You only had to look at Mam to see she was as strong as a bull. Anyone with any sense knew that Mercy’s vision was just an old myth, as daft as that game that had me and Isaac Blake paired for life. The best thing I could do was to forget about it. And for a while, I almost did.
As the old year died and 1816 arrived, it brought the most dismal weather I’d ever known. Rain fell for weeks on end. It blew down our chimney, leaked through our thatched roof, and made each walk to the field to feed the livestock like swimming in a river of brown soup. As usual, Sweepfield folks were keen to find something to blame. Everything of late had been the fault of the comet, and so was the case with our weather.
One soggy February morning, we were in our kitchen about to eat. We’d already been out to feed the pigs in our orchard, and our wet boots and stockings hung steaming before the fire. The work wasn’t over yet, though. There were still the cattle to do that grazed land further down Crockers Lane. As it was such a heck of a job in this weather, Da had promised to help.
‘Breakfast first,’ Mam insisted.
She cooked oatmeal in our smallest pan: the other, bigger ones sat on the floor beneath a particularly leaky bit of ceiling, catching rainwater drips as they fell. As she was dishing up, someone knocked hard at the front door. Mam’s ladle hovered over my bowl.
‘Who on earth can that be?’ she said.
Only strangers ever used our front door. It opened straight onto Crockers Lane, which Da said made it dangerous because the road was often busy with carters who drove their horses too fast. We used the kitchen door that led into our back yard, and so did any villagers who called.
‘I’ll go,’ said Da. Getting to his feet, he gave me and Peg a pretend-serious glare. ‘No touching my food, you pair of greedy guts.’
He needn’t have worried. We were far more interested in who was on our front step, and crept to the doorway to earwig.
The caller, we discovered, was a manservant from Eden Court, the big house two miles hence. Mercy had said a scientist was moving in there and so, in the hope of more titbits of information, I listened especially hard.
‘You see, Mr Appleby, our tenant from London is arriving any day,’ the manservant said. ‘Yet in opening up one of the downstairs rooms we’ve found the shelving is ruined with damp.’
‘Damp’ll do the trick,’ Da agreed.
‘As you’re a carpenter, Mr Appleby, can you replace it?’ said the man, in agitated tones. ‘And quickly too? The new tenant has much …’ he paused, ‘… equipment. Not being able to store it properly will be holding up important work.’
The manservant didn’t say ‘scientist’, but it was obvious this was what he meant. The ‘important work’ part sounded intriguing. I couldn’t wait to tell Mercy all about it.
‘I see,’ said Da.
‘We need you to come to the house straight away to take measurements, if you please. We’re desperate to get this finished before our tenant arrives.’
On the spot, Da said he could do it.
*
Back at the kitchen table, Mam scraped her bowl so hard it made a screeching noise. ‘You’ve forgotten the cattle, have you?’ she said to Da. ‘Are we to carry all that feed by ourselves?’
Da sighed gently; he didn’t like arguing, especially not with Mam, who was good at it.
‘You could wait an hour or two, my love,’ he said. ‘Just until I’ve been to Eden Court and measured where they’re wanting these shelves put.’
Mam gestured towards the window. ‘But the rain’s actually stopped out there. Another couple of hours and it’ll be at it again.’
The wind had changed too, I’d noticed. It no longer blew mild and gusty down the chimney, but seeped icily under the back door. What fell from the sky next might well be snow. And that would make reaching the cattle even harder.
‘’We need this Eden Court job, Sarah. It’s important I go,’ Da said, and his face was so lit with excitement, I wanted to smile.
The look Mam gave him though was deadly. I almost laughed, but it came out as a cough. Peg passed me her cup of water.
‘’Tis important our cattle survive the winter and all,’ Mam said. ‘What’s so urgent about a set of shelves, anyway?’
‘Mercy says he’s a scientist,’ I said, hoping to lighten the mood.
Mam rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, and isn’t that just what we need round here – a rich man with chemicals who thinks he can change the world!’
Pushing back his chair, Da got to his feet. He’d not even touched his oatmeal.
‘I’ll be in my workshop,’ he said. The back door slammed shut behind him.
Mam pulled a face. ‘Well,’ she said, slapping her hands down on the table.
She wasn’t happy, that much was obvious, and yet still I felt a pang of pride for our da. It was quite something that Eden Court wanted his carpentry skills. Anyway, it was stupid to keep lugging feed up Crockers Lane in this weather.
‘We should’ve kept the cattle close to the house. It would’ve made things a fat lot easier,’ I said.
‘But the orchard’s got our pigs in it,’ said Peg.
‘Not for much longer,’ I reminded her.
Peg covered her ears. ‘Don’t talk about the butchers. You know I hate it when they go for meat.’
Mam, though, seized on what I’d said. ‘By heck, Lizzie, you’re right. Actually, we still could bring the cattle down here. The grass is so poor they’re eating hay anyway. It won’t matter if we put them in with the pigs for a few days.’ And she beamed at me as if I was suddenly the cleverest, most wonderful person in the world. ‘Tell you what, shall we do it now?’
My mouth dropped. ‘The whole lot? Now? Without Da? But there’s twelve of them and they’re awful skittish.’
‘Nonsense! We’ll get them down here quicker than your da can even think Eden Court shelves. We don’t really need his help for this.’
I gawped at her. So my mam reckoned we could herd twelve longhorn cattle down Crockers Lane. That meant rounding them up, getting them out the gate and through a sea of mud, all the way to our orchard. And before the weather set in again. She was, without question, insane.
Seeing my face, Mam laughed.
‘Lizzie, my love,’ she said, touching my cheek. ‘Don’t doubt what you’re capable of.’
Her hand felt warm against my skin. She was smiling at me, for me. And in that moment I believed her. Once the weather turned, it’d be harder than ever to feed the cattle. Before I knew it, I’d agreed: yes, we’d bring the cattle down to our orchard. We even spat on our palms and shook hands to seal the deal.
Peg and me gulped down the rest of our oatmeal: we had to with Mam stood over us, toe tapping on the flagstones. She’d noticed too how the wind had changed, and kept glancing out of the window at the sky.
Once we’d clothed ourselves in shawls and almostdry boots, Mam hurried us across the yard. The door to Da’s workshop stood half-open; through it I glimpsed him sorting his tools, and again, felt that surge of pride.
‘Don’t bother your father; he’s busy,’ Mam said.
‘Shouldn’t we tell him what we’re doing?’
‘He’ll see soon enough. Now stop dithering.’ Grabbing my arm, she tugged me onwards. It was typical Mam, letting her actions speak louder than words. But it made me nervous. I didn’t like lies; they had a way of catching you out.