For any sensible person, that would’ve been it: enough adventure, enough danger, enough of the sea to last a lifetime. And when I first returned home to Fair Maidens Lane, I did feel that way. Around our house, our church, our chicken shed, the floodwater was still ankle-deep, and pooled muddily in the lane from the crossroads. Our hamlet had become a little island, a haven from the world. We were maidens who could look after ourselves, and wanted to be left alone to do so. The king’s absolution helped with that: nowadays our landowning neighbours kept a respectful distance.
Every day I expected Susannah and Bea to take off in search of Ellis. Now she knew he’d survived I was sure she’d want to be reunited, and I wanted that for them too, though I’d be heartbroken to lose them. Yet when I got up the courage to ask, all Susannah said was, ‘He’s happy, and so am I. I’ll find him one day, when he wants to be found.’
*
One fine spring evening, Maira came calling just as we were sitting down to eat. Jem pulled up an extra chair, Abigail stared with her mouth open, and Mother insisted she stay for one of her special meat pies.
‘We are sailing from Withy Cove in a couple of weeks,’ Maira explained. ‘The boat repairs took longer than we thought. And we can’t move it, either. Seems we have need of your horse after all.’
It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d asked me to join her crew. Now, with her sitting at our supper table, the appeal of it began to nudge at me again.
‘May we borrow Blaze to pull the boat down to the sea?’ she asked. ‘She’s a big strong brute, isn’t she?’
‘She is,’ Susannah agreed. ‘And you’d be welcome to her, if that’s all right with everyone?’
We all said it was.
‘You’ll need Susannah too, then. That horse dotes on her,’ Jem said proudly.
And I was pretty sure he winked at Susannah, though it was hard to be certain with Mother and Abigail moving between us as they handed out plates of pie and spring greens.
‘And how are you, Fortune, the girl who doesn’t drown?’ Maira asked.
With all eyes were on me, I felt myself redden.
‘Thanks to Jem,’ I said. ‘He’s the one who pulled me out.’
‘Hmmm. I’m sure the caul played a part in it too.’
Abigail took her seat. ‘What caul?’
Maira chewed for a moment, head on one side, then gestured at Abigail with her knife. ‘Do you know Fortune’s blessed?’
‘Blessed?’ My sister laughed. ‘What, old fleabag here?’
I scowled at her, but Maira convinced her it was true. ‘And,’ she pointed out, ‘when the person’s in danger, their caul becomes wet. That’s what happened with yours, Fortune.’
She explained how Jem had come running across the meadow with news of my arrest. At first he’d been so shaken and breathless they’d had trouble understanding what had happened – and he was sweating too, all down his left side. Then, in my jacket pocket, they’d discovered the caul, so wet it had soaked through into his shirt.
‘We’d swapped clothes at the town hall, hadn’t we?’ Jem reminded me.
It was a lot to think about. Susannah and her sewing, my caul: both had been signs that bad things were going to happen, and much as I’d wanted to play them down, they had proved to be right. Bad things did happen.
‘I still don’t think that makes any of us witches,’ I pointed out.
‘Witches are simply strong women, that’s what you once told me,’ said Susannah. ‘You said everyone has a little strangeness in them, and that some things just can’t be explained.’
‘Some of us more than others,’ Jem said, giving me a pointed look. ‘No wonder you love the sea so much, sister. And I didn’t, not at first.’
Maira laughed. Then, shovelling the last of her pie into her mouth, she stood up. With her long hair tucked inside her coat collar, she could easily have been mistaken for a handsome boy.
‘Thank you for supper,’ she said, making for the door.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, ‘Can’t I come with you?’
‘Fortune!’ Jem looked horrified.
‘But I think maybe I’d like to,’ I confessed. A table of stunned faces stared back at me. ‘Maira asked me to join her ship a while ago, and I’ve given it some thought.’
Maira sighed, twirling her hat in her hands. ‘Give it some more thought, then. You’ve been through a lot, Fortune. You need time to heal and recover.’
‘But I’m fine,’ I protested.
Mother squeezed my shoulder gently. ‘She’s right, love. Give yourself a little time.’
‘Come by with the horse in a couple of weeks when you’ve rested,’ Maira said. ‘Bring Susannah and Jem too. If you’re not fit to sail, I might have something to offer them.’
*
Once she’d gone, I huffed a bit to Jem. ‘If I can’t go then you’re certainly not. That wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Jem insisted. ‘You won’t get me on a boat again, not in a hundred years.’
I told him he was a sparrow-brain. He flicked my ear. Of all the challenges being a sailor would bring, leaving him would be the hardest.
*
Soon after this, Susannah and I struck a deal: she’d take Ellen’s gowns back to Glastonbury – I still couldn’t face the place – if I’d teach her to swim. So twice a day, in the mild spring sunshine, we trooped down to the beach. Jem tagged along, insisting he’d look after Bea, who was now taking her first wobbIy steps. I wasn’t fooled. Since that time at the supper table, he and Susannah had been sharing quite a few looks. It was no surprise that Abigail had noticed too.
‘I wish they didn’t have to be so soppy,’ I muttered as we watched them feeding the chickens together one morning. ‘Doesn’t it make you feel slightly sick?’
‘I think it’s lovely.’ Abigail sighed. ‘Jem deserves a good wife.’
‘Wife?’ I was reminded of what I’d thought of Susannah when I first met her – neat, demure, quiet.
‘Don’t be fooled by what she looks like,’ I said. ‘There are lots of ways to be a strong woman – Susannah’s taught me that. It’s not all about breeches, you know.’
Abigail laughed.
*
Meanwhile, we kept up with the swimming lessons. The first time I’d gone down to my beloved beach, I’d been horrified to see the damage that the floods had caused. Boulders that’d once lain down at the tideline were now strewn across the fields like toadstools. The gentle curve of the cliff looked jagged, bitten away at, and the slope of the shingle was so steep we almost had to scramble on our backsides to reach the water’s edge.
Susannah was a very fast learner. Within days of living with us she could build a decent fire, bake bread, catch a chicken for the pot. The swimming took longer to master. She still didn’t entirely trust the sea, and for that I didn’t blame her: it had turned our lives upside down.
After a fair bit of splashing and spluttering, and telling me to stop being so strict, the day arrived when Susannah swam her first few strokes. It was the perfect doggy-paddle, and the delight on her face was priceless.
‘Watch me again, Fortune!’ she cried.
Jem ran home to fetch Mother and Abigail so they could see for themselves. By the time he returned with them, Susannah was swimming on her back and laughing. Mother, who’d taken to Susannah like another daughter, pushed a stray lock of hair off my face.
‘You’re a special one, Fortune, you know that, don’t you?’ she said.
I blinked, smiled, felt suddenly warm. But I also knew how fine the line was between ‘special’ and ‘strange’. One person’s beloved daughter could be another person’s witch, and fear made people’s attitudes change in the blink of an eye. Even the king himself didn’t seem to understand it. We did, and we wouldn’t ever forget it.