The Boy in the Dark

by June Wilson

  Ellie felt her hackles rise. She didn’t have time to be dealing with dangerous fools. She was about to cast off the glamour when Soren saved her the trouble.

  “Enough!” he snapped the man’s hand back and he screeched in pain, the knife tumbling at Orla’s feet. “Since when did we treat strangers with such menace? We asked our question and it has been answered. And as Yeoman, I take this woman at her word.”

  Ellie looked at him approvingly. He was a giant of a man, with an open face and a thick red beard. And with some Intuition, it seemed.

  “My thanks, Yeoman Soren,” she said, giving him proper title. “I am sorry for your troubles and will help if I can. I am, as you see, a woman of the woods. If harm has been done I may catch Sight of it, if the Gods be willing.”

  She was gratified to see the Yeoman’s cohorts flinch at her words. The Sight was respected but feared too. If Soren had any sense he would accept her offer.

  “Then Freya be thanked for sending you to us at this time.” Soren gestured at the stretch of forest behind him. “The children were last seen playing in these woods. If there is anything you can tell us – anything at all – my village will be forever in your debt.”

  They’d heard rumours about missing children in the previous village too. And Stanor had mentioned a missing child in the human world. Ellie didn’t need the Sight to tell her there might be a link. “I will help you search,” she said. “Tell me the children’s names, so that I might feel their presence.”

  “Thank you, wise woman.” Soren inclined his head, as was proper now they’d established their respective roles. “I will escort you. Finn will take your daughter back to our village, where my wife will bid her welcome.” Soren signaled to the cudgel-wielding Finn, who had already muttered his apologies to Orla.

  “Peter – go back to the others. Tell them to extend the search out to High Crag and beyond.”

  Peter, still nursing his hand, gave Ellie a sullen look then hurried off. She was glad to see the back of him. It had been tempting to take his knife and cut his throat with it. But she was relieved to see that Orla seemed no worse for the encounter.

  “May Freya guide you mother,” Orla said now, casting her eyes to the ground – but not before she gave Ellie a look that told her she would continue to be on her guard. Ellie watched her follow Finn out of the copse and then turned her attention back to Soren. She had the growing feeling that this meeting was auspicious. And that the Lady the villagers sought, whoever she was, had something to do with events in the Vale.

  *

  “You’ll never guess what’s happened Orla,” Daisy said as she took the heavy basket from her. “The village was abandoned when we got here – it was really weird, wasn’t it Rose? And then these women turned up crying and wailing because someone’s stolen their children! Well, the boys, at least. We should help with the search.”

  “I already know about it,” Orla said, her expression darkening. “The men from the village are searching the woods. The Yeoman nearly arrested us, but Lady Eleanor convinced him we had nothing to do with it. She’s gone with him to see where the children were playing, before they disappeared.”

  “Arrested! What a cheek! If only they knew.”

  “It’s best they don’t Daisy – as I keep reminding you.” Rose fell into step with Orla and lowered her voice. “The women mentioned a strange lady. They seem really scared of her. The Lady from the Lake, they called her. What can it mean?”

  At the mention of the lake, Orla startled. “What is it Orla? Have you heard of her before?”

  “What? No, no I haven’t. But it’s like the story we heard in the other village isn’t it? I wasn’t sure I believed it, but I do now. It’s wicked, taking children.”

  “I know. How could anyone do such a thing?”

  “It might not be as bad as it sounds,” Daisy interjected. “Perhaps this Lady needs servants. Or help on a farm. A big farm,” she added less certainly.

  “Don’t be silly.” Rose rolled her eyes at her sister. “Those sort of jobs are agreed with the Yeoman each year - you know that. And anyway, why only boys? That’s what I don’t understand.”

  “Me neither.” Orla looked round nervously. “Let’s go to the meet house and wait for Lady Eleanor. I know you want to help but I don’t think we should do anything until she gets here.”

  ENGLAND – 1856

  Chapter 8

  It was early morning and Martha was clattering around in the kitchen below. A jug of cold water, some soap and a threadbare towel had been left on the small dresser and an assortment of clothes were hanging on the back of the door.

