by Val Wood
‘Jane’ll not want to go,’ Jack said. ‘She wants to stop in Welwick.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ Joseph retorted. ‘But she won’t have any say in the matter. Anyway’ – he shrugged dismissively – ‘it’s nothing to do with us. She’s the responsibility of Welwick parish. I noticed that one of the Suffolks was walking lame,’ he said, abruptly changing the subject.
‘Aye, sir. He is. I’ve tekken him off heavy work. He’s got a corn on one of his front feet. Must have had a stone wedged under his shoe. There’s three of ’em due for shoeing so I’ve asked ’farrier to call.’
Joseph nodded. He couldn’t fault Terrison’s work, but he always felt uneasy with him. It’s a personal thing, he mused. He always seemed to be around when I was seeing Mary-Ellen, and here he is again telling me about Susannah. Once again he wondered if Terrison had guessed at the relationship. And what if he has? he asked himself. Does it matter any more? But it did matter, for he hadn’t told Arlette about Mary-Ellen or their child. After Susannah ran away, there seemed to be no point.
He had searched for her. He’d taken time away from the estate, telling his parents that he had to find her and would bring her back. His father was relieved, he knew, when his search had proved fruitless. He had enquired at the cotton mills in Hull and spoken directly to one of the directors, Martin Newmarch, who personally looked through his list of workers to ascertain if anyone of Susannah’s age had joined them. There were several, but none matched her description.
He had stayed in Hull for several days, visiting inns, hostelries and factories, for he couldn’t think where else she might be employed. Finally and reluctantly, he informed the police and asked them to keep a lookout for her. They asked what relation she was to him, and when he hesitated he saw the cynicism in their expressions. ‘She’s an orphan,’ he had explained, ‘and lives with her aunt, who is worried about her.’ But he knew that they would do nothing. There were more pressing matters in this busy town than a runaway girl.
But now! Hedon! Was it possible that she had been in that small market town all the time? Practically under my nose! He often visited the Hedon cattle markets; was a member of the Holderness Agricultural Society and attended the meetings held in the Sun Inn in the town, though he had never had occasion to visit the Fleet.
How can I investigate without her suspecting me? Will she recognize me after five years? She might, for I won’t have changed as much as her; still, she didn’t see me often, so perhaps she won’t remember me. She’ll be a young woman now, he thought wistfully, and no longer a child. He decided to wait a while, though instinct urged him to go immediately. He grew a beard, which like his eyebrows grew darker than his hair, and within two weeks was thick and brown and curly.
Arlette grumbled at him. ‘You look so much older,’ she told him. ‘And like a tramp! You must cut it shorter and neater, as Frenchmen do.’
‘All the more reason to grow it longer,’ he protested. ‘I don’t want to look like a Frenchie!’ He shrugged. ‘It’s irritating having to shave every day, but if it gets too hot I’ll take it off.’
She offered him a wager that it wouldn’t last more than a month and he grinned. This was probably the only bet she would ever win from him, for he had no intention of remaining bearded.
The following week he travelled into Hedon for one of the agricultural meetings, but drove in by horse and trap rather than taking the train. He crossed the bridge which ran over the waterway and glanced up it, but continued into Hedon and attended the first half of the meeting. Then he gave his apologies and left before dinner was brought in. He collected his horse from the stables and a lad brought out his trap from the cart shed. The boy hitched up for him and Joseph gave him a coin for his trouble and set off for the Fleet Inn.
The rough track up which it lay was well used by wheeled traffic and by foot, and he surmised that the inn had probably been popular in the past, but had now been left behind in the growth of the town. He mused on whether it was named after the ancient Hedon Fleet, an important water boundary of the town which had flowed into the Haven Basin. He drove beneath an archway, and in a grassy area beyond the yard a young woman with her back to him was hanging washing on a line. She was of medium height and wore a plain cotton gown, and her hair was tied in the nape of her neck.
Is it her? he wondered. He ducked his head as he went through the low doorway and wrinkled his nose appreciatively at the aroma of cooking.
‘Good day to you, sir.’ An elderly woman greeted him. ‘You’ve brought some good weather with you today.’
