CHAPTER 35

Lily woke with a start, then lay there feeling restless. Some elusive thought was niggling at the back of her mind. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Jumping out of bed, she tugged on her clothes, ran her fingers through her hair and let herself out into the grey of the early morning. The autumnal air was decidedly chilly and, pulling her shawl tighter round her, she decided to delay her morning wash at the pump until the sun had come up. Hurrying down Sea Hill, her heart leaped when she saw the red sails of Tom’s lugger. Then she remembered the boat was no longer his. Where are you, Tom? Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she blinked hard, refusing to give in to self-pity.

Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her apron, she tramped along the shoreline, spray stinging her cheeks, pebbles crunching beneath her boots. Before long, the keen air had worked its magic and her thinking was as clear as the water. She thought back to her strange dream, and was just on the verge of remembering what it was that had been bothering her, when she heard a shout.

‘Ouch.’

She spun round but couldn’t see anyone.

‘Oh, blow it, blow it.’ This time the cry repeated, as it bounced off the cliffs and echoed around the bay.

She stood still, then caught a glimpse of movement by the netting hut. Hurrying towards it, she saw Joe the Quarry perched on a rock wringing his hands.

‘Joe, whatever’s the matter?’ she asked.

‘I’m a useless old fool, that’s what,’ the old man muttered, turning his rheumy eyes towards her before glaring down at the pebbles. Following his gaze, she saw the discarded turnip lying where he’d thrown it. ‘Can’t even make a lantern for me grandson now with these useless mitts,’ he spat, holding up his hands, which were squashed almost flat, their misshapen fingers sticking out at awkward angles. She also saw the right one had a gouge where the thumb had been.

Ignoring the nausea that was churning her stomach, she bent to retrieve the turnip and knife, then handed them back to him. She could recall her parents talking about the accident at the quarry, which had claimed the lives of five men, leaving others maimed, Joe amongst them.

‘Can’t earn me living no more, but thought I could at least make young Jack a lantern for his guising at Samhain.’

Her heart went out to the old man, but instinct warned her to tread carefully. ‘I’ve always wanted to make one of those, Joe, but wouldn’t know where to begin,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘Could you show me?’

Slowly he turned towards her, hope then suspicion flickering in his eyes.

‘And why would a pretty young thing like yer be wanting to know how to make a turnip lantern?’

Knowing she had to spare his pride she thought hard. Then an image of Beth sprang into her mind.

‘Because, Joe, it would make the perfect present for my little sister.’

The old man studied her carefully then gave her a wizened smile. ‘Yer on, lass. I’ll get us two more turnips. Yer works for Mrs Bodney now, don’t yer? Given yer the day off, has she?’

‘Oh my,’ she gasped, glancing up at the sky and seeing the first rays of red peeping above the cliffs. ‘She’ll have my guts for garters if I don’t rush. Will you be here later?’

He grinned ruefully. ‘Spends most of me time here these days. I’ll see yer by the old boathouse when yer’ve finished yer work. If yer can spare the time, of course,’ he added, looking at her hopefully.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there,’ she promised, before hurrying back to Picky Pike’s.

‘Ah, Lily, just the person I wanted to see,’ said Mrs Bodney, waylaying her as she hurried down the hallway. ‘I shall be out for the rest of the day. There are things we need to discuss, so I’ll see you in my parlour when you finish work.’ She frowned as she took in Lily’s windswept appearance.

‘I’m afraid that won’t be convenient, Mrs Bodney,’ Lily stammered. ‘I’ve promised to help a friend.’

‘Well, you’d better unpromise then,’ Mrs Bodney commanded, turning on her heel and disappearing into her parlour.

‘But, I can’t,’ Lily called after her.

‘I beg your pardon, Lily?’ asked Mrs Bodney.

‘I said I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mrs Bodney.’

‘Are you disobeying me, Lily?’ asked Mrs Bodney, her voice as icy as a hoar frost.

