Authors: Tania Anne Crosse
‘Just as well,’ Barney grumbled, his mouth full of the cheese and stale bread Mrs Rodgers had offered as a thank you. ‘Taken us all morning to pump out the quarry so there’s been no work done yet. I’ll put in a couple of hours at Mr Warren’s precious garden tonight.’ And with that he was gone.
Ling sighed and looked down at her fingers. She had managed to wash off the worst of the mud before she ate, but her nails were still black and probably would remain so for days. The stench of mud had stuck in her nostrils, making her feel sick, and she had gagged on every morsel she had forced down her throat. She really didn’t feel she could face tackling their own garden, but there was really no alternative.
Her back hurt so much that she winced each time she bent, and her clothes were so dirty and stained that she thought she might just as well kneel in the mud and glutinous muck that stuck to her skin. She sent Fanny inside to wash the vegetables that might be edible. At least that was something Fanny could do unsupervised, and Ling could get on with the miserable task without having to look over her shoulder all the time at Fanny’s less than competent efforts in the garden. Ling worked mechanically, deciding which scrap of vegetation might yet again flourish and which was beyond redemption. She ran the back of her hand across her moist forehead, leaving a streak of dirt on her skin. A cup of tea and ten minutes’ break would set her up again, and she got to her feet, stretching her back and staggering up to the cottage.
‘Fanny, shall we . . .’ She broke off as she peered around the open door, not wanting to tread mud inside. The cleaned vegetables sat neatly in bowls on the table, but Fanny was nowhere to be seen.
‘Damn you, Fanny Southcott!’ Ling mumbled under her breath as she unlaced her boots, pulled off her woollen stockings, which were just as filthy, and padded inside in her bare feet. She made her own tea, crashing the kettle on to the hotplate of the range, which also required some attention, and sat down at last to sip the hot, soothing liquid while the weariness pulsed down her legs. But there was work to be done: work that must be finished that day as no uprooted plant would survive longer than that. So she went back out to the quagmire, her heart heavier than ever.
She toiled on, her shoulders, every muscle, screaming in protest, only kept going by the camaraderie of her equally distressed neighbours as they called to each other over the stone walls that separated the gardens. But even when she had finished, would it have been worthwhile? She had seen Eleanor earlier that day. The girl had shrugged at the decimated garden her father carelessly tended with Barney’s help. She might ‘have a go at it’ later, she had said unenthusiastically, making Ling’s blood boil for she knew her sister-in-law had her eye on the two full wages coming into her brother’s household. She and Barney worked so hard, as a result sometimes snapping at each other in exhaustion, and she didn’t see why that lazy baggage should take advantage of their back-breaking industry!
‘Where the hell have you been?’
Her disgruntled mind was just in the mood for a fight when Fanny arrived at the gate. She felt so betrayed at Fanny’s disappearing off without a word that for the first few seconds she didn’t notice that her sister was soaked to the skin, her wet clothes clinging to her elfin frame and her blouse so transparent against her breasts that had it not been for her dripping hair hanging down over them she would have been quite indecent!
Ling’s mouth dropped open in appalled astonishment and she was struggling to take in the fact that the drowned rat before her was actually Fanny, when another figure materialized behind her. A shiver tingled down Ling’s spine as she recognized Harry Spence. She hadn’t been surprised when a couple of years previously he had left Foggintor after some suspicion over some missing money. Although Barney had helped Mr Warren with the investigation, nothing had ever been proved, and Harry had found employment at the nearby quarry at Merrivale, lodging at one of the local farms. He was said to be doing well for himself. But Ling distrusted him, and when Fanny looked up at him, and her face took on a gentle pink glow, Ling felt the ice run through her veins.
‘I went down to look at the river,’ Fanny bubbled, breathless with excitement and seemingly oblivious to the drenched and revealing state of her apparel. ‘You should see it, Ling! The Walkham’s burst its banks. I were standing on the bridge and it shook and gave way. I were washed into the water. ’Tweren’t like at the baths. I tried to swim but it were all foaming and tossing me about. If ’tweren’t for Harry dashing in and saving me, I reckon as I’d have drowned!’
She glanced adoringly at her saviour again, and though Ling could see Harry’s clothes were indeed soaked up to his chest, she didn’t like the quiet smirk that had crept on to his lips.
