I tossed and turned all night, falling into a fitful sleep full of nightmares about Morgan just as the sun came up. When I eventually woke, with an aching head, I got dressed quickly and gathered together all my drawings. I took the ones of Morgan on the beach, and my sketches of Arthur and me in my dream world, travelling across the wilderness on our cart to build a life together. I found some pictures I’d drawn of Da before he died, and Mam, and added them, too. Then with some difficulty because I hadn’t written anything since Da died, I wrote along the top of the pages. On the smuggling drawing I wrote Cal Morgan, and on the one of Da I wrote Amos Moon. And at the bottom of each one I wrote EM.
Then, leaving out two sketches of Da and two of Mam, I carefully put the drawings into my hiding place on the window seat. I had an uneasy feeling that I wouldn’t be coming back here and I wanted to leave evidence of what had happened.
I put the pictures of my parents into my bag, and went to find my mother. I’d been fretting about her going to the gallows with Morgan and I knew I couldn’t rest until I’d warned her that – if everything went to plan – his time was up.
I found her in the cellar, counting barrels of ale. I averted my eyes from the contraband, though I couldn’t help noticing there was much less there than there had been. Clearly most of it had been sold or moved on.
‘You’ve surfaced, have you?’ Mam said, not looking up. ‘Can you take two bottles of brandy upstairs for me?’ Her annoyance with me had eased as her bruises had faded. She heaved one of the barrels across a bit and groaned. ‘This is a man’s work.’
I gave her a small smile. Mam had never complained about heavy lifting when my father was alive. She wasn’t tall but she was wiry and strong with arms that felt as hard as rock when she tensed her muscles.
She smiled back, reading my mind. ‘I know,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘I can do it. Would be nice to have someone around to help though.’
That was the perfect opening for me to bring up Morgan. But after everything that had happened the last time I’d tried to speak to her, could I speak? I hoped desperately that my throat wouldn’t tighten and concentrated on my breathing as I held my hands out for the two bottles.
Mam handed them over, looking at me with mild concern. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’
I shook my head, breathing in and out, in and out. ‘Mam …’ I managed. She looked at me in surprise and I tried again. ‘Mam?’
‘What?’
In and out, in and out. ‘Morgan.’
Mam let out an exasperated gasp of breath but before she could start on me, I held my hand out, trying to calm her. To my relief, she sat down on the table, her skirt billowing around her, and crossed her legs. ‘Go on then,’ she said defiantly. ‘What about him?’
I breathed in again, and out, planning my words carefully. ‘Morgan is smuggling.’
Mam leaned back on her elbows and looked at me. I met her stare, trying to communicate with more than words.
‘I know,’ she said.
There was a pause as I tried again, but Mam jumped off the table and wiped her hands together to get rid of the dust.
‘Is that it?’
I put down the bottles of brandy, thinking that I could use my hands to show her what I wanted to say, instead of speaking.
‘Morgan,’ I said again. I mimed a rope being slung round my neck and pulled up sharply with my hand to indicate being hanged, tipping my head to one side and closing my eyes as if I was dead.
‘Morgan’s not in trouble,’ Mam said.
I shook my head vigorously and pointed at my mother instead. ‘You,’ I said. ‘You.’ I made the same action again, pulling the invisible rope around my neck.
Mam’s expression softened.
‘Oh, Emily,’ she said. She came to me and put her arm round my shoulders. ‘You worry too much.’
‘Da,’ I began, but she was still talking.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I miss him too.’
She sat down on the table again and this time gestured for me to sit with her. I moved the bottles aside and perched beside her and she took my hand.
‘I loved your father,’ she said. ‘And when he went, I thought I should die because it was just too hard.’
I felt a wave of sorrow at the thought of how my mother had missed Da as much as me. More, perhaps.
‘I thought my heart was breaking. And the inn was empty. All I had was you. My daughter, who didn’t say much before and who said nothing now.’
My eyes filled with tears. I’d never meant to make things worse for her. If I could have made myself more like other people, I would have.
‘Sorry,’ I whispered, but Mam patted my hand as if to say it didn’t matter.
