The Workhouse Girl (12 page)

He stared into her face, his smile fading. ‘Tell you what, young 'un, I'll put it in the old woman's basket. It'll rest easier there.' He strode off to deposit the crab out of sight amongst the remaining bottles and paper pokes.

Overwhelmed by such a simple act of kindness, Sarah turned away to wipe her streaming eyes on her sleeve.

‘What's up now?' Davey said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘Are you poorly?'

She shook her head. ‘It's the wind. It makes my eyes sore.'

‘You don't come from round here, do you?'

‘How did you know?'

‘You talk funny.'

‘I used to live in London.'

‘Ah,' he said wisely. ‘That would account for it then. How come you're here?'

She could see Miss Elsie beckoning to her. ‘I have to go now, Davey. Thank you for helping me.'

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Weren't nothing, Sarah. I'd have done the same for anyone who was scared.'

‘I wasn't scared.'

‘Of course you weren't.' He patted her on the head. ‘I meant anyone who didn't know how to handle a live thing fresh from the sea.'

‘Come along, Sarah. It's time we were on our way.' Elsie's voice was tinged with impatience.

‘I'm coming.' Sarah made a move to leave but Davey caught her by the hand.

‘You still haven't told me how you got to live with Miss Witch.'

‘Miss Fitch,' Sarah said, trying not to laugh. ‘She's really quite nice, even if she is a bit strange.'

‘Everyone calls her that,' Davey said, chuckling. ‘It fits, don't it?'

‘Sarah, I'm not waiting a moment longer.'

Elsie sounded angry now and Sarah dared not disobey. ‘Got to go.' She bundled her long skirts up in her arms and ran after her. ‘Coming, Miss Elsie. Wait for me.'

‘You don't want to get too friendly with the locals,' Elsie said sternly when Sarah caught up with her. ‘They're good fellows in their way, but they're simple folk and have a limited understanding of the way others live.'

‘I was just talking to the boy.'

‘Be polite at all times. Good manners are very important, but remember that you are not one of them and never will be. I am bringing you up to be a woman of science, like myself. I know that you have intelligence, Sarah, and I am determined that it will not be wasted. Women of my class are brought up to be little more than slaves to their husbands' whims and wishes. Many a clever female has had to deny her own abilities in order to flatter and placate a dominant male. That wouldn't do for me and I'll make certain it does not happen to you.' Elsie lengthened her stride as she made her way across the tufts of cord grass and glasswort. Sarah had to quicken her pace in order to keep up with her. She had only partly grasped the meaning of Miss Elsie's angry tirade, but she was growing tired and her legs were aching. She was cold and hungry, but despite everything she had a warm feeling inside.

They settled back into their daily routine but Sarah had not forgotten Davey Hawkes. He had shown her kindness and she felt that she had found a friend. Maybe one day she would have the opportunity to tell him her story and he might help her to get the letter to Mr Arbuthnot. The thought cheered her through the long days that followed, and the even longer nights when she awakened thinking she was in her comfortable bed in Wellclose Square. It was always something of a shock to realise that she was curled up on a lumpy palliasse in front of the range, with draughts whistling around her ears and the smell of Miss Elsie's latest noxious brew filling her nostrils.

As the weeks went by it seemed to Sarah that whenever she had a chance to be happy, as she had been in the days when her mother was still alive and in the brief months she had spent in Wellclose Square, it was snatched from her. She missed her lessons with Miss Parfitt and the motherly ministrations of Cook, but being separated from Nettie was the worst thing of all. Nettie had been her saviour during their time together in the workhouse, and parting from her had left a pain in her heart that would not go away. She was not exactly unhappy with her eccentric new mistress but she desperately wanted to go home.

One dismal afternoon, when a sudden rainstorm pelted the window like naughty children throwing handfuls of gravel at the glass, Sarah tried to tell Miss Elsie how she felt. ‘Can I at least let the Arbuthnots know that I am safe and well? I need not tell them where I am, but it would set their minds at rest.'

Miss Elsie smiled vaguely and fluttered her expressive hands but she did not look up from the dog-eared notebook that she was studying. ‘We will talk about it later,' she murmured. ‘Fetch me a bunch of hyssop and liquorice root.' She paused, running her fingers through her matted hair. ‘My nerves are on edge. I need more opium. That wretched fellow should be here soon with a fresh supply.'

