The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  Kate scrambled up and began to back away from him. Her heart was pounding and at once she was poised on her toes ready for flight. But the man’s tone was friendly. ‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you – or be angry. I just wondered – I mean – are you all right? Shouldn’t you be going home?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kate replied firmly, although he could not fully understand the meaning behind her words. ‘That’s exactly where I should be – home!’

  ‘Then why . . .?’

  ‘I dun’t know which way it is. At least – I know I need to go east, towards the . . .’ she stopped. She had been going to say ‘towards the sea’, but perhaps the old man would question that. It was a long way to the sea. Kate took a deep breath and said, ‘I came to Evensong,’ which was the truth but not the whole truth,’ and when I came out, I didn’t know which way to go. So, I was waiting for the stars to come out so I could see the North Star and then I’d know.’

  The old man chuckled. ‘You seem a very knowledgeable young lady. Finding your way by the stars, eh? Well, well, I never did.’

  ‘Danny,’ the very mention of his name brought a lump to her throat, ‘he’s my friend – he taught me.’

  ‘Did he indeed?’ The elderly man glanced upwards into the darkening sky. ‘Well, my dear, it’s very cloudy tonight. It looks like rain. I don’t think you’re going to see the stars at all tonight.’

  Kate tipped her head backwards, feeling the jagged edges of her newly cropped hair against her neck. She sighed. He was right – there would be neither moon nor stars this night.

  She looked back again at the old man. ‘Do you know which way is east?’ she ventured.

  The man nodded. ‘Yes, my dear. In fact I’ll take you and set you on your way. Once on the road, you just keep straight on.’

  They fell into step together and he continued, ‘All the main roads which lead into Lincoln were originally built by the Romans and they all lead straight and true towards the cathedral. Now here we are, this will lead you to Wragby Road.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Is that the one you want?’

  Kate hesitated, not wanting to tell the old gentleman a deliberate lie. ‘I’m trying to get to Suddaby . . .’

  ‘Suddaby? Why that’s miles away . . .’

  Kate knew a moment’s fear. She’d made a mistake, but she’d had to take the risk to find out the right road.

  ‘Me grandad lives there, he’ll be meeting me,’ she told him, silently begging forgiveness for the small lie.

  ‘But you have no coat. I really don’t like to think of a young girl like you walking all that way alone and in the dark. Won’t you . . .?’

  ‘I’ll be fine – honest,’ she assured him and began to move away.

  ‘Take care, then, my dear. Take care.’

  ‘I will. Thanks, Mester.’

  She knew it was a long way to the coast and Fleethaven Point – forty miles or more – but she was not afraid of the distance. All she wanted was to be away from that dreadful school and back home with her family – and with Danny. But she had not, in her moment of precipitate flight, thought of the trouble she would face when she did reach home. For the first time her footsteps slowed. She could almost hear her mother’s voice raised in anger and see her stepfather’s anxious face.

  Then the idea, which had come into her mind as an excuse to the priest, now took root. Her grandad. She would go to her grandad. Hadn’t he told her to do just that if she needed help?

  And she needed help now.

  It was then that she felt the first spots of rain. They were huge droplets, heralding a downpour. Kate looked around anxiously. The city was three miles behind her now and open fields bordered the road on both sides. Only here and there did lights shine into the dusk from the windows of cottages and farmhouses.

  She trudged on, bending her face against the rain falling heavily now, quickly soaking through her gym-slip and blouse. The thin-soled house shoes she was wearing offered no protection. She wished she still had her sturdy boots but the matron had thrown them away with a look of disgust upon her face. Kate’s hair – what was left of it – was wet through and rivulets of water were running down her neck.

  On her left a clutch of farm buildings loomed in the darkness. Holding her breath, Kate tiptoed to the farm gate. Hoping that it was too wet for even the farm dogs to be prowling around, she felt her way stealthily around the wall of the nearest building until she came to an open door. Inside the darkness was even blacker, but as she walked forwards carefully, her hands outstretched in front of her, she felt her feet rustle in straw – deep, dry straw. She took off her wet tunic and spread it out. Then she burrowed beneath the straw and curled up. Although she was still wet and hungry, now at least there was a little warmth. Exhausted, she was asleep in seconds.

