Without Sin Page 8

  Meg laughed softly. ‘Mebbe you won’t be coming back tonight. Mebbe you won’t ever be coming back again. Come on, let’s not stand here chatting. Time we was on our way before anyone else gets up.’

  She grabbed his hand and they ran down the path and onto the road. Not until they had turned the corner and were out of sight of the workhouse, did they both breathe more easily.

  They turned to each other and laughed aloud.

  ‘We did it. We really did it!’ Jake shouted joyously and began to caper along the grass verge at the side of the road. ‘I’m free. I’m free. Look at me, I’m free.’

  Meg laughed and skipped along beside him. The night her father had told them that the whole family had to leave their home Meg’s life had changed dramatically. But now, as the sun rose behind them, streaking the eastern sky with apricot light, Meg dared to feel happy again.

  After Jake’s euphoria at being out of the workhouse had settled down, he asked, ‘Where are we going first then?’

  ‘The farm,’ Meg replied determinedly.

  As they walked the five miles to Middleditch Farm, the sun came up.

  ‘Going to be a nice day,’ Meg remarked, but all she got out of Jake was a grunt. He was saying little, too preoccupied with looking about him, drinking in the sights and sounds and even the smells of the countryside. A farmer’s horse and cart passed them and Jake stood back on the grass verge, as close to the hedge as he could get, eyeing the big shire with trepidation.

  ‘I thought you said you liked horses,’ Meg teased.

  ‘Not a big bugger like that!’ Jake burst out.

  ‘Language,’ Meg admonished playfully. ‘What would Miss Pendleton say if she heard you?’

  Jade grinned and stepped back into the road as the horse clip-clopped away. ‘She’d pat my head and tell me not to be a naughty boy.’

  ‘Wouldn’t she report you to her brother?’

  Jake guffawed. ‘What? The matron? Report me? Or any of the boys? Never.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Jake glanced at her. ‘You ain’t been here long enough to understand the set-up, have you?’

  ‘What do you mean? The set-up?’

  ‘The master likes the ladies – and the girls. All of ’em. He’s kind and generous to them, but us fellers, well, he’d take his cane to any one of us or send us to the punishment room soon as look at us. But Miss Pendleton – well – she likes the little boys. Oh, she’s no time for the men. Wouldn’t give them the time of day, but she loves the lads. Mek a good pair, don’t they, the Pendletons?’

  The memory of the matron taking Bobbie away, separating the little boy from his family, was vivid in Meg’s mind. She stopped suddenly and stared at Jake. She wasn’t quite sure why and couldn’t have put it into words, but all at once she felt very uncomfortable about the matron’s actions. ‘What – what do you mean, she likes the little boys?’

  ‘Eh?’ Jake stopped too and turned to face her. Puzzled, he stared at her for a moment. Then his expression cleared and he laughed. ‘Oh, she doesn’t do owt funny with them, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I – I don’t quite know what I am thinking. It – it just sounded a bit odd. You know.’

  Jake nodded. He possessed a depth of understanding that was surprising not only for his age, but also considering the fact that he had spent his entire life within the confines of the workhouse. But, Meg supposed, being in the company of older men he must have heard and learnt a lot. As if answering her unspoken question, he said, ‘Funny sort of life, I suppose, being an orphan and brought up in that place, but you meet all sorts. The inmates are mostly nice to us kids and – well—’ He looked down and scuffed the toe of his boot on the road in embarrassment. ‘I suppose the matron is the nearest us kids’ve got to a mam.’

  Meg was thoughtful for a moment before she said slowly, ‘I suppose so and, if I think about it, that’s what mams do.’

  ‘What?’

  Meg grinned. ‘Protect their kids from the father if he’s the strict sort.’

  Jake’s mouth dropped open. ‘Well, I wouldn’t like Mester Pendleton as my dad.’ He recalled his recent conversation with the master. ‘Mebbe that’s how he likes to think of himself, but he’s not my idea of a dad.’

  ‘No.’ Meg’s agreement was heartfelt. ‘Nor mine.’ She had mixed feelings about her father at the moment. She still felt very bitter about the way he had deserted his family, but, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, she thought that perhaps it wasn’t his fault. Maybe, she thought with dread, it was mine and I might be about to find out. As they rounded a bend, Meg said, ‘This is it. This is where we used to live. Middleditch Farm.’

