The Hungry Tide (8 page)

‘Hello, Will, how’s tha doing?’

He stared down at the woman who stood in front of him smiling boldly. It was Annie, but an Annie so changed he barely recognized her. Her hair was a brassy yellow and her face was white with powder. Her large blue eyes stared out of deep sockets and her lips were two bright uneven slashes of scarlet.

She giggled up at him playfully. ‘Didn’t tha know me, Will, Maria’s best friend?’

Francis leaned forward and roughly drew her towards him. He ran his hand around the back of her neck and across her bare shoulders, his fingers probing the low neck of her shabby satin dress.

‘Course he knows thee, Annie, doesn’t everybody?’ He bent over her and buried his face into the curve of her neck. As he laughingly pulled away there was a reddening mark on her flesh that his teeth had made. He drew up a stool and sat down drawing her on to his knee, his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her body close to his.

‘I’ll be moving off now.’ Rob turned to go, and Will was about to do the same, but Francis protested loudly. ‘Stay and have another drink, Will, I have summat in mind for thee.’

Will viewed this with suspicion but decided to hear him out. There was always the chance after all, small though it was, that Francis did have a legitimate proposition and he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He said good night to Rob and sat down reluctantly, avoiding Annie’s eye as she wriggled and squirmed on Francis’s knee.

‘All it is,’ said Francis, ‘I’ve borrowed a cart and a lively little hoss and I’ve a mind to go for a jaunt into ’country.’ He smiled benevolently. ‘I thought perhaps tha might like to come along for a ride?’

Annie squealed with pleasure. ‘Oh, Frankie, can I come?’

He pushed her off his knee and slapped her behind. ‘Fetch us another drink and then I’ll see.’

Carelessly he put his feet up on a table and asked Will. ‘Well, what about it, does tha fancy a bit of fresh air?’

‘Aye, I reckon I do,’ said Will slowly. ‘I could do with a change of scenery.’

The two men eyed each other narrowly, there was no love lost between them. Then, as Annie returned with his drink, Francis took his boots off the table. ‘Right then. Tomorrow. I’ll pick thee up mid morning. I reckon tha’ll enjoy it.’

Will nodded and looked away; he felt he’d been dismissed and rose to leave. Francis Morton was the last person that he would have chosen for a confidant. He was a town tyke born and bred, who earned his living on the streets and alleyways of the town, and wouldn’t have known what Will was talking about had he attempted to explain the terrible feeling of confinement that he felt, like an animal or bird in captivity. To be restrained by his disability to the boundary of the town streets, when he was within sight and sound of the River Humber which led down towards the vast, powerful sea, the sea which had been his livelihood and destination since he was a mere boy, not much older than his own son, and from which he was now banished for ever.

‘What do you mean, you don’t want to come?’ Isobel bristled with anger as she stared at Ellie standing in front of her, her head bowed so that all she could see was the top of her white cap.

Ellie fiddled with a corner of her apron. ‘I don’t want to come, that’s all, ma’am.’

The girl was sullen, she shifted from one foot to the other. ‘There’s nowt – nothing to do in ’country and besides, the others don’t want to go either.’

Isobel’s mouth dropped open and then she quickly shut it again. This was something she hadn’t foreseen. She had been quite sure that her staff would have been willing to accompany her to the new house.

‘What, none of them?’

‘Only Mrs Harris, but then she wouldn’t be able to get another position at her age.’ Ellie stopped as if wondering if she had gone too far.

‘If I don’t recommend you, then none of you will get another position.’

Isobel was angry and she knew that the statement she had made wasn’t true, for with the increase in trade and the number of new houses being built on the periphery of the town, there was now a shortage of good servants. Everyone knew how well trained her staff were, they would obtain a position without her recommendation.

She tried wheedling. ‘There will be more time off, of course, and perhaps more money.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘There’s no entertainment in ’country, ma’am, and besides folks are a bit slow out there.’ She tossed her head and added, ‘And all the men are leaving and coming into town, it’s much more lively here, what with ’fair and theatre and that. I’m sorry ma’am.’

Not as sorry as I am, thought Isobel as she curtly dismissed the girl from the room. She sat by the window of her first-floor sitting-room and looked down at the busy street below. They were a motley looking crowd, she mused, how would she ever find servants from among that seething mass of humanity?