  She awoke to the sound of rain pounding on the roof and to see daylight filtering through the wooden boards of the barn walls. Scrambling up, she struggled into her damp gym-slip. She must go; the farmer might set his dogs on her for trespassing. Opening the barn door a crack, Kate peeped out. There was no one about and she was out of the barn, into the road and running before anyone had seen her.

  It was still raining – ‘siling’ as her grandad would say. At the thought of her grandad, her spirits lifted.

  She could almost hear his voice. ‘If ya needs me, lass,’ he’d told her, ‘just send word and Ah’ll come.’

  Well, she’d do better than that; she was going to him.

  It wasn’t long before she was soaked. The wet seeped through her clothes and was cold against her skin. She walked briskly in an effort to keep warm, but the wind whipped bitingly across the rolling countryside of the Wolds and she was soon shivering. She was sure she had kept to the main road the old man had shown her but she could not find a signpost that bore the name of Suddaby.

  It was at that point that she began to be afraid she was lost.

  She was taking little running steps every so often and sobs punctuated her rapid breathing. Her head began to ache and her throat was parched; she was hot and then shivering with cold and the next moment sweating again. She looked around for a farmhouse or cottage, but the road stretched ahead through open country. There were no buildings of any kind now, only fields ploughed in neat furrows on either side as far as she could see.

  Kate began to pray. ‘Oh please, please help me . . .’

  She was so tired, her legs ached and . . . Faintly, behind her, came the sound she most wished to hear at this moment; the sound of cart-wheels – a carrier’s cart.

  ‘Oh, Grandad, Grandad,’ she sobbed thankfully. Turning, she stood watching the carrier approach, knowing what a pathetic, bedraggled creature she must appear to him. The cart slowed and she lifted her eyes to the man on the seat at the front.

  ‘Well, little maid, and what be you a’doin’ out on ya own a day like this’n?’

  It was not her grandad. If she had not been exhausted and cold and almost on the point of collapse, her common sense would have told her that it would be too much of a coincidence to even hope that it could be her grandfather. This was not his route anyway. But in her confused state, it had seemed like an answer to her prayer.

  She stood, bemused, staring up at the carrier’s wrinkled face. ‘Want a ride, young’un?’ he asked kindly. ‘Ya fair soaked and no mistake. Ain’t ya even got a coat?’

  He reached down his gnarled hand and, putting her small, cold hand into his, Kate found herself hoisted on to the seat beside him.

  The carrier reached back into his cart. ‘Here, wrap ya’sen in this.’

  Gratefully, Kate wrapped the waterproof cape around her. The carrier flicked the reins and his two horses moved forward. ‘Where be you a’goin’?’

  ‘Suddaby,’ Kate answered, speaking for the first time. Her voice was a rasping croak and it hurt her throat to speak. ‘Me grandad’s the carrier there. He . . .’

  ‘Who? Not old Will Benson?’

  Kate nodded and pulled the wrap closer around her.
Now she was not walking, she was shivering uncontrollably, and yet her head felt burning hot.

  ‘Well, dun’t that beat all! Ah knows old Will real well. Ah’ll tek you straight there, young’un, though we’ve a bit of a ride ahead of us.’

  She felt his glance upon her. ‘Should you like to ride in the back – under cover? It’d be warmer for ya.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She lay on a piece of old matting on the floor of his carrier’s cart, dozing fitfully. Real sleep was impossible for the jolting of the cart, the rattle of its wheels and the hardness of the floor. She was alternately sweating and shivering, her head ached and there was a growing tightness in her chest. Above her, pans clanged together and pots clinked with every movement.

  It seemed as if the journey would never end and then suddenly she felt the cart halt and the carrier was lifting the flap and saying, ‘We’re here, young ‘un, at ya grandad’s, but he bain’t here. He’s out on his rounds, so Mrs Raby, his neighbour, ses.’

  Kate roused and pulled herself to the back of the cart. She saw the carrier standing there and with him a tall woman with a grey bun on the top of her head. Sweat prickled her skin and she could not breathe.

  Miss Denham! Miss Denham had followed her.

  It was then that Kate began to scream.

  Their voices were rising and falling, coming and going around her. She felt herself lifted and carried and then laid on a sofa.