Sarah had climbed onto a chair and was unhooking a bunch of the dried herbs but she hesitated, teetering dangerously above the tabletop. ‘Do you mean Grey?'

‘Who else? Hurry up, child. Don't gawp at me like an idiot. I need to make this batch of medicine. If I have nothing to sell, we'll starve. It's as simple as that.'

Sarah leapt to the ground and laid the hyssop on the table. ‘We could make another trip to the shore and get some fish.'

‘We could but, as I've just said, only if I have something to barter with. No one gives you anything for nothing in this life. Remember that as one of your lessons.'

‘Yes, Miss Elsie.'

‘I need liquorice root now. You'll find some in the cupboard, and while you're there see if there's anything left in the brown paper packet that Tobias gave me.'

Sarah found the withered root of liquorice but the package was empty. Miss Elsie swore volubly as she worked, and Sarah knew better than to disturb her again. She finished tidying up, but the rain had ceased and shafts of sunlight were forcing their way through the salt-encrusted windowpanes and she felt restless. There had been a hint of spring in the air that morning when she went to collect water from the stream. She had noticed tightly furled buds on the bushes and trees in the copse where she collected the wood, and there had been rustling in the undergrowth as if the animal world was just waking up from a long winter's sleep. The birds had been carolling from the branches and she had found clumps of primroses bursting into bloom. She had barely noticed the changing of the seasons in London, and she had never seen flowers growing wild or green shoots pushing their way through the cold dark soil. It was new and exciting and now she longed to feel the sun on her face.

She shot a wary glance at Miss Elsie but she was absorbed in her task, frowning as she concentrated on the preparation of her patent remedy and oblivious to her surroundings. Sarah seized the opportunity to go outside and stand on the deck, taking great gulps of the bracing air. She gazed at the wide expanse of flatland, seeing it with new eyes. Rain-washed and sparkling, the saltings possessed a beauty of their own, far different from the bleak picture they presented mid-winter. The sunlight played on the pools of brackish water, and wading birds strutted about in their constant search for food, bending their long necks and making sudden stabbing movements in order to catch a tasty morsel. She closed her eyes, raising her face to the sun and wishing that she could fly like one of the gulls that circled overhead. She opened her arms wide, standing on tiptoe as if poised for flight.

‘You'll need wings if you're going to take off, kid.'

She recognised his voice instantly and she opened her eyes, shading them against the glare. ‘Grey, is that you?'

He came round the side of the cottage and took the steps two at a time. ‘It's me, nipper. I've come to see the old witch. Is she in or is she flying around on her broomstick?'

A gurgle of laughter escaped from Sarah's lips. ‘Hush, she's inside. She'll hear you.'

‘It smells like she's making one of her brews,' he said, sniffing the air. ‘How are you getting on with the old crone?'

‘What do you care? You left me.'

He ruffled her hair. ‘Come on now, kid. I was just doing what I was paid for, but I knew she wouldn't hurt you. She's quite mad but she's harmless, and I thought you'd be safe from the Triggs out here.'

‘Take me home, Grey. Please take me back to Wellclose Square. I'm sure you'll be rewarded for your trouble. Mr Arbuthnot's a generous man.' She hesitated, staring up at him as his smile faded and a troubled look crossed his rugged features. ‘What's the matter?'

He took both her hands in his. ‘I couldn't forget you, little 'un. After I left you on Christmas Day I kept seeing your face, and I felt bad about leaving you all alone with a crazy woman. I tried to put you out of my mind but I couldn't, so a couple of days ago I went to the sugar mill. I was going to see the boss and tell him where you were.' He hesitated. ‘I don't know how to tell you this.'

‘You're scaring me. What's wrong?'

His hazel eyes darkened to the colour of rain-washed slate. ‘I'm afraid it's bad news, kid.'

‘
WHAT IS IT,
Grey? What's wrong?'

‘There was a fire in the mill shortly after Christmas. It was burned to the ground.'

Sarah stared at him in horror. ‘Was anyone hurt?'

‘It happened at night. The watchman got out unharmed but the building was gutted.'

‘But Mr Arbuthnot is all right, isn't he?'