‘Indeed! It’s quite hot. Just the day for a glass of cool ale!’ He took off his hat. His hair was long and he ran his fingers through it, glancing round as he did so and noting the polished counter and shining brassware, the scrubbed floorboards and general air of cleanliness in spite of the obvious age of the hostelry.
‘You can have that and welcome.’ She beamed. ‘I’ve not seen you in here afore, sir?’
‘No, you have not, though I’m often in Hedon. It was recommended that I try your excellent ale.’
‘Then I’ll just fetch Mr Brewster,’ she said. ‘He knows best how to draw it. He’s just brought in a fresh cask.’ She went to the door of what he assumed was their kitchen and called his name. ‘He’ll not be a minute, sir. Won’t you tek a seat?’
‘Thank you.’ He sat down on a bench, with his back to a window. ‘Could I by chance have something to eat? A sandwich or a piece of pie?’
‘Beef sandwich or meat and tatie pie?’ she said. ‘Pie’s fresh baked this morning.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll have, if you please. Your own home cooking, is it? Or brought in from the baker?’
‘All home cooked, sir. My niece made it,’ she told him. ‘She’s got a right good hand for pastry. Got to be kept cool, you know.’
‘Ah!’ he said. ‘That I didn’t know.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘Good cooks are hard to come by, I do believe.’
Mr Brewster pulled him a tankard of ale straight from the cask and Joseph drank appreciatively. ‘Excellent!’ he said. ‘Have you ever brewed your own?’
‘Aye, a long time ago,’ Mr Brewster said. ‘There’s no need nowadays. Plenty o’ companies making good beer. There’s a brewery right here in Hedon. But ’secret is in ’storing and drawing. Got to get that right.’
‘Do you keep busy?’ Joseph glanced towards the partly open door behind the counter. ‘Trade good?’
‘Aye, not bad,’ Mr Brewster conceded. ‘But we’re a bit far out o’ town and don’t have amenities like ’hostelries in Hedon, though folks like to tek a walk on a fine day.’
‘So, just you and your wife to manage it?’ Joseph nodded. ‘Good! That saves on the expense of staff.’
‘Oh, we’ve no staff!’ Mr Brewster exclaimed. ‘No need of any, now we’ve got Susannah. She can turn her hand to most things. Even knows how to draw ale.’ He grinned.
Mrs Brewster came in with his pie in a brown glazed dish brimming with thick onion gravy. She set it on a nearby table. ‘Your Susannah’s obviously a pearl if she can bake a pie like this and pull a glass of ale,’ Joseph said heartily, and licked his lips as the aroma hit his nostrils.
‘That she is,’ Mrs Brewster said. ‘Don’t know how we ever managed wi’out her.’
He ate the pie and finished his drink, but the girl didn’t appear, and eventually he rose from the table and tapped on the counter to pay. Mrs Brewster bustled in.
‘Trust all was in order, sir.’
‘It was excellent,’ he said. ‘My compliments to your niece.’
‘I’ll tell her, sir.’ Mrs Brewster beamed. ‘She’s busy at ’minute, washing everything she can lay her hands on while ’weather’s good.’
He smiled and, complimenting her once more, said goodbye. He put on his hat and went out, disappointed that he hadn’t been able to see the girl. But it couldn’t be his Susannah, if they said she was a niece. It was just a coincidence. Terrison must have hear
d her name and mistakenly put two and two together.
The door into the private part of the house gave onto the courtyard. It was propped open and he could hear someone singing. He climbed into the trap and was about to shake the reins to move off when the girl came out of the door. She had a wash basket balanced on her hip and she looked across towards him and smiled.
He put his hand to his head, his arm shielding half of his face. He raised his hat but didn’t remove it completely. His heart thudded. It was Susannah.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Two months later, Mr and Mrs Brewster received a letter from Mr Watson, a Hedon solicitor, asking if they would be good enough to call and see him at their convenience, but suggesting a time and day.
‘Why ever does he want to see us, Mr Brewster?’ Mrs Brewster said on reading it. ‘We’ve nowt to discuss with any lawyer, and especially not him, for he’s not a Hedon man. He’s from Preston!’
