Salting the Wound (32 page)

The sun reached the overhead position. It was noon, that much he knew. Otherwise, he had no idea where he was, and wished he’d paid more attention to his geography lessons. Hungry and thirsty, by mid-afternoon John’s pace had long ago flagged to a walk. He could smell the smoke in the air now. He trudged on and turned into a field, where a couple of barking dogs tried to keep him at bay. He couldn’t go any further and simply stayed there, swaying back and forth.

Someone shouted at the dogs and they retreated.

A woman he recognized was sitting on the step of her van. Not far from her a black kettle steamed over a fire. Unhurriedly, she rose to her feet, gazed at him then smiled. ‘So there you are, Master John Hardy.’

‘Jessica,’ he whispered, stumbling towards her, feeling relieved that her face was familiar. He’d visited her with his Aunt Marianne and she wouldn’t turn him away.

‘We’ve been waiting here for you. What took you so long?’

He was so weary and aching he could have died from it. ‘My legs wouldn’t go any faster, and stones kept getting inside my boots and making blisters. How did you know I was trying to catch you?’

‘Two fellers in uniform came sniffing around looking, and asked for you by name. Besides, ’tis the way of the gypsy to pass the word in the wind. We were all keeping a look out for you. Right now, I know you’re thirsty and hungry and you need to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

He did feel better when she took him in her arms, hugged him to her and rocked him back and forth while she soothed him with, ‘Such a brave little soldier, you are, my lovely. Everything will be all right now, you’ll see. Jessica will look after you until we get you home if that’s what you want. Your folk will be worried, but word will get to them. There’s a man looking for you though. His name is Adam, if I take you back, he’ll find you.’

John remembered Adam, who his pa had trusted. He might take him back to his grandfather though. ‘I don’t want to wait for Adam. Please let me come with you, Mrs Jessica.’

‘I reckon the countryside will help take the hurt away from you, at that. Someone will pass the word.’

There was a younger man and woman, and two older children with her. They exchanged a smile.

Jessica said, ‘This here is John Hardy from Poole Heath. His mama named her girl twin after me. Find him some warm clothes to wear, and feed that workhouse uniform to the flames. Roseanne, fetch the boy some water to drink.’

‘He stinks something awful, ma.’

‘And like as not he’s lousy with it. While we still have light we’ll give him a bath. I’ll put some chrysanthemum and thyme oil in it. I’ll rub it through his hair, too, then I’ll see to his sores and crack his lice, because they’ll be half dead by then and not so lively. After that he’ll be ready to eat some of that nice rabbit stew you made, I reckon.’

John had never looked forward to a bath so much. It was nice to feel clean again – to feel safe. Jessica stroked soothing salve into his sores, and her fingers in his hair made him feel sleepy.

By the time John had finished his stew he was drowsy. He leaned his head against Jessica’s body and she told him a story about his real mother and father who were living with the angels and kept watch over him. Every time you see a gold flower they would have planted it there for you, and you’ll remember how much they loved you. John felt comforted by the story and the spoon dropped from his fingers into his lap.

‘There, there, my lovely, you don’t have to worry any more. You’re a long way from home, but Jessica will take you there eventually, and everything will be all right.’

John felt himself being lifted from her and laid on a bunk. A blanket was tucked over him and Jessica began to sing in a low voice, using words he didn’t understand.

The last thing he heard was the soft hoot of an owl.

John had gone to the wrong station. He’d boarded a train at Paddington, and had got off at Bristol. Adam knew that for a fact, since the stationmaster remembered him.

‘Dressed like a little lord, he was. He said his name was John. The lad didn’t have a ticket when I challenged him. He told me he was going to Poole, and his father would pay for it when he got there. You’re a bit young to be travelling on your own, sez me. And if you’re going to Poole, what are you doing in Bristol? I threatened him with the police if he didn’t hand the money over. He said he needed it for food, and when I threatened to turn him upside down and shake it from his pockets he ran off, as quick as a rat.’

