Annie

by Val Wood

  ‘Is these ’Wolds, then? Is that what these hills is called?’

  ‘This is onny foot of ’Wolds,’ Robin gasped. ‘It’s all up and down from now on. But it’s best scenery I know, and if tha should be here in summer – why it smells that sweet, tha could almost eat it. Honeysuckle and bluebell, and May blossom; and ’air is that full o’ birdsong tha can’t hear thyself think.’

  Even now, in autumn, Annie could hear the call of birds; the throaty call of wood pigeons, the chattering of finches and something loud and crotchety that flew up above them as they disturbed its privacy.

  ‘Pheasant!’ Robin took imaginary aim. ‘That would be good in ’pot.’

  ‘Are we nearly there?’ Annie felt she had been walking for days. ‘We haven’t seen any houses yet. How can we sell our stuff out here?’

  ‘We’re a couple o’ miles off next village. But we’ll stop in a minute and have a bite o’ bread. There’s a stream just along here where we can tek a drink.’

  They’d come out of the wooded area and entered a clearing. Annie paused to look around her and saw the gently rolling hills dotted with grazing sheep, the dip and sweep of the steep-sided valleys. She saw the hawthorn hedges which trembled with hidden wrens and chaffinches, and the wild crab apple trees heavy with fruit. Above her hovered a silent kestrel seeking its prey of voles and field mice, while down below, down, down, down, and she couldn’t believe how far they had come, lay the Humber, stretched like a silver ribbon at their feet.

  ‘This is ’last we’ll see of ’Humber for a bit.’ Robin stood at her side. ‘Next valley will take us out of sight.’

  ‘Oh. I’ve never been out of its reach afore.’ She felt uneasy. The river had always been there; comforting, familiar. Safe, even at its most threatening, when it broke its banks and deposited mud and silt on her doorstep. She knew what to expect from it and was never surprised. She had even anticipated, that when life had no more to offer her, she would end her days beneath its enveloping waters.

  Robin unpacked bread and cheese and a jug of ale, given to him, he said, by Mrs Trott. Annie hadn’t given a thought to food and was glad that the old woman had considerately provided it. The walking and the clear air had made her ravenously hungry. She took a drink from the stream and then swilled her face. She felt a curious uplifting of spirits, something she was quite unused to.

  She stretched out on the grass when her appetite was satisfied and closed her eyes, but as sleep was about to claim her, she heard the dog give a low warning growl, and felt Robin’s hand touch hers.

  ‘Ssh. Don’t make a sound,’ he whispered, and she cautiously opened her eyes and saw him take the dog by his scruff. She lay still and beneath her body she could feel the drum of hooves.

  Robin lay down beside her, his hand still on Charlie’s neck. ‘Keep still, pretend to be asleep.’

  How can I pretend to be asleep with that racket going on, she thought, as the sound of men’s voices and the jingle of harness carried through the air.

  ‘Blast that donkey.’ Robin cursed softly, as the donkey, unhitched from the cart and tied loosely to stop him wandering, uttered a loud bray as he heard the sound of horses.

  They sat up as the shout came down to them. ‘Hey. You down there. Where are you heading?’

  A red-coated, heavy-booted troop of soldiers sat astride their mounts on the path above them. The sergeant who had called to them, shouted again. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ He had a thick Scots brogue.

  ‘Aye, I heard thee allreet.’ Robin put on his broadest accent. ‘But I didn’t understand thee.’

  ‘What did he say?’ The sergeant turned to his men. ‘Did anybody understand what he said?’

  The soldiers shuffled about in their saddles, but shook their heads.

  Annie got to her feet. ‘What’s tha trouble, sergeant?’ She smiled and put her hands on her hips. She’d dealt with soldiers before. ‘Has tha lost thy way?’ She spoke slowly, so that the Scotsman would understand her.

  He smiled down at her, relief showing on his leathery face. ‘Aye. I canna find the road to Weighton. Are we going the right way.’

  ‘Tell him yes,’ Robin muttered. ‘He means Market Weighton, tell him to follow ’road to ’Caves, he’ll find it then.’

  She repeated the instructions and the soldier shouted his thanks and moved off, the other soldiers turning round in their saddles to throw admiring glances at Annie, to which she responded by waving her hand.

  ‘I never talk to ’em,’ Robin grumbled. ‘Doesn’t do.’