  “You don’t seriously expect me to wear these do you?” Josh held up a ragged pair of trousers. They were at least six inches too short and had obvious darns and patches.

  “We’ve got to look the part Josh. We haven’t got a choice.” Alice looked at her own dirty smock with distaste. It might have been pretty once, but the embroidery round the neck and sleeves was fraying.

  “I think I look quite good.” Toby pulled a cap over his forehead. It was too big for him, made of some muddy-coloured tweed. His trousers barely reached his knees and his shirt had holes at the elbow.

  “Yeah, you look amazing mate. We all do. Like extras in a film about the end of the world.” Josh screwed up his nose. “What is that smell? It’s like bad eggs.” He shuddered. “And I hate eggs.”

  Alice tugged at the sash window. “Maybe some fresh air will help.”

  “Oh my God, I think that’s worse.” Josh put his hand over his mouth and gagged. “There’s nothing fresh about that.”

  Alice slammed the window shut again. He was right. The street outside was full of dirty-looking fog – she could barely see the houses across the street.

  “Well, it is winter,” she said. “Though I don’t remember it being this, well…”

  “Disgusting?” Josh finished for her.

  “I think you’ll find it’s the factories,” Toby said, looking pleased with himself. “No clean energy here.”

  Of course - they were in 1856. Not 2007, when Alice had left Dora’s farm for Australia. It was silly to make comparisons. She was in Yorkshire, but it was a Yorkshire she knew nothing about. The thought was less than comforting.

  “Come on,” she said. “Martha’s waiting for us. She’s going to tell us about our work, remember?” She headed downstairs before Josh had time for any more smart comments. The sooner they found the information her father wanted the sooner they could go home. She wasn’t sure 1856 was going to be nearly as much fun as it had first sounded.

  The wonderful smells coming from Martha’s kitchen went some way to cheering her up. The table was laden with bowls of steaming porridge, freshly baked bread, creamy butter and thick slices of ham.

  “Nothing like a good breakfast to set you up for the day,” Martha said, smiling. “Help yourselves.”

  “Wow!” Josh cut himself a thick slice of bread. “This is fantastic. It’s still warm.”

  “Did you make it Martha?” Alice had noticed the Guardian’s hair was dusted with flour.

  “Indeed I did.” Martha’s cheeks glowed with satisfaction. “I bake every morning. It’s bread and pastries I’m known for. I even fill orders for the gentry - when I’m not working down at the mill, that is.”

  Toby looked up from his bowl of porridge. “Is that we’re you’re taking us today?”

  “Indeed it is.” Martha poured herself a cup of tea. “Everyone round here works at Lister’s mill and it’ll be the best place for you. So there’s a few things you need to know first. Once we get there there’ll be no time for talking.”

  Alice realized she felt nervous. They would have to be very careful indeed if they were to maintain their disguise. She could see the boys realized that too – even Josh had stopped eating.

  “Right then,” Martha said. “Lister’s is a family-owned business. There’s one mill down the road – that’s where we’re going - and a bigger one in Wo
rtley, a mile or so away. They’re always on the look out for workers who’ll knuckle down. I’ve been working there ten years and more, so my word counts for something. I’ll say you’re family from down south. They won’t mind the funny way you talk then.”

  Toby spluttered into his porridge but Alice silenced him with a look. She knew he was struggling with Martha’s thick accent.

  “Alice – I’ll get you a job with me in the spinning room – that’s where most of the women work. Toby and Josh – I’ll get you work outside, loading and unloading. There’s plenty of lads your age doing that – lads who might be willing to talk, once you get in with them. They’ll know something about the boy that went missing, I’ll be bound.”

  “What boy?” Toby said. “We haven’t heard anything about that, have we Alice?”

  Alice shook her head. She was sure her father hadn’t mentioned it and neither had Stanor. “Do you think it’s important? The missing boy, I mean.”

  “Maybe.” Martha tapped the side of her head. “I had a dream about the poor lad.”