  Eleven

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Jake asked, his eyes wide as he stared around the farmyard.

  Hens scratched for food, pigs grunted and squealed in a nearby sty and from the cowhouse came the clanking of buckets, the sounds of morning milking.

  ‘See the missis first.’ Meg squinted at the sun to gauge the time. ‘She’ll be in the dairy by now.’ She turned to Jake. ‘Come as far as the door with me, but don’t step inside. She’s a tartar for things being kept clean is the missis.’

  Obediently, Jake followed Meg as she marched towards the door of a building attached to the farmhouse.

  ‘Wait here,’ she told him as she cleaned her boots on a metal scraper. Then she pushed open the door and peered inside. Mrs Smallwood was already busy with the first batch of warm milk and didn’t hear the door open and close. Meg walked towards her.

  ‘Missis—’ Meg began. The woman jumped and the heavy container of milk began to slip from her grasp. Meg leapt forward and steadied it, saving it from being dropped and all the precious milk being lost. But she was unprepared for the vitriolic look in the woman’s eyes as Mrs Smallwood recovered her senses and realized who had startled her.

  ‘You!’ she gasped and snatched the container out of Meg’s grasp, slopping milk onto the floor. ‘Get out of my sight. You’re not wanted here. You or your blasted family.’

  Now Meg gasped with shock. ‘What did I do wrong? Please – tell me. What was it I did that was so terrible you threw us all out?’

  The woman avoided Meg’s direct gaze, but the pleading tone and the genuine bewilderment in the girl’s voice must have touched even Mabel Smallwood’s hardened heart.

  She banged the metal milk churn to the floor. ‘I – I didn’t like your friendship with our – our Alice.’

  It was an excuse, Meg could tell. It was not the truth – at least, not the whole truth – but the young girl could hardly challenge the lie. All she could say was, ‘But if only you’d told me, missis, serious like, I mean. I’d – I’d have stopped it.’

  Now Mabel met her gaze. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Then – then why didn’t you just sack me? Why did it have to be my dad as well? Did you really have to turn our whole family out of our home just because I was too friendly with your daughter?’

  The woman’s patience snapped and now she shouted out the truth. ‘It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you at all. It was your father – God rot him!’

  ‘My – my dad? What – what did he do?’

  Mabel glared at her, resentment in her eyes, her mouth tight with bitterness. ‘You’ll find out. Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.’ She turned her back on Meg in final dismissal.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Clear off.’ Mabel waved her hand driving the girl away. ‘Just leave. I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

  Daringly, Meg stood her ground. ‘I want to see Alice. I want—’

  Mabel whirled round on her, waving her arms above her head and yelling. ‘Get out of here, I say. Get out.’

  Meg went. Outside the dairy, she stood, white-faced and shaking.

  ‘Whatever was all that about?’ Jake asked. ‘I could hear ’er shrieking from here.’

  Meg bit her lip and glanced back at the closed door. ‘I’m not sure. But at least I’ve found
out one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It wasn’t me that caused all the trouble. It was mi dad.’ She shook her head slowly, as if she couldn’t really take it in. ‘Goodness knows what he could have done that was so bad. The missis has always had a sharp tongue, but now . . .’ Meg’s voice faded away.

  As they moved away across the yard towards the gate back onto the road, Jake felt a horrible sense of foreboding, as if no good would come of this visit. He was suddenly afraid for Meg and what she might find out.

  ‘So, what do we do now?’

  Meg frowned and glanced about her. ‘If the mester’s about—’

  ‘Oho, you’re asking fer trouble now. If the missis is like that, what’s he going to be like?’

  ‘He’s not as bad as her.’ Her face cleared. ‘He’ll be in the cowhouse, milking. Come on.’

  This time, they both stepped into the building. For a moment Meg paused, breathing in the familiar smells. With all that had happened, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed the farm.

  Glancing a little fearfully at the restless cows in the stalls, Jake, close behind her, whispered, ‘Is that him?’

