Frost Hollow Hall (7 page)

‘We was trespassing.’

Cook sighed. ‘Oh aye, Jake and his dog catch you then?’

I nodded. So the brute of a man had a name.

‘Stealing rabbits from his snares, was you?’

‘No!’ I said, sharply. ‘I never stole nothing!’

Cook laughed. ‘You must’ve been up to something.’

I wasn’t sure how much to tell her. So I said, ‘I’m to scrub pots as punishment.’

‘Why you want to fool around up here is anyone’s guess. And in this weather too!’ she said. ‘But do your work well and there might be a place for you. We’re always short of hands. Not many folk want to work here, these days.’ She saw the look on my face. ‘Don’t get too excited though. It in’t your job yet.’

But already my mind was racing. Who wouldn’t want to work in such a grand house as this? I’d bite their hand off for the chance. Nosing around here all day, I’d find out plenty about Kit. Such a job was sure to pay better than helping at school. And I might even make Ma proud, for once.

Cook told me to roll up my sleeves and gave me a cap and pinny to wear. Then she filled two pails, one with soapy water, one with clean. A shout came from the kitchen that something was burning and she made for the door.

‘The soft soap’s for the china, soda’s for the pans,’ she said, pointing to some jars on the windowsill. ‘And there’s sand and salt for the copper pans. Brings ’em up a treat. Now get your hands washed!’

The door swung to and I was on my own. The sink had hot running water.
Hot running water!
I turned the tap on-off-on-off just for the fun of it and washed my hands until the skin went pink. Then the pots started coming from the kitchen. I got to work as best I could. All the soaking and scrubbing quickly turned my hands raw and wrinkly like newborn mice. The hot water made me sweat and my hair kept escaping from under the cap. Bending over the sink made my back ache too. After an hour or more of it, I’d really had enough.

I was mighty glad to see Cook again, especially since she’d brought me a cup of tea and a pastry.

‘Get this down you,’ she said, noticing the scrubbed draining board and racks full of drying pots. ‘Haven’t you done well here?’

I gulped the tea and stuffed the pastry into my mouth. I was famished, and tired too. How could anyone scrub pots all day and not fall down dead in a heap?

I handed back the cap and apron.

‘If you’re lucky, you might need these again,’ said Cook.

I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I began to wonder what I’d discover about Kit stuck in here all day with my nose in a pot.

‘This position what’s going,’ I said. ‘Is it only working in the kitchens?’

‘Not as such. It’s for a proper housemaid. It’d be a smashing job for a girl like you.’

‘Good,’ I said, relieved.

‘But things is topsy-turvy here. We’re so short-staffed, you’ll have to try your hand at all sorts.’

It was better than nothing, so I put on my best smile. ‘I’d do anything to work here, really I would.’

‘I can see that. Now get yourself off home.’

I was half out the back door when she called, ‘So where was it Jake caught you then? Go on, tell us.’

She’d been kind enough to me. It couldn’t hurt to say.

‘The Barringtons’ graveyard. Looking at the stone angel,’ I said.

Her face went pale. ‘Oh no! Not Master Kit’s grave? What on earth was you doing up
there
?’

The way she said it made me go cold. I’d have done better keeping my mouth shut.

11

Gone

I’d no intention of waiting for that rat Will Potter. It was almost dark by now, and though the snow had stopped falling, the sky was clear, making the cold seem sharper than before. I went up the drive with a heavy heart, sure I’d blown my chances of a job at the Hall. Who in their right minds would hire a sneak like me? I was absolutely useless.

Nearing home, I saw a huddle of people on our front step. The door was open, casting a pale light over them. They were too many all at once to be ordinary visitors paying a call. One by one, they turned to watch me coming up the lane, their faces so grim that a sense of dread came over me, and I began to feel sick and ill.

Something was very wrong.

I walked slowly towards them, fearing what they might tell me. One of them was our neighbour Ruby, jiggling her squawking baby on her hip, and talking quickly in a low voice. She hadn’t yet seen me.

I stopped at our gate. ‘Ruby? What is it?’

‘Tilly! You’re here!’ she cried and rushed towards me, seizing my arm. ‘Thank goodness!’

‘What is it? What’s happened?’

People stepped aside to let me through and I felt a hand on my back, pushing me into the house. Ruby closed the door behind us.

‘Be gentle with your ma. She’s had an awful shock,’ Ruby said.