From her vantage point she saw the tall figure of John as he strode along the street on return from his work with the tallymen. He was making a point of finding out every facet of the business and had already established a good reputation with the staff and tradespeople.

She moved aside the curtains and waved to him, indicating that she wanted to speak to him. He smiled up at her. How handsome he was becoming, she thought, I shall soon have to be looking out for a suitable wife. And how well he carried his clothes. He was not a dandy by any means, like some of the young men they knew, but always dressed with good taste, his coat of a fine cloth and his hussar boots of soft leather. Neither did he powder his thick fair hair but wore it brushed back from his forehead and tied loosely behind.

She heard him run up the stairs and sat back with a sigh. She would get a sympathetic hearing from him, she knew, unlike Isaac who would expect her to deal with the servant problem herself without any help from him.

‘I can’t stay long, I’m afraid.’ John put his head around the door. ‘I’m wanted down at the dockside.’

‘Just have a cup of tea with me, John, I really need to talk to you.’ Isobel reached for the bell, but he forestalled her.

‘No, no tea, thank you, but tell me what is the trouble.’ He was anxious to be off and was sure that the concerned look on her face was probably over something quite frivolous that could soon be allayed. Nevertheless he listened patiently as she finished her worrying account of staffing the new house.

‘Well, you’ll have to use local labour, Aunt. I don’t see that there is a major problem.’

‘But don’t you see, John,’ she exclaimed, glad for once to be able to impart knowledge to him. ‘All the country girls are coming to town to look for work, the wages are better and so are their marriage prospects.’ She threw up her hands and wailed, ‘The only ones left will be the country bumpkins like Mrs Scryven, or the ones who are unemployable.’

He got up to leave. ‘I’ll try to think of something,’ he said, ‘but finding servants isn’t something I’m familiar with, I’m afraid.’

He laughed and with a contrived flourish drew back his arm as if to aim. ‘Now if it’s a harpooner that you require, ma’am, then I can supply you with several.’ He crouched down and brought out an imaginary knife from the top of his boot, ‘Or how about a flenser, skilled in his trade?’ He shook his head and piped humorously, dropping a mock curtsey, ‘But little maids I know none.’

‘Get off with you,’ Isobel laughed at him. At least she felt a little better for his cheerful company, and I dare say, she thought philosophically, somebody will find a solution.

‘You’re late, John, what kept you?’ Isaac looked up irritably from his desk as John knocked and entered his office.

‘I’m sorry, Uncle, but I was waylaid.’

He didn’t want to blame Isobel, but Isaac replied sharply. ‘By whom? I trust it was on business matters?’

‘Well, not exactly, sir. But seemingly you have a problem. Aunt Isobel can’t persuade the servants to go out to Garston Hall. They don’t want to move to the idyllic charm of the country, but prefer to stay for the delights of this merry town, smells and all.’

Isaac swore softly. ‘I had an idea that this might happen, and unfortunately the country people are moving to town. They are losing their common lands with this enclosure legislation and can’t make a living.’

He brushed his hands over the pile of papers that littered his desk. ‘As you see, I’m extremely busy and I haven’t the time to attend to it. Perhaps you will see to it, John, I don’t want Isobel to be bothered about something like this, it’s not good for her to have any worries at this time.’

He waved his arm towards the window. ‘There must be somebody out there who would like to exchange an existence in the town for a living in the country.’

John felt the germ of an unformulated idea growing in the recesses of his mind. ‘You would need a housekeeper perhaps, if Aunt Isobel is set against Mrs Scryven? Perhaps if I find a suitable woman, then she could find the maidservants?’

He paused to see the effect on his uncle and, finding it favourable, went on, ‘And it might be an idea for you to have a man about the place, for you will be here in Hull quite often. Someone who could keep an eye on the estate and do jobs about the house, bringing in wood, that sort of thing.’

‘If you can think of someone who will suit Isobel then arrange it, but don’t worry me about it until it’s decided,’ said Isaac briskly. ‘But it must be someone completely trustworthy. And in the meantime,’ he dismissed the matter, ‘you will be pleased to know that I’ve heard from the Customs Office. The Commissioner has ordered that the bounty can be paid after all. They are satisfied that we have followed all the legal requirements and that the ship was bound to return early because of the damage.’

