The Somerset Tsunami

by Emma Carroll

  Tucking my skirt between my legs, I went first to prove it could be done. The stone was rough against my fingers and shins, but the holds were well spaced: I probably wasn’t the first person to hide up here. About ten yards from the ground was a stone ledge. It ran underneath a small window and was just about big enough for us to sit on.

  ‘It’s not too bad if you keep close to the wall,’ I told Susannah.

  She was frowning with concentration, and her climb was painfully slow. It was so much harder with Bea, who kept trying to grab everything. And when I reached down to help, we very nearly lost our balance and went crashing to the ground. Susannah made better progress by herself. All the time, I kept my ears pricked for Dr Blood. Just as Susannah’s fingers felt along the ledge for purchase, I heard his voice on the wind.

  ‘It’s blatant witchcraft and now I’ve proof of it.’ He was furious still. ‘Our whole county has been overlooked.’

  ‘Overlooked?’ Susannah heard it too and frowned at me as if she didn’t know the word.

  I did, and shivered. ‘Under a witch’s spell, that’s what he means.’

  We both knew the dropped crewel work was his proof.

  Taking her arm, I hauled her up next to me on the ledge. Bea’s unhappy face poked out of Susannah’s bodice. She was probably hungry, poor thing. I kissed her and promised we’d find her something soon.

  Moments later, Dr Blood was inside the church tower. We found ourselves peering down on to the heads of a dozen or so men. They felt dangerously close. I could see the weave of a jacket, the lice in one man’s hair. Any of the men would only need to glance up, and they’d discover our hiding place. Susannah wrapped her arms tightly around Bea. I pressed a finger to my mouth: it was vital we kept absolutely silent.

  Thankfully, the men were convinced we’d carried on down into the valley.

  ‘We should follow the main track,’ a man in a waistcoat was suggesting. ‘I s’pect they’ve gone that way. Floods are shallower down there.’

  ‘I’ve heard witches don’t like water,’ said another.

  Dr Blood muttered under his breath about the rain. Outside, the weather had worsened, and the men seemed reluctant to go out in it again, lingering under what little shelter the old tower gave. And so we waited. And waited. I dreaded Bea starting to cry or me needing to sneeze.

  It was Susannah who made the noise – her heel scraping the stone wall. A shower of dust fell on to the sheltering men’s shoulders.

  ‘What was that?’ one of them asked.

  ‘Whole place ain’t about to come down, is it?’ said another.

  I didn’t see them glance upwards, though they must have. I was twisting round to look out of the window. The drop wasn’t more than six or seven feet, since the ground rose up around the church walls. At most we’d turn an ankle, which, to my mind, was worth the risk.

  I climbed up on the sill. Swinging myself round, I got my legs out first and shuffled to the edge.

  It was now or never.

  Yet before I could jump, I was pushed.

  ‘Go!’ Susannah hissed.

  Arms, legs, barrelled into the back of me, and suddenly we were both falling. I landed badly on my side, the air forced out of my chest. Susannah hit the grass bank then rolled into a nearby hedge.

  I crawled over to her. Bea was fine and blew dribble in my face. But the fact Susannah was still sitting on the ground wasn’t a good sign.

  ‘Come on!’ I cried, grabbing her arm.

  ‘I can’t move! Ouch, don’t pull me!’

  The men were spilling out of the church, bewildered as to where we’d gone. We had seconds at most before they spotted us.

  ‘What’s hurting?’ I demanded.

  She pointed frantically to her head. ‘My hair. It’s caught in the hedge.’

  It really was too. Her cap had come off in the fall, and now the knotted mess of hair and hawthorn held her as fast as a gaoler’s rope. The only way we’d get her out was to cut her free.

  ‘I’ll find a flint,’ I told her. ‘Stay still.’

  But there weren’t any flints, and the men were coming around the side of the church. I crouched in front of Susannah and took both of her hands.

  ‘I need you to be brave,’ I said.

  She gulped.

  ‘On the count of three, I’m going to pull you up and you must push,’ I told her. ‘It’ll hurt but it’ll be quick.’

  I felt bad at asking her to do something painful. My only hope was that her hair was brittle like mine and would snap when we pulled.

