm favourite. She said as much to Mary when she arrived at the cottage.

‘Everyone knows that Bertha's set her cap at old Wills,' Mary said, pursing her lips. ‘Who else is going to marry the vicar's ugly youngest daughter?'

Sarah chuckled in spite of everything. ‘You're so worldly wise, but I still think of you as a little girl.'

‘I'm eleven. Almost a woman.'

Struggling to keep a straight face, Sarah nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, indeed you are.' She turned with a start as the door flew open and Lemuel barged into the room followed by Jonah. ‘What are you boys doing here?' she demanded. ‘You were in school just now.'

‘They've found it,' Lemuel gasped, clutching his side as he struggled to catch his breath.

‘Davey's boat,' Jonah added tearfully. ‘Washed up on the shore. Mast's snapped in two and both oars are missing.'

THE WRECKED BOAT
had been found but no bodies had been washed ashore. Sarah could only hope that this was a good sign, but Parker was not optimistic. ‘Sometimes they never surface,' he said gloomily. ‘Or else they appear further up the coast. It doesn't mean a thing, miss.'

As the days dragged on it seemed that Parker was right. The vicar had visited the cottage to offer comfort to Mary and the boys, but she refused to believe that Davey was dead. Sarah was not so certain. She tried to be positive but she feared that they had perished beneath the waves. The strange thing was that she felt nothing. She could not grieve and her heart felt like a stone, weighing heavily inside her. She wanted to scream and shout but it was physically impossible. There were no more tears to shed and her emotions were numbed. She doubted if she would ever feel anything again. She thought about returning to London, but she could not abandon the children. She must find work, but there was nothing for her in the village. It was this dilemma that occupied her mind as she trudged through the first snowfall of early winter, making her way to the cottage.

She arrived to find Mary in tears, clutching a piece of paper in her hands. ‘Is it news of Davey?' Sarah snatched it from her. Her hand shook as she realised that it was a notice to quit the cottage.

‘No,' Mary said, sniffing. ‘It's the rent. I haven't been able to pay it since he was lost at sea.'

‘Don't say that.' Sarah spoke more sharply than she had meant to. ‘I'm sorry, Mary. I didn't mean to sound harsh, but you mustn't give up hope.'

‘There's no money left,' Mary said dully. ‘It'll be the workhouse for us.'

‘Nonsense. I won't let that happen.'

Mary gazed at her with the eyes of a much older woman. ‘You can't help us, Sarah. You're as hard up as we are.'

‘Perhaps your landlord will give you more time to raise the money.' Sarah paced the dirt floor, wringing her hands. ‘If I could find work I could do something to help. Perhaps the squire would take me on as a housemaid.'

Mary slumped down on the rocking chair. ‘I went there yesterday, but the housekeeper said they don't need anyone. I asked the vicar, and he said the same.'

Sarah came to a halt, smiling as an idea came to her. ‘There's the boat. Someone might want to buy it, even though the mast is broken and there's a hole in the hull. It could fetch enough to keep the landlord happy for a week or two.'

Mary glanced at the fireplace. ‘It's been keeping us warm since the weather took a turn for the worse.'

Horrified, Sarah stared at the flames licking up the chimney. ‘You've been chopping up Davey's boat for firewood?'

Mary nodded, casting her eyes down as if anticipating a scolding. ‘Parts of it, yes, I have.'

It might have been funny had it not been so serious. Sarah slipped her arm around Mary's skinny shoulders. ‘I could have sent Parker with a barrowload of logs if you'd told me what you were doing. Now if Davey returns . . .'

Mary pushed her away. ‘Stop saying that. You know very well that he's drownded and so is your friend Grey. They won't be coming back. Not ever.'

‘You don't know that for certain,' Sarah said gently. ‘None of us can know what the future holds. They might have been picked up by a passing boat. We mustn't stop hoping.'

‘That's easy for you to say. Sooner or later you'll go away and leave us. Me and the boys have got to find a way to keep out of the workhouse.'

The logic of this was inescapable and Sarah was trying to think of an answer when someone pounded on the front door. Mary leapt to her feet and ran to open it. ‘Who are you?' Her childish voice cracked with fear.

‘I'm here to collect the rent.'

Sarah spun round to see a large woman whose ample frame seemed to fill the doorway. Her back was to the light and her face was in shadow but there was something frighteningly familiar about her. She stepped into the small room, overpowering it with her formidable presence. ‘Well, well. Look who we have here. It's Sal Scratch, the devil's daughter. You're all grown up now, but I'd know you anywhere.'

Sarah's worst nightmares seemed to crowd in on her as she stared at Mrs Trigg. Momentarily lost for words, she gulped and swallowed hard.

‘Cat got your tongue, dearie?'

‘What do you want?' Sarah demanded, controlling her voice with difficulty.

‘The rent that's owed. That's what I come for.' Mrs Trigg seized Mary by the scruff of her neck and shook her. ‘Don't give me no excuses, little girl. I could snap your neck with one hand.'

