Read Eppie Online

Authors: Janice Robertson

Eppie (7 page)

BOOK: Eppie
13.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

The lane was chock-a-block with sheep, the air filled with
bleating. Eppie hopped off to investigate.

Gillow picked his way around spinach leaves, shooing stray
sheep that had wandered into the garden.

‘Can you never keep your sheep in order?’ Martha asked her father.
‘Gillow, you’ll have to fix that gate latch. Years it’s been waiting.’ 

Unless it was imperative, Gillow refused to do the slightest
or simplest repairs to the cottage. ‘Lord du Quesne is the landlord, he can do
that,’ he would retort at Martha’s badgering. Such was the attitude of other cottagers,
and so it went on until the cottages were ready to tumble to pieces.

Hurrying indoors, Martha wagged a finger at Eppie. ‘Remember,
no more wandering.’

Fidget, a grey and white sheepdog, dashed in and out of rearmost
sheep. Samuel whistled to the dog to keep the sheep in check and they disappeared
over Miller’s Bridge.

Eppie cast a backward glance at the cottage. Thud-thud
Gillow’s loom buffeted rhythmically.

She struck off along the lane.

‘You’ve never taken to wandering ag’in?’ Samuel called
jovially from behind the hedge of Horseshoe Field. His dry skin wrinkled into a
furrowed smile. ‘Our Martha will string me up by me garters thinking I took
‘ee.’ He hoisted her over the gate. ‘Here, take a gander at this lad.’

 ‘What sort is he?’

 ‘A New Leicester. His lordship bought him off Squire
Bulwar. One hundred and sixty guineas ‘e paid. I’m thinking, come the nights,
I’ll tuck him in bed with me for safe-keeping.’

‘Why’d he cost so much?’

‘His lordship has a notion of running him with our scrawny
lasses. Come pricey do his services.’

‘He’s big and fat with glum eyes.’

‘And nearly three times the weight of our spindly ladies.
When they’re interbred there’ll be plenty of cheap cuts off them.’

Eppie dug her fingers into the thick wool of the ram’s
forequarters. ‘He’s like a cannon!’

‘Then how’s about we call him Carronade? Though we’d best
not creep behind him with a lighted fuse else he might explode. Like to give me
a hand shifting this lot to Ducker’s Field? I’ll carry ya. Don’t want ya daggling
in the mire and spoiling yer clothes.’ He prodded woolly rumps with his cruck.

‘Here, Fidget!’ he shouted as they crossed the field. ‘That
lass is getting timeworn. Twiss was one of hers from years went. I’ve bred from
the Fidget family since I was a lad. I’m training Trumpeter, one of her young
‘uns.’

‘I’m training Twiss. If he sits when I tell him, and if he don’t
bark I give him a treat.’

‘What kind o’ treat?’

‘I break crimps of pastry off the edges of mammy’s pies. She
keeps ‘em in the larder.’

‘Don’t yer mother notice?’

‘She thinks it’s the mousies.’

‘Well, take a tip from an old plodder, I wouldn’t keep doing
that. You don’t want yer ma upset; especially now she’s got another bairn on
the way.’

Solemnly, she agreed.

They drew near the field gate.

‘Does Fidget like rabbiting?’

‘I don’t let her run wild; she needs a concentrating mind to
work the sheep.’

‘Twiss hates it when Wakelin takes him rabbiting. I helped mammy
make a rabbit and onion pie. Wakelin says the man at the manor house, with
caterpillars on his head, don’t like him. Wakelin wants heaps of money.’

‘Well, he’s landed on his feet; he’s doing fine at the
finishing shop. I know our Martha’s proud of him.’

Fidget drove in the sheep.

‘Best get ‘ee home afore the clouds start emptying again.’

Crossing Miller’s Bridge they saw Martha stomping towards
them.

‘Now we’re in for it, One-Quart.’

‘Want to know where I’ve been?’ Martha demanded. ‘All the
way to the embankment, searching for you. Look at my frock, the hem’s soaked!’

‘She followed the sheep,’ her father apologised. He tweaked
Eppie’s ear. ‘You’d best not run off like that ag’in. ‘T’ain’t right ya should
cause yer ma such fretting.’ 

‘I’m not angry,’ Martha repented, seeing Eppie’s sorrowful
face, ‘though I see I’ll have to pin you to my apron like the glove-makers do
to their children.’

‘No, Mammy!’

‘I’m only speaking in jest.’

Hearing laughter, Samuel said, ‘Seems there’s a mite o’
merrymaking in your yard.’

Eppie dashed into the garden. Scrambling onto her wooden
block, she peered into the pigsty. Bubbles surfaced from the puddle into which
the Tamworths’ snouts were sunk. ‘Why ain’t Pease and Pudding walking?  Is they
dying?’

‘Far from it,’ Gillow answered. ‘They’re stewed.’