  ‘Poor mite – she’s ill. Ya can see that,’ came the woman’s voice.

  It was nothing like the voice of Miss Denham. There came the touch of a work-worn yet caring hand upon her forehead. That was certainly not Miss Denham. Kate sighed with thankfulness and closed her eyes. Their conversation floated around her.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Dunno, really. She ses she’s Will Benson’s granddaughter.’

  ‘Naw. Lass is ramblin’. Him an’ his wife never had no bairns, so how can he have a grandbairn?’

  ‘Dun’t ask me – ask him.’

  ‘She must be something to him, though. I’d better look after her, else Will’ll have me guts fer garters.’

  Kate shivered and drew her knees up, curling herself into a ball for warmth. The woman must have noticed for at once she began issuing orders.

  ‘Get me some kindling fer the fire an’ fill the kettle . . .’

  ‘Hang on a mo,’ came the carrier’s reproachful voice. ‘I’ve to be on me way. There’s me round to see to. I’ve come out o’ me way to bring her ‘ere as it is.’

  ‘Nathaniel Wallis, if this is some relation of Will Benson’s . . .’ The words hung in the air like a threat.

  ‘Aye, aye, all right, Millie, you win. I’d not like to get wrong side o’ Will Benson and no mistake.’ The man chuckled and Kate heard his footsteps leave the room.

  ‘Now, me little lass.’ The woman was bending over her, a rough kindness in her voice. ‘Let’s get you out o’ them wet things . . .’

  In her delirium, Kate imagined it was Mrs Eland helping her out of her wet clothes after her soaking in the sea; Danny’s mother who was sponging her face, tucking a warm blanket around her and holding a mug of warm milk to her lips.

  Then Danny would soon be home too . . .

  ‘Danny?’ she tried to ask and did not recognize her own feeble squeak of a voice.

  ‘There’s no Danny here, little lass,’ the woman said.

  Kate opened her eyes and struggled to focus them. It was not Mrs Eland. Then where . . .?

  ‘Dun’t fret. Yar – Will Benson’ll soon be home.’

  That was it, Kate thought dreamily. Her grandad. She had come to find her grandad.

  It seemed only moments later that she heard his voice and then he was there kneeling beside the sofa and stroking her head and saying, ‘Oh, me little Katie, me little girl. What have they done to ya?’ And Kate knew she was safe at last.

  She put her arms round his neck and felt his cool cheek against her hot forehead. ‘Ee lass, ya burning up.’

  ‘I’ve sponged her, Will, and made her drink, but she’s poorly. Reckon ya should get her home and tell her folks to get the doctor – ne’er mind the cost.’

  ‘Mebbe she’d better stay here . . .’

  Kate gave a whimper at his words. ‘No, Grandad. Tek me home. Please – tek me home!’

  ‘All right, lass, all right.’ He turned to the woman. ‘She’ll be all right if we wrap her warm in blankets, won’t she?’

  ‘Well . . .’ The woman hesitated, reluctant to take responsibility, but as Kate’s eyes filled with tears she said, ‘I reckon she’ll mek ’ersen worse fretting if you dun’t tek her home, Will.’

  Kate closed her eyes with thankfulness. Soon, soon she would be home. Above her, she heard the woman ask, ‘Just who is she, Will? She ses she’s yar grand-daughter. I thought she must be rambling, but now I ain’t so sure.’

  ‘You mind ya business, Millie Raby, and let me mind mine,’ came her grandfather’s sharp reply.

  ‘Oh, sorry I spoke, I’m sure. After I’ve looked after the little lass most o’ the afternoon an’ all.’

  Will sniffed and muttered gruffly, ‘I’m sorry, Millie, I meant nowt. But I’m fair worried about her. She’s ill. And I’d like to lay me ‘ands on who’s cut all her lovely hair off. That Ah would!’

  Millie Raby’s curiosity overcame her pique. ‘So you do know her then?’

  ‘Aye, I do,’ Will said shortly and then added, ‘She is me grand-daughter. She’s Esther Everatt’s daughter.’

  Mrs Raby gave a gasp of surprise. ‘Esther . . . Well, I nivver! Esther Everatt! Esther’s bastard, is she?’

