A round, weather-rosy face appeared at the door. ‘G’ day, Master Toby.’
‘Good morning, young Robert. Come in. There’s someone here I wish you to meet.’
A youth of about thirteen shuffled in through the door. His light brown hair hung in a queue at the back of his neck and a shaggy fringe about his forehead, his eyes were bright and eager and he had a short turned up nose. ‘Aw, Master Toby, tha knaws I don’t like me Sunday name. Robin. Call me Robin, please.’
Toby laughed. ‘All right, you know I only tease. Mrs Hope, this is Robin, my right-hand man.’
She watched the boy’s face flush with pleasure at the compliment, and he touched his forehead. ‘Pleased to have your acquaintance, Mrs Hope.’
‘It’ll be more than acquaintance, Robin. Mrs Hope is going to be your travelling companion.’
Robin looked questioningly at Annie, and then frowning, back to Toby. ‘Dost tha mean instead o’ Mrs Trott – or as well as? ’Cos I don’t think I could stand two women lashin’ me wi’ their tongues. Honest, Master Toby. I couldn’t. Me skin’d be stripped to ribbons.’
Annie smiled. He could be an older version of her son, Jimmy. But would he be as difficult? He was a young varmint, was Jimmy. A lump came to her throat at the reminder of her children and she wondered where they were, and if she would ever see them again.
‘No,’ Toby said. ‘Mrs Trott won’t be going travelling again. She’s getting too old. It’s time she took a rest.’
Robin grinned with delight. ‘Puttin’ her out to grass, is tha? By, I can’t say I’m sorry.’ He put his hand out to shake Annie’s. ‘I hope’s as we get on well, Mrs Hope.’ He laughed. ‘Here, that’s a good name for anybody to have.’
‘Tha can call me Annie.’ She warmed to this cheerful youth. ‘It’s ’name I’m most used to.’
‘I’ll expect you to show Annie what to do, and where to go,’ Toby said. ‘Introduce her to the farmers’ wives and the housekeepers, and the innkeepers’ daughters and so on. You know the score. She’s not from these parts, so she’ll want a little guiding.’
The boy’s small stature seemed to grow with the importance of the task in front of him. ‘Don’t thee worry, Master Toby, or thee Mrs Hope – er, Annie. Tha’ll be safe enough wi’ me. I’ll show thee where ’best customers live. Mrs Trott, sir, I have to say, was a bit sharp wi’ her comments if wimmin didn’t like her goods. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of business, no tact, tha knaws – but thee and me, Annie, why I can see, we’ll mek our fortune yet.’
Toby filled a pack with linen and cotton, and Robin shouldered it onto his back and left, saying he would meet her the next morning just after daybreak.
‘Help me, Annie,’ Toby started to empty the crates. ‘Put these muslins into bundles, and tell me, if you will, what you think they are worth.’
‘I can’t.’ She sat on the floor beside him. ‘I’ve never bought such stuff. I’ve onny ever seen it in ’draper’s shop.’
‘Then try to remember what he charged, for we must charge a little less. Not too much less, for the ladies have to pay us for bringing these goods to them. But we must still let them think they are getting a bargain. Then when you’ve sold something, you must enter the name of the customer and the amount in this pocket book.’
Her lip trembled and she bit it, and tried to quell the tears that were forming. I might have known it wouldn’t be so easy, she thought. Now I’ve lost ’job afore I’ve started.
He looked at her as he held the book towards her, and when she didn’t take it from him, he sighed.
‘You can’t read or write, Annie?’
She shook her head and huge tears brimmed over and down her cheeks. ‘No. I never learnt. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t cry.’ He patted her hand. ‘It’s not your fault. We’ll get round it somehow. But Robin can’t either, I relied on Mrs Trott to mark up the book.’
I must have been mistaken about him. Annie wiped her tears. It’s a proper business after all, and I thought he was running smuggled goods.
‘I can add up,’ she sniffed. ‘In me head. And I’ve a good memory for names. Tha could write up what I tell thee when I get back.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘But you must make some sort of mark in the book. The customers would prefer it. Could you do that?’
She said that she could, and would think of something to represent each person. Then he stood up and told her he would take her back to the Trotts’ house.
‘Before we go, Annie.’ He looked uneasy. ‘You won’t take offence?’
‘How do I know? What’s tha going to say?’
She watched him curiously as he went across to a chest of drawers on which there was a mirror. He picked up a hairbrush and handed it to her. She turned it over in her hand. It was baleen bristle, she knew that, made from the whale, but the back was silver and beautifully embossed with flowers and trailing stems.
