by Emma Hornby
Despite the trickle of fear running through Pip, still she hesitated. It felt wrong to just leave without at least thanking the cook. She glanced to the door the woman had gone through, willing her to return, and was rewarded when her footfalls sounded again. Moments later there she was, a thick blanket folded over her arm.
‘Here we are then— Oh.’ The cook paused and cocked her head and the children whipped theirs towards the street. Voices could be heard approaching the front of the house, a female’s softer one followed by that of a male, strong and refined.
‘The master!’
Cook answered Simon’s hiss with a shake of her head. ‘He’s ill in his bed upstairs. That there you hear is the master’s son – Mr Philip.’ Saying the name, she sniffed, as though she’d just detected a bad smell.
‘Miss Lucy’s father?’ asked Pip.
‘That’s right.’
‘We need to leave, now. Happen the servants …’
‘Them two will be a time returning yet. Don’t fret, lad. They’ll not catch you leaving. Aye, and happen it were time you were leaving, young ’uns,’ she finished, nodding.
And yet, after handing over the paper parcel and blanket to Pip and shepherding them to the door, the woman sighed several times, as though reluctant to set them free into the cruel winter night. She looked up to the jet-black sky from which fell a slight but cutting rain, then brought her kindly round face back to them. ‘Ain’t there anyone …?’
‘We’ve no one, missis,’ murmured Pip.
‘Norra single soul?’
‘Nay.’
Cook sighed again with a shake of her head.
‘Ta ever so.’ Pip motioned to the treasures in her hands. ‘And a merry Christmas to thee, Mrs … Cook.’
‘Aye. Ta.’ Simon mumbled agreement.
‘Ta, thanks!’ mimicked Mack, his excited gaze flicking to the wrapped meat. ‘Eeh,’ he breathed, mind clearly on the delight to come, as if he were the richest lad in the world. Then he took the cook’s plump hand in his small ones, dipped his head and pressed his lips to the back of it in a kiss. ‘Very merry Christmas.’
As one, the children walked away. Before turning for the main street, Pip looked back in time to see the cook shutting the door and thought she spotted her wiping her cheeks, but couldn’t be certain. She felt like crying herself. Why, when they had these heavenly gifts of food and warmth – she should be skipping with joy, shouldn’t she? – she didn’t know. Or perhaps that’s the reason? she asked herself. Aye, people’s generosity towards them always amazed her. After all, no one had to give them anything, did they? And yet some did, for no other reason than that they wanted to. They knew they would be getting nothing in return, and yet still some gave through sheer kindness, nothing more.
The image of the gentleman from earlier, who’d led Mack away down the alley, flitted in her thoughts and she shuddered. Well, almost everyone had kindness in mind. So long as they were watchful, and had Simon, here, to protect them from such evils, they would be all right. Glancing at the older boy with a soft smile, she followed his lead unquestioningly.
Simon stopped by the Green’s railings and looked about.
‘Will we still go to Smithfield Market?’ Pip asked and was glad when he shook his head. She was tired and doubted Mack would be up to it.
‘I don’t fancy that trek, now. Happen we’ll shelter down ’neath a tree, here, the night? What says thee? We’ll be safe enough; no one’s likely to catch us and we can be away in the morning afore anyone’s risen from their beds.’
Pip was too weary to argue. ‘All right.’
They found themselves beneath the aged poplar as before. They huddled close for warmth and after wrapping the blanket around their legs, Pip tore open the warm parcel. The meat’s delicious smell exploded up their nostrils and they released a collective slow breath. Taking a piece each, they devoured them ravenously. No one spoke for a long while. The only sounds were the slurping and smacking of lips as they sucked every last trace of meat juices from their hands. They took it in turns to run a finger along the grease-soaked paper before popping the digit into their mouths, unwilling to waste a single drop and reluctant for the feast to end. After drinking their fill from the lakelet, they eased back against the tree trunk and snuggled beneath the blanket with contented sighs.