She carried on talking. ‘We had no money, Emily. None at all. Your father was good at many things, but he spent every penny he ever earned. And when he was gone, there was nothing left in the pot.’
She took my chin in her fingers and turned my face this way and that, examining me. ‘You are skin and bone, my girl. Skin and bone. And that’s on me. It’s my fault.’ She sighed. ‘I have been no mother to you since your da went.’ I noticed she was still avoiding saying that Da was dead. I thought she had decided to ignore everything I had told her and I couldn’t blame her. How else would she get through the days?
‘I know I have been drinking too much,’ Mam went on. ‘I know things aren’t perfect, still, but they are getting better. We have food on the table, and a fire burning in the hearth. And do you know why, Emily Moon?’
I shook my head, even though I knew what she was going to say.
‘It’s because of Morgan.’
‘No,’ I said miserably but Mam shushed me. ‘He is the reason we had mutton yesterday, Emily. He is the reason I have this new dress and there is bread upstairs waiting for you to eat. He is the reason the drinkers have come back to the inn and the reason your cheeks are getting plumper.’
He was also the reason for the bruises on her face, and the marks on her legs, the tears she cried at night when she thought I was asleep, and the dullness in her eyes, but I couldn’t say that.
‘I know he’s involved in free trade,’ Mam went on. ‘And there’s some that don’t approve. But he’s the only reason we still have a roof over her heads.’
I looked at her. Her face was close to mine and I could see the remains of the bruises around her eye and hear the tremor in her voice.
‘You will hang,’ I said, slowly and carefully, but more loudly than I’d managed to speak for months.
Mam took my hands and I let her. ‘No, I won’t,’ she said. ‘Trust me.’ She looked straight at me, but I couldn’t read her odd expression. ‘Trust me,’ she said again. Her voice sounded urgent. I nodded and, impulsively, I threw my arms around her and pulled her to me. She relaxed into my embrace for a second, then she pulled away.
‘Leave it, Emily,’ she said. ‘Just leave it.’
I wasn’t sure if she meant the show of affection or my feelings about Morgan, but either way it seemed the conversation was over. Mam slid from the table again and turned her attention to the barrels once more.
‘There’s bread for you upstairs,’ she said.
I watched her back for a second, hoping she might turn around and carry on talking, but she didn’t.
Later that evening, I sat by the window of the inn, watching the moon rise up over the sea. It wasn’t full – that was still a few nights away – so I was fairly sure Morgan wouldn’t be planning to bring any goods in yet. In fact, he was here with his friend, sitting at a table and grabbing my mother whenever she passed by. Claiming ownership, I thought. He was calling out to customers as they entered, greeting them and saying his Janey would get a drink for them. It made me feel sick. I glowered at him, but he gave me no more attention than he’d give a worm in the mud. Mam had shot me a warning glance once or twice, telling me to stay quiet. She seemed different since our chat in the cellar. Stronger, I thought. I half wondered if she had something planned but then dismissed the idea. She’d have told me, I thought.
I went back to gazing out over the sea and only looked up as a shadow fell over me. It was Arthur.
Pleased to see him, I smiled and he gave my arm a small, affectionate squeeze. I liked the way his touch made me feel.
‘Shall we go for a walk?’
I nodded.
‘There’s a chill in the air this evening,’ he said. ‘Take your cloak. I’ll meet you on the cliff.’
He went out the front door of the inn, while I went into the hall to find my shawl and then out of the back door and round the stables. When I got to the clifftop, Arthur was standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at the moon.
‘Three more nights, I think?’ he said. ‘We should watch from tomorrow, just in case.’
I nodded. He was right. We didn’t want to miss it.
He put his arms round me and kissed me. I shivered with pleasure.
‘Your father?’ I asked when we broke apart. Arthur’s face clouded over.
‘I did. I was right about it all.’
I widened my eyes in surprise. Even though the evidence had all pointed to Reverend Pascoe being involved, I’d never really believed it. Was Morgan really using his coach?
‘He denied it at first,’ Arthur went on. ‘He claimed he had no idea what I meant. But there on the shelf was the same type of bottle we saw in the cellar.’