‘What were you doing by the river?’ Ling interrogated him sourly. ‘You should have been at work at the quarry.’
‘Garden wall were washed away at the back o’ the inn and some of us had gone to help. Then I sees Fanny on the bridge and he suddenly collapses. Couldn’t leave her to drown now, could I?’ He turned to wink at Fanny and then Ling’s stomach executed a somersault as he looked back at her with the sly smile of a fox.
‘Well, thank you for saving my sister, Mr Spence,’ she said tartly, deliberately being formal to distance him from them. ‘I suggest you get home now and put on some dry clothes. Come along, Fanny, you must do the same.’ And she almost dragged the girl up the path and into the cottage, slamming the door in Harry Spence’s face.
‘They say Ward Bridge were partly destroyed and all!’ Fanny gabbled on as she allowed Ling to strip off her clothes. ‘Bridges be broke all over the place, Peter Tavy, Harford, old wooden clams completely washed away. And half of Tavistock be under water, a man on a horse said. He were from the
Gazette
,’ she announced proudly. ‘Said he’d put it in the paper about Harry rescuing me.’
Ling sucked in her cheeks. Half of Tavistock submerged meant homes, businesses, lives destroyed. But Ling felt sick to the stomach for another reason. Harry Spence was the last person on earth she would have wished for as her gullible sister’s saviour!
Ling frowned at the clock as she stirred the stew once again. It was half past six, the evening was beginning to draw in and still there was no sign of Fanny. She had been there when Ling had come back after school was over. The kettle was on the go and Fanny had made her sister sit down with her feet up to drink the welcome cup of tea.
She had smiled gratefully at Fanny as she leant back on the settle and closed her eyes. The warm, crisp smell of fresh ironing soothed her nostrils as she slowly relaxed, only opening her eyes to sip at the scalding tea and then shutting them again as she lowered the cup back on to its saucer. She heard Fanny go out, but assumed it was for one of many reasons: to use the privy, check for hens’ eggs or take the vegetable peelings out to the pig. It wasn’t until a little time had passed that Ling realized Fanny had performed one of her disappearing tricks.
Ling sighed in weary exasperation. She herself had always liked to roam the moor at that age, and Fanny
had
completed all her tasks for the day. The difference was that Ling had always told her parents when and where she was going, she’d invariably taken Fanny with her for company and she had her head screwed on. Fanny, on the other hand, was so innocent and trusting, even though Ling had explained to her the dangers a young girl might face. Fanny had stared at her quite mystified, and Ling had repeated the lesson on numerous occasions, but she still wasn’t convinced her younger sister understood her warnings.
She was probably worrying unnecessarily, she told herself as she folded the freshly ironed laundry, placing Fanny’s underwear in the drawer. As she did so, her fingers touched something tucked away at the back. It wasn’t curiosity that made her investigate, just concern that Fanny had put something in there by mistake, which she would later be frantically searching for. But when Ling pulled out several items of jewellery, cheap, shiny things made of paste gems, but which would nevertheless enthral her sister, her chin dropped and she began to shake. For where had Fanny come by them?
She had everything spread out on the table when Fanny waltzed back in, her cheeks flushed. Ling saw her stop short for an instant when her eyes scanned the items, but then she gave that sweet, warm smile of hers, and Ling’s head reeled in confusion.
‘Mighty pretty, isn’t they?’ Fanny cooed. ‘You can borrow them if you wants.’
Ling bit her lip, caught part way between anger and dismay, and her overwhelming desire to protect this impressionable child she loved so much. ‘Where did you get them from?’ she asked casually while her heart pounded in her chest. ‘You didn’t steal them?’
‘What?’ Fanny’s eyes opened wide in horror. ‘No! I wouldn’t do a thing like that!’
Ling lifted her chin, her eyes hardening as they bore into Fanny’s face. ‘Then who gave them to you?’
The younger girl’s mouth tightened into a pout and she shrugged. ‘No one,’ she muttered, but her eyes shifted evasively.
‘It must have been someone, Fanny. And where have you been? It’s starting to get dark.’
‘Oh, there’s no need to worry about me, I promise. I wouldn’t stay out on the moor after dark. ’Tis too dangerous.’
Ling studied her earnest expression for a moment. Perhaps she
was
being overprotective. But there was still the question of the presents. ‘Who have you been with, then, Fanny?’ she pressed her. ‘You should always tell me where you’re going, for safety’s sake.’
