She stepped back inside and picked up one of her shawls and wrapped it around her bare shoulders. Her boots she left beside the bed. Being barefoot held no qualms for her, her feet were hard and calloused. She had worn no boots until she’d married, and not always then, sometimes she had had to sell them to buy food, buying them back when Alan came home and gave her money.
She slipped outside, keeping to the house wall and creeping round the back until the henhouse was in view. Mrs Trott was standing by the open door next to some bales of hay and holding a lantern, and every now and again the light shook as she suppressed a sneeze. Annie could see two other figures, one, she guessed by his build to be Toby, the other, man or boy, was small and his voice husky.
They were manhandling sacks and boxes from a donkey cart and under Mrs Trott’s direction were putting them into the henhouse. When they had done this, apparently to her satisfaction, they finally lifted from the cart two casks which they rolled into the henhouse throwing the bales of hay in after.
‘Geneva!’ Annie breathed. ‘So that’s what they’re up to. And what’s in them sacks? As if I couldn’t guess!’
As they started to close and lock the henhouse door, Annie ran back inside, her bare feet making no sound on the damp grass. She dropped her shawl onto the floor beside her boots and climbed back into bed and closed her eyes.
So, Master Toby Linton. Now we know what tha’s up to. There’s no wonder thy father wanted thee out of his house. Who’d want a smuggler for a son? Two sons! For I’ll bet my bag o’ money that thy brother Matthias is in it too.
She huddled beneath the blanket as she heard the door creak open and Mrs Trott’s feet shuffle across the room. She opened one eye as she heard the lid of the blanket-chest open and saw her take out her blanket, then she feigned sleep again as Mrs Trott turned towards her. When she looked again from beneath her lashes, Mrs Trott was knelt beside the chest busily emptying it of its contents and replacing them with several parcels wrapped in calico.
The old woman’s head and shoulders were buried within the box and as Annie peered above her blanket she could hear her muttering and gasping to herself. In the dying embers of the fire there was a flash of something shiny, something yellow, and Annie smiled as she recognized the petticoat which she had given to Mrs Trott.
It seemed as if she had only just fallen asleep again when she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder roughly shaking her awake.
‘Come on. Tha can’t stay in bed all day, there’s work to be done. And besides Mr Trott will be home afore long and will want his bed back.’
Mrs Trott was fully dressed, and Annie wondered if indeed she had been to bed at all. The room was tidy, her bedding put away and the fire was blazing.
Annie stretched her arms above her head and yawned. ‘By, I’ve had a grand night’s sleep, never woke up once.’ She put her feet to the floor. ‘Mr Trott’s got a nice warm bed to get into.’
Mrs Trott’s mouth turned down; she made no comment but simply pointed to the table where a dish of gruel lay waiting.
‘Eat that. Master Toby’ll be on his way to fetch thee. Don’t keep him waiting.’
‘Where am I going?’ Annie dressed quickly and spooned the gruel into her mouth. It was thin but warming and smelt of goat.
‘Up onto ’Wolds, I expect. He’ll tell thee.’
Annie stared open-mouthed, her spoon held loosely between her fingers. It slipped and clattered into the bowl, splashing the gruel onto the table. Mrs Trott tutted and fetched a cloth to wipe up the mess.
‘Where’s that? How can I? I don’t know ’way. How will I know where to go?’
Panic enveloped her. She might get lost and not find her way back to the river.
‘Somebody’ll tek thee and show thee. Hush, here’s Mr Trott.’
Mr Trott wearily hung his coat behind the door and held his hands towards the fire. ‘It’s been a cold night, but a quiet one. Nowt much happening on ’river.’
‘Why, what might be happening?’ Annie slyly put the question and watched Mrs Trott.
‘Why, tha should know, if tha’s worked in Hull.’ Mr Trott pursed his lips. ‘There’s allus somebody up to no good, in shipping and that.’
Annie shook her head. ‘I onny worked wi’ fish, I know nowt about shipping.’
She saw Mrs Trott’s face relax and she put down a dish of gruel for Mr Trott.
‘Get that down thee, and then away to tha bed. Me and Mrs Hope are off to ’village, so tha’ll not be disturbed. Get tha shawl, Mrs Hope, if tha’s finished, we haven’t got all day.’
The old woman swept out of the house, draping a black shawl about her head and shoulders and grasping a large umbrella. Annie hurriedly finished the last mouthful of gruel, and hopping first on one foot and then the other, she fastened on her boots. She turned back from the door and in a loud whisper called to Mr Trott. ‘Bed’s still warm, Mr Trott!’
Mrs Trott marched across the grass in front of the cottage and out of the gate, and turned right up a narrow lane which ran away from the river. The lane sloped uphill and had a high grassy bank on one side, and a hedge of dog rose and hawthorn on the other, the red hips and berries festooned with lace curtains of fragile cobwebs. Studded at intervals in the hedgerow, tall trees and slender young saplings sprouted, which dripped droplets of moisture down onto them, so that Annie once or twice put out her hand and looked up, thinking that it was raining.