He sat back in his chair. ‘That’s the reason I wanted to see you. I’ve told the clerks to go ahead with the paper work and I would like you to see that it is paid out immediately.’

John smiled as he left the office. He speculated that with a little diplomacy he might well be able to repay a debt, help a family in need and solve his aunt’s domestic problem at one and the same time.

Tom hurtled breathlessly through the door. ‘Fayther, Francis is here with the hoss and cart, can I come with thee?’

‘No, not this time, son, maybe another day.’ Will knew that if there was any business to discuss, Francis wouldn’t divulge it with the flapping ears of young Tom within hearing.

‘Ooh, why not?’ Tom’s face puckered in disappointment. ‘Annie’s going, why can’t I?’ He’d seen Annie sitting at the side of Francis as the cart trundled towards the entry. She’d waved to him graciously as if she was in a carriage instead of a battered old cart, and he longed to do the same to his own friends.

Will spoke to him sharply as he eased himself out of the wooden chair and on to his crutch. He was finding it easier to move around now and had decided to discard one crutch altogether, and although he still sometimes had terrible pain in the stump of his leg, his arms and shoulders were stronger than ever before.

‘Go on, clear off!’ Francis gestured to Annie as Will approached them.

‘I thought I was coming with thee?’ said Annie in dismay. ‘Tha promised me!’

‘Well, tha thought wrong. Don’t go getting any fancy ideas.’

‘Go and see Maria,’ suggested Will sympathetically, feeling sorry for the girl as she stood forlornly in the road in her cheap finery. ‘She could do with some cheerful company.’

He hoisted himself into the cart and reflected that he was a poor companion for Maria these days, beset as he was with his own problems.

‘Women!’ Francis cursed as he urged the horse on. ‘They’re nowt but trouble. Tha won’t catch me getting tied down to ’em.’

‘Come on inside, Annie, it’s grand to see thee.’ Maria hid her astonishment at her friend’s appearance. Annie had never before had any spare money for anything but the bare necessities of life, and certainly not for the sort of clothes she was wearing now.

She was aping the fashionable with her low-cut satin gown, but the colour was garish and the frilly petticoats peeping below the hem were torn and none too clean. She had draped herself with a black lace shawl and adorned her hair with flowers and feathers.

She twirled around now to show off her finery. ‘Does tha like it, Maria?’ she asked dreamily, ‘Frankie bought it for me.’

Stole it more likely, thought Maria privately, from some other poor woman that he’d discarded.

‘He’s so generous, Maria, I’ve never had anybody give me owt before.’ Annie’s face creased sadly. ‘’Course, Alan would have, but he never had any money to spare.’ She wiped away a tear which left a streak down her powdered cheek. ‘I do miss him, Maria. I know he was a bad ’un, and he knocked me about when he was in drink, but he didn’t mean to. He loved me really, I know he did.’

She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose on her shawl. Then she lifted her chin and tossed her head defiantly. ‘Anyway,’ she smiled, ‘now I’ve got Frankie and he’ll look after me. He said he would.’

Maria wanted to warn her, to caution her against the ruthless Francis Morton who would use Annie or any woman for his own ends. She could understand them falling for him, for he had a beguiling charm, but it hid a cruel streak which, once displayed, could spell calamity and disgrace to a woman unlucky enough to be involved with him. She remained silent now, though, for she knew intuitively that for Annie it was already too late.

John cleared up his work as fast as he could. If he was to implement his plan then he must put it in motion straight away. He knew his uncle wanted to make the move to Garston Hall quickly so that Isobel was settled in before her confinement and, although he knew nothing about babies and their delivery, it occurred to him that Maria Foster’s pregnancy was probably at the same stage as his aunt’s.

‘I’ll be off,’ he said to the clerk, and picked up the papers and small bags of money which he placed beneath his greatcoat. ‘I’ll deliver as many of these as I can, and where I can’t, then they must collect it themselves. The men will be glad enough to receive it.’

The clerk grimaced disdainfully, ‘I reckon ’innkeeper will be even more pleased, sir. That’s where ’bonus will end up, in his pocket and down ’seamen’s throats.’