From somewhere along the street, the melodic strains of ‘O Come, all ye Faithful’ from a group of carollers carried on the night. Then the singers moved on and stillness closed in on them. Mack tucked his head beneath Pip’s shawl, like a bird seeking comfort under its mother’s wing, and she fastened an arm around his shoulders. Within seconds, he was snoring softly.
‘Not so bad the night, eh, thanks to this,’ she whispered after a while to Simon, indicating the blanket.
‘Aye,’ he murmured back.
‘Reet good of that cook, weren’t it, lad? I like her. Oh, I do. And Miss Lucy. She wished us a merry Christmas; did you hear?’
He nodded.
‘She were nice in t’ end, an’ all. Weren’t she?’
‘Aye,’ he said again after a pause. ‘Suppose she were.’
Chapter 4
IT FELT LIKE she’d been asleep for hours but in reality it could only have been one, if that. Lamplight still showed at several windows of houses overlooking the park; not everyone had retired for the night yet; it couldn’t be so late.
Why had she wakened? Pip didn’t know. Simon and Mack were still slumbering soundly either side of her. She peered through the darkness and saw nothing. Shrugging, she closed her eyes again. Suddenly, by the bushes close by, a snuffling sounded; heart beginning to thump, she peeped once more over the blanket. She was deliberating whether to waken Simon when the unmistakable shapes of two large dogs materialised as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. She released air slowly in relief. Moments later, there came what sounded like a rodent’s muffled squeak. The hounds bounded away across the Green and silence swooped back.
It seems I were wrong – even the rich do have their share of rats, she thought, then bit her lip and tucked her legs up under herself, hoping the dogs had caught it. Folk weren’t the only beings that the pains of hunger touched; the furry pests thought nothing of taking a nibble at you, given the chance.
‘Psst! ’Ere, youse.’
Pip had nodded back to sleep when the voice came close to her ear. A hand shaking her shoulder accompanied it. She sat bolt upright with a gasp. ‘Wha …? Who—?’
‘You Pip?’
Surprise and confusion chased away a little of her fear. She squinted up at the speaker – a plain-looking girl not much older than herself – and stammered, ‘A … aye, yes.’
‘You’ve to follow me. Cook says.’
‘Cook?’
‘That’s right, at Bracken House. I’m Tabitha – Tabby to my friends – the scullery maid there. Rouse t’ other two and come with me.’
‘It’s a ruse,’ Simon stated when Pip woke him and explained what was happening. ‘They’ve got the law on us, that’s what! Well, they ain’t nabbing me—’
‘Have we bloomin’ heck.’ The maid chuckled. ‘Give over, lad. You’re talking daft.’
‘Then what’s she after?’
‘I don’t know, do I? I’m only the messenger. Neither will youse till you go check.’
As was their habit, Pip and Mack looked to Simon to make the decision.
He thrust his hands in his pockets and stared hard at Tabby. ‘You certain she said to fetch us?’
‘Aye.’
‘There’s no funny business afoot?’
‘Nay.’
‘And definitely no police awaiting us?’
‘Course there ain’t. Ay, you’re the one from earlier, ain’t you, what confronted Hardman on our way out?’ she stated, nodding understanding now. ‘What did you do, call on Cook after we’d gone, for she seems to know youse somehow? When the master’s dogs sniffed youse out minutes ago and I ran back to tell Cook there were trespassers i
n the Green, she reckoned she knew who it’d be right away.’
‘The dogs what were chasing the rat, they’re the master’s?’ asked Pip.
‘Rat?’
‘Aye, I heard it squeak.’
Tabby’s mouth spread in a grin. ‘That weren’t no rat; that were bleedin’ me! Frickened the liver from me, youse did.’
‘Sorry … The gate were open. We never broke in or nowt.’
The maid pulled a guilty face. ‘Ay, I must have forgot to lock it behind me after walking the dogs this morning … Good thing I spotted youse, else I’d have been for it off Mrs Goldthorpe, and no mistake.’ She eyed Simon, one brow raised. ‘So, youse coming along with me or ain’t you?’
He breathed deeply with indecision and Pip touched his sleeve. ‘Let’s go see, eh? It can’t do no harm.’