I rolled my eyes, though it was getting properly dark and I knew Arthur couldn’t see.
‘I told him some of what we know.’ Arthur ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. ‘He is weak, Emily. So weak. He is clearly scared of Morgan …’
I squeezed Arthur’s arm, nodding to show that his father was right to be scared. ‘He is a murderer,’ I said.
‘Indeed. But I believe my father should fear the gallows more.’ He sighed. ‘I just worry that he will tell Morgan everything if he so much as frowns in my father’s direction. He’ll be so scared that he’ll just let everything slip.’
I pulled my shawl more tightly around my shoulders, listening intently.
‘What did you say?’ I asked carefully.
‘I didn’t tell him what we were planning,’ Arthur said. ‘I don’t want him warning Morgan off. Instead, I said I’d heard rumours from the customs men that they were looking for those helping smugglers and that he should be careful. I said quite forcefully that he should keep all the gates and doors locked. And to make sure they stay that way all night.’
I breathed out in relief.
‘I’ve done all I can.’ Arthur pulled me close to him. ‘At least, I hope so.’
I hoped Reverend Pascoe would heed Arthur’s warnings. He was a nice man, I thought. Kind and caring. I didn’t want to see him hang because of Morgan’s misdeeds.
‘And your mam?’
I shrugged, clasping my hands together at my chest, showing that I hoped it was going to be all right. Arthur nodded.
‘So we will watch the beach tomorrow evening then?’ he said.
I nodded. The moon wasn’t full yet but we did not want to miss our chance to prove Morgan’s guilt. He was clever when it came to predicting the weather and if there was a storm on its way he could decide to land the goods sooner.
Arthur nodded, looking out over the sea. ‘I believe you’re right. We should start watching tomorrow in case they bring the cargo early.’
I followed his gaze to the horizon.
‘Where do the goods come from, I wonder?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘France? Holland?’
Carefully, I repeated the names of the countries he was listing. The words felt unfamiliar and magical on my tongue. ‘Where else?’
‘Spain,’ Arthur said.
I repeated the name, hissing the S like a snake. I liked how it sounded.
‘Maybe one day I will take you to these places.’
But I shook my head. ‘Not there,’ I said.
I felt in my pocket for a scrap of paper, and a stub of charcoal. And then I drew, in just a few lines, a wide, open space and a tiny horse and cart with us on board.
‘Da told me stories about a place where there are no people,’ I said, taking my time over each word. Arthur’s eyes widened and I smiled.
‘He said it was just space and sky.’ I sighed happily. ‘Just space and sky.’
Arthur was looking at me, a curious expression on his face.
‘And that’s what you want, is it? Somewhere where there is nothing?’
‘Space and sky,’ I said again. I screwed up my face. ‘It’s just a dream.’
‘Maybe we can find somewhere like that one day,’ Arthur said. ‘Somewhere to start from the beginning.’
I nodded. That was it exactly. Starting from the beginning. I found people to be difficult. They said the wrong things and they didn’t always act as they should. I didn’t understand the rules that other people just seemed to know. No, not rules. What was the word? Conventions, that was it. How people were supposed to be. Maybe in a new land it would be easier. Maybe the conventions would make more sense if I was there at the beginning. I smiled to myself. It was just a silly dream, but it made me happy.
‘My father wants me to follow him into the church,’ said Arthur suddenly.
‘I know,’ I said.
‘I could not imagine anything worse.’
I nodded again. I knew that, too. Arthur loved growing things. He loved being outside and feeling the earth in his fingers. Spending his days in a dim, airless church would finish him.
‘In all this space do you think there would be enough for some fruit bushes? Perhaps an orchard? Maybe some vegetables?’
‘Yes,’ I said, grinning. ‘Yes.’
Arthur nodded, as though I’d just confirmed what he’d been thinking. ‘Then it sounds very much like your dream land would suit me, too.’ He grinned at me. ‘Shall we go there together one day?’
I was thrilled at the very thought. ‘Yes please,’ I said. I snuggled into him, pretending – for a few moments at least – that it wasn’t just a dream and that maybe we could escape together one day.