‘Can’t you smell the beer?’ Claire asked. 

Contented snorts and grunts came from the prostrate
creatures.  

‘It
was
the bucket of barley and pea-meal that you
gave them, wasn’t it?’ Martha asked.

Eppie stared at her, nonplussed. 

Martha nipped into the wring-shed. ‘It’s still here. You’ve
fed them liquid ale must!’

Chuckling, Henry made to leave. Though only in his middle
years, he had a distinctive crop of shoulder-length white hair. ‘See you later at
The Duck for a game of skittles, Gillow.’

Claire prodded her husband in the back. ‘Aren’t you forgetting
something?’

‘Huh?’       

‘Like the reason we dropped by in the first place?’

‘Malstowe’s expanding,’ Henry said. ‘More labourers are
journeying to the town in search of work. That means more wagons on the lanes.’

‘What’s that got to do with us?’ Martha asked, mystified.

‘Sometimes you make me want to rip out my hair, Henry,’ said
his wife. ‘You have such a round-about way of telling folk things.’ Claire
turned to her sister. ‘We all get tired of the lane, don’t we?  The potholes are
frequently clotted with mud and rainwater and easy to trip over.’

‘And into.’ Martha grinned knowingly at Eppie.  

‘The long and short of it is, our lane needs improving,’
Henry said. ‘Prisoners from Malstowe jail are being drafted in to lay an improved
surface.’

‘Prisoners!’ Martha exclaimed.

‘Don’t worry, they’ll be well guarded,’ Claire said reassuringly.

‘Who’s paying for it?’ Samuel asked. ‘That’s what I’d like
to know. The likes of us can’t.’

‘It’ll be paid for by members of the Turnpike Trust,’ Henry
answered. ‘Those who subscribe the capital to the Trust are predominantly major
landowners along the route. Du Quesne’s putting in two thousand pounds.’

Samuel whistled. ‘That’s a mite o’ coinage, no denying.’

‘His lordship intends making his money back through charges,’
Henry explained. ‘Jacob has agreed to act as the toll officer. The plan is to
build a tollgate across the lane, in front of your cottage, Samuel.’

‘Ho! I don’t like the sound of strange folk staring in on
me,’ he said nervously.

‘I hope it won’t be too busy; the little ones play in the
lane,’ Martha fretted.

‘Apart from the usual carts, I’d reckon on at least a couple
of express carriages passing through each day,’ Henry said. ‘Like Claire says, though,
there’s no need to worry, they won’t reach our stretch for months.’

‘I don’t hold with all these changes,’ Samuel said. ‘There’s
been potholes in this lane right back to the sixteenth century. I know every
squad hole from ‘ere to Litcombe. This ‘ere Trust barging about filling them in
ain’t in the natural order of things.’

CHAPTER SEVEN
FIRST LOSS

 

That evening the clouds joined and
rain fell noisily and steadily. Water dripped from the thatched eaves.

Playing marbles with pebbles at the hearthside, Eppie
stroked Twiss’s thick fur, warm from the fire.

Martha rushed indoors. Behind her the dull thud of the gale
roared through bare-branched canopies. ‘That’s the fowl shut up.’ Grabbing a
cloth, she roughed it through her damp hair as though she were scrubbing the
table. ‘Your hair looks all of a caffle. I’d best give it a brushing.’

Eppie pulled a face of repulsion. ‘I don’t like being
combed.’

‘Pretend you’re one of Gramp’s ewes.’ Martha fetched the
thatching shears to chop out a particularly difficult knot.

‘How old is Twiss?’ Eppie asked. ‘He’s going white like
Jacob. He’s got one sticky-up ear and one floppy one. And he’s always
dribbling.’

‘Are you talking about Jacob or Twiss?’ Martha asked,
laughing.

‘Twiss!’

‘Eight years we’ve had him. By, your neck’s the colour of
coal and your ears are none too clean. When the weather’s warm, I’ll scrub you
in the stream.’

Eppie yelped as Martha accidentally tugged her hair with the
comb. ‘I hate being washed!’

‘You might like swimming in Shivering Falls. Wakelin learnt
to swim there. He could teach you.’

Eppie grinned at Twiss, woofing in his sleep on the hearth
rug. ‘I’ll learn Twiss to swim.’

‘Can’t you sit still? The way you’re going, I’ll chop your
snout off. Twiss has a dread of water. The other day I slopped a pail of water
over his paws by mistake whilst he was asleep. He shot off quicker than a
chestnut exploding on the fire. There, finished. Your pa will be back soon.
I’ll check the bacon.’

‘I know the first thing he’ll say when he comes in. What’s
to eat? A chap needs more than ale sloshing around his innards.’

Gillow burst in, dripping. ‘I’ve never known a night like
it.’ He threw off his jacket and rubbed his palms together. ‘What’s to eat? A
chap needs more than ale sloshing around his innards.’