Mr Brewster shook his head, quite perplexed.
‘Perhaps it’s something to do with one of your nieces?’ Susannah suggested. ‘A reference required or something like that.’
‘Bless you, child.’ Aunt Brewster chuckled. ‘We don’t have any nieces. It was just a little joke we used to have if anyone wanted to come and stay. At one time, you see, tavern keepers weren’t allowed to have guests to stay overnight, but ’licensing laws have been changed since then. Not that we’ve got room now that you’re living with us.’
‘You mean to say that you’ve no nieces at all?’ Susannah said, astonished.
‘Onny you, m’dear.’ The old lady smiled and Uncle Brewster nodded in agreement.
Susannah laughed. ‘But I’m not really your niece!’
‘As good as,’ Aunt Brewster said. ‘We couldn’t wish for better.’
‘You’re so good to me,’ Susannah said in a sudden flurry of emotion. ‘I really feel as if you are my aunt and uncle.’
Uncle Brewster patted her head as he passed her. ‘I thought we were! Anyway, can you cope on your own here if we go to see this lawyer fella? We’d best see what it’s about.’
She said she could and a few days later Mr and Mrs Brewster set out for the solicitor’s office. Mrs Brewster wore her Sunday bonnet and coat, and Mr Brewster was spruced up in his cord breeches and a tweed jacket which he told Susannah was brand new.
‘That it is,’ his wife said. ‘Thirty years ago. I well remember us choosing ’cloth, and ’tailor cutting it to fit. It’s done you proud, Mr Brewster; you must have worn it all of three times.’
‘Aye, and this’ll be ’fourth,’ he said. ‘I’ll be wearing it out at this rate.’
Freddie called to see her whilst they were out. He had done as Susannah had suggested, and had come to stay at the Sun Inn where he worked on his books every morning and took a walk every afternoon. Susannah joined him whenever she felt able to without inconveniencing the Brewsters.
‘I can’t come out today, Freddie,’ she told him. ‘I’m in sole charge! Uncle and Aunt Brewster have gone out on some kind of legal business.’
‘Then I’ll stay and talk to you until they come back,’ he said. ‘Perhaps they’re making a will, and leaving everything to you.’
‘No,’ she said, amused. ‘I don’t think they have anything much, though I’ve only just learned that they don’t have any nieces after all! They’ve no living relatives left.’
‘So there you are.’ He smiled. ‘That’s what they are doing.’
‘No,’ she said again. ‘Mr Watson wrote to them, asking them to call.’
‘Mr Watson? William Watson? He took over Mr Iveson’s practice. My father knows him.’
‘Aunt Brewster says he’s not a Hedon man, he’s from ’village of Preston, so she doesn’t want to deal with him.’ Susannah laughed.
Several farm labourers came in for ale and a plate of beef and bread and Susannah served them whilst Freddie sat in a corner with a book in his hand. She made a pot of coffee and gave a cup to Freddie, and then some people came in who said they were walking down to the Haven and on to the riverside village of Paull. The men asked for ale but the women, smelling the coffee, asked if they might have that and a ham sandwich.
When they had gone and there was just a solitary local man left, Freddie complimented Susannah. ‘You would do very well running an inn or an hotel,’ he said. ‘You’re quick and efficient, and it seems that nothing is too much trouble for you.’
‘I enjoy it,’ she said. ‘As a matter of fact, Aunt Brewster said ’same thing: that I’d make an innkeeper. What do you think, Freddie? When the Brewsters leave here – and there’ll come a time when they’ll be too old to run the Fleet – I shall have to think of my future and what kind of work I should do.’
He gazed at her for a moment, and then anxiously chewed on his lip. ‘I – erm, it won’t be for ages, though, will it?’ He caught hold of her hand, and, conscious of the lone drinker, whispered, ‘You wouldn’t go far away, would you, Susannah? I couldn’t bear to think you would leave the area.’