  ‘But tha shouldn’t antagonize them.’ Annie cautioned the boy. ‘It’s best to be pleasant. They’ll remember thee if tha’s awkward. I wonder what they’re doing up here?’

  ‘They’re all over ’place. They’re allus watching ’river, and they’re often in villages. Not that they ever find owt.’

  ‘What are they looking for?’ Annie watched the boy’s face.

  He shrugged. ‘Trouble. That’s all I know.’

  He didn’t know, she could tell that from his honest face. He’s just a lad, she thought, trying to earn a living. But then, who was it who had been with Toby and Mrs Trott near the henhouse? She’d previously been sure that it was Robin.

  They came to the outskirts of a village just after midday, and entered a farmyard gate. Robin tied Charlie to a tree and told him to stay. ‘Tha doesn’t like Sam, tha knaws tha doesn’t,’ he told the sulking dog. ‘Tha fights wi’ him every time we come, and we’ll nivver sell owt while tha’s scrapping.’

  He led the way to the back door and hammered on it. ‘She’s a mite deaf is Mrs Corner, but she makes a nice bit o’ sweet cake.’

  A voice hollered from within. ‘If that’s thee, Mary, come on in.’

  ‘It’s not Mary, Mrs Corner,’ he shouted. ‘Tha’ll see that when tha sets eyes on me. It’s Robin Deane, come on a bit o’ business for Master Toby.’

  A plump, grey-haired woman, with flour on her face, and a wooden spoon in her hand appeared at an inner door.

  ‘Come in, come in.’ She beckoned him in. ‘I’m just stirring ’puddings, and sweet cake is just out on ’table. Tha’s got good timing, I’ve noticed afore.’

  ‘Why I can smell thy baking down in next valley, Mrs Corner.’ Robin inhaled appreciatively. ‘I fair flew up side o’ hill when I got ’drift of it. Why, I was just commenting to Mrs Hope here – oh begging tha pardon, ma’am. This is Mrs Hope. She’s travelling along wi’ me, ’stead o’ Mrs Trott—.’

  ‘Tha means that ol’ misery face hasn’t come wi’ thee? Well that calls for a bit o’ celebration. We’ll have a drop o’ apple wine on strength o’ that. But,’ she dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Can we have same arrangement?’

  ‘Mrs Hope’s in charge o’ accounts, Mrs Corner. Tha’ll have to talk to her, but I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to come to a satisfactory arrangement.’

  ‘Aye,’ Mrs Corner’s eyes flicked from one to another. ‘Weren’t ’accounts I were thinking on—,’

  ‘Mrs Corner.’ Annie interrupted and reached for a bundle, and as she did so, managed to give the woman a conspirational glance, excluding Robin. Mrs Corner looked relieved and Annie wondered just what arrangements Mrs Trott had made. ‘I thought tha might be interested in seeing these.’

  ‘Nay, this is pack tha wants, Mrs Hope. This is real good quality cotton, wear for ever it will, as Mrs Corner’ll appreciate. She’ll not be wanting that fancy stuff.’

  The bundle which Annie had reached for and which Robin had disdained, contained muslins and fine cloth. His was packed with strong cottons, linen and calico.

  ‘Aye, it’s true.’ Mrs Corner sighed. ‘I can’t be buying fancy stuff every year if it won’t last, mayster’d soon give me my marching orders. Tha’d better measure me out three lengths o’ that fustian, and one ’o calico.’ She leaned towards Annie. ‘That’s a right bonny kerchief tha’s wearing. I remember well, when I was a lass, I had such a piece. Not so soft and fine as this,’ she
said, fingering the scarf at Annie’s neck, ‘but colour was as blue.’

  Annie pointed to the door. ‘Can I hear thy dog barking, Robin? Happen tha should dash out and see. He might have wrapped hisself around ’tree.’

  Robin jumped to his feet. ‘By, but tha’s got sharp ears, Mrs Hope, and I never heard a thing. He’s that daft, that dog, he’s probably strangled hisself.’

  He dashed for the door and Annie opened the other bundle. She winked at Mrs Corner. ‘Just take a look in here, ma’am. This’ll make thy mouth water.’ She brought out a length of muslin and draped it over her shoulder and let it hang in folds about her front.

  ‘And this.’ Another, in cream. ‘Feel how fine.’

  ‘Oh. It’s grand,’ Mrs Corner breathed. ‘Why, our Mary would dee for this. That’s me granddaughter,’ she added, seeing the question on Annie’s face. ‘She lives over ’hill in ’next village. But she’s got no money for such fripperies.’