‘I’m not giving it to you, because it was my mother’s – but will you use it to brush your hair?’
She stared at him and then turned and walked across to the mirror, and for the first time saw herself through someone else’s eyes. The face staring back at her wasn’t one she knew. The eyes were large in the thin and pinched face, the fair hair matted and lank.
She turned appealingly towards Toby. ‘I look like a drab. A slatternly drab. How can I visit folks looking like this?’
‘You need feeding up. I’ll ask Mrs Trott to give you extra food. And you can borrow the hairbrush to tidy your hair.’
‘Tha’ll trust me to give it back?’
He smiled. ‘Oh, yes, Annie. I’ll trust you. Like my own sister!’
She slung a large bundle over her arm as they went out of the door and Toby took two more. ‘How am I to carry all of this,’ she asked. ‘Will we be walking far tomorrow?’
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he said, as he strode off down the hill. ‘You’re riding in style, in Henry Trott’s donkey-cart. There’s too much to carry, and it’s too far to walk. You’ll have to stay out overnight. But don’t worry. Robin will look after you.’
Robin had also brought his dog to look after her. ‘He’ll guard thee wi’ his life, if I tell him,’ he said, as he loaded the bundles into the cart the next day. Mrs Trott looked on, her nose wrinkled in distaste at the sight of the dog, who was, Annie thought, the oddest, ugliest-looking dog she had ever seen. He had a flat face and a pair of torn and battered ears, a short body and extremely long legs. His coat was brindled and he wagged a long white tail.
‘I’d never have him in ’cart wi’ me,’ Mrs Trott complained. ‘Stinking dog.’
‘Nay. He never does.’ Robin protested. ‘I chucked him in ’river ’specially last night, just so’s he’d be sweet smelling for ’journey. But he’d never travel in ’cart wi’ thee, Mrs Trott.’ He touched his forehead in esteem. ‘He’d be after running alongside. Aye, he knaws his place, does Charlie.’
Annie turned away to hide a smile. She was going to enjoy young Robin’s company, and Charlie wasn’t the only one who had had a bathe in preparation for the journey; for she had drawn a bucket of water from the well when she had got back to the Trotts’, and taking it round to the side of the house, she had stripped down to her shift and washed her hair, and rinsed her face and arms and body with the clean, cool water, and with a fustian sheet she had borrowed from Mrs Trott, she dried herself, then dressed and ran up and down the riverside path until she was warm and glowing and her hair had dried.
She’d sat by the fire in the evening and as she’d brushed her hair, teasing out the tangles, Mrs Trott had snatched the brush from her.
‘Where did tha get this? This isn’t thine.’
‘Toby’s lent it ’me, Mrs Trott. I never stole it. It was his ma’s.’
‘Aye. I know.’
Annie thought she had seen a softening of the old woman’s face and a tremble on her lips, but then the instant was gone and she’d said tersely. ‘Tha’ll never have hair like she did, no matter how often tha brushes it. Like gold it was, and soft as silk.’
But she’d told her to sit down and she’d do it for her, and brushed it gently enough, and cut out the tangles that wouldn’t be brushed out, until it was sleek and straight again; and Annie was disappointed that Toby wasn’t there to see them off this morning and see how fine she looked.
Robin cracked the whip, but the donkey put his head down and started to graze. He cracked it again and shouted, and still the animal wouldn’t budge.
Mrs Trott took a carrot from her apron pocket. ‘Here, give it this, it’s onny way to move him.’
Annie climbed out of the cart and took the carrot and tentatively held it out towards the donkey. It opened its mouth, showing large yellow teeth and brayed long and loud at her. She dropped the carrot in fright and ran back behind the cart.
‘Give it here.’ Robin got down from the cart and went to pick up the carrot, and the donkey was off, careering madly across the paddock, the bundles in the back of the cart bouncing, and falling out onto the grass.
When they eventually caught him and reloaded the cart, with Annie cracking the whip, and Robin leading the donkey and with the carrot held coaxingly just out of reach, the sun was almost up, and Robin was anxious that they should get to their first call before midday.
They drove up a wide lane into the town of Hessle and Annie looked curiously about her. The town was formed in a square with two principal roads, and at the intersection of the road stood the ancient parish church with long low cottages clustered around it. There was a bakery and a dairy and cheesemaker, two fine inns, and east of the town through the gated road lay the marshy common where the townspeople grazed their cows and pigs and poultry or grew strips of corn and barley.