  “Ghosts and a missing kid.” Josh gave a low whistle. “I feel definitely feel like a detective now.”

  Martha gave him a reproving look. “It isn’t a laughing matter young man. The child ended up dead.”

  “Dead?” Alice felt a flicker of alarm. “What happened?”

  “He drowned in the canal - tripped and fell into the sluice gates in the dark. I saw it in my dream.” Martha shuddered.

  “Do you think it was an accident?” If Martha had foreseen the boy’s death Freya might have been trying to tell her something.

  Martha sighed. “I don’t know. That poor lad was from the workhouse. That’s why it didn’t get looked into properly. What’s one less mouth to feed?”

  The workhouse? Alice was about to press for more details when a loud siren went off and Martha shooed them into the hallway. “Come on, let’s be having you. We can’t be late. It’s your first day and I can’t afford to cross Bracegirdle. He’d tan my hide, given half a chance.”

  Shrugging on the tattered coat Martha had thrown at her, Alice followed Toby and Josh out into the cobbled street, where women and children of all ages were trouping in the direction of the river. She couldn’t help noticing they all looked downcast and miserable, with only the youngest children chattering and chasing each other down the street.

  “Where are all the men?” Toby asked, looking round. There were no men in sight and most of the boys seemed quite young.

  “Working in the mines down Castleford way. Like I said, it’s the women that do the spinning and the boys that do the loading. Except for Bracegirdle and his crew. They’re the gaffers.”

  “Gaffers?” Toby looked mystified.

  “Them in charge,” Martha replied, a grim look on her face. “Bullies, most of them. But I’m friends with the store man and he’s a good sort. You lads will be working for him. And if Bracegirdle or any of his cronies have a go at you, don’t answer back. There’s many a lad who’s come home with a whipping for their cheek.”

  “Whipping? You’re joking, aren’t you?” Josh said, looking horrified. “That’s against the law.”

  Martha snorted. “Where you come from, lad, maybe. But not here – common as muck, is a whipping. So you watch how you go.”

  Alice figured Josh didn’t need telling twice. He knew from his experience with Ralf the cook that answering back only got you into trouble. And this Bracegirdle sounded just like him. She hated him already. Besides which, it was important they didn’t draw attention to themselves. She just hoped Toby wouldn’t lose his temper. She knew he wouldn’t stand for bullying and if he retaliated it could lead to all sorts of problems. She was just about to add her warning to Martha’s when she realized she’d lost her opportunity. They’d reached the mill gates and before she had chance to say goodbye, Toby and Josh had been sent off in the direction of the loading bay.

  “Don’t worry.” Martha whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “They’ll be fine. First day’s the hardest, but they’ll soon get the hang of it.” She clasped her hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “And it’s not forever, is it?”

  *

  The store man collared Toby and Josh as soon as they reached the loading bay. He was short and stocky, with thick dark hair and a beard to match.

  “Now then, hold up you two.” He narrowed his eyes at them and, apparently satisfied, held out a meaty hand. “Joe Laidlaw’s my name and you must be the young ‘uns Martha was telling me about. You look strong enough. Come with me and let’s see what you’re made of.”

  They followed him across the cobbled yard. The mill loomed in front of them - a brick building seven storeys high, with a tall chimney belching black smoke. Boys of all ages looked at them sullenly as they passed. Some of them looked no older than eight or nine, with thin legs protruding from trousers held in place by string. Toby was no history buff, but he was sure they were too young to be working.

  “Shouldn’t those kids be at school?” Josh was clearly thinking the same thing. “And didn’t anyone tell them it’s rude to stare?”

  “Yeah – but keep it zipped. Remember what Martha told us?”

  “Oh yeah - sorry,” Josh said as they came to a halt outside an enormous wooden shed. Bales of wool were stacked to the roof beams and the air was thick with the smell of it. Toby sneezed loudly, his eyes watering.

  “You’ll get used to it after a while,” Joe said. “Takes everyone like that, first off. Now – see those gates over yonder? Wagons come through, on the hour, every hour. You unload, you stack, you unload, you stack. That’s all there is to it. Understand?”