Tabby turned and walked away. He dithered a moment longer. Then he motioned to Pip and Mack and followed the scullery maid into the street. After locking the gate, she popped the key into her apron pocket and, checking they were following, headed for Bracken House.
Pip had almost forgotten the giddying assault on the senses the kitchen evoked; stepping back inside the bright warm room, her heart lifted instantly.
‘’Ere they are. Now look at youse, frozen and soaked to the bone.’ Cook beckoned them towards the fire. ‘Come on, let’s be having you.’
‘But …’ Pip’s gaze strayed to the green baize door.
‘Missis, what’s this about?’ asked Simon.
‘Laddo thought you had the police waiting.’
‘Is what Tabby, here, says true? Tsk! Now I said earlier you needn’t fret on that; didn’t I say?’
Pip and the boys stared back silently. Then just what was going on? Why had the cook asked them back?
‘Don’t go worrying on that lot,’ Cook stated, flicking her head to the door that led to the house proper beyond. ‘The family don’t venture in here. Well, besides Miss Lucy, given the opportunity. That one’s the exception to the rule.’ The woman smiled softly. It was evident she held deep affection for the child. ‘Nay. This is servants’ territory. You’ll not be discovered. I’ve spoken on matters with Tabby, here.’ Cook nodded to the girl now busy garnishing a platter of cows’ tongues at the table. ‘She’ll not breathe a word. Will you, lass?’
‘I’ll not.’ She smiled over her shoulder.
‘Finch you saw earlier, she never shows her phizog down here usually. The night were a rarity owing to Miss Lucy’s antics,’ Cook continued. ‘She takes her meals in the nursery with the child and sleeps in a room adjoining hers, has no cause to mix with us. Nor would she be welcome to,’ she added with a sniff. ‘That leaves the housemaid, Hardman, who you’ve already had the misfortune of crossing paths with. Don’t fret on that one, mind. I’ll see she says nowt or feel the full weight of my wrath. Bar the washerwoman Mary Stubbs, who calls twice weekly to collect and fetch back the laundry, us four make up the domestics employed here. This residence houses but a modest sized family, you see – just the five of them – without need of an army of folk at their beck and call. Youse understand all that?’
The children shared confused looks. It was Simon who asked, ‘Why you telling us all this, missis? Why have you asked us back?’
‘Cook has her whims like this,’ the scullery maid offered mildly. ‘Took a stray cat in last month, she did, but it grabbed and gobbled a chicken she’d spent all day preparing and cooking and she slung it out.’ She released a snort of laughter then shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m not saying you’re strays, like—’
‘I should think not, Tabitha Newby!’ cut in the older woman. ‘These here are flesh and blood people just like yourself and me. Anyroad, that scraggy chancer were an ungrateful divil. Fed it fresh meat off the bone, I did, for nigh on a fortnight and it goes and pilfers the family’s dinner? Oh no, missy, I weren’t having that! This, now, is altogether different. These here are God’s children. I’ll not have it said that Mabel May don’t perform her Christian duty should the need arise,’ she proclaimed, prodding her puffed-out chest. ‘As Lord Jesus hisself once said: It’s more blessed to give than to receive.’
At this, much to Pip’s astonishment, Tabby fell about laughing. Holding on to the back of a chair, she wiped her eyes, wet with mirth, with the back of her free hand. ‘Christian …? Why, you ain’t graced a church door in all the years I’ve know you, yer great untruth-teller!’
‘Aye, well … Moral duty, then, flappy tongue!’
Again, Pip shared a confused look with Simon and Mack, unable to believe, to hope … Did this mean …? No, surely not! Surely the cook, here, wasn’t suggesting they could stay at this house? However, her next words confirmed it and sent Pip’s heart thumping in her chest:
‘Now, here’s what we’re to do. You’ll wait in my own room upstairs. Tabby shall show you to it. There, you stay till I shouts you. There’s a mammoth amount of work to be had afore the night’s through – the family have yet to have their Christmas Eve feast. Then there’s the fare for the morrow’s dinner and a million and one other things to prepare besides … But, no matter about that, no matter. We’ll manage, allus do. Come along, then, that’s it. Tabby, you lead the way, lass. Shake a leg, now.’