  Halfway down the row, they could just see the back of a man sitting on a stool, his head resting against the cow’s belly, his hands moving rhythmically as he drew the milk.

  Meg shook her head. ‘No, that’s not him.’

  The sound of her voice must have reached the man, for he stood up and turned towards them.

  ‘Hey,’ Jake said loudly. ‘It’s Ron from the workhouse. Hello, Ron. So this is where you’ve been disappearing to every day.’

  The man, tall, thin and slightly stooping, grinned and began to move towards them.’

  ‘Best move yer bucket, mister, else she’ll have it over, will Buttercup,’ Meg advised.

  ‘Oh aye, right you are.’ He bent and picked up the bucket from beneath the cow and moved it to safety.

  ‘What you doing ’ere, young Jake? Come fer a job, ’ave yer?’

  Jake grinned. ‘Wish I had, Ron. No, I’ve – I’ve come out without permission. You won’t tell, will yer?’

  ‘Course I won’t.’ He glanced from one to the other. ‘But what are you doing here?’ His face clouded. ‘You ain’t come looking fer me. There’s nowt wrong wi’ mi missis back at the house, is there?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘I’ve come with Meg. She used to work here. Used to live here till these folks turned her whole family out. She’s come to try to find out where ’er dad is.’

  The man scratched his head. ‘Well, there’s no one else here ’cept me an’ the mester and the missis, of course. He took me on a couple of days ago and I’m right grateful. He ses if I prove miself, he’ll let us have a cottage he’s got vacant. Eh, but it’ll be grand to fetch me missis and the bairns out o’ that place.’

  Meg’s eyes filled with tears and there was a sudden lump in her throat. ‘That’d be our cottage.’

  Ron looked awkward and shuffled his feet.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Meg said swiftly. ‘You tek it, if you get the chance. They’re hardly likely to let us back. Anyway,’ she went on, trying to sound bright and hopeful even though she felt anything but, ‘where’s Mr Smallwood? I’ll talk to him. Or Miss Alice. Is she about?’

  ‘The mester’s gone to the races. Went early, he did.’ Now a mystified expression crossed Ron’s face. ‘And Miss – who did you say?’

  ‘Miss Alice. Their daughter.’

  Ron shook his head. ‘There’s nobody else here. Only Mr and Mrs Smallwood. There’s no daughter living here. Not that I’ve seen.’

  ‘Maybe you just haven’t seen her if you’ve only been here a couple of days,’ Jake put in.

  But it was Meg who shook her head now. ‘Oh no, if she was here, you’d have seen her all right.’

  Now Meg was more mystified than ever.

  Although the racing wasn’t due to start until the early afternoon, the ground was already humming with activity.

  ‘I just can’t understand what can have happened to Miss Alice,’ Meg murmured, still puzzled.

  ‘Maybe she’s just gone on holiday,’ Jake suggested, trying to be helpful. Not that he had any personal experience of holidays, but he had heard them talked about. Miss Pendleton sometimes went on holiday to visit her sister, who lived in London. At such times Jake had tried to keep out of the master’s way as much as possible when his champion was not there.

  ‘The Smallwoods don’t have holidays. They hardly ever leave the farm and then only for a day. I’ve never known any one of them go away for longer than that.’

  Jake had run out of suggestions, so they walked on towards the stables in silence.

  Horses were arriving early to give their stable lads time to settle them into the surroundings. The trainers would arrive a little later in time to walk the course so they could advise their jockeys on how to run the race.

  ‘Why’s this Mr Smallwood come so early if it don’t start till this afternoon?’ Jake asked.

  ‘He likes to mingle with the trainers and talk to the owners. I told you, he fancies being an owner one day.’ Meg bit her lip. ‘He always promised mi dad that he’d put him in charge of his racehorse – if he ever got one.’

  Wide-eyed with wonder, Jake was staring about him. ‘I wonder if there’s any jobs as stable lads going?’

  Meg laughed. ‘You’re frightened of horses. What good would you be?’