‘This is a fine town, Robin,’ she remarked as they bowled along, the donkey trotting in a sparky rhythm.
‘Aye, it is.’ He raised his whip to a man at the other side of the road who was driving a pig towards the butcher’s in Cow Lane. ‘Bankers and merchants from Hull are coming out here to live, they’re building handsome houses big enough for servants as well as themselves. They’ve got to hear about ’pretty meadows and sylvan glades and have come to join us. This is me home town, me ma and da were both raised here, but they’re both dead and buried now.’
‘So who does tha live with, or does tha fend for thissen?’
‘Me sister. She gives me a bed, and feeds me. But she’d dearly like me out of ’house. She’s enough wi five bairns of her own. Though I pay her, when I can.’
They reached the Beverley turnpike and had turned to cross it by the wicket gate so that they didn’t have to pay the toll, when Robin gave a shout. ‘There he is. I knew he’d come to see us off.’
Annie looked expectantly along the road, but all she saw was a man on a horse. A gentleman by the look of him, for it was a fine horse and the man was wearing a tricorn hat held by a silver pin. But he was also wearing an earring.
She felt shy as Toby cantered over to speak to them. He touched his hat with his whip. He didn’t look like the merry young gentleman from yesterday, or the roguish rascal she had first seen on the quayside. But he bent over and smiled at her, the smile reaching his eyes.
‘What is it, Mrs Hope? Not feeling nervous are you? I told you that Robin would look after you.’
Dumbly she shook her head. He looked very handsome in his velvet coat and grey breeches as he sat astride the chestnut stallion, and she wondered where he was going.
‘I shall be back in three days,’ he said. ‘Perhaps even before you. Take care on the road, Robin.’ He nodded to Annie and flicked his whip on the horse’s flank and started to canter away. Then he reined in and wheeled around.
‘I almost forgot. I have a present for you, Mrs Hope.’
‘For me?’ What can he be giving to me? Annie was astonished. Will he want summat in return?
He took a scarf from around his neck and leaning over fastened it around hers. It was soft and silky, and pale blue.
‘I meant to give it to you yesterday. I thought it would match your eyes.’ He grinned, and she saw again the same Toby as before.
She fingered the scarf. ‘Is it mine to keep?’
‘Yes, of course. I said, it’s a present.’
‘He’s taken a shine to thee all right, Annie.’ Robin nodded sagely as they trotted away. ‘He’s very generous to his friends, is Master Toby. That’s real silk, that is. If ever tha gets to ’bottom o’ barrel, tha’ll knaw tha can buy several crusts wi’ that.’
‘I’ll never sell it, Robin, never.’ She fingered the silky texture and felt the warmth of friendship. ‘Not if I’m at death’s door.’
‘He’ll be off to see his fayther, I expect.’ Robin got down from the cart to lead the donkey through a narrow, rising, woodland path. ‘He goes to see him every now and again, to try and heal ’breach between ’em. But ’old man’s stubborn as this donkey, so I hear.’
‘Where does he live, his fayther?’
Robin pointed upwards to beyond the wooded dell. ‘Big house, next village but three.’ He started to pant as the path became steeper. ‘This first bit allus gets me, ’til I gets me second wind.’
Annie jumped down to join him. If Robin was panting, then the donkey must be labouring with her in the cart. But she too was soon wheezing as the unaccustomed hill climbing tore at her calf muscles and made her heart race.
‘Is these ’Wolds, then? Is that what these hills is called?’
‘This is onny foot of ’Wolds,’ Robin gasped. ‘It’s all up and down from now on. But it’s best scenery I know, and if tha should be here in summer – why it smells that sweet, tha could almost eat it. Honeysuckle and bluebell, and May blossom; and ’air is that full o’ birdsong tha can’t hear thyself think.’
Even now, in autumn, Annie could hear the call of birds; the throaty call of wood pigeons, the chattering of finches and something loud and crotchety that flew up above them as they disturbed its privacy.
‘Pheasant!’ Robin took imaginary aim. ‘That would be good in ’pot.’
‘Are we nearly there?’ Annie felt she had been walking for days. ‘We haven’t seen any houses yet. How can we sell our stuff out here?’
‘We’re a couple o’ miles off next village. But we’ll stop in a minute and have a bite o’ bread. There’s a stream just along here where we can tek a drink.’