Adam grinned. ‘The lad was telling the truth. He boarded the wrong train in London, and I’ve been hired to find him. There is a substantial reward for his safe return. If you see him again I’d be obliged if you’d offer him some assistance. He’s to be delivered to Colonel and Mrs Seth Hardy, of Harbour House in Poole.’ Adam handed him the fare. ‘Will this be sufficient recompense for his fare?’

‘Yes, sir.’ The man touched his cap and slid the money into his pocket, where it would probably be conveniently overlooked as belonging to the Great Western Railway. ‘A reward you say. Well that puts a different light on things. I’ll deliver the boy personally if I see him, and I’ll treat him like one of my own.’

Bristol was a bustling port town and the chances of John going unnoticed in the crowd was strong. Adam was lucky in his inquiries that a pie seller remembered him. ‘A nice young man. Polite like. Someone must have robbed him because the next time I saw him he was foraging in the alley for scraps . . . sleeping there for all I know. I don’t know where he came from, but he were lost and begging on the street. I told the officer at the workhouse, lest the boy be set upon. I reckoned he’d be better off there. There are lots of unscrupulous types in Bristol, and it wouldn’t have taken much for him to have been picked up, taken on board one of the ships and sold into slavery.’

Thanking the man, Adam pressed some coins in his hand, booked a room for the night in the Railway Hotel. He asked directions to the workhouse. When he got there he was too late.

‘John Barrie absconded from a work detail four weeks since. He disappeared into thin air. Nobody saw him leave. We sent men into town to search for him, then up into the hills, but all they found were a couple of gypsy caravans. There were a couple of women, a man and some boys . . . too old to be John. A sullen lot, the gypsies. Secretive, like. We turned everything over in the caravans, but no sign of the runaway hidden away. They didn’t seem to know his name, and said they hadn’t seen him.’

Adam remembered John chattering about the heath gypsies on that fateful day they’d gone to London together. His Aunt Marianne had taken him to visit them, and she’d painted a picture of the camp to hang on his bedroom wall. It was probable that John had lost his faith in men after all he’d been through, but the gypsies had been kind to him. According to Seth, one of them had brought his children into the world, when no other help had been available.

Adam gave the man the same information as he had to the stationmaster.

‘I will say this, sir. If that boy went up into the hills by hisself, the poor little beggar will surely have perished by now. There are caves a grown man can get lost in.’

Not as surely as he’d perish in the workhouse by the looks of the inmates. It would be a waste of time to try and search the hills, because the gypsies knew where they were going and he didn’t, and they had a four-week start on him. Adam doubted they would stay on the most used tracks. However, he knew exactly where John was now, and as certain as he was of that, he was also certain that the boy would get home safely. All they had to do was wait.

His suspicions were confirmed when he got back to the hotel and found a note on his bed. John Hardy is found, is travelling with Jessica and is on his way home. It wasn’t signed and the hotel clerk couldn’t remember it being delivered.

The next morning Adam took a train back to Southampton, then another to Poole, where he picked up a cab. It dropped him at Harbour House. Another cab was waiting there.

Seth met him at the door. ‘You have some news?’

‘Yes, I do have some.’

‘Good. Come into the drawing room. Sir Charles and Edward Wyvern are here.’

He was surprised to see Sir Charles, his face haggard with worry. ‘Edgar and I are staying in town until this matter is resolved.’

‘An excellent idea. I have a feeling that it will not be much longer.’

‘What is your news, then, Adam?’ Seth said.

‘I traced the boy to Bristol, where he was robbed. Several people remember him. The stationmaster, because he didn’t have a ticket. And he asked a shopkeeper if he knew where Poole was on the other side of the heath, only the shopkeeper misunderstood. For a while John was seen begging on the street, but he was picked up and taken to the workhouse. He caught a fever and came out in spots. Measles the doctor in the infirmary said. He was sick for quite a while before he was sent back to his ward. When he’d recovered they put him in an outside work gang, pulling weeds from a cemetery.’

‘He’s too small for that type of work,’ Charlotte said indignantly.

‘He requested it, apparently, and the warder thought that the fresh air would be good for him. He disappeared from the gang, and nobody noticed he was missing until later than evening. My theory is that he saw the gypsies the day before, and that’s why he wanted to join the work party, so he could try and escape from the workhouse and join them.’