  Jake grinned. ‘I could learn. It’s only ’cos I’ve never had the chance to be around them.’ He narrowed his eyes and watched a young lad leading a sleek chestnut past. ‘Beautiful animals, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Meg agreed. Her eyes were misty as her gaze followed the magnificent creature. ‘Dad once said that if I’d been a boy he’d’ve tried to get me a job as a stable lad.’

  ‘Would you have liked that?’

  Meg nodded and her voice was husky as she answered, ‘Yeah. Yeah, I would.’

  They wandered around the ground unchallenged. Meg had got them in through a break in the fence she knew about. ‘I used to beg mi dad to take me with them when they came to the races, but he never would. Said the master and the missis wouldn’t approve. But I used to skive off school and come anyway. It was more difficult when I was working at the farm. There was more work for me when the master and Dad were away for the whole day.’ She grinned widely. ‘But I managed it a few times.’

  ‘Did they ever catch you?’ Jake’s life was ruled by the fear of getting caught doing something wrong. The threat of Isaac Pendleton was never far away. Even though he was at this moment enjoying himself as never before in his young life, the day was marred by the thought of the punishment he would get if he was found out. And he was sure that he would be.

  Suddenly, Meg clutched Jake’s arm. ‘Quick, turn round and keep walking.’

  ‘Why? What’s—’ Jake began but found himself being dragged round and propelled in the opposite direction.

  ‘It’s the mester.’

  Jake turned pale. ‘Not – not Mr Pendleton?’

  ‘No. Mr Smallwood.’

  Jake glanced over his shoulder towards the burly figure of the farmer, standing close to the rails. He was talking to two other men and they were laughing heartily.

  ‘But I thought you wanted to speak to him? You were looking for him at the farm.’

  ‘Well, yes. And maybe I will. Later. But if I speak to him now he’ll likely get us sent out of here. And I want to stay a bit longer.’ She thought quickly. ‘Look, if anybody ses anything to us – asks us what we’re doing here, just tell ’em – just tell ’em that – that you’re stable lad for Mr Smith.’

  ‘Who’s Mr Smith when he’s at home?’

  ‘He’s one of the biggest owners and he employs a lot of stable lads. No one’ll know whether you’re really one of his or not.’

  ‘Wish I was,’ Jake muttered. ‘But what about you?’

  ‘Say I’m your sister and you’ve brou
ght me along for the day.’ She grinned. ‘With Mr Smith’s permission, of course.’

  Jake still looked doubtful, but he nodded.

  Meg glanced briefly over her shoulder. ‘We’re out of his sight now, I reckon, and . . .’

  She stopped suddenly and clutched Jake’s arm again.

  ‘I wish you’d stop doing that, Meg. You ain’t ’alf got a grip on you, for a girl. It hurts. Gerroff.’

  Meg’s gaze was fixed on a figure walking towards them.

  ‘There, look,’ she cried excitedly and pointed with a trembling finger. ‘That’s mi dad.’

  She plunged forward, dragging Jake with her. ‘Dad, Dad—’ she began.

  Then suddenly she stopped. She felt as if someone had thumped her hard just below her ribs and knocked all the breath from her body. Her eyes widened in shock and she gasped. The colour drained from her face and her grip on Jake’s arm slackened.

  Jake pulled free and rubbed his arm where her strong fingers had dug deep. ‘Where? Which one is he?’ He followed the line of her startled gaze and saw a tall, thin man walking towards them. He was dressed in what was obviously his Sunday best suit and he carried his cap in his hand. His light brown hair was ruffled by the breeze, but he was unaware for he had eyes for nothing and no one except the person walking beside him. He had his arm around the shoulders of a fair-haired young woman and they were looking into each other’s eyes as they walked and laughing together. The sound of the girl’s tinkling, flirtatious laugh reached Meg and Jake. The man bent towards the woman and touched her forehead with his lips.

  Beside him, Jake heard Meg’s strangled whisper. ‘Miss Alice. It’s mi dad and Miss Alice.’

  Twelve

  As if drawn by Meg’s intense gaze, Reuben Kirkland’s eyes met hers. He stopped and, puzzled, for she had not yet noticed Meg, Alice looked up at him. Then she too saw what had caught and held his attention. For a moment, all four of them stared at one another and then Meg leapt forward, covering the distance between them in an instant.