  ‘Why doesn’t tha treat her?’ Annie persuaded. ‘Go on, what wouldn’t tha give to see her in this? And—.’ She took out a small length of pale-blue soft cotton, which she had noticed when she and Toby had been packing the bundle the day before. ‘There’s enough here to make thee a neckchief. Go on, I’ll let thee have this at half ’asking price. Colour’ll suit thee no end.’

  Mrs Corner was tempted and fell. This kind of bargain was too much to resist. Her face beamed with generosity of spirit as she assured Annie of her Mary’s certain delight on receiving the length of muslin.

  ‘But other matter I mentioned,’ she whispered as they heard Robin’s whistling return. ‘Mrs Trott and me had an arrangement.’ She watched Annie’s face. ‘I’d offer thee a dish o’ tay, but tha knaws price it is.’ She nodded her head significantly.

  Annie nodded back. ‘Arrangements have to be made, Mrs Corner. It’ll be next trip afore I can do owt, does tha understand? It’s ’cos of it being my first trip.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘They think I don’t know what’s what!’

  Mrs Corner came to the door to see them off. ‘And don’t forget a bit o’ summat for Mr Corner when tha comes next time,’ she called. ‘He’ll want a sweetener if he finds out how much I’ve spent.’

  6

  ‘Tha did well, Annie,’ Robin was full of admiration. ‘I’d never o’ thought of showing her them muslins.’

  ‘What tha must realize, Robin,’ they were trotting towards the next village, ‘is that just ’cos a woman’s old and toothless, it doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate summat nice. And Mrs Corner back there, I reckon, has a bit o’ money put by.’

  And next time we come, I’ve got to bring her tea and ’baccy. Annie pondered on this and wondered if the arrangement was wholly between Mrs Trott and Mrs Corner, or if Toby was involved in the deal?

  The third village they reached just before nightfall and were given a space to sleep by the fire in the home of a shepherd’s wife. They had sold cottons and ribbons, and been given a dozen eggs by a farmer’s wife.

  ‘We’ll stop night at ’hostelry,’ Robin said at the end of the next day as they trotted alongside a beck which ran towards the next hamlet. ‘We’ll get a good night’s lodgings here.’

  ‘How much’ll it cost?’ Annie felt for her bag of money beneath her skirt. She hadn’t spent anything since being with the Trotts. She’d offered to pay her board, but Mrs Trott had said that it had been taken care of.

  ‘We can pay out of our takings, if we’re asked. But usually, Master Toby has made arrangements.’

  More arrangements, Annie thought. I wonder what the innkeeper will want in exchange.

  ‘Annie?’ Robin led the donkey into the inn yard. ‘Tha knaws what tha was saying about women still liking nice things, even when they’re old?’

  She nodded and looked about her. The inn was small, not much bigger than a cottage, quite unlike the inns in Hull which accommodated foreign seamen and travellers.

  ‘Well.’ He shuffled about in embarrassment. ‘Well – I wondered. Do old folk still feel ’fire in their belly, same as when they’re young?’

  She gazed at him in astonishment and though it was almost dark, saw, by the lantern swinging on a nail above the stable door, that his face had turned crimson.

  ‘Maybe not to ’same degree,’ she said, hiding the laughter that bubbled up inside her. ‘But I’m not old enough to know yet, even though I might look as if I am.’

  ‘Aw, no. I didn’t mean that tha was. I just thought tha might knaw.’

  ‘Why does tha ask?’

  He took his time over the donkey’s harness. ‘It’s just – it’s just – well I wondered how long it took afore ’fire died down, ’cos, sometimes,’ his words came out with a rush. ‘Sometimes I wish I was already old so that ’flame’d dampen down a bit.’

  She smiled in the darkness. ‘Hast tha got a lass, Robin?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘And never had one, I’ll be bound?’

  ‘Nay, who’d look at me? I’ve got nowt.’

  ‘Tha’s got plenty. Tha’s not been in ’front row when good looks were being handed out, but tha’s got a cheeky grin, and tha’s got good temper and humour, and there’s many a lass wouldn’t turn away if tha stole a kiss.’

  ‘Does tha think so, Annie?’ His face brightened as they went through the low doorway into the hostelry. ‘I hope tha’s right.’

  The innkeeper greeted Robin cordially. ‘I’d hoped tha would be along soon. Hasn’t tha brought Mrs Trott?’ He looked enquiringly at Annie and then towards the door.

