The Innkeeper's Daughter

by Val Wood

  ‘Not I.’ Jamie put his hand to his chest and then indicated Mary, who was standing beside him. ‘But my sister …’

  ‘Ah!’ Joe nodded and opened the door, closing it behind him.

  Mary looked up at Jamie. ‘He’s a very strange man,’ she whispered. ‘Is he a man or a boy?’

  ‘About my age, I think,’ he whispered back.

  Joe came back a minute later. ‘She’s just coming,’ he said, and went back to his position behind the counter.

  They waited a few minutes and then the door opened again and Bella came out. She looked startled when she saw Jamie and he guessed that her brother hadn’t told her who it was who wanted to see her.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Lucan.’ Bella gave a bob of her knee. ‘Very nice to see you. Have you had a good Christmas?’

  Jamie gave her a slight bow. ‘Very pleasant, thank you. This is my sister, Mary,’ he said. ‘We’ve been out riding and found ourselves in the vicinity. Mary is rather cold and I wondered if we could avail ourselves of your hospitality. Do you have another room where we might get warm and have a little refreshment?’

  ‘Of course.’ Bella gave another bob of her knee to Mary, who reciprocated with a nod of her head. ‘Please, come into the snug. There’s a good fire burning in there.’ She smiled at Mary and led the way out of the taproom, down a corridor and into a small room where, as she had said, a fire was blazing in the grate.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like a cup of chocolate to warm you, Miss Mary? Or hot lemonade, and maybe a piece of cake?’

  Mary’s eyes widened. ‘I’d like a cup of chocolate, please, and’ – she looked up at her brother – ‘is it all right if I have cake, Jamie?’

  ‘Yes, of course. That will be a treat. So, chocolate, two slices of cake and—’

  ‘A glass of the usual?’ Bella finished for him.

  ‘Thank you, Bella.’ Jamie flushed slightly, knowing that Mary would pick up on the inadvertent familiarity, which she did as soon as Bella had left the room.

  ‘How does she know what you like to drink?’ she whispered. ‘How does she remember if you only call occasionally? And her name is the same as the one we chose for my new doll!’

  ‘The name that Father chose,’ Jamie reminded her. ‘And innkeepers have to recall their customers’ names, even if they only call now and again – as I do,’ he added. ‘It shows that …’ What, he thought, what does it show? ‘Erm, that their custom is important to them.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Mary said. ‘Names are so important, aren’t they?’

  Jamie sighed, unfastened his coat and took it off. ‘Very important,’ he agreed. ‘Would you like to take off your cloak, Mary? It’s very warm in here.’

  ‘Are we staying?’ she said, unfastening the buttons. ‘Is it all right to do so?’

  ‘It’s perfectly all right,’ James declared, blaming Miss Lane for teaching Mary the perplexing rules of etiquette. ‘We are not calling, as in calling on acquaintances. We have come for refreshments; therefore you may take your cloak off.’

  ‘I see,’ she said again, and put her cloak down and wriggled on to a chair. ‘This is nice, isn’t it? It’s a very cosy little room. I didn’t know about inns and such places. I’ve never been inside one before. I suppose it isn’t something that ladies can do on their own, is it? They would always have to have a gentleman with them.’

  Jamie too sat down and considered, and then said, ‘I suppose if a lady were travelling with a maid, then it would be all right.’ He briefly wondered whether to explain about the class of people who could call at an inn without having to think whether or not it was proper to do so, but decided that the subject was far too complicated for him to venture into, and that as Mary was not likely to come again, it wasn’t necessary.

  How difficult it is, he thought; this is something that Mama would have taught Frances and Mary, and she wouldn’t have been quite so straitlaced or narrow-minded as prim and proper Miss Lane must necessarily be when teaching other people’s daughters.

  Bella came into the room carrying a tray and through force of habit Jamie stood up.

  ‘Miss Thorp,’ Mary piped up, and Jamie wondered uneasily what she was going to say.

  Bella raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes, miss?’

  ‘I just wanted to tell you that Jamie bought me a doll for Christmas; we’ve called her Bella which is the same as your name. Father told us that it means beautiful. Did you know that?’

  A rosy blush crept up Bella’s cheeks. ‘Erm – no, miss, I didn’t.’