  Yet before I could count, Susannah got up so fast she almost knocked me off my feet. Her head was yanked back. Another wrench. A snapping of twigs. And she tripped into me, free.

  I didn’t look back to see how close the men were. Or how much of Susannah’s hair we’d left hanging in the hedge like Old Man’s Beard. All we could do was run.

  22

  We raced downhill, crashing through undergrowth, ditches, across the flood where it was shallow enough to wade. Ellen’s skirts, too long for running, kept tripping me up. I’d have given my right arm for a pair of leggings. Susannah had a technique of wrapping her hems around her wrist to keep them out of the way, which made me wonder how often she’d run across country. She was as fast as a hound.

  Yet there came a point where we had to slow down. Both of us were seriously out of breath, and poor Bea was crying. She’d been sick all down Susannah’s front.

  ‘She needs to eat,’ Susannah gasped, holding her side. ‘And to rest. As do I.’

  I was about to point out that food wouldn’t magically appear at the ring of a servant’s bell, when I noticed we’d shaken off our followers. I didn’t trust the situation; they’d catch us up soon enough. But we did need a breather, and since we were approaching a farmstead, it seemed as good a time as any to rest.

  ‘Only a short stop, mind,’ I warned Susannah. ‘No falling asleep.’

  The farm had been completely flooded out. Doors and windows stood open, and the yard was crammed with chairs and boxes, a cabinet floating on its back. There was no sign of anyone here, and to be honest, I didn’t search too hard, fearful of what I might see.

  We found a hayloft that looked dry, at least, and while Susannah climbed up to it, I went to find food. All I came upon was a single sheep, penned in by water at the back of a barn. Luckily it had plenty to eat, and better still, it was bursting to be milked.

  Back at the hayloft, Susannah was waiting hungrily. In the last of the day’s light, I could see the spot by her ear where a chunk of hair was missing. Other than that the hedge incident had left her unscathed, though she wrinkled her nose when I passed her the bucket of milk.

  ‘This came from a sheep?’ she said in disbelief.

  Bea wasn’t so fussy. She drank plenty of the sheep’s milk, and once we’d cleaned her up with handfuls of hay, she stretched her arms behind her head and fell asleep. I gulped down my share of the milk. It was still warm, with a rich, salty taste.

  ‘Here,’ I tried again to give the bucket to Susannah. ‘It’s delicious.’

  Susannah took the milk. She sniffed it. Sipped it. Pulled a face.

  ‘Anyone would think it was the chamber pot I’d offered you!’ I cried.

  Pinching her nose, she downed the remaining milk.

  ‘Happy now?’ she gasped, all triumphant. There was milk on her top lip and she belched into the back of her hand. The look of her made it hard not to laugh, and I almost did until she said, ‘You’re not serious about returning to your village, are you?’

  I straightened up. ‘Of course I am. And you’re coming with me.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Fortune,’ she replied. ‘That is very generous of you, but I need to know what’s happened to Ellis. If he’s still alive then mine and Bea’s lives should be with him.’

  I thought of Berrow Hall, the smashed windows, the torn-off doors, the whole house full of water.

  ‘Do you suppose Berrow Hall is still standing
?’ I asked.

  ‘Probably not,’ she admitted. ‘And good riddance to the place. I don’t wish to live there again, but the land will still be ours. We’ll have to do something with it; it’s a huge estate – twenty miles wide, to be precise.’

  I whistled. It made Old Margaret’s land – and that of our neighbours – seem like little herb gardens in comparison.

  ‘Not forgetting,’ Susannah added, ‘Ellis is mine and Bea’s brother. I do want to be part of a family again.’

  ‘Then come and join mine until you find yours,’ I begged. ‘Please. I promise you’ll be safe.’

  ‘Without wishing to offend, what would I do in a village like yours?’

  ‘Actually, it’s a hamlet,’ I admitted.

  ‘Exactly. I’d be useless. I can’t chop wood, I can’t cook, I didn’t even know you could milk a sheep!’

  ‘But you’ll learn,’ I told her. ‘You’ll have to. That old life of yours has gone, at least while Dr Blood is still after you.’

  ‘And Bea?’

