No one mentioned that there was only one full day left.
‘If the boys got my letter this morning they might get here by tonight,’ Maddy said, as she and her father walked back to the inn.
‘They’d have to shift some for that,’ said Jack. ‘More likely by tomorrow night. Look for them then. They’ll come tomorrow for sure.’
It was the only reference they made to anything connected with the execution.
The next day, Boxing Day, there was no sign of Bart, Lew and Charlie; Maddy and Jack had to go to the prison alone. It was an anguished affair, but although the tears streamed down his face, Davie did not make a scene when they made to leave. It was Maddy who found it too much to bear.
‘We’ll be here—’ she began, but could not finish. There was no way she could say the dread words, ‘In the morning.’
As for Jack, he could only hug Davie to him and say brokenly, ‘You’ll be all right, boy, you’ll be all right.’ It was a stupid statement and totally false. Davie was not going to be all right. But in his heartbroken state it was the only comfort Jack could think of.
There was still no sign of the three brothers at the inn.
Although it was long before she was due to begin work, Maddy tied a sacking apron about her waist and began to clean. She scrubbed floors and shelves, turned out cupboards, and washed windows.
‘Maid, maid,’ protested Mrs Polsoe. ‘It idn’t that I bain’t grateful, nor that the place couldn’t do with a turnout, but you’m going to work yourself into a collapse going on at this rate.’ Gently but firmly she took the scrubbing brush from Maddy’s unprotesting hand and said, ‘You’m going to need all the strength you’m got, my lover, for yourself and for your pa. He’m taking it hard too, you know, and there bain’t no shelves for him to scrub. You go and spend a bit of time with him and never mind working tonight. Go and have a game of draughts with him or summat.’
Maddy was stricken by this reminder. Jack needed her every bit as much as Davie. Yet she feared she could not get through the next few hours without hard work to occupy her.
‘I don’t think I can,’ she gasped. ‘I couldn’t put my mind to it.’
‘Nor can your pa, I dare say,’ said Mrs Polsoe. ‘But if you just push they draughts about the board I don’t suppose he’ll notice you idn’t playing proper. It’ll keep the pair of you occupied until they brothers of youm come.’
Maddy took the landlady’s advice, and she was touched at how grateful her father was for her company. Obediently they began a game with the makeshift draughts, although it bore scant resemblance to the official rules. Part way through, Jack paused, a draught in his hand, ‘Do you mind when Davie was little how he’d climb in the boat when us was busy hauling in the net and paying him no heed?’ he asked. ‘How many times do you reckon he lost the oar overboard trying to row proper?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Maddy. ‘Dozens, probably. Just as many times as you walloped his backside because you had to wade into the river to fetch the oar back.’
‘What a boy, eh? Always up to something,’ Jack chuckled, and with the game piece still in his hand, went on to reminisce. The game of draughts forgotten, they talked about Davie far into the night, laughing and crying at their memories. It helped to ease the pain, though it could not stop their eyes from straying to the clock on the wall. The hours were passing, but there was no sign of the others.
‘They must be having a hard walk of it,’ said Jack, when the clock hands reached midnight. You go to bed, maid. I’ll wait up for un.’
Maddy protested, but Jack was adamant. ‘You’m done enough work for three today. You needs your rest,’ he insisted. One thing he did not say was that they would have to be up early in the morning. The execution was at seven, and they had been told to be there by six to see Davie for the last time.
Reluctantly Maddy went up to her room, but although she undressed and got into bed she could not sleep. How could she with the awful weight of pain pressing on her? In addition, she was listening for the clump of heavy boots on the road outside that would herald the arrival of her brothers. When finally she did hear footsteps, they passed right by as men went off to work in the morning darkness.
Where could the boys be? she wondered anxiously. Surely they had got her letter? They had had plenty of time to get to Exeter.
A clattering downstairs announced that Mrs Polsoe was astir, which must mean it was about five o’clock. Thankful to be on the move herself after the long wakeful hours, Maddy rose, washed and dressed. She could hardly do up her buttons she was shaking so, but it was not the December cold that was making her tremble. She was reluctant to go and wake her father immediately because he shared a room with other lodgers,and she did not want to disturb the other men unnecessarily. Instead she went downstairs first to see if he was already there.
