By the time I got the chance to tell Da what had happened, it was already too late. Very early the next morning I was awakened by a sound I couldn’t place. Groggy with sleep, I rolled over. The noise – feeble and cat-like – was coming from Peg’s side of the bed.
‘Oh no,’ I groaned, remembering what Mr Walton had said last night about Peg’s fondness for animals. ‘Tell me that’s not a kitten you’ve got there.’
‘I had to, Lizzie,’ said Peg, wide awake and excited-sounding. ‘Before Da and me went to Eden Court the other day, we were in the village and Mrs Pringle was at the shop with her kittens again and …’
‘… you talked her into letting you have one,’ I finished. ‘So you’ve had it for nearly two days and not told anyone?’
Peg made a ‘hmmm’ sound in her throat.
‘And you’ve hidden it away? How?’
But she didn’t really need to answer: Peg had been hiding little animals about the place for years. She was very good at it.
Without warning, a tiny furry bundle was pressed against my cheek.
‘Give him a stroke,’ said Peg. ‘He’s called Spider because he’s eaten two already.’
I couldn’t stay cross. Not when Spider the kitten was as soft as a gosling. No wonder Peg couldn’t resist him; after all we’d been through, she deserved a proper pet to love.
‘So he’s the ginger kitten you liked, is he?’ I asked, stroking between his ears.
‘No, he’s black with white paws. Mrs Pringle had a few like him, so I didn’t think she’d notice that he was missing.’
I stopped stroking. ‘You took him without asking?’
‘Mrs Pringle wouldn’t let me have one without checking with Da, but he was in the post office at the time. And I am going to speak to him …’
‘But you haven’t yet.’
‘I will,’ Peg insisted. ‘Anyway, I waited for ages for Mrs Pringle to finish talking about those missing hens. But she went on and on, so in the end I helped myself.’
‘No I didn’t,’ said Peg, grumpily. ‘She wanted rid of her kittens. I’ve done her a favour, really.’
‘That’s not how Mrs Pringle will see things.’ It was bound to set tongues wagging too. After what Mr Walton said yesterday, I didn’t suppose this would help.
Before I could say more, there was a knock at our back door. It was barely even light, and I’d an uneasy sense that whoever was out there hadn’t come with good news. Da got there first. I scrambled out of bed to hover at the top of the stairs.
‘What brings you here in such weather?’ I heard Da say, for it was bitter cold still and the rain fell in sheets.
Peg joined me on the landing, resting her head sleepily against my shoulder.
‘Who is it?’ she said. ‘What do they want?’
‘Shh! I’m listening.’
Da’s tone of voice changed. ‘Mr Henderson, I hardly see what this business has to do with us. Of course we haven’t taken anyone’s poultry.’
Feeling for Peg’s hand, I found it and held it tight. This was just as Mr Walton had said; the villagers suspected Peg of taking their livestock. It was nonsense. Utter nonsense.
‘What’s happening?’ she said, bewildered. ‘They’ve not come for Spider, have they?’
I shook my head. ‘Keep him out of sight, though, just in case.’
With Spider safely back in our room, we tiptoed down the stairs, stopping halfway to sit side by side on a step. I dreaded what Mr Henderson would say next, but I wasn’t about to miss it, either.
‘I’m sorry it’s come to this, Jed,’ said Mr Henderson, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But things have reached a head. We have to do something to stop these attacks.’
Outside, the noise of falling rain grew louder. Mr Henderson, still standing on our doorstep, would be soaked through. Yet Da didn’t invite him inside.
‘What do you propose to do about it?’ he asked.
‘We’d like to search your barns, if we may,’ Mr Henderson said.
Well, he could try, I thought bitterly. He’d not find anything in them, not even our own birds. After last night’s encounter with Mr Walton, I was surer than ever who or what really was to blame.
‘You see, Jed.’ Mr Henderson gave a nervous laugh. ‘I’ll get to the point. You know how it’s been since … well … since your loss. People do talk.’
Da shifted his feet. I imagined him tucking his hands into his armpits, dropping his chin. He didn’t like to fight. But I knew he would if he had to – and that made me more nervous.
‘Not all people,’ Da said. ‘Just the ones who’re keen to judge us for our misfortune.’
‘Yes, well.’ Mr Henderson swiftly moved on. ‘Our business today regards missing livestock – hens, ducks …’
‘And geese.’ I stood up, unable to stay quiet any longer. ‘Ours got taken last night, Mr Henderson, so it’s no good coming here thinking Peg’s to blame when she was upstairs fast asleep at the time.’
‘Why, I never mentioned your sister by name!’ he said, sounding flustered.
He didn’t need to. The fact he was here at all was enough.
‘You’ve seen that hole in our hedge, have you?’ I said, thinking of what had hidden there last night. ‘Something escaped through it with our geese.’
‘It’s hardly proof. A badger could’ve made it.’
‘A badger? Mr Henderson, what was out there was huge!’ I cried.
He didn’t reply. Instead, he addressed Da again. ‘So if we could check your barns, Jed, it would clear up any misunderstanding.’
The doorway grew lighter as Da turned round. ‘Did you know about this, Lizzie? Why didn’t you tell me?’
Peg’s hand in mine felt hot and sticky. Her breath was coming fast.