  ‘Of course she’s welcome!’ I insisted. The thought of not seeing Bea every day made me panic slightly. ‘You’ll be as safe with us as anywhere. The witch hunters came once but they’ve not been back, not since we put my brother in charge.’

  Susannah smoothed the folds of her skirts, thinking.

  Questions slid into my brain too. What would it be like, going back to Fair Maidens Lane? Would the flood have damaged it? Would my family be all right? Might Jem still be cross with me? It certainly wasn’t the homecoming I’d hoped for, where I’d be swanking home with a purse of coins. I’d no wages to speak of, nor did I still have Mother’s gift.

  ‘Very well,’ Susannah said eventually. ‘And thank you, Fortune.’ She was trying hard not to cry.

  *

  Despite my warning, we did both fall asleep. It was dark when we woke up, and so cold our breath came out like smoke. I was worried we’d climb down from the hayloft to find Dr Blood waiting, but what greeted us instead was an uncanny quiet. Wrapping up a very sleepy Bea, we headed out into the dark to walk further along the valley. I kept my eyes peeled for a place to cross the floods, being certain that, from the stars, Fair Maidens Lane lay to our west.

  The flood quickly got deeper. It was hard to see how far ahead the water stretched, but I felt the chill coming off it like mist.

  ‘We’ll swim if we have to,’ I said, bracing myself.

  Susannah went silent – a tense, shivery sort of silence that told me she was scared. It reminded me of Jem, that day in the boat, when we’d drifted into too-deep water.

  ‘You can’t swim, can you?’ I asked.

  ‘No. I can’t.’ She glanced at me. ‘Why, can you?’

  ‘I haven’t drowned yet, put it that way.’

  But I couldn’t swim for all of us, that I did know. In water this cold, it’d be hard enough keeping myself afloat, never mind with a girl and a baby in tow.

  ‘We could wait until morning?’ Susannah suggested.

  I shook my head. It would mean wasting more time, and for a while now we’d been trailed by the faintest of noises – rustling grass, twigs snapping. It might’ve been badgers, or a night-time breeze. But I wasn’t convinced.

  ‘There must be another way through the water,’ I said, scanning the dark. ‘A bridge, a wall – can you see anything?’

  ‘No. Not a thing.’

  Behind us, a squelching sound. Boots moving through mud.

  Susannah gripped my arm. I turned slowly. The trees were shaking, whispering. Overhead, an owl screeched. It came again, the sticky slurp of muddy footsteps.

  Someone was coming towards us.

  ‘Keep hold of my arm,’ I whispered. ‘We’re going to start walking again,’ because I couldn’t think what else to do.

  23

  As silent as snakes, we slid into the water. The cold of it was so shocking I had to fight the urge to yelp. Susannah’s fingers dug into my arm as the floods reached our shins, our knees. Once or twice, when I felt her hesitate, I urged her on. Before long, the quiet seemed to settle again, Susannah’s chattering teeth the only noise I could hear.

  ‘I think we’ve lost them,’ I whispered.

  ‘Dr Blood is a plump coward,’ she whispered back. ‘He’d never keep up with us for long.’

  Still, we didn’t dare stop. We crossed one field, then another, this time wading downhill. Overhead, the cloud had thinned to reveal an almost-full moon, which lit up the floods ahead of us with a silvery path. The water began to deepen, until it was up to our hips. Beneath the surface, things brushed against my legs. I tried to believe they were just sticks or old cabbage stalks, but my exhausted brain kept tricking me into remembering all the dead creatures I’d seen these past couple of days. I wasn’t convinced we’d lost Dr Blood for good, either. Every hedgerow, every man-shaped tree made me start. Susannah was as jumpy as I was, and suddenly stopped dead. ‘Lord above, look at that, would you?’

  ‘What is it?’ I hissed, my heart beating very fast.

  She let go of my hand to point. ‘Over there. It’s a living animal – is it a cow?’

  As my eyes adjusted, I saw steam coming from the creature’s nostrils, and the curve of a pair of very pricked ears.

  ‘It’s a horse!’ I almost laughed in relief.