She had awakened convinced that nothing could make that morning any worse, but the scene that met her eyes in the bar parlour did exactly that. Mrs Polsoe was slapping her father sharply across the face and shaking him, exclaiming, ‘Wake up, you gurt fool! Wake up, can’t you!’ But Jack remained blissfully unconscious. An empty stone cider jug on the floor beside him told its own story.
‘Oh no!’ cried Maddy. ‘Oh no! Not that! Not today of all days!’
Mrs Polsoe swung round at the sound of her voice. ‘You see how it be, maid,’ she said. ‘I been trying this last ten minutes to get him back to his senses, but I fear it idn’t no good.’
‘Why didn’t I think!’ Maddy exclaimed in distress. ‘I should never have left him alone last night. What a fool I was.’
‘If he’d wanted the drink bad enough he’d have got it, no matter what anyone else did. I suppose you can’t blame the poor soul.’ The landlady looked sympathetically at Maddy. ‘It do make it harder for you, though, my lover.’
Maddy gazed about her in bewilderment, almost as if she expected to see Bart and the others concealed in the room.
‘My brothers aren’t here yet,’ she said hopelessly. ‘I can’t understand it. They should have got here last night.’
‘I dare say it be a fair step from where you live,’ said Mrs Polsoe. ‘And roads be tricky this time of year. Maybe they’m having to go out of their way because of floods or summat. They’ll get here, never fear. While you’m waiting I’ll make you a bit of breakfast.’
The thought of food made Maddy’s stomach heave. ‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t swallow a bite.’
‘But you can’t face – you can’t go through this morning with naught inside you.’ Mrs Polsoe looked concerned. ‘How about if I made you a nice cup of tea? The kettle must be almost on the boil.’
Maddy shook her head. ‘You’re very kind, but no. I don’t think I could keep it down even if I had the time. I— I must be leaving soon.’
‘I don’t like the thought of you going on your own,’ Mrs Polsoe said with increased concern. ‘Maybe I could get someone to mind this place so’s I can come with you.’
Again Maddy shook her head. ‘You’re – you’re so kind,’ she said in a broken voice. ‘I’ll be all right. Davie’s ordeal… will be far worse than mine – he’ll have to face it alone, won’t he?’ Choking back the sobs, she rushed upstairs to fetch her bonnet and cloak. When she returned, Mrs Polsoe was standing there with a determined expression on her face and a glass of golden liquid in her hand.
‘You’m habn’t eaten, you’m habn’t had a cup of tea, but you’m going to get this down you, supposing I has to force you,’ the landlady said grimly. ‘You got to have something to help you through.’
‘What is it?’ Maddy asked, taking the glass suspiciously.
‘Best brandy. Us don’t get much call for it yer, but I always has some in. You swallow the lot. It’ll put heart in you. And heaven knows you’ll need it, poor maid,’ she added in an almost inaudible aside.
Maddy took a mouthful that set her coughing and spluttering. ‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped, setting down the glass. ‘I
can’t manage any more.’
‘Never mind,’ said Mrs Polsoe. ‘Here’s summat as might bring ease to your brother.’ And she placed a small bottle marked ‘Laudanum’ on the table.
‘Oh,’ breathed Maddy. ‘I should have thought of that.’
‘Was there ever such a maid for thinking her’s responsible for everything?’ Mrs Polsoe raised exasperated eyes heavenwards. ‘You’ll most like have to slip the warder something to make sure he gets it, mind.’ She put a silver coin beside the bottle. ‘The brandy and the laudanum be on the house, the half-crown be out of your pa’s pocket.’
Slipping the money and the bottle into her own pocket, Maddy said, ‘How can I ever thank—’
‘There idn’t no need for thanks. Just get back here sharpish after… And should your brothers come, or him return to his senses,’ the landlady jerked her head in the direction of the still unconscious Jack, ‘I’ll send them on.’