  ‘Mrs Trott’s giving up ’business, as tha might say. She’s getting past it, all this travelling – so this is Mrs Hope, she’s taking her place. This is Mr Sutcliff, Annie. He’s got ’best bed and board for miles.’

  ‘We aim to please, Mrs Hope, we aim to please.’ He was a small round man, with a belly that protruded from his waistcoat and over the top of his breeches. His hair was dark and he wore a neat pointed beard.

  ‘Come in, tha must be weary.’ He led them into a room where there was a large table set for supper, and a bright fire burning in the hearth. ‘Have a sup of ale, and tha’ll have a taste o’ rabbit pie? Lily, my eldest, makes best pastry in the valley.’

  Two young women entered the room as he spoke. Both were tall, taller than Mr Sutcliff, and dark like him. Both were dressed in grey woollen skirts and white aprons, and Lily, for Annie guessed it was she, was wearing a cotton cap, while the other, Joan, had her hair tied back in a knot and fastened with a red ribbon.

  Lily nodded to Annie and Robin, and without speaking placed a large crusty pie in the middle of the table. A vent in the crust had steam escaping from it, which carried the most delectable smell of rabbit and onions. Annie licked her lips and watched as Joan opened up a white cloth she was carrying and brought out a batch of brown loaves, still hot from the oven.

  Next, Lily returned with dishes of floury potatoes, carrots and cabbage, and a boiled suet pudding, flavoured with herbs. She stood back from the table, her hands folded in front of her and waited for her father to speak.

  ‘Sit down please.’ He indicated the places where Annie and Robin should sit and then shouted into the back room. ‘Meg! Rose! Look sharp, we’re ready and waiting.’

  Two younger girls appeared, their faces flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Meg was about fifteen, dark like her sisters, with huge blue eyes; she wiped her hands on her apron and grinned at Robin, who blushed; the other, Rose, about thirteen years of age, was just blossoming into womanhood, her skin with an unblemished bloom and her hair as black as night.

  Robin bent his head, his neck was as red as fire and Annie saw as he lifted his head, as Lily heaped his plate with rabbit pie, that his eyes were wet with emotion.

  Ah, ha, so here’s ’reason for ’fire in his belly. Poor lad’s smitten all right, and that Meg’s leading him on, I’ll bet – and nowt at end of it.

  When the four daughters had seen that the guests and their father had been se
rved, they too sat down at the table to eat with them, all keeping silent while their father talked, of the weather, and crops and grain – which Annie found incomprehensible – and how bad business was, and likely to get worse as the winter drew on.

  ‘We’ll get no travellers passing this way come December, save the military that is, and they don’t stay over, they onny have a bite to eat and a sup, and they’re on their way. Not that I’d have ’em to stay. Can’t take ’risk with four daughters at home.’

  It was the daughters’ turn to blush, even the two eldest and Annie saw them exchange covert glances.

  Lily’s mouth turned down. ‘It’s onny company we get, Father. Why should tha want to deprive us? There’s no other male company around here.’

  ‘I’ll not have sodgers dallying with daughters of mine. There’s no future in it. They’re here a month or two, and then they’re off to another garrison and that’s last we’d see of ’em. Beside’s they’re in cahoots with magistrates and they’d be watching every move. Not that I’ve owt to hide,’ he added, wiping his mouth of gravy. ‘But some of my neighbours wouldn’t be too pleased. No, I’ll be pleasant enough and welcome them to my table, for it’s not their fault they’re so far from home, but I’m allus glad to see ’back of them.’

  When the pie dish was empty, Lily removed it and brought in its place an enormous plum pudding and a dish of sweet white sauce.

  ‘I’m stuffed.’ Robin belched. ‘I don’t think I can manage any more.’

  ‘Come lad, ’course tha can.’ Mr Sutcliff signalled to Lily to heap more on to Robin’s plate. ‘It’ll go to ’swine otherwise.’ He laughed. ‘Then tha’ll be eating it next year instead.’

  Annie felt her bloated stomach. The band around her skirt was cutting into her waist. Mrs Trott was a good cook, but her portions were nowhere near as large as the ones she had just eaten. She had never, in her life, she thought, eaten as much as she had at this table.

  Mr Sutcliff, when he had scraped his plate clean, pushed it from him and rose from the table. ‘Well, if tha’ll excuse me. I’ve a few jobs to do afore I lock up for ’night. Hast tha locked up geese, Meg?’