‘I’d heard something about what folks have been saying,’ I muttered. ‘But how can it be Peg who’s taking animals when our birds got taken as well?’
Da didn’t answer.
Here in the light of day, I knew I should tell him all of what had happened last night. And I very nearly did. But if I shared Mr Walton’s secret, he’d come after me, I was sure of it. So the words stayed jammed in my throat.
Peg began to sob. ‘It weren’t me, Da! Whatever the man says, it weren’t me!’
‘Hush, my sweet,’ said Da, coming over to us and scooping Peg into his arms. ‘We know it wasn’t you. It’s all a big mistake.’
From the doorway, Mr Henderson coughed. There were shufflings from outside: other voices, other restless coughs. With a sinking feeling, I realised Mr Henderson wasn’t alone.
‘My men and I are ready, Mr Appleby,’ he said, confirming my fears. ‘Shall we start with the barn nearest the gate?’
There was no more ‘Jed’: it was surnames only. Da must’ve noticed it too. He stayed close to me and Peg.
‘No one is to search my barns,’ he said. ‘My daughter has done nothing wrong. You’re mistaken in coming here.’
Mr Henderson huffed irritably. ‘Very well. I can’t force a search today. But if necessary, we will return with a warrant.’
The men left soon after that. Then Da did too, heading off to work on the commission for Eden Court, which he’d talked his way into keeping, despite us. Poor Peg was still upset. Dragging me to the nearest chair, and though she was too big to do so, she climbed onto my lap and burst into a fresh bout of tears.
‘I didn’t do it,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t take no poultry. Everybody blames me and it isn’t fair!’
‘Hush, I know you didn’t.’
‘The whole village must hate me. But I’m not lying, Lizzie, honest I’m not.’
‘I know, I know,’ I murmured into her hair.
By the time she’d grown calmer, I felt the opposite. My brain was all awhirl. A large animal had escaped from Eden Court and was attacking poultry, of that I was pretty certain. I needed not to be scared and to tell someone what I knew. Trouble was, I’d no idea who.
Not Da, who’d made it clear what he thought of loose talk concerning Mr Walton. And though Mercy might listen, she’d never hold her tongue. Times like these, I missed Mam so much it hurt. She’d listen. She’d believe me. She’d also know just what to do, and be bold enough to do it.
All the crying had left Peg exhausted. Through the fabric of her shift, her skin felt hot and humid. I hoped it wasn’t a fever coming on.
‘Go back to bed and cuddle up with Spider,’ I said to her, easing her off my lap. ‘I’ll wake you in a while.’
I listened to her heavy footsteps climb the stairs. Then to the creak of floorboards, the shuffling covers, her murmuring voice as she spoke to her kitten. When a hush finally settled, I got to my feet. There was laundry to wash, floors to sweep, the stove to tend. But I couldn’t settle to any of it. Instead, I went outside.
Head bent against the rain, I walked towards our hedge. Just to check. Just to be doubly certain last night wasn’t a bad dream.
Sure enough, on the ground nearby were leaves and broken twigs that fidgeted beneath my feet. By the gate was a hole. It was way bigger than any badger would make. Against my fingers, I felt the rough ends of newly snapped hawthorn where whatever it was had smashed its way out into the lane. That strange damp smell lingered too.
What had been here last night was definitely not my sister. Nor was it even a person. It was, I recalled with a shudder, something that ate goose innards raw, which Mr Walton wanted kept secret from the world.
*
Mid morning, I took Peg up a cup of tea. Much of it sloshed down the front of my frock as I bumped my way upstairs, but I dearly hoped she’d drink what was left. The last thing we needed was for her to be ill.
Outside, the rain had turned to sleet. I found our bedroom window easy enough – icy raindrops beat against it like grit. Putting Peg’s tea on the sill, I sidestepped to the bed.
‘Wakey-wakey, Peg,’ I said.
She didn’t reply.
‘I’ve brought you some tea, sleepy,’ I said.
She still didn’t speak. Nor did she move, or groan, or snore. I felt my way up the bed. First her side, nearest the window. Then mine. Spider was there, all curled up in a ball. But no Peg. The covers were cold to the touch.
My stomach twisted uncomfortably. Perhaps she’d fallen out of bed. Perhaps she lay fainted on the floor. Dropping to my knees, I reached under the bed, finding only handfuls of dust. I checked the rest of the floor, behind the door, the chair.
Nothing.
‘Don’t hide from me,’ I said. ‘’Cause it isn’t funny.’
I started to feel very uneasy. It wasn’t like Peg to take herself off. And surely I’d have heard her if she had? Stumbling downstairs again, I went out into the yard. The sleet fell sideways in the wind.
‘Peg?’ I called, pushing hair from my face. ‘Where’ve you gone to?’
The cobbles were slippery underfoot. I stepped in puddles, slid in mud, but found my way across to the main barn and heaved the door open wide.
‘Peg! Enough of this, now! Come on. Come out, please!’
Over to my right, something rustled in the straw. I held my breath. It moved again. Very fast. Very light – like a rat, not a nine-year-old girl.
I pulled the barn door shut and leant against it, the sleet stinging my cheeks. I didn’t know where to look next. But I realised the gut-churning truth. Peg wasn’t here. She wasn’t hiding, either.