‘Why didn’t you go after them and get him?’ Charlotte said.

‘I’m unfamiliar with the Mendips, and I wasn’t equipped to walk across them. Besides, they had a four-week start. It’s a long way.’

‘I would have crawled across them on my hands and knees to find him,’ she told him fiercely.

‘I daresay you would have done, but you’re a woman who is emotionally attached to the boy. Think on, Mrs Hardy . . . if I’d done as you suggest, I would not be here now with such encouraging news of him. Somebody left a note in my hotel room suggesting that he was safe and on his way home with Jessica.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to criticize. Jessica, you say. She’s one of the heath gypsies.’

‘You have nothing to apologize for. It’s hard waiting for news, especially where a child is concerned. You’re bound to be worried about him. But he’s a brave and resourceful little boy, and I feel that the outcome will be favourable.’

Seth offered her a smile and turned to Adam. ‘I’ve been working things out. The distance across is about seventy miles,’ Seth said. ‘Generally, the gypsies consider the welfare of their horses. The caravans wouldn’t move very fast, on average about ten miles a day, and they’d camp overnight. It would take them at least a week to get here I should imagine.’

Charlotte’s voice began to shake. ‘But if he left the workhouse four weeks before Mr Chapman got there and joined the gypsies, where is he?’

Seth was willing to clutch at the straw Adam offered him. ‘We could go out and look for them.’

‘They’ve already been on the road for several weeks, so obviously they’ve detoured.’ Adam pointed out.

‘What if your theory is wrong?’ Sir Charles asked him.

‘I admit that it could be, because much of my job is based on outguessing another’s actions. But this is the best lead I’ve had so far. We do know that John and the gypsies were in the same place at the same time. If he recognized any of them he would have asked for their help.’

Seth turned to his wife.‘Which way do the gypsies usually come on to the heath, Charlotte?’

‘I know nothing about the habits of the gypsies. It was my sister who was friendly with them. She had friends everywhere, some of them totally unsuitable.’

‘Which might stand John in good stead on this occasion, as it did for you once,’ Seth said.

Her face flamed, then paled. ‘What if John didn’t find the gypsies and is trying to walk here all by himself?’

‘Let’s prove or disprove Adam’s theory before we alarm ourselves with another. Would Marianne know the ways of the gypsies if it becomes necessary to organize a search party?’

Her face closed up and she shrugged as she said to her husband, ‘She might. You’d have to ask her.’

‘I will ask her. Perhaps you’d come with me, Adam?’

There was an undercurrent of tension in Harbour House . . . not surprising under the circumstances, Adam supposed. He nodded.

Edgar and Sir Charles rose too. Charles offered Charlotte a courtly little bow, saying with considerable charm, ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Hardy. Considering the circumstances it was more than I deserved.’

She gave a faint, self-deprecating smile. ‘My husband has convinced me it would be better for John if we tried to get on.’

But the woman was listening to her instinct . . . and that was telling her that Charles Barrie was untrustworthy. Adam could see it in her face, which was filled with doubt.

For a moment Adam saw something flicker in the depths of the old man’s wily eyes that strengthened his own suspicions that Charles Barrie was saying one thing and meaning another.

Adam had been taken in by him on more than one occasion. He no longer trusted the man an inch. He suggested, ‘Wouldn’t it be better to get the legalities set down in writing, then all parties will know where they stand.’

‘I know exactly where I stand,’ Sir Charles murmured.

Edgar said unhappily, ‘I’ve written an agreement along the lines of the sharing arrangement. We could go through it. If you agree, you need only sign it.’

‘Not now, Edgar,’ Charles said testily. ‘I’m waiting on the outcome of other matters.’

Seth exchanged a glance with Adam, and both understood without saying that the man had no intention of signing any agreement. Not without powerful persuasion.

‘What other matters is he talking about?’ Adam asked Edgar when they got a private moment together.

‘Sir Charles has expressed worry about the reputation of Mrs Hardy’s family.’

‘In relation to what?’

‘Anything that can be smeared. The Thornton family. The mother’s affair . . . the sister’s elopement . . . if it was indeed an elopement. Also, there is the sister’s association with common gypsies.’