Staring at her employer, Lily’s courage almost deserted her. Then she remembered the hopeful look on Joe’s face and stood her ground.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Bodney, I’ve made a promise and when I make a promise I keep it. Perhaps we could discuss things later this evening or even tomorrow first thing?’ But her employer stalked off without answering.

Lily made her way to the workroom, praying her shaking legs wouldn’t give way. She was sure to be dismissed now, but her job appeared to be coming to an end anyway.

‘Blimey, Lily, you look like someone’s taken your last farthing,’ Mary greeted her.

‘Wish I could stroll in just when I feel like it,’ Cora muttered under her breath, causing Lily to lash out.

‘Well, you can’t. And I’ll have you know, there’s been many a night I’ve worked on after you have all left. Now, you’d do well to remember the work here’s nearly completed so your agreement can be ended right now.’

Cora and Nell exchanged glances and an uneasy silence descended on the room. Ignoring them, Lily sat at her pillow and picked up her bobbins. Wary of her mood, the ladies all worked quietly and when noon came, filed outside for their break before she had a chance to ring the bell. Even Mary stayed away from her. A moody maid, her father would have called her, she thought, suddenly feeling unbearably lonely.

The afternoon dragged by and still no one spoke to her, although she did see Mary shooting her puzzled glances once or twice. She knew it was up to her to make amends, but in a peculiar kind of way, she relished being left alone. Finally, she heard the ladies tidying away their things, then their voices fading as they clattered and chattered their way down the lane. No guesses as to what their topic of conversation would be, she thought. Breathing a sigh of relief that she could leave the workroom at last, she covered her pillow and pulled on her shawl.

Hurrying down to the beach, Lily saw it was a hive of noise and activity. The fishing fleet had returned and their luggers and crabbers were beached broadside, whilst their catch and fishing gear was carried up onto the Hard. Gulls circled and screeched, impatient to scavenge the scraps and fish guts they knew would be left on the pebbles.

Then the squire appeared in the doorway of the alehouse and Lily ducked into the shadows, but he was busy talking to the haulers and didn’t see her. Then, as he staggered up the hill the others made their way down the beach, ready to haul the boats further out of the water. The fishermen, glad to be back safely on dry land, were laughing as they stowed their nets. Lily couldn’t help peering around hopefully, but, of course, there was no sign of Tom.

Joe was waiting by the old boathouse as he’d said he would, two turnips and a knife by his side. He looked so pleased to see her she couldn’t help but smile back. ‘That’s better. Looked like a black tornado, ye did, roaring down the hill. That old dragon given yer a hard time, has she?’

‘I haven’t seen her all day. Well, not since I refused to do what she wanted.’

To her amazement he grinned wickedly.

‘I’d love to have seen her face,’ he chortled. ‘She’s used to getting her own way, that one. What wouldn’t yer do, then?’

‘Break a promise,’ she said. Then, seeing his knowing look, she quickly changed the subject.

‘I just saw the squire staggering up the hill. He spends a lot of his time in the alehouse, doesn’t he?’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘I guess he’s really unhappy inside.’

‘Hmm, we all have our crosses to bear,’ Joe grunted, staring down at his misshapen hands. ‘He’ll have been up in the tallet over the kitchen plotting and planning his dealings.’

‘Dealings?’

‘Yer knows, with them free traders,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose with a mangled finger. ‘He does all the planning and ordering. Then away he goes, leaving the others to do the risky work of transporting the spoils up to the manor house, with the best going up to London by yon fancy carriage.’

She looked up into the gloom where Joe indicated and thought the vehicle looked similar to Rupert’s.

‘What kind of spoils?’ she asked, remembering the Christmas smell in his carriage.

‘Brandy, baccy, tea, spices, silks and whatever else they’ve brought in,’ Joe said, shrugging. Before she could ask any further questions, another group of haulers passed by and he quickly looked down at the turnips.