Fanny’s eyes at once deepened to a defiant indigo. ‘I doesn’t have to tell you anything!’ she rounded on her sister, with a vehemence so uncharacteristic that Ling gasped with shock. ‘You’m not my guardian. You’ve not taken out any legal papers, have you?’ she said, nodding triumphantly. And then Ling’s heart ruptured as Fanny’s eyes filled with tears and she cried out, ‘You cas’n take Mother and Father’s place, try as you may. They’m dead, and all that talk of waiting for us in heaven be proper rubbish. We’ll never see them again, not ever!’
Ling’s courage was ripped into tatters. All this time, Fanny’s grief had been secretly fermenting, and Ling’s guilt over her parents’ deaths erupted inside her like a volcano. She opened her arms with desperate compassion and as Fanny stepped into them she gently soothed her. Fanny must be seeing someone. Someone who had talked about legal matters, for that wasn’t something Fanny had thought up herself. Perhaps official guardianship was something Ling should discuss with Seth Warrington. He would know what to do about it. But for now, Fanny needed comforting, not chastising.
‘You just be careful, whoever it is,’ she muttered into Fanny’s ear. She just prayed it wasn’t going to lead to trouble.
‘We’m playing euchre tonight, so I need some money,’ Barney announced after their meal.
Ling had replaced Fanny’s little treasures in the drawer. She needed to think deeply before she told Barney about it. Although she had refused to say who her admirer was, Fanny had promised not to wander off on her own again. She would keep near Foggintor, she had stated adamantly, and seemed so content with this compromise that Ling decided, with relief, it must be someone at the quarry. And since there was no young man there who she would disapprove of as a brother-in-law if it went that far, Ling felt reassured. She was still uneasy, though, and ready to bark at Barney’s request.
‘Euchre? Again?’ she snapped tersely. ‘You never used to play for money. And I hope you’re not asking me for cash! All mine’s gone on housekeeping, so
I
should be asking
you
for some.’
Barney’s mouth twisted with embarrassment. ‘Father didn’t have the money for the rent this week,’ he announced sheepishly. ‘Their vegetables are running out cuz o’ the storm and—’
‘Then Eleanor should’ve got off her backside and replanted like the rest of us did. She may be your sister, but she’s a lazy, good-for-nothing slut!’
‘Don’t call her that,’ Barney growled back. ‘Besides, Ed’s boots had been mended so often they was falling apart and his feet has grown so—’
‘And your father’s quite capable of earning as much as you! And he’d have a sight more money if he didn’t drink and gamble so much, and you’re rapidly going the same way!’
Their eyes locked across the room, Ling’s jaw set stubbornly while Barney ran his tongue over his top lip.
‘They’m still my family, Ling,’ he said quietly. ‘And we does have that money. I works hard for you, Ling, you knows that. You can relax with a book of an evening, but you knows I cas’n. Doesn’t I deserve a game of euchre and a glass of beer with my friends after a hard day’s work?’
Ling lowered her eyes. He was right, of course. She hated to argue and Barney knew nothing of the earlier event that had upset her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled faintly.
‘And I’m sorry you cas’n have a babby,’ he whispered back, bending to kiss her tenderly on the lips. ‘I knows ’tis at the root of it all. But we’ll keep trying, eh? I’ll make you happy, Ling, I promise. I loves you so much, I’ll do anything, you knows that.’
Ling had to avert her gaze. Yes, she knew he would. But she didn’t feel she could ever be truly happy again.
‘Fanny!’ Ling leapt to her feet with a surge of anger as she prepared to give her sister the length of her tongue. Fanny had kept to her word for the past month or so, but today was Saturday. Ling had gone into Tavistock to catch the very last session at the swimming baths before it closed for the winter. Fanny had stayed at home, declaring it was too cold, and, it being the end of October, she was probably right. Ling had almost had the pool to herself, and even the stalwart Mrs Penrith hadn’t been there. Ling had been so quick, she’d had time to visit the public library and borrow another book.
When she’d arrived home, Fanny was missing. The girl had eaten lunch with Barney after he had finished work, but he hadn’t seen her since. She wouldn’t have gone far, though, he’d said cheerily. But then he didn’t know about the little hoard of presents. Ling had kept it to herself since Fanny had been behaving, but as time ticked by she was becoming increasingly worried.