  ‘No, she’s not,’ Will’s voice thundered, almost shaking the sofa where Kate lay. ‘Esther was married a good year afore this little lass was born.’

  ‘Well, I was just remembering about Esther an’ how she left this village all sudden-like . . .’

  ‘Well, ya can stop remembering and putting two and two together and mekin’ five. Help me get the lass into me cart. I’m tekin’ her home where she belongs. An’ this time she’ll stay there, else Ah’ll know the reason why!’

  The woman gave a low chuckle. ‘Well, Will Benson, they ses as how ya reap what ya sow. It looks to me as if ya wild oats from years back have brought you a bitter harvest.’

  ‘That’s where ya wrong, Millie Raby. Wild oats I might ‘a sown, but if this little lass is me harvest I couldn’t have asked for a greater blessing.’

  Kate heard the words of their strange conversation but in her weakened state had no way of knowing if it was all part of her delirium. She was only blissfully aware that her grandfather was here and she was safe, and that he was picking her up tenderly and laying her in blankets in the back of his cart.

  ‘Thank ’ee, Millie. Ah’ll not forget ya help this day.’

  ‘Eh, Will . . .’ Kate saw the woman put her hand on his arm for a moment. ‘We’ve been neighbours for more years than I care to remember, and I know I’m a nosey old beezum,’ she cackled with laughter at the insult to herself, ‘but ya secret’s safe with me, I promise.’

  Through the haze of her drowsiness, Kate heard her grandfather’s chuckle. ‘Aye, ya not such a bad old stick at that, Millie Raby.’

  ‘Get away wi’ ya and get yon lass home.’

  This time, despite the rattling of the cart and warm and cosy in a mound of blankets, Kate did sleep, only rousing now and then to call to her grandfather. ‘Are we there yet, Grandad?’

  ‘Not far, lass, not far now.’

  ‘Is Danny there, Grandad?’

  A pause and then he answered, ‘Aye, Danny’ll be there.’

  ‘I can’t eat the gooseberries, Grandad. Dun’t mek me eat the gooseberries.’

  ‘What’s that you say, lass, I dun’t understand you . . .?’

  Kate was asleep again and the next time she awoke she could hear the sea. It was her whelk shell. She was hearing the sea in her shell – the shell Danny had given her. She felt for the pock
et of her coat. But she was not wearing her coat.

  ‘Me shell, Grandad. I’ve lost me shell. Isobel’s got me shell . . .’

  But now she could smell the salt air and hear the waves across the marsh. It wasn’t her shell. It was real.

  Then Kate knew she was home.

  Will himself carried her from his carrier’s cart and into the farmhouse, straight up the stairs and into her own bedroom. Tenderly he laid her on her bed. Her mother and stepfather followed, bewildered and anxious.

  ‘Oh Katie, my darling girl.’ Her mother was bending over her, caressing her with gentle, loving hands.

  ‘Mam, dun’t be angry, dun’t send me back. I dun’t mind if you love Lilian more, but please dun’t make me go back.’ Then Kate began to cough, a tearing sound from deep in her chest.

  Her mother’s voice was a frantic whisper. ‘Dear Lord! What has happened to her? She’s so thin and who’s cut her hair?’

  ‘Now listen to me, Esther,’ Kate heard her grandfather say, ‘this lass stays put and if you try to send her away again, ya’ll have me to answer to.’

  Kate looked up into her mother’s face and felt her hand upon her forehead. ‘Ya needn’t worry, Dad,’ Esther was saying. ‘But someone’ll answer for this. Oh yes, someone will definitely have to answer me a few questions.’

  ‘Mam – I haven’t got to go back, have I?’

  ‘No, my love, dun’t fret. Ya never going back there.’

  Kate closed her eyes. The sound of their voices came and went and she felt herself undressed and put between the sheets with hot bricks wrapped in cloth placed at her feet and on either side of her. As she began to sweat the fever out, she fretted no more. She was home for good. Her mother had promised.

  And for all Esther Godfrey’s strictness, she never broke her promises.

  Eleven

  She was having strange dreams; she was trying to run but her feet were like lead, her heart was thudding in her chest and she couldn’t move. Then it felt as if someone at the end of her bed was lifting her legs.