‘Where ’we going, Mrs Trott?’ she panted as they reached the top of the hill. This was the first hill she had climbed. Hull was a very flat town. So flat that the streets and houses often flooded when the river was high.
She turned to look back the way they had come and saw the Humber stretched below, its surface flat and gleaming as the morning light touched it. She narrowed her eyes. Across on the far side of the river she could see dark hills rising, and trees. She cupped her eyes with her hands, she could see habitation, and thin spirals of smoke as if from cottage chimneys.
‘Is that Lincolshire, Mrs Trott? I’ve never seen it so clear afore.’ From the walls of Hull that country had seemed far away, a mere thin smudge on the other side of the river.
‘Tha doesn’t know owt, does tha? Did nobody larn thee owt?’ Mrs Trott seemed to take pleasure in reproaching her ignorance.
‘And is that where ’ferry goes to? Is that Barton?’
‘Hush wi’ tha questions. I’ve not time to be thy teacher, I’m off to ’village. Wait here. Don’t go wandering off. Master Toby’ll be here afore long.’ She shook her umbrella at Annie, turned a corner and disappeared from view.
Annie waited for a moment, then, curious to know where she was going, ran along the lane after her, but the lane forked and each path was overhanging with low branches and looked dark and gloomy, so she wandered back again to where she had been told to wait. She paced up and down, wishing that Toby would hurry; doubts and fears were starting to crowd in now that she was alone. When she had company she put her fears to one side, pretending to herself that nothing bad could happen.
She cupped her hands again around her eyes and looked down towards the river. There was a cutter, she could see its long bow-sprit and tall mast, its vast sails billowing. It was lying low in the water and moving swiftly up river, while landward, nearer the northern banks were two cobbles, plying a more leisurely pace.
‘Good day, Mrs Hope.’
She jumped at the sound of Toby’s voice above her. He was standing on the top of the bank, his arms folded, smiling down at her.
‘Tha startled me. Where did tha come from? I didn’t hear thee.’
He grinned. ‘I have my own secret passage way. I don’t like to use the public paths.’
‘Why? Hast tha got summat to hide?’
‘I might have. But nothing that harms anyone.’ He put his hand out with an invitation for her to take it and he hauled her up the bank. ‘What about you? What are you hiding, Annie?’
‘I’ve told thee already, so don’t keep asking.’
‘But if I’m to be your friend, we must trust each other. I need to trust you if you are to work for me.’
A friend? She had never had a man friend before. Husband and lover, yes. But not a friend. She’d better put the matter to the test.
‘Tha might as well know now, Toby, then we know where we stand. I’m finished wi’ men. I want no truck wi’ any man again. I’ve been ill used by ’em, and I’m never going to be caught again. I’ll work for thee and I’ll not thieve thee, be sure of that, but there’ll be nowt more, so don’t expect it.’
His face was solemn though she thought she caught a flash of humour in his eyes, but as she looked sharply at him, it was gone and he was serious again.
‘I’m sorry that you’ve such a poor opinion of men, Annie. It’s true that there are a lot of wicked fellows, but I venture to suggest that there are also many wicked women. But I wouldn’t be so arrogant as to suggest anything more than friendship. I said before, we could have great larks you and I, if you are willing. We could be like brother and sister!’
‘Why?’ She eyed him suspiciously. ‘Why would likes of thee, tek up wi’ me? I’m not thy class. And tha has a brother, why should tha want a sister?’
His eyebrows rose. ‘You’ve heard of my brother? Ah, of course, the Trotts’ will have told you.’
‘Aye. And that tha’s a squire’s son. So what does tha want wi’ me?’
They had been walking as they were talking. There was no proper path where he led her, but they stooped through thickets whose branches he pushed back after they went through them, so that there was no sign of their entry, and they scrambled over rough chalky terrain until she was quite out of breath, and insisted that they sat down for a moment.
He stretched out on the ground beside her and plucked a piece of grass and placed it between his teeth. He pointed. A formation of ducks were flying swiftly up river, their long necks stretched and their wings moving rapidly. The air was clear and sharp and though there was a smell of frost, it wasn’t cold, there was a touch of warmth from the sun as it lifted higher in the sky. Below them was a curl of woodsmoke, which she guessed came from the Trotts’ cottage.
‘What do I want with you, you ask?’ He rolled the stalk of grass idly between his fingers. ‘Well, to be honest, Annie, I’m bored with the company I’m keeping. Oh, don’t misunderstand me, Henry and Mrs Trott are a fine pair, but they’re old and no fun, and Mrs Trott still treats me like a three-year-old. As for my brother, well, I see him for only a brief time, even though we meet quite often. We have no time for pleasantries.’
She wasn’t convinced. ‘Tha must have other friends, from thy youth?’