‘Right, show me how to make these lanterns then,’ Lily said, taking the hint and changing the subject.

‘You whittle, I’ll guide,’ Joe said.

At first, Lily found it difficult cutting into the hard vegetable, especially in the gathering gloom, but Joe was patient, and under his guidance she soon relaxed. By the time she’d scored out twisted curves for the mouths, she was enjoying herself.

‘Well, lass, those will look real scary when they’re lit up. My Jack will be right pleased when I show him what yer’ve made.’

‘No, Joe, what we’ve made. We’ve done these together.’ She saw him look down at his hands. ‘Your brains; my labour,’ she added. He was silent for a few moments, then nodded.

‘Yer real kind, lass. Most people look at my hands and think I’m only fit for the scrap heap, but yer’ve proved that ain’t the case and I’m right thankful.’

‘And I’m grateful to you, because now I’ve got a turnip lamp to take to Beth.’

He put out his hand and, without hesitating, Lily took it and shook it.

‘Mrs Bodney says it’s the way things look that matters, but you know, Joe, I don’t think she’s necessarily correct.’

‘Aye, that’s always been her way, lass, but that don’t mean it’s the right one for yer. Yer has a heart of gold so yer just go with what yer feel.’

‘Thank you, Joe,’ she said, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her. Grinning, she picked up her lantern. ‘I know Beth is going to love this.’

Tramping back up the now deserted beach, she wondered if she’d have time to visit Coombe before Samhain. She could remember the fun they’d had last year, Father and Rob had carved out the turnips while she’d helped her mother bake the special apple pie. They’d set extra places at the table so their departed loved ones could join them for supper, for it was that special night of the year when the veil between this world and the next was at its thinnest.

She stopped in her tracks, tingling with excitement. Suppose her mother and father were to pay her a visit this Samhain? Or her nana and granddad? Her nana! That was what had been niggling her when she woke, for hadn’t the wise old woman told her that problems had a way of sorting themselves while you slept? You simply had to look for the answers in your dreams.

Feeling happier than she had for ages, she let herself into Picky Pike’s. She was just placing the lantern on the ledge by the front door when Mrs Bodney came storming out of the workroom.

‘How dare you go out and leave the door unbolted?’ she spluttered.

Lily stared at her in dismay. ‘But I didn’t, Mrs Bodney.’

‘You did. The door to the workroom was wide open. What if the Queen’s lace had been stolen?’

‘What?’ Lily gasped.

‘Luckily Tilda saw you leave and came at once to inform me. I’ve just this minute finished checking everything’s in order and now you come breezing in, beaming like a blooming beacon.’

‘But I’m certain I bolted it,’ Lily repeated.

‘And I’ll have none of these heathen things in my house, thank you,’ Mrs Bodney snapped, sweeping the lantern onto the floor. ‘I shudder to think what would have happened had all that work been stolen. If it’d got into the wrong hands, the Queen would have had my neck in a noose. Your behaviour today has been irresponsible and disappointing, to say the least.’

‘But, Mrs Bodney, I did bolt the door.’

‘You couldn’t have done, ’cos it was wide open,’ Tilda said from behind them. Both women spun round. ‘Mr Mountsford couldn’t believe it when he heard and—’ At the mention of her merchant’s name Mrs Bodney’s eyes widened.

‘Are you telling me Mr Mountsford has called here, Tilda?’ she asked. ‘When was this?’

‘It was when you were in the workroom, Mrs Bodney. He asked what was going on and I told him about Lily leaving the workroom door open. When I said I’d go and get you, he said not to bother as you was obviously busy. Then he left,’ Tilda said, looking very pleased with herself.

‘How dare you divulge personal information about my household?’ Mrs Bodney exploded. ‘I expect discretion at all times, as you should well know. Pack your things and leave this instant.’

‘But I was only doing as—’

‘I said go,’ Mrs Bodney repeated. Then, ignoring Tilda’s wails, she swept into her parlour, closing the door firmly behind her.