How her legs supported her on her walk through the dark streets Maddy did not know. Her knees shook as she staggered unsteadily towards the prison. The nightmare grew worse as she was taken to Davie’s cell, for she did not know what state he would be in. She did not know what she would find. Outside the cell door, she paused and held out the vial of laudanum.
‘I’ve brought some of this to help my brother,’ she said.
‘There idn’t no need for that, my lover,’ said the warder. ‘He’m had some. Your friend saw to it. One dose last night and one this morning.’
‘Which friend?’ asked Maddy in surprise.
‘Couldn’t say. I wadn’t on duty then.’ The warder unlocked the cell and ushered her in.
‘Hullo, our Maddy.’ Davie’s words were slightly slurred as he rose unsteadily to greet her. ‘Where be Father?’
‘He’s – he’s not well this morning. Too ill to come, though he sends his love.’ She was astonished to see him so calm.
‘Still sleeping un off, eh?’ Davie gave a drowsy grin. ‘Good old Father.’ He yawned. What about the lads?’
‘I wrote. I’m expecting them any minute.’
‘They’ll get here if they can. They’m grand fellows.’ He waved a casual hand. ‘I be glad you came, though. Twill be good being just you and me for a bit. I be telling you this because I won’t get no other chance. You’m the best sister a fellow could have. There idn’t no one as can hold a candle to you, Maddy Shillabeer, and there never will be, don’t let no one persuade you otherwise.’
Maddy had told herself she would not cry, that she would be brave and strong, but Davie’s words completely undid her.
‘There, don’t take on like that,’ he comforted her. ‘What be un as Annie says? What can’t be cured must be endured? There idn’t no cure for what be coming so us may as well endure un with a good grace.’
‘How can you be so calm?’ The words came out in a cry of protest.
‘It were a long night, I don’t deny it, but you can get tired of being terrified, you know. I suppose I just couldn’t go on being frightened no more. And the stuff you sent me made a difference too, I idn’t denying that, neither.’
‘I didn’t send anything,’ wept Maddy. ‘I brought some laudanum but someone else got in before me. I don’t know who.’
‘A true friend, whoever he be – or she. Who knows? Maybe I got myself a lady admirer at this late stage,’ he grinned.
‘Oh Davie!’ Maddy wept harder.
Outside, the corridor rang with approaching footsteps, and Maddy went ice-cold as the door opened to reveal the prison chaplain and the head warder.
‘’Tis time to say goodbye, seemingly,’ remarked Davie as casually as if he had been off up to Totnes. ‘Give Father and the lads all my best when you see them, and thank Annie for the toffee she sent. And I’ll give your love to Mother. Her’ll be right pleased to learn how good you’m been to us.’
‘Oh Davie!’ Maddy could say nothing else as he hugged her tightly.
‘Don’t you go lingering about this place, do you hear?’ His voice wavered for the first time. ‘Get yourself far away. And you’m idn’t to grieve. It were a daft thing I done, and whereas I still think the judgment were a bit hard, there be no denying I killed Ned Knapman, and he, poor soul, doubtless thought that were just as hard. Get you home, maid, back to your garden and they noisy fowls of youm and that fiddler fellow. He idn’t good enough for you, but then in my eyes the Prince of Wales idn’t good enough, neither. If your Patrick be what you wants, then wed him and be happy. You deserves un.’
The chaplain gave a discreet cough and one of the warders moved to Maddy’s side, indicating that she must leave. There was such a lot she had not said, things she wanted to say to her brother, and there was no time. No time at all.
Somehow she found herself outside in the corridor, leaning against the wall for support.
‘What about his funeral?’ she asked brokenly. Why had she not thought of that? There would be arrangements to be made.
‘That’ll be seen to,’ said the warder with such finality that Maddy could not find the strength to enquire further. ‘You’m on your own?’ the warder asked quite kindly.
Maddy nodded.
‘There be a room downstairs where you can wait until… I could send for a woman to attend you if you like.’