She too glanced at the other occupant, a regular, steadily drinking from his tankard and reading a newspaper. She gave a little shrug. ‘I’d have to go where there was work. I’ve been so lucky—’ She broke off, interrupted by the Brewsters’ returning. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Yes.’ They both seemed rather flustered. ‘It’s, erm, a bit complicated like,’ Mr Brewster said. ‘We’ve a few things to think on.’
They both went off to change their clothes, but Mrs Brewster came back within a minute to ask Freddie, ‘Will your pa be coming to join you, Mr Freddie?’
‘In a day or two, yes, he said he would.’
‘Good.’ Mrs Brewster looked relieved. ‘We might want a word wi’ him about summat.’
Later that afternoon, Susannah and Freddie went for a walk. He put his arm round her waist and she did the same with him. ‘Susannah,’ he said, after a few minutes’ silence. ‘I shall be at university for a few years yet, and dependent on my father. But I wanted to tell you how much I care for you – have always cared for you.’
She looked up at him, ‘I know,’ she said, smiling. ‘And I care for you too, Freddie.’
He squeezed her closer. ‘And when you said about looking for work elsewhere and I thought of losing you—’
‘It wouldn’t be for ages,’ she said softly. ‘But I can’t depend on ’Brewsters for ever. They’re old and I have no-one else. I have to look to my own future – there’s no-one else to do it for me. No father, no mother.’
‘I’d like to look after you, Susannah,’ he said. ‘I do love you.’
‘Do you?’ she said, gazing at him. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he said fondly. ‘Really.’
‘I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me before.’ Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. ‘At least, no-one has ever said that they did. I suppose my mother would have done, but she died giving birth to me, and perhaps Aunt Lol did, but she wouldn’t have said so.’
‘What about your father?’ he asked. ‘Do you remember him? What happened to him?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know who he is or was. He might still be alive for all I know, but if he is, then he doesn’t want to know about his daughter.’
‘Scoundrel!’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘How could he be so unfeeling? If I had children I would always cherish and protect them.’
She smiled tenderly. ‘I’m sure you would, Freddie, but then you are so kind-hearted.’
‘It leads me into trouble sometimes,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t like to hurt anyone, and – well, I’m having a little trouble with Maria. You remember, the daughter of my mother’s friend?’
‘Yes, I remember you telling me about her.’
‘Well, she’s very possessive,’ he said with a sour expression. ‘And she always expects that I’ll fall in with her plans. You’ve no idea what a fuss she made when I said I was coming to Hedon to study. She complained to her mother and then to my fathe
r and said how inconsiderate I was, and that I should have been spending time with her as she hadn’t seen me during term time.’
They stopped to watch a kingfisher on the bank and then continued walking. ‘She has this idea that she and I – well, it’s her mother’s fault really, as she told Maria that when we were small my mother and she used to plan that Maria and I would wed! I’ve told her that it’s nonsense, of course, but she will keep on about it.’
Susannah felt a cold shiver run down her spine. ‘So, are you promised to her?’ she whispered.
‘No!’ he said vehemently. ‘I am not. But she thinks I am! How can I get out of this position, Susannah? Without hurting her, I mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘Could you not speak to her mother, or your father – explain to them that you’ve no wish to marry her?’
‘Not to her mother!’ he said. ‘She frightens me to death! When I was young I was glad to go away to school just to be away from her. She’s so domineering, and I’m afraid that Maria will turn out to be the same.’
‘You must be strong, Freddie,’ Susannah said gently. ‘Speak to your father and tell him that you don’t want to marry Maria, and perhaps he’ll explain it to her mother.’
‘What a namby-pamby you must think me, Susannah,’ he said ruefully. ‘It’s so good to be with you. I feel as if I can be myself, say what is on my mind, and that you won’t judge me.’
‘I won’t,’ she assured him. ‘But you must stand up for yourself or else you’ll only find unhappiness.’
Even as she spoke, she wondered if she would have stood up to Wilf Topham’s behaviour if Aunt Jane hadn’t suggested she run away. Would I have stayed and been browbeaten – or even beaten in the true sense of the word?
‘There’s plenty of time,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to make a decision yet. You’ve to finish at university first, and Maria might transfer her affections elsewhere in the meantime.’