He shook his head. ‘My mother died when I was five, Mrs Trott was her maid, you know. She idolized my mother, worshipped the ground she walked on and she was devastated when she died. But she hated my father and though she looked after Matt and me as if we were her own, she couldn’t do right for him. We were sent away to my aunt’s house, Mrs Trott too, but she complained that my aunt didn’t know how to look after children, and she didn’t of course, being a maiden lady, which Mrs Trott was too – her name in those days was Agnes Whittle – then my aunt wrote to Father that Mrs Trott was getting above herself, and she was given notice.’
He sat up and watched as a flotilla of ships sailed by, heading for the port of Hull. Then he leaned back again on one elbow and she saw a shadow cross his face.
‘We didn’t know then, we were too young to know what was happening, but they wouldn’t give her a reference. They just gave her what she was owed and no more. She had been with my mother since before my mother had married, and yet she was cast out with nothing.’
‘So how did she come to be here? How did she meet Mr Trott?’
‘Dear old Henry. He found her, so he told me, in Hull. She was practically at death’s door and about to throw herself in the river. She couldn’t find work without references, and she had only ever looked after ladies, and children. Anyway, he brought her back here and fed her, and made her well, and here she has been ever since.’
‘And then he married her.’ Annie murmured.
He shook his head. ‘No. She wouldn’t marry him. She just took his name. Come on,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Not much further.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ Annie panted, the last bit of incline was taxing, though she was encouraged to see the thatch of a dwelling just above her. ‘How did tha find her again?’
‘Pure coincidence. It was about five years ago and I’d left my father’s house – I’d decided to join my brother. I was rowing down the river when my boat struck a sandbank. I knew I couldn’t get it off until the tide turned and I decided to swim for shore. Well, I nearly drowned. I hadn’t realized just how treacherous the Humber was, but as luck would have it, old Henry was on the river bank and saw me struggling. He ran for a boat from the haven and hauled me in.’
He smiled at the memory. ‘And when he took me home to dry off, there was my old nurse. She didn’t recognize me straight away, but I would have known that old sour face anywhere,’ he said affectionately.
He led her towards a cottage which was almost hidden by an overhang of chalk cliff and a tumble of bramble and hawthorn scrub. He opened the door which was unlocked and invited her in.
She hesitated. ‘What is this place?’
‘It’s mine. It’s where I live. My very own.’
It was small, smaller even than the Trotts’ cottage, but where the Trotts’ room was neat but barely furnished, here was a jumble of boxes and crates, and rugs on the walls as well as the floor, and two handsome wooden chairs and a heavy table.
He waved to her to take a seat and then disappeared outside, returning in only a moment with an armful of dry kindling which he threw into the hearth, where it instantly caught alight from the warm ashes.
‘Would you take tea, Mrs Hope?’ he said, giving a small bow. ‘It isn’t often I have company; please do.’
She stared wide-eyed at him. What manner of man was this? What game was he playing with her? Then she laughed. She saw the mischievous look in his eyes and realized that he wasn’t playing a game with her, but was inviting her to play the game.
‘I thought I was starting work today?’ She sipped the hot tea and wished she could stay here forever. ‘I’m not used to sitting about drinking tea mid-morning.’
‘Taking tea, Annie. Not drinking it,’ he advised, and she pulled a face and giggled.
‘You are, – starting work. I want to show you what you have to do, what you have to sell.’ He went across to one of the many boxes and opened it.
I wonder? she thought. I wonder if he thinks I’m that dim that I don’t know a sack of illicit tea or ’baccy when I see it? But she was just a little surprised when he pulled out a bundle, not a waxed bag containing tea or sweet smelling tobacco, but a cotton bundle holding an assortment of linen and lace and ribbons, such as ladies or housewives might buy in any draper’s shop.
He pulled out another, this one containing lengths of muslin and nets and he held them up to her. ‘What do you think, Annie? Will the women of the Wolds be pleased with these? They can’t get out, you know, to buy from shops in the way townspeople can. They rely on traders like me to bring them what they want. And if there’s nothing here that they fancy, then they only have to say, and I’ll get them what they require the next time round.’
She handled a piece of muslin. She had never owned anything as lovely as this. The only thing she had ever had that was pretty was her satin petticoat, and she’d given that away to Mrs Trott.
‘Where does tha get it, this stuff?’
‘Why I buy it, of course, from the manufacturers. Where else?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. How would I know?’
But she’d like to sell it. She’d like to bring it out and drape it over herself, like the draper in his shop in Hull did.
‘What is ’Wolds? Is it a town? How will I know where to go? Will tha come wi’ me?’
‘No. The Wolds is an area. It’s country, beautiful country, full of hills and valleys, sheep and birds, trees and flowers, and it stretches from the Humber to the sea. And no, I won’t be coming with you. That’s why I need you, so that I can get on with other things. But I have a companion for you, and if I’m not mistaken I can hear him coming.’
Annie had heard nothing, but as Toby finished speaking she heard someone cheerfully whistling, and then a sharp rattle on the door.