‘Leave her alone.' Sarah dragged Mary away from her. ‘Don't bully the child.'

Mrs Trigg moved a step closer, her eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Keep out of this, Sal Scratch. I dunno how you come to be involved with this family but they're a parcel of wasters. Trigg's man has tried to get the rent from them but it's always the same hard luck story. Well, I'm not a soft touch, as you know to your cost.'

‘You don't own this cottage.' Sarah faced up to her, even though every instinct told her to back away. ‘What right have you got to come here demanding money?'

‘We're agents for the landowner,' Mrs Trigg said, curling her lip. ‘Mr Fitch puts his trust in Trigg and me and we get the job done to his satisfaction. Not that it's any of your business.'

‘George Fitch owns this cottage?'

‘Mr Fitch to you, girl.' Mrs Trigg allowed her gaze to wander round the humble interior. ‘I'd pull the place down if it was mine, but that doesn't give the kid the right to withhold what's due.'

‘My brother's dead,' Mary cried passionately. ‘He was drownded and now we got no money, so go away, you old bat. I got nothing for you.'

‘You'll regret calling me names.' Mrs Trigg shot a malicious glance at Mary. ‘I'm sending the bailiffs in and you'll be out on the street. That includes you too, Sal Scratch.'

‘I know Mr Fitch,' Sarah said bravely. ‘I'll go and see him and tell him all about you. Let's see who ends up on the streets.'

With a mighty swipe of her large hand Mrs Trigg caught Sarah a blow on the side of her head that sent her stumbling to the ground. ‘I heard that you'd run away with that villain Tobias Grey. The police are looking for him, and so is Trigg.'

‘Grey was lost at sea with Davey,' Sarah muttered as she attempted to get up.

Mary helped her to her feet. ‘Go away, you wicked woman. Sarah's been caring for us like a mother.'

Mrs Trigg drew back her neck in the manner of a snake about to strike. ‘Her mother was a whore who died in the workhouse and Sal Scratch will end up the same way.' She made for the door and flung it open. ‘I'll be back tomorrow with the bailiffs, so either have the money ready or be prepared to sleep in the gutter where you belong.'

‘What right have you to do this, Mrs Trigg?' Sarah demanded angrily.

‘My old man's been away on business for weeks and I took over with Mr Fitch's blessing. He knows a good woman when he sees one, but I'm going to find Trigg, and he'll sort you out, Sal Scratch, so don't look at me like that. He'll have you begging for mercy and I'll sit back and watch while these little rats are thrown out on the street.' She left without bothering to close the door and a powdering of snowflakes fluttered into the room.

‘She can't do that, can she?' Wide-eyed and trembling, Mary searched Sarah's face for an answer.

‘I'm afraid she can.' Sarah hurried to the door and closed it. ‘It's not safe for you here, Mary. Where are the boys?'

‘In school, of course.'

Sarah glanced round the sparsely furnished room. ‘There's only one thing for it. You must come with me to Blackwood House. Pack up your things and we'll leave as soon as they come home for their dinner.'

‘But we can't go to that place. They say it's haunted and the yew tree tunnel eats people and spits out their bones.'

‘That's nonsense. It's a lovely old house and you'll be safe there until Davey returns.'

‘But he's not going to come back, is he?' Mary's voice broke on a sob. ‘He's never coming home.'

Sarah gave her a hug. ‘I don't know, and that's the truth, but he'd want you and the boys to be safe. That means coming with me to Blackwood House. I'm not taking no for an answer.'

The children were in the kitchen gobbling bowlfuls of rabbit stew as if their lives depended upon it while Parker looked on with a disapproving frown. He drew Sarah aside. ‘This won't do, miss. We can't have them living here and getting into everything. The master wouldn't allow it.'

‘Mr Fitch won't find out unless you tell him,' Sarah said in a low voice. ‘They're homeless thanks to him.'

‘And they lost their brother because of Master Toby.'

‘That's not fair, Parker.'

‘I'll lose my living if the master finds out that I've allowed you to stay here and the brats as well.' He shot them a covert glance. ‘What if they finds out about the stuff in the cellar? I can't keep my eye on all three of them and neither can you.'

‘It's only temporary. If I can find the money for their rent they can go home.'

He leaned towards her, lowering his voice. ‘And if the other thing comes to light.' He tapped the side of his nose. ‘What if someone comes looking for a certain person?'

‘You buried the evidence.'

‘Not exactly.'

‘What do you mean by that, Parker?'

‘Like I said before, I'm not as young as I was. I didn't have the strength to move the article in question on my own, so I had to leave it where it was.' He glanced over his shoulder to see if the children were listening, but they were intent on finishing their meal. ‘I covered it with branches and bracken and left it to nature to do the rest.'

She stared at him aghast. ‘But that's asking for trouble. His men are bound to tell Mrs Trigg what happened. What would we do if she came knocking on the door and demanding to know the truth?'