‘No, thank you.’ She straightened up and wiped her eyes. Davie had told her to go away and that was exactly what she would do. How much he had grown up in the last twenty-four hours. If he could be serene and calm, then so could she.
Her resolve lasted until she stepped into the road. Although it was a bitterly cold morning and not yet light, a crowd had gathered round the prison gate. The sight of so many people brought her to a halt. What were they expecting? Didn’t they know that a human being was about to be destroyed in there? That it was her brother who was going to be dangled on the end of a rope?
Having stopped, somehow she could not gather the momentum to move again. Davie had told her to get far away, but she could not. She had to stay as close as possible to him until the end. Fortunately her cloak was an old-fashioned one and she pulled the hood up over her head, bonnet and all, as she pressed herself against the prison wall.
She did not think she could bear the agony. The terrible anguish within her was like a physical pain from which she could get no relief. Resentment against Jack and the boys for not being there, against Mr Attwill for his ineptitude, against Judge Stroud for his inhumanity made her want to cry out. She pressed herself closer to the wall, enveloping her despair in the folds of her cloak.
The stout frieze cloth might hide her face and cut out the sights, it could not prevent her hearing the conversations taking place near her.
‘Tidn’t no fun now us can’t see naught no more,’ remarked one voice. ‘When it were public hangings us used to go up Northemhay, the whole lot of us. A grand view you could get from there.’
‘That you could,’ agreed a second voice. ‘You could see them drop and dangle from the rope as clear as clear; a proper outing it were too, with old women selling gingerbread and toffee, and tumblers and musicians and everything. Almost as good as a fair in my opinion. I can’t see why they had to change things and do the hanging indoors. Taking away poor men’s pleasures, that’s what it ’mounts to.’
She had to get away from such ghoulish talk, yet as she tried to push her way through the crush, a clock somewhere struck seven. The prison bell began to toll and a sigh went round the crowd. It was over.
Maddy stood very still, her eyes closed, using every scrap of willpower to hold on to her self-control. Davie had said she was not to grieve. That was an impossible task, but she was determined to behave with dignity for his sake.
If only the voices round about would be quiet. She could not help hearing, although she tried not to. There were comments about Davie, discussions about the trial, talk of previous, more spectacular executions.
‘I reckon I’ll be going home,’ said someone.
‘You idn’t waiting
to see him taken away then?’
‘No, ’tidn’t worth it in this danged cold.’
Maddy’s eyes flew open. ‘They’re taking him away?’ she said. ‘Where?’
Two middle-aged women regarded her with frank curiosity.
‘Why, to the hospital,’ said one. ‘So’s the doctors can cut him up.’
She had not expected this. Shock paralysed her completely. Her Davie’s body was going to be mutilated. She wanted to yell, to scream, to cry out against such an obscenity, but no proper sound would come from her frozen throat. In mute despair she lashed out with her hands, beating them against the wall until they were bruised and bleeding. Then at last she began to make a noise. Softly at first, then rising to an anguished crescendo, the dreadful unearthly wailing of a soul in torment.
The crowd in her immediate vicinity moved back in alarm.
‘What be wrong with her?’ demanded one woman.
‘’Sterics,’ said a second. ‘Some folks can’t take the excitement.’
‘That bain’t ’sterics,’ stated a third. ‘Her’m a lunatic. I idn’t staying yer to be attacked by no mad woman.’
Locked in her grief, Maddy did not notice that she was alone and that the street was almost deserted. Collapsing to her knees she buried her face in her hands, rocking back and forth as she continued to wail. Not until she felt herself lifted to her feet and being shaken quite violently was she jolted out of her frenzy of distress. Someone was repeating her name over and over again. It was her father! Or one of the boys! Eager for the comfort of a familiar face she opened her eyes – to see Cal Whitcomb looking at her with concern.
‘Why aren’t you my father?’ she cried. ‘Why aren’t you Bart or Lew or Charlie? Don’t you know what’s happening? They aren’t content with hanging my Davie. They’re going to let the doctors cut him up. Cut him up like so much meat on a butcher’s slab. How can they do that? Answer me that! How can they?’
Daughter of the River Page 23