  ‘Well, I think it a well-chosen name; don’t you, Jamie?’

  Jamie glanced from his sister to Bella; he swallowed and then the corners of his mouth turned up. ‘Yes,’ he said throatily. ‘I do.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BELLA DIDN’T QUITE know where to look and so concentrated on placing the cup of chocolate and the glass of mild on the table and serving the cake.

  Mary had no such inhibitions and chatted on. ‘Her hair isn’t as nice as yours,’ she said. ‘My doll’s, I mean, because she hasn’t got real hair. I expect it is horsehair because it’s stiff and prickly, like the inside of a sofa, you know, and not as thick or shiny as yours. Did you have a doll when you were a child, Miss Thorp?’

  Bella was about to answer when Jamie butted in. ‘That’s enough, Mary. Your tongue is running away with you and it’s very rude to discuss personal matters. Drink your chocolate.’

  ‘It’s too hot,’ Mary protested, ‘and I only asked—’ She stopped when she saw Jamie’s expression and sat back in the chair and folded her hands on her lap.

  Bella gave a sudden laugh and her eyes shone. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Your sister is like mine, Mr Lucan. Nell’s always asking questions and after all we don’t get answers if we don’t ask, do we, Miss Mary?’

  ‘How old is your sister?’ Mary asked. ‘I’m eight, nearly nine.’

  ‘Nell is eleven.’

  ‘And does she go away to school? Jamie thinks that my sister Frances and I should.’

  Bella turned to look at Jamie. ‘And what does your mother say? She’d surely miss you.’

  There was a momentary silence and Mary’s lips parted.

  ‘Sadly, our mother died over three years ago,’ Jamie said quietly.

  ‘Oh, I’m – so sorry,’ Bella faltered. ‘It must’ve been very hard for you.’

  Jamie nodded. ‘It was.’

  After adding another piece of coal to the fire and saying that they must let her know if they wanted anything further, Bella left them to their refreshment.

  Mary sipped her chocolate and nibbled the cake, and then whispered, ‘Is she a servant?’

  ‘To whom are you referring, Mary?’ Jamie said, more sharply than he intended.

  ‘Bella,’ she said. ‘Miss Thorp. I don’t know how to address her. She’s just put coal on the fire and that’s why I wondered if she were a servant.’

  ‘She lives here; her mother is the innkeeper so she is not a servant.’ Jamie was beginning to regret having come to the Woodman. Mary could keep on questioning for days, never letting a subject drop if she found it interesting; and, he thought, if his father should hear of it, it might prove awkward. But he could not ask Mary not to say anything, as she would smell intrigue when there was none.

  ‘Drink up,’ he said. ‘We mustn’t stay too long. We must get home before dark.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said seriously. ‘Or else we might have to ask the innkeeper’s daughter for a room.’

  When she had finished he went to pay the bill and then came and helped Mary on with her cloak. Bella came through to say goodbye. ‘You can come this way,’ she said. ‘This door leads to the stable yard.’

  They stepped outside to a sharp blast of icy wind and hurried across to the stable. A boy was whistling as he stacked wood into a wheelbarrow. He looked up and, on seeing Jamie, said, ‘I’m not pinching it. Mrs Thorp said I could tek some and bring ’barrow back tomorrow.’

  Jamie shrugge
d, unconcerned. ‘We’ve come to collect our horses.’

  ‘Are they yours, sir?’ Seth said enthusiastically. ‘I’ve just stroked ’em. They’re in fine fettle. Whose is little ’un?’

  ‘Mine,’ Mary interrupted. ‘And she’s not little. She’s full size!’

  Seth turned round and his mouth opened and then closed. Then he took off his cap and stared.

  ‘What are you looking at, boy?’ Mary lifted up her chin and gazed back at him.

  Seth opened his mouth again, touched his forehead as if he’d forgotten he’d taken off his cap, and stammered, ‘Beg pardon, miss. Wh— Are you a princess – or an angel or summat?’

  Mary let out a peal of laughter and Jamie hid a smile; she was so obviously flattered even by the attention of this ragged-looking boy in thin and cut-down clothing.

  ‘Of course I’m not,’ she mocked. ‘How ridiculous! Who are you?’