My stomach lurched.

Someone’s died. Pa. Is it Pa?

I reached out to steady myself.

He’s dead. That’s why he hasn’t come home.

I stumbled into the room like a blind thing.

‘Ma?’ My voice shook.

A little grey shape sat huddled on the chair.

‘Ma?’

She turned her head just a bit, like she wasn’t sure who was speaking. Her face was whiter than the wall behind her.

‘What’s going on?’ I rushed to her side. ‘Ma? Please! Speak to me!’

She looked right through me, then turned away.

‘We thought you’d both gone after him,’ said Ruby. ‘You and Eliza.’

Every part of me turned cold.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your father. He was seen boarding the Bristol coach this afternoon. Eliza was with him. Word was you were there too.’

The room swam in front of me. I pushed past her for the door and threw up all over the front steps.

*

I sat in a daze until Ruby finally got up to leave. Her baby was crying again and she had five more still to feed at home.

‘I’ll have to go now, Tilly,’ said Ruby, kindly. ‘You’ve not a scrap to eat here, poor things. I’ll send something by if I can.’

‘Ta, but we’ll manage,’ I said.

In truth, I didn’t see how. But I didn’t cry. I felt drained and empty, like I’d run out of ways to feel.

Once Ruby had left us, the room seemed too quiet. Ma hadn’t moved in her seat. And I wondered if I’d ever get up again either, since I hardly trusted my legs to hold me. Yet I couldn’t bear the silence between us.

‘Shall I get the tea on?’ I said.

Ma stared at me, blank-eyed. ‘Tea?’

‘I reckon we might need it.’

She sighed deeply. Her nose was red and her mouth drooped down at the corners.

So this was it, then. Just the two of us.

It did little to comfort me. In fact, it felt awkward, like being with someone I hardly knew. Any moment she’d tell me she’d been right all along, that Pa was no good, and I was a fool to have thought otherwise.

But she didn’t speak another word.

The room had grown so cold my breath came out like smoke, and the frost had set hard on the windows. I put a blanket over Ma’s knees and got to work, managing to coax the stove alight and putting a pan of water on to heat. There really wasn’t anything left to eat, but at least we’d have hot tea. I wetted the dregs from the morning’s pot and busied myself getting the cups out. It felt better to be doing something.

Outside, it was proper dark. As I went to close the curtain, I saw the stars were out, and before I could help it, I was thinking of Pa and Eliza. They were out there somewhere, under this very same sky. And I wondered if Pa was looking at the stars like I was, and thinking the same about me? I shut my eyes to make a wish.

Keep him safe. Bring him back home. And Eliza too.

Like a blow to the chest it hit me.

He’d gone, hadn’t he? He really
had
gone. He wasn’t coming back. And he’d live out his dream with Eliza, not me.

I shut the curtain quick, unable to bear it. I swore I’d never wish on a star again.

*

Once the water had heated, I made tea, stirring the scrapings of an old twist of sugar into Ma’s drink.

‘Here,’ I said, placing her hands round her cup. ‘Don’t spill it.’

As she sipped, she shut her eyes.

‘That better?’

She nodded slowly and opened her eyes, looking at me in a way I wasn’t used to. Then she pulled something from her pocket. It was a piece of paper, folded up very small.

‘Eliza left this on the table,’ she said, handing it to me. ‘I found it when I came back from the village. And then Ruby came by with the news that she’d been spotted.’

‘What does it say?’

‘I in’t looked. Read it to me, will you? And don’t leave nothing out.’

Ma wasn’t so good at reading. Right then, I wished I wasn’t either, bracing myself as I unfolded it. It was the White Star flyer, the very same one Eliza had shown me just this morning. Written on the back of it was a note. The writing was most definitely my sister’s.

Dear Ma

By the time you read this I’ll be gone. Don’t try to find me because I shan’t come back. See, I’ve found out where Pa is and what he’s up to, and I’m going after him but not to bring him home. He’s at the Buckland Inn, and is leaving today to catch a boat from Liverpool to America . . .

My heart caught in my throat. Buckland was the next village, just a few miles over the hill. It was ten times worse knowing this. He’d been so close and still hadn’t come home. What the heck had stopped him?

Ma looked paler than ever.

‘Shall I keep going?’

She shut her eyes and nodded.