‘Tobias. Is that you?' Elsie opened the door, squinting into the sunlight. ‘About time, you wretched fellow.'

‘That's a nice way to greet your sister's only son.'

Sarah looked from one to the other, hardly able to believe her ears. ‘You never said he was your nephew, Miss Elsie.'

‘I wasn't in the best of moods when Tobias brought you here. Besides which, he's a disgrace to the family name. Sometimes I choose to forget that we're related.'

Sarah turned to Grey. ‘You really are her nephew?'

He grinned. ‘Why d'you think I bother driving all the way here from London? It's not because Miss Elsie Fortunata Fitch is such charming company. If it weren't for my sweet mother who died when I was just a child, I'd leave Aunt Elsie to her own devices.'

‘Never mind that, Tobias,' Elsie said impatiently. ‘Have you brought what I asked for?'

‘It's in the cart, which I left on the edge of the marsh in case you'd gone off on one of your jaunts. Anyway, I see that you're here so is it too much to ask for some refreshment after my long journey?'

‘There's soup in the pot and I'll make some herbal tea, but only after I've checked to make sure that you've completed your part of the bargain.'

‘You're a hard woman, Elsie,' Grey said, tipping his hat. ‘I'll fetch it now.'

Sarah followed him down the steps. ‘I'm coming with you. I want to know what happened in London. Did you speak to Mr Arbuthnot? Did you tell him what happened to me?' She quickened her pace in an attempt to keep up with his long strides. ‘Please tell me. I must know.'

‘When I saw what the fire had done I went looking for the owner.' He slowed his pace, matching it to her smaller steps. ‘I found the house easily enough and I spoke to one of the servants.'

‘Really? Who was it? What did she look like? It might have been Dorcas, or even Nettie.'

‘It was a young woman with dark hair and a pretty little tip-tilted nose.'

‘Dorcas,' Sarah said, smiling. ‘That would be her. She's very pretty and she's got a gentleman friend called Wally, although she has a soft spot for Franz Beckman, the master sugar baker.'

‘Then it was Dorcas who answered the door. I asked to see the master, but she burst into tears.' He held up his hand as Sarah uttered a cry of alarm. ‘Don't upset yourself, Sarah. He's alive, so I was told, but he had some kind of seizure after the fire and has taken to his bed.'

‘That's awful.' Her bottom lip quivered but she was determined not to cry. ‘Poor Mr Arbuthnot; he's such a nice gentleman.'

‘It could have been worse, kid. At least he wasn't in the building when the fire broke out.'

‘I suppose so,' she said doubtfully. ‘Did you tell Dorcas where you'd taken me?'

He shook his head. ‘No. I wanted to speak to the mistress and explain my part in the business. I'm not proud of what I did, but I can't undo what's already been done.'

‘So did you see Mrs Arbuthnot? Does she want me to go home?'

‘I was shown into the parlour, where I waited for a good ten minutes before the good lady put in an appearance.'

‘And then you told her about me?'

‘Of course I did.'

Sarah grasped him by the hand. ‘So what did she say? Don't keep me in suspense, Grey.'

‘She was shocked but not surprised to learn that the Triggs were to blame. She told me that the police suspected Trigg had set fire to the sugar mill, but they had no evidence that would stand up in court.'

‘The Triggs are wicked people. How could they do such a thing to a wonderful person like Mr Arbuthnot?'

‘I can't answer that, young 'un. Anyway, there's Boxer over yonder, nibbling the grass, which is something he doesn't get in London.'

‘You still haven't answered my question, Grey. Am I to go home now?'

He squeezed her fingers. ‘Not yet, kid. I told Mrs Arbuthnot that you were living with my aunt, who might be a bit eccentric, but she would take care of you.'

Sarah's hopes were fading fast. ‘What did she say then?'

‘She said she was glad you were safe and well, but it wasn't a good time for you to return to Wellclose Square. With the sugar mill gone and her husband not quite himself, she said that it would be best if you stayed with Elsie for the time being.'

Sarah digested this in silence. Suddenly the bright day seemed like a mockery. It should have been overcast, with the clouds spilling rain like tears upon her upturned face. Grey shot her a worried glance. ‘Are you all right, nipper?'