Instead of obeying, as Pip and Mack were about to, so lost were they in shock to argue, Simon backed towards the street door. Eyes narrowed, he shook his head slowly. ‘Now I’ve asked enough and got nowt for my troubles,’ he said quietly. ‘I’d like some answers, missis, for I’ll be damned, I’ve norra single idea what’s occurring, here. Where are you expecting us to go to exactly, and why? Why are you doing this? What are you doing?’
‘Taking youse in,’ Cook proffered simply. ‘Well, the night, at least. You think I’d sleep well in my warm bed knowing I’d cast three kiddies out into the bitter cold – of a Christmas Eve, an’ all? Nay, now don’t you fret and don’t ask another question, for time’s not on our side. Go on with Tabby, now. She’ll see you well till I’m freed up, later.’
‘But … the master,’ Simon persevered as the scullery maid made to lead him towards the far door to the servants’ quarters. ‘Happen he were to discover—?’
‘He’ll not.’
‘And Miss Lucy? Mebbe she’s already—?’
‘Nay, not her,’ Cook interrupted him again. ‘Young she may be but daft she ain’t. She’ll hold her tongue, I’m certain. Nor have you need to worry about her parents, Mr Philip and Madam.’ Cook dropped the last word off her tongue with a roll of her eyes. ‘Neither, for that matter, poor Miss Josephine, the master’s daughter.’
‘Aye, but if they did …?’
‘Aye, well. Anyroad, they’ve no reason to, really, and it’s only right they don’t. For as Jesus also said: Beware of practising your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven. Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do—’ At Tabby’s guffaw, Cook shot her a stern look and continued: ‘in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward—’
‘But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.’
All eyes swivelled to Pip, and for a moment she was confused. Then she realised it was she who had interrupted the cook, finishing the verse she knew so well, without thought, and her cheeks flamed red. ‘I … I’m sorry …’
‘What says you, child?’
‘I … That … But when you give to the needy—’
‘I heard it.’ Warmth filled the cook’s eyes. ‘What I mean is, you know the Bible by heart?’
Pip nodded. ‘Well, mostly. Mam read it to me each night. That there were her favourite bit.’
The lads were staring at Pip in surprise. Even Tabby had stopped her teasing of Cook’s hypocrisy on religious matters,
and was nodding her head, smiling.
Cook looked as if she’d ask more but changed her mind, saying instead, ‘Ay, the master will like that. A reet God-fearing man, is he.’ She’d spoken softly but in the next moment seemed to shake herself and her words were delivered with purpose. ‘Well, lad?’ she asked of Simon. ‘Tha looks to be the decision-maker amongst you. What’s it to be?’
All eyes were now on the older boy. Cook raised an eyebrow, Pip followed suit, and with a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his cracked boots, his shoulders sagged in defeat. With a flick of his head to Mack, he took up the lead behind Tabby and the four of them left the kitchen.
No one spoke as they mounted the bare and narrow, well-scrubbed stairs, which seemed to go on for ever. Then they circled a sharp bend and climbed an identical set; up, up, towards the very top of the house. The candle that Tabby held high in front of her barely illuminated their path and Pip held on to the bottom of Simon’s jacket, more for security than from fear of losing her footing. Likewise, behind her, Mack had balled his fist around the edge of her shawl. Suddenly, they were brought to an abrupt halt when Tabby paused at the top of the stairs. Before them ran a short landing with four doors leading off into the gloom. She nodded to the one nearest.
‘That there’s Cook’s domain. Come on, then,’ she said mildly with a quick smile. Before opening the door, she motioned to the others. ‘This one’s mine,’ she told them of the neighbouring room. ‘Next one along is Hardman’s – hell’s teeth, here’s a warning you’ll do well not to forget: don’t go wandering into that ’un by accident! I’ve made the mistake of entering her bedroom only once afore and bore a fat lip for nigh on a week to prove it!’