  ‘Seth Walker, miss. I live in ’village. Mrs Thorp said I could ’ave some wood for ’fire. We’ve onny got green left and it won’t burn.’

  Mary turned to Jamie. ‘What did he say? I didn’t understand him.’

  ‘Green wood,’ Jamie explained. ‘It won’t burn on a fire.’ He put his hand in his pocket and said to Seth, ‘Will you untether the horses for me and bring them out into the yard? Mind they don’t shy at the barrow.’

  Seth seemed to give himself a mental shake, and putting his cap back on his head he shifted the barrow into a corner. Clicking his tongue softly, he went into the stall and unfastened Mary’s pony and brought it out, handing the reins to Jamie, then went back and brought out Bonny.

  ‘There you are, sir,’ he said. ‘I hope as you ’ave a good journey ’ome.’ He tipped his cap, and turned to Mary. ‘You do look like a princess, miss, even if you’re not. I once see’d a picture of one in a book an’ she looked just like you; right bonny and wi’ fair hair and blue eyes just like you’ve got.’

  Mary flushed, but she didn’t laugh this time; instead her cheeks dimpled and she looked at Seth from beneath lowered lashes. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  Jamie held out his hand and gave Seth sixpence. ‘Thank you for your help,’ he said. ‘Hadn’t you better be getting home before dark?’

  ‘Pleasure, sir, thank you. Aye, I’ll get off now. My ma’ll be right pleased wi’ me when I tek wood home ’n’ sixpence as well.’

  ‘Won’t you keep it?’ Mary asked from astride her pony. ‘It was meant for you.’

  Seth grinned. ‘No, miss. I’d rather see ’smile on my ma’s face when she knows she can buy some bread in ’morning.’ He tipped his cap again and turned back into the stable.

  ‘Come along then, Mary,’ Jamie urged her as she sat looking towards the stable as if she was listening to Seth’s whistling. ‘Let’s head for home.’

  ‘What about that, eh, Bella?’ Joe leaned on the counter and grinned. ‘Bringing ’family to meet you, eh?’

  Bella gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I wish you wouldn’t be so ridiculous, Joe. They were out this way and called for refreshment, that’s all, and spent good money,’ she added. ‘You should be pleased about that; and keep your voice down. Don’t discuss one customer in front of others.’

  Joe gave a sneering laugh from the corner of his mouth. ‘They’re not listening,’ he said. ‘Too busy concentrating on winning a ha’penny. Isn’t that right, lads?’

  One of the four men at the table looked up and said, ‘What?’

  ‘You see!’ Joe said. ‘Lost to ’world o’ doms. Tek over for a minute, will you? I need ’privy.’

  Bella nodded and took his place behind the counter. ‘Are you all right for ale, gentlemen?’ she called to the men. ‘Would you like another jug?’

  Another of the domino players looked up. ‘Aye, please, Bella. We could be parched in ’desert an’ yon lad never thinks of asking; he onny ever fills his own glass.’

  Bella frowned as she filled up a clean jug. What did Joe do with his time behind the counter? The slop tray needed rinsing and there were several dirty glasses on the wet counter.

  She put on a smile as she removed the empty jug and put down the full one, being careful not to touch the line of tiles.

  ‘I’m knocking,’ said one man and turned and winked at Bella. ‘I’ll pour.’

  Another one nodded. ‘Aye, me too. Just give us half, Amos. I’ll have to be off in a minute, or my missis’ll give me what for.’

  The others guffawed and then another declared he was blocked and couldn’t continue, and Bella left them to discuss the whys and wherefores of the game and count the scores.

  She collected the used glasses and tankards and noticed as she picked up one glass that it smelled of spirit. She sniffed at it. Brandy! Who had had that? Not the men who were here now; they only ever drank ale, and Johnson who had been in earlier did the same and he always used the same tankard, which was still waiting to be washed. Mr Lucan? Had Joe served him a glass of brandy? But no, she had cleared the snug of the cup that had held the chocolate and the glass that had held mild.

  There had been no one else in as far as she knew. It had been a quiet day; there would be more customers that evening, coming in late and celebrating the New Year. Routinely, she looked up at the shelves where the bottles of spirits were kept and drew an involuntary breath. The brandy bottle was almost empty and the whisky contained perhaps two measures.