They’d come out of the wooded area and entered a clearing. Annie paused to look around her and saw the gently rolling hills dotted with grazing sheep, the dip and sweep of the steep-sided valleys. She saw the hawthorn hedges which trembled with hidden wrens and chaffinches, and the wild crab apple trees heavy with fruit. Above her hovered a silent kestrel seeking its prey of voles and field mice, while down below, down, down, down, and she couldn’t believe how far they had come, lay the Humber, stretched like a silver ribbon at their feet.
‘This is ’last we’ll see of ’Humber for a bit.’ Robin stood at her side. ‘Next valley will take us out of sight.’
‘Oh. I’ve never been out of its reach afore.’ She felt uneasy. The river had always been there; comforting, familiar. Safe, even at its most threatening, when it broke its banks and deposited mud and silt on her doorstep. She knew what to expect from it and was never surprised. She had even anticipated, that when life had no more to offer her, she would end her days beneath its enveloping waters.
Robin unpacked bread and cheese and a jug of ale, given to him, he said, by Mrs Trott. Annie hadn’t given a thought to food and was glad that the old woman had considerately provided it. The walking and the clear air had made her ravenously hungry. She took a drink from the stream and then swilled her face. She felt a curious uplifting of spirits, something she was quite unused to.
She stretched out on the grass when her appetite was satisfied and closed her eyes, but as sleep was about to claim her, she heard the dog give a low warning growl, and felt Robin’s hand touch hers.
‘Ssh. Don’t make a sound,’ he whispered, and she cautiously opened her eyes and saw him take the dog by his scruff. She lay still and beneath her body she could feel the drum of hooves.
Robin lay down beside her, his hand still on Charlie’s neck. ‘Keep still, pretend to be asleep.’
How can I pretend to be asleep with that racket going on, she thought, as the sound of men’s voices and the jingle of harness carried through the air.
‘Blast that donkey.’ Robin cursed softly, as the donkey, unhitched from the cart and tied loosely to stop him wandering, uttered a loud bray as he heard the sound of horses.
They sat up as the shout came down to them. ‘Hey. You down there. Where are you heading?’
A red-coated, heavy-booted troop of soldiers sat astride their mounts on the path above them. The sergeant who had called to them, shouted again. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ He had a thick Scots brogue.
‘Aye, I heard thee allreet.’ Robin put on his broadest accent. ‘But I didn’t understand thee.’
‘What did he say?’ The sergeant turned to his men. ‘Did anybody understand what he said?’
The soldiers shuffled about in their saddles, but shook their heads.
Annie got to her feet. ‘What’s tha trouble, sergeant?’ She smiled and put her hands on her hips. She’d dealt with soldiers before. ‘Has tha lost thy way?’ She spoke slowly, so that the Scotsman would understand her.
He smiled down at her, relief showing on his leathery face. ‘Aye. I canna find the road to Weighton. Are we going the right way.’
‘Tell him yes,’ Robin muttered. ‘He means Market Weighton, tell him to follow ’road to ’Caves, he’ll find it then.’
She repeated the instructions and the soldier shouted his thanks and moved off, the other soldiers turning round in their saddles to throw admiring glances at Annie, to which she responded by waving her hand.
‘I never talk to ’em,’ Robin grumbled. ‘Doesn’t do.’
‘But tha shouldn’t antagonize them.’ Annie cautioned the boy. ‘It’s best to be pleasant. They’ll remember thee if tha’s awkward. I wonder what they’re doing up here?’
‘They’re all over ’place. They’re allus watching ’river, and they’re often in villages. Not that they ever find owt.’
‘What are they looking for?’ Annie watched the boy’s face.
He shrugged. ‘Trouble. That’s all I know.’
He didn’t know, she could tell that from his honest face. He’s just a lad, she thought, trying to earn a living. But then, who was it who had been with Toby and Mrs Trott near the henhouse? She’d previously been sure that it was Robin.
They came to the outskirts of a village just after midday, and entered a farmyard gate. Robin tied Charlie to a tree and told him to stay. ‘Tha doesn’t like Sam, tha knaws tha doesn’t,’ he told the sulking dog. ‘Tha fights wi’ him every time we come, and we’ll nivver sell owt while tha’s scrapping.’
He led the way to the back door and hammered on it. ‘She’s a mite deaf is Mrs Corner, but she makes a nice bit o’ sweet cake.’
A voice hollered from within. ‘If that’s thee, Mary, come on in.’