. . . and I’m going after him. He doesn’t know I’m coming. It’ll be a terrific surprise! I used to think Pa’s big talk was just stuff and nonsense. Then I  found this advert. That’s when I knew he meant it, that dreams can come true. All I do is read stories where adventures happen to other people. I’m sick and tired of it. You see, I fancy a bit of fun myself . . .

It was agony to hear. This wasn’t how things were in our family. It was me who sided with Pa.
Me
. Whenever he’d talked about the house or the land or the pigs we’d have one day, Eliza’d seemed bored to tears.

Now I could hardly bear to look at Ma, who’d fallen back into a shocked sort of daze. I read the final lines.

. . . So please don’t be too sad. I shall tell Tilly myself that I’m leaving and if she wants to tag along, I don’t suppose I can stop her. Goodbye Ma.

Your Eliza

My heart jolted. We’d had cross words this morning. Of course Eliza hadn’t come to find me.

Or had she?

We’d been sent home from school early. And all afternoon I’d been up at Frost Hollow Hall.

I was suddenly deeply glad. For who knows what I might’ve said to her? I wasn’t even sure myself.

‘Well, I didn’t see her,’ I said.

A hopeful thought came to me then.

‘Pa might not want her with him. He’d have to pay her passage, wouldn’t he? And she never showed much interest in his plans before.’

Ma shook her head, sadly. ‘Someone saw them, remember? The coach left at two o’clock this afternoon. They looked happy enough, so I was told.’

Anger welled up in me. This wasn’t a pleasant picture at all.

‘I’ve lost her, haven’t I?’ Ma said.

I’d never seen her cry before. Now she did it quietly, the tears streaming down her cheeks and onto her frock. I felt truly terrible. Here I was, her very own daughter and I didn’t know how to comfort her.

After a bit, she wiped her face.

‘I blame your father for all of this,’ she said, bitterly. ‘Good riddance to him. But why did he have to take my Eliza?’

‘He didn’t exactly
take
her. She chose to go.’

She didn’t seem to hear me. ‘He always did fill your heads with stupid notions. I told him not to, but he’d never listen. And now this has happened. I hope he’s mighty pleased with himself!’

I bit my lip. I loved it that Pa hoped for better things. They weren’t
stupid notions
to me. But it was no good explaining this to Ma. Her dander was well and truly up.

‘And d’you know the worst thing?’ she said.

Oh heck, there was more?

‘Yesterday, I got paid. I was putting a bit by for the rent.’ She reached for the little brass money pot on the mantel and took the lid off to show me how empty it was. ‘Look! Cleaned out! All gone! See what he’s done to us, that father of yours?’

‘Pa didn’t take it! How could he?’

‘Oh grow up, Tilly! I realise Eliza
took
it. But only to go after your pa, just to get her to Buckland or Bristol or wherever she was hoping to find him. Which really makes it his fault.’

Even now she couldn’t blame Eliza.

‘Well, she didn’t have to take it,’ I said, crossly.

Ma shook her head. She was trembling with anger.

‘Your pa is a waste of blinking space and it’s about time you realised it!’

She might as well have twisted the knife already in my chest.

‘And it’s about time
you
realised that the sun don’t shine out of Eliza’s backside!’ I said, before I could stop myself.

All went quiet.

I hadn’t meant to be so bold. And now I flinched, ready for the blow that was sure to follow. But she didn’t hit me. She just rubbed her eyes and got to her feet, like it was all a huge effort. ‘I’m going to bed.’

I couldn’t bear that she was leaving me. Bad company was better than none.

‘Please, stay a bit. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn,’ I said.

She’d already reached the stairs. ‘I’ve had enough for one day.’

So I gave her what was left of the candle and hoped she’d have forgotten my outburst by morning.

‘You have it,’ she said, handing it back to me. ‘You’re a good girl, Tilly. I knew you wouldn’t just up and leave.’

My eyes prickled with tears. She touched my shoulder lightly, just once, and moved on up the stairs.

*

Soon after, I went to my own bed, tired to my very bones. I wasn’t even planning to get undressed. I just wanted to fall down and sleep. But glancing about me, my heart sank. I cursed the candlelight, since it made me see how bare the room was now Eliza wasn’t here. I could hardly look at the empty chair, which just this morning had been heaped with her clothes. Now the bed looked too big, the covers too neat. Our room had never been this tidy before. I put the candle down and lifted the blankets.