  The door opened and Joe came back carrying three bottles, one of brandy, one gin and one whisky. ‘I’ve brought these up. We might need ’em tonight,’ he said breezily. ‘Folk like to celebrate on New Year’s Eve.’

  Bella nodded. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘They certainly do.’

  After they had closed for the afternoon, Joe said he was going to take a nap on his bed as they were bound to be busy that evening. Bella agreed that he should, wryly wondering why that wasn’t an option for her. Nell had gone to her room and their mother, having fed Henry, was dozing in a chair by the range with the sleeping child on her lap.

  Bella gently lifted Henry and placed him in his cot and then took the cellar key from its hook on the mantelpiece and quietly left the room.

  As she unlocked the cellar door she gave a reflective shiver; coming down the stone steps always affected her as she recalled finding their father there after he had collapsed. A lamp was burning on the stairs and she thought how careless Joe had been to leave it lit. Their father had always been fastidious about turning down lamps and snuffing out candles in the inn rooms and the cellar.

  ‘There’d be a fine old blaze,’ Bella recalled him saying, ‘if these casks and bottles should go up in flames; folk would get drunk on ’vapour.’

  They kept one cask each of brandy and whisky and two of gin, from which they filled the bottles they used in the inn.

  She turned up the lamp to get a better light and took it down with her, lifting it to see the shelves where the bottles of wine and spirits were kept. There were five bottles of spirit. Joe had taken up three, and when she had checked the previous week there had been ten.

  So we’ve used two bottles since Christmas. She felt a sense of relief. That’ll be about right. There were more customers buying brandy and whisky than usual on Christmas Eve and we made punch, and used brandy and whisky in the spice cakes and mince pies, and in the sauce for our Christmas pudding. She felt slightly ashamed that she had harboured doubts about Joe’s drinking away the profit, until, on glancing down, she noticed a small damp spot on the floor beneath the tap on the brandy cask.

  She put her finger beneath the tap. It was wet and she put her finger to her tongue and tasted the brandy. It’s onny just been used. Why? Was the tap leaking? But then there would have been a puddle on the floor, not just a damp spot. But why would Joe turn on the tap to fill another bottle when there were enough? She looked up again at the shelves which stretched into the furthest corners of the cellar, and lifting the lamp higher she saw a single bottle without a label on the top shelf.

  Bella put down the
lamp and reached up but couldn’t quite stretch high enough. She looked round for something to stand on and beneath the shelves saw the old wooden stool they had used when they were children. I’ve wondered where that had got to, she thought, and stepped on to it and reached down the bottle.

  She unscrewed the top and sniffed, confirming her worst fears. Brandy! Presumably Joe’s secret supply! She recalled her father saying there was nothing worse than a drunken landlord – and what had Amos said only today? That Joe didn’t ask what the customers wanted but only filled up his own glass. What should she do? Confront Joe? Tell her mother? Or ask William if she was imagining a problem when there wasn’t one? He would tell her straight; he would confirm whether she was right or wrong; endorse what she believed to be true – that her eldest brother was a drinker – or tell her that she had misconstrued the situation and should grow up. That’s what she would do: as soon as William came home from work she would ask him if she was right and a complete fool for not noticing before they had a troublesome situation on their hands.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WILLIAM WAS EXHAUSTED when he arrived home from work; he was also wet through, cold and shivery.

  ‘I’ve been in blazing heat all day,’ he sniffled, taking off his soaking jacket. ‘And then when I came outside it was blowing a blizzard. Snow’s three feet deep out there!’

  ‘Nivver,’ Joe said from the comfort of an easy chair by the fire. ‘It’s nivver snowing that much.’

  ‘Shift over,’ William said, ‘and look out of ’window if you don’t believe me. And it’s freezing. I feel as if I’ll nivver get warm again.’

  Bella observed William anxiously. He was shivering violently.

  ‘Shall I do you a mustard bath, William? That’ll get you warm.’

  ‘Aye, please.’ William pulled a protesting Joe from the chair and sat down in his place and took off his boots and socks. ‘And some soup or summat to warm me up. Where’s Ma?’