‘It’s not Mary, Mrs Corner,’ he shouted. ‘Tha’ll see that when tha sets eyes on me. It’s Robin Deane, come on a bit o’ business for Master Toby.’
A plump, grey-haired woman, with flour on her face, and a wooden spoon in her hand appeared at an inner door.
‘Come in, come in.’ She beckoned him in. ‘I’m just stirring ’puddings, and sweet cake is just out on ’table. Tha’s got good timing, I’ve noticed afore.’
‘Why I can smell thy baking down in next valley, Mrs Corner.’ Robin inhaled appreciatively. ‘I fair flew up side o’ hill when I got ’drift of it. Why, I was just commenting to Mrs Hope here – oh begging tha pardon, ma’am. This is Mrs Hope. She’s travelling along wi’ me, ’stead o’ Mrs Trott—.’
‘Tha means that ol’ misery face hasn’t come wi’ thee? Well that calls for a bit o’ celebration. We’ll have a drop o’ apple wine on strength o’ that. But,’ she dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Can we have same arrangement?’
‘Mrs Hope’s in charge o’ accounts, Mrs Corner. Tha’ll have to talk to her, but I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to come to a satisfactory arrangement.’
‘Aye,’ Mrs Corner’s eyes flicked from one to another. ‘Weren’t ’accounts I were thinking on—,’
‘Mrs Corner.’ Annie interrupted and reached for a bundle, and as she did so, managed to give the woman a conspirational glance, excluding Robin. Mrs Corner looked relieved and Annie wondered just what arrangements Mrs Trott had made. ‘I thought tha might be interested in seeing these.’
‘Nay, this is pack tha wants, Mrs Hope. This is real good quality cotton, wear for ever it will, as Mrs Corner’ll appreciate. She’ll not be wanting that fancy stuff.’
The bundle which Annie had reached for and which Robin had disdained, contained muslins and fine cloth. His was packed with strong cottons, linen and calico.
‘Aye, it’s true.’ Mrs Corner sighed. ‘I can’t be buying fancy stuff every year if it won’t last, mayster’d soon give me my marching orders. Tha’d better measure me out three lengths o’ that fustian, and one ’o calico.’ She leaned towards Annie. ‘That’s a right bonny kerchief tha’s wearing. I remember well, when I was a lass, I had such a piece. Not so soft and fine as this,’ she said, fingering the scarf at Annie’s neck, ‘but colour was as blue.’
Annie pointed to the door. ‘Can I hear thy dog barking, Robin? Happen tha should dash out and see. He might have wrapped hisself around ’tree.’
Robin jumped to his feet. ‘By, but tha’s got sharp ears, Mrs Hope, and I never heard a thing. He’s that daft, that dog, he’s probably strangled hisself.’
He dashed for the door and Annie opened the other bundle. She winked at Mrs Corner. ‘Just take a look in here, ma’am. This’ll make thy mouth water.’ She brought out a length of muslin and draped it over her shoulder and let it hang in folds about her front.
‘And this.’ Another, in cream. ‘Feel how fine.’
‘Oh. It’s grand,’ Mrs Corner breathed. ‘Why, our Mary would dee for this. That’s me granddaughter,’ she added, seeing the question on Annie’s face. ‘She lives over ’hill in ’next village. But she’s got no money for such fripperies.’
‘Why doesn’t tha treat her?’ Annie persuaded. ‘Go on, what wouldn’t tha give to see her in this? And—.’ She took out a small length of pale-blue soft cotton, which she had noticed when she and Toby had been packing the bundle the day before. ‘There’s enough here to make thee a neckchief. Go on, I’ll let thee have this at half ’asking price. Colour’ll suit thee no end.’
Mrs Corner was tempted and fell. This kind of bargain was too much to resist. Her face beamed with generosity of spirit as she assured Annie of her Mary’s certain delight on receiving the length of muslin.
‘But other matter I mentioned,’ she whispered as they heard Robin’s whistling return. ‘Mrs Trott and me had an arrangement.’ She watched Annie’s face. ‘I’d offer thee a dish o’ tay, but tha knaws price it is.’ She nodded her head significantly.
Annie nodded back. ‘Arrangements have to be made, Mrs Corner. It’ll be next trip afore I can do owt, does tha understand? It’s ’cos of it being my first trip.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘They think I don’t know what’s what!’
Mrs Corner came to the door to see them off. ‘And don’t forget a bit o’ summat for Mr Corner when tha comes next time,’ she called. ‘He’ll want a sweetener if he finds out how much I’ve spent.’