  “Yes sir,” Toby said. “We understand.”

  “You don’t need to sir me, lad. Save that for your elders and betters. And if you’ve got any questions, you can ask Will here.”

  A scrawny boy with a shock of fair hair beneath a dirty cap was sweeping the shed floor. At the mention of his name he turned and winked at them.

  “Thank you sir…I mean, Joe. We’ll work hard, I promise.” Toby ignored the eye roll this produced from Josh and, as Joe went about his business, he scanned the shed. Other than two boys down the far end, who were lounging against the bales deep in conversation, the place was deserted.

  “They’re lazy buggers.” Will jabbed the broom in the boys’ direction and gave Toby and Josh an appraising look. “Never seen you two before, have I? Where you from?”

  “We’re from down south,” Toby said, mindful of Martha’s instructions.

  “Oh yeah? Where’s that then?”

  “London,” Josh said quickly, saving Toby the bother.

  “London?” Will’s eyes went round. “Have you seen the Queen?”

  “No – sorry. We don’t live near the, um, palace.”

  “Oh.” Will’s face slumped. “I’d like to see her. See if she looks like her picture.” He thrust a filthy coin under Toby’s nose then snatched it away again, returning it to his pocket. “My ma’ saw the Queen once. But ma’s dead now, en’t she, so she can’t tell me that story any more.”

  The scrape of metal on metal cut Will’s musings on the Queen short. They looked up to see a large horse-drawn wagon, stuck in the gates.

  “ Oi! Watch it!” Will flung down the broom and began to yell at the driver. Toby wasn’t a prude when it came to bad language, but he was using words he’d never even heard before.

  “He’s crazy,” Josh said, as the argument escalated. “And that guy’s getting pretty angry.”

  It was true. The driver was returning the insults and the shouting had attracted a crowd of older boys, who were goading Will on. Toby wasn’t sure if they were supporting him or just enjoying the spectacle, but it seemed like a good time to intervene. The driver had jumped down from the wagon and was holding Will by the scruff of the neck, one fist raised.

  “You watch your mouth or I’ll watch it for you,” he menaced, as Will tried to wriggle free.

  “Hey! Let hi
m go,” Toby shouted. “He’s half your size.”

  The driver laughed. “You want some of this too? Come on then.” He pushed Will aside and bunched his fists. He was a big man, with a bulging stomach and a florid face, but Toby had faced worse than him. Before the driver had chance to land a punch, he lashed out with a body kick. His opponent landed with a heavy thud on the cobbles, sending up a cloud of dust.

  “You got him, you got him!” Will danced up and down with excitement while the other boys cheered. “Serves you right mister, for breaking them gates.”

  But Toby was already regretting his actions. He’d told Josh not to draw attention to himself and now he was the one that was in trouble. Alice would be furious. And it wasn’t only Alice he needed to worry about.

  “What in blazes is going on here?” Joe Laidlaw said, striding towards them. “I won’t have fighting in my yard, not for any reason.”

  “But Joe…” Will started.

  Joe silenced him with a look and helped the driver to his feet. “You alright Seth?”

  “Bloody savage,” the driver muttered. “Kicking’s not fair fighting. Not in my book it isn’t.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for it,” Joe said. “Tell you what – you go to the porter’s lodge and sit yourself down. I’ll fix the gate and we’ll call it quits. What do you say?”

  The driver looked as if he wanted to say quite a lot, but there was something in Joe’s tone that made him think twice. He scowled at Toby then hobbled away in the direction of the lodge.

  “Right – who started it?” Joe said, turning to the boys. “The truth now.”

  “It was Seth’s fault Joe.” Will rattled the gate, which had come away from its hinges. “It’s busted – look.”

  Joe took in the damage but held up his hand. “That’s not what I asked. You know the rules Will - you fight, you get your cards. Now I’ll ask again – who started it?”

  “I did,” Toby said quickly. He knew he’d be in trouble with Martha, and, worse, he’d let Alice down, but he couldn’t let Will take the blame. “The driver was going to hit Will. It didn’t seem fair.”