Bouncing on the horsehair armchair, Eppie giggled in
delight.

‘And what might you be finding so funny, my little maid?’ He
grabbed her by her stomach and twisted her upside down. Twiss bounded around,
barking madly.

Martha served the stew. ‘Tack’s up!’ she cried above their merriment.

Eppie’s eyes opened wide in alarm as a terrific blast of
wind taunted the cottage.
‘It’s scary!’

‘It’ll dacker down by morning,’ Martha soothed. Secretly,
she also was afraid of the intermittent roar and tear of the storm.

Wriggling in at the table, Eppie picked up a pea and popped
it into her mouth. ‘The rain sounds like a water wheel. Why can I hear the wind,
but never see it?’   

‘Give me that leftover giblet pie, and all,’ Gillow told
Martha. ‘I take some stuffing.’

After the meal, the storm intensified.

There was not much heat in the flames, so Gillow dragged his
chair close to the hearth.

Her head resting on his chest, Eppie scarcely felt the meagre
warmth of the gusting fire. Rain dislodged clots of soot and sent them rattling
into the grate.

From the stream came the sound of stones rolling and
grinding.

‘I fancy a drop of mulled ale with a double kick of rum,’
Gillow said. ‘It’ll knock me out for the night.’

Martha warmed the drink. ‘At Craft’s bakery they were
selling quarten loaves for twelve shillings. They were only seven and a half pence
at the start of the year. How most folk manage I can’t imagine.’

‘Mmm,’ Gillow answered, disinterested. ‘What d’ya say to a game
of knuckle-bones before bed, my little maid?’

‘I’ve won!’ Eppie shrieked as her last sheep bone sent
Gillow’s scattering across the hearthrug.

‘You cheated.’

She stamped her foot. ‘I never cog!’

‘If that’s true you look me in the eye, without giggling.’ 

Throwing back her head, she hooted with laughter.

‘See, you did cheat.’

‘It’s your face; your bushy eyebrows go up and down, all
silly.’

 He took the flagon from Martha and blew hard on it. ‘Lovely!
Nice and warming on a miserable night.’

 Eppie hopped before the fire.  ‘Give us a taste.’

‘Eppie, is this your tumbler of milk in the larder?’ Martha
asked. ‘It smells off.’

Eppie yawned. ‘I think it was left over from tomorrow.’

‘Sounds like someone’s ready for their sack,’ Gillow said,
grinning at Eppie.

Martha helped Eppie to slip on her nightdress. ‘As it’s so
cold tonight I’ll put your truckle bed beside the hearth,’

‘Shh!’ Eppie whispered, putting a finger to her lips. ‘The
badgers are by the stream, saying
quick, quick, quick
. They’ll have
soggy paws.’ Straw crunched as she snuggled down.

‘Now go to sleep,’ Martha said. ‘You’ll be exhausted after
running around with Grumps.’

‘And Mister Lord’s new ram, Carronade. Grumps says he’s got
an exploding bottom.’

Gillow chuckled. ‘I’ll have an exploding bottom if I sit
here much longer.’ In weariness he rose and stretched to the rafters.

Martha was in the bedroom, plaiting her hair in readiness
for bed. ‘I hope we don’t have trouble with that fox tonight. He killed
Claire’s best layer.’ 

Gillow glanced at the fowling piece which hung from leather
straps above the chimney hood. ‘If he dares show his muzzle in my garden I’ll
make a cushion out of him, like I did to his missus.’ Staggering in the gloom,
he kicked over the stool.

‘Are you sure you can see straight to get to bed?’ Martha
asked.

‘Jus’ about.’

Wind tramped. Rain beat on the door like a drum. 

Eppie threw her hands over her ears. ‘It’s a growly wolf picking
up the cottage!’

Martha kissed her goodnight.

‘I can’t sleep, Mammy! Tell me a story out of your ears.’

‘Why don’t you tell me one out of your ears! That way you’ll
talk yourself to sleep like you did last night.’

‘May I come in with you and pa?’

‘No chance,’ Gillow answered.

Eppie dived between them.

‘That dog’s place is in the stable,’ Gillow said, his feet
squashed as Twiss curled up on them.

‘He’s frightened, like me,’ Eppie said. ‘He wants to come in
with us.’

‘The things I have to put up with,’ Gillow grumbled.

Warm and happy now, Eppie told Martha, ‘Your belly’s as bumpy
as a pig’s.’

‘Are you excited about the new baby?’ Martha asked.

BOOK: Eppie
13.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Into the Blue by Christina Green
The Tiger by Vaillant, John
Kidnapping the Laird by Terri Brisbin
No Place to Hide by Lynette Eason
Murder by the Seaside by Julie Anne Lindsey
Man's Best Friend by EC Sheedy
Angelica's Smile by Andrea Camilleri