  The poor thing was standing in the small part of the field where the water was at its shallowest. It whinnied, sounding as relieved as I was. Before we knew it, it was coming towards us. It wasn’t a small beast, either, and its big chest pushing against the water sent little waves that broke on us, splashing our faces.

  I was a bit wary of horses, to be honest, but when it reached us, it stopped, sniffed us very gently, then rested its hairy chin on my shoulder. Bea squealed in delight and tried to grab its mane.

  ‘Dear creature, it’s so pleased to see someone,’ Susannah crooned, stroking its nose.

  ‘It wants us to rescue it,’ I guessed.

  ‘Can’t we?’

  I thought she was joking.

  ‘Horses are great swimmers,’ she explained. ‘And look at her, she’s got a back wide enough for all of us.’

  ‘You mean, we ride the horse through the water?’ I said, because it honestly hadn’t occurred to me.

  *

  It wasn’t exactly comfortable, sitting astride the horse, but Susannah was in front of me, so she could tell the creature what to do.

  I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist, just below the bump in her bodice made by Bea, who, now she actually needed to hold the horse’s mane, was trying to eat her sister’s hair instead.

  ‘Ready?’ Susannah asked.

  I grimaced. ‘As I’ll ever be.’ In truth, I felt a bit sorry for the poor beast who had two dripping-wet people to carry.

  Yet carry us she did, with long easy strides that took us across the valley in very little time. We struck out along a road – at least, it seemed like one, for buildings ran along it on either side. There were no lamps at the windows though, or smoking chimneys or barking dogs tied up in the yards. The only sound was the lap of water. It might’ve been restful on a beach or by a river, but here it felt strange and haunting. We passed flood-filled barns, where hay meant for the animals now floated in mouldering heaps, and houses with their front doors warped.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Susannah wondered out loud.

  I kept quiet. I was thinking of drowned bodies again, and of my family, who I prayed were safe: seeing all these damaged homes was making me worry. Susannah, I sensed, was thinking of Ellis. At least, something had made her gentle shivering suddenly stop, then start again as a violent shudder. It was difficult to keep my arms round her.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

  With difficulty, she untangled her fingers from the horse’s thick mane, and pointed not far ahead where the houses stopped. Beyond it, the water waited like a threat.

  ‘It gets deep again,’ Susannah warned.

  ‘You said horses could sw
im,’ I reminded her.

  She squared her shoulders. ‘So I did.’

  A squeeze from her heels and the horse broke into a trot. I really did have to hold on with all my strength now, yet still seemed be slipping one way, then the other, but always in the direction of the horse’s belly. The bones in my backside hurt. As for my legs, I’d stopped feeling them a few miles ago.

  We hit the water at speed. The horse surged forward like a boat launching, then suddenly the movement changed. It wasn’t a jolting, tooth-rattling trot any more, but something smooth, almost floaty.

  ‘Is this it? Are we swimming?’ I asked in amazement.

  ‘We are. Just keep still. Let her find her way.’

  The horse seemed to be following the line of the trees on our left. Beneath me I could feel its shoulder muscles powering through the water.

  ‘Good girl,’ Susannah murmured. ‘Queen of horses, that’s it.’

  The horse, ears flicking at her voice, kept swimming. The water lapped against our legs, but came up no higher, which meant Bea, at least, was snug and dry. We were gliding so effortlessly, I began to relax. It reminded me of floating in the boat with Jem, when I’d been so at peace. I laid my cheek against Susannah’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of her through her dress. The horse’s gentle movement went on: I was so tired I couldn’t help but close my eyes.

  When I came to, we were on dry land again, no longer moving. The horse was snorting and shaking its head. Susannah’s shoulder blades beneath my cheek felt tense.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, blinking awake. There was too much light to see properly what was going on.

  Susannah didn’t reply. The light, I realised in horror, came from burning torches. We were surrounded on all sides. The witch-hunt had caught us.

  IV

  IN WHICH OUR HERO BELIEVES HER LUCK IS CHANGING AT LAST

  24

  ‘By my word, if it isn’t Fortune Sharpe!’

  I was stunned to hear my name, not Susannah’s.

  ‘Who’s asking?’ I wanted to know: the torches were so bright I couldn’t see beyond them.