‘Are they coming back?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ she said. ‘The company’s recruiting for someone to take over permanently. Shit.’
She’d gone into the first room at the top and stopped dead, and I bumped into her as I followed.
‘What?’
‘Look.’
Liv stood to one side to let me see. We were in the living room of the flat. It was a nice room with a big squishy sofa and the same amazing view out across the sea. What had stopped Liv short, though, were the pictures on the walls, the television in the corner, and a book face down on the coffee table.
‘What. The. Fuck?’ I gazed round. There was a sideboard at one end of the room, with school photos on it. A small boy with sticking-up hair grinned out at us. ‘They really did leave in a hurry.’
‘This is creepy as,’ Liv said. I nodded, taking in all the personal belongings that had been left behind.
Liv looked upset. She picked up the book, folded down the corner of the page and put it back down again, closed. ‘What on earth could have happened to make a whole family leave their home so fast?’
‘No idea. Must have been a pretty bad emergency.’
‘I can’t believe they’ve left all this stuff here.’ Liv stood in the middle of the room glancing from side to side, taking it all in. ‘I suppose we can box it up and send it on. I’ll call head office tomorrow and get a forwarding address.’
Feeling just as unsettled as Liv clearly was, I wandered into the bedrooms. The master bedroom was much the same, though the wardrobes were open and empty. The bed had linen on it and the television on the wall was on standby. A clean patch in the dust on one bedside table, though, told me the family had taken some belongings. Maybe a precious photograph or a jewellery box?
Silently, Liv and I checked out the rest of the living quarters. There were two more bedrooms. One, which had obviously been the boy’s room, had toys on the floor and pictures of footballers on the walls. Again, though, the wardrobe was empty.
I shivered. This was so strange. It was like the Marie Celeste or an episode of Doctor Who. I half expected David Tennant to leap out at us and make everything normal again. Or was that just wishful thinking?
The third bedroom was clearly a guest room. The linen on its twin beds was fresh and pristine, it had an en-suite bathroom, and there were no creepy abandoned personal belongings.
‘Dibs this room,’ Liv and I said in unison. We both looked at each other and then Liv laughed. ‘Share?’
I nodded in relief. ‘Share.’
We each dropped our bags on to a bed. I chose the one by the window so I could look out across the sea. Then Liv threw her arm round my shoulder. ‘Welcome to The Moon Girl,’ she said, using her Batman voice again. ‘Fancy a drink?’
Chapter 6
Emily
1799
‘Make sure you get right into the corners. That’s where the dust gathers.’ That evening, after our trip into Kirrinporth, Mam leaned over the bar and pointed to where I was sweeping. Deliberately, I angled the broom so it got into the little nooks and crannies she always worried about me neglecting, and made sure there was no dirt there. There wasn’t. There never was. The pub was spotless.
‘Good girl,’ Mam said. I gave her a quick smile and carried on sweeping, though I couldn’t see the point. But Mam was strange this evening. Skittish and nervy. Jumping at every sound.
A clink of glass made me look up and I saw her pouring herself a drink. Another one. She’d been drinking steadily since we’d got home, ignoring my worried glances.
I finished the sweeping and tidied away the broom, but Mam caught me by the arm as I was heading back upstairs to my room.
‘Polish the brasses for me,’ she said. I looked at her, wondering why she wanted me to stay. She was normally happy enough on her own. Her fingers dug into my arm. ‘Won’t take long, Em,’ she said.
I nodded and she let me go.
‘Polish is on the side.’
She handed me a cloth and with a sigh, she slumped down on to a chair, watching the door just as she had done all evening.
As I finished polishing the brass, the inn door opened, bringing the night air inside, and a man came in, stomping his feet on the doorstep and trailing mud over the freshly swept floor. I blinked in surprise at the unexpected guest. He was tall, with a travelling cape over his shoulders and a three-cornered hat pulled down low over his brow. I couldn’t see his face.
‘Janey Moon,’ he said to Mam with a broad smile. ‘It’s been too long.’
Mam had stood when the door opened and now she stayed frozen on the spot, a fixed smile on her face.
‘Evening,’ she said. Was there a tremor in her voice? I thought so. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
‘I didn’t think you’d hold out so long,’ he said. Under the shadow cast by his hat, I saw his lips twist into a smile. ‘I must confess, I’m impressed.’
Mam said nothing and the man nodded. ‘So, we have a deal?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You will,’ he said. He pulled his hat from his head and with a terrifying start of recognition, I saw the white streak gleaming in his dark hair. This was Cal Morgan – the man who’d killed Da.
‘Mam,’ I squeaked, terror clenching my throat. My voice was tiny, and even in the quiet inn, it didn’t carry far enough for Mam to hear. She didn’t even glance in my direction; all her focus on Morgan.
‘What if I don’t?’
Morgan laughed. ‘Why wouldn’t you?’ he said. ‘I’m not asking you to do this for nothing, Janey. You’ll be rewarded, of course. Handsomely.’ He looked round. ‘Seems you could do with getting some drinkers back here. I can help with that, too. When the time’s right.’
Mam’s head drooped, just for a second, then she pulled her shoulders back. ‘Do I have a choice?’
Morgan laughed again, loudly, making me wince. ‘There’s always a choice, Janey.’ He pulled up a chair and sat on it the wrong way round, resting his crossed arms on the back. ‘But why would you say no? I’m offering you enough money that you never need to go hungry again. You and your brat of a daughter.’
For the first time, he looked round the inn and saw me standing there. His eyes rested on me for a second in a way that made me feel exposed and on display.
‘Well I never,’ he said. ‘You’re the Moon girl?’
I nodded and he smiled at me approvingly. ‘All grown up, eh?’
He turned to Mam. ‘I’ve got plenty of soldier friends who’d pay for a night with a pretty girl like that. If she was made available to them.’
Heat flooded my cheeks. I looked at Mam, but she kept her eyes fixed on Morgan.
‘What are you saying?’ she asked.
He stood up and took a step towards her. He towered over her as he looked down, running his eyes over her like she was a pig going to market. My mother had always been small and curvy, with wild dark hair and eyes that flashed with fun. Now she was thin and her eyes were sad, but it seemed Morgan liked what he saw.
‘I’m saying you seem to have misunderstood what I’m offering,’ he said. ‘I’m doing you a favour, not the other way round. I’ll pay you for the use of the inn, and you can make it your business to keep me happy when I’m here.’
‘With drinks?’ Mam said in a small voice.
‘That too.’ He gave her a broad smile. ‘And if you won’t cooperate, maybe I’ll try your daughter instead.’
Mam swallowed. ‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,’ she said.
‘Clever girl.’
‘Should we discuss it in private?’
‘I think that would be best,’ Morgan said. He reached out a hand and with his thick fingers, traced a line down Mam’s cheek. She stood there and let him touch her, but I knew she didn’t like it. ‘Just you and me,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
Silently, Mam turned and let him follow her out of the bar, through the door that led upstairs, and I heard the steps c
reaking as she took him into her room.
I stayed where I was, frozen with fear. He’d killed my father and now he was making my mother do his bidding. His nasty, twisted bidding. What I didn’t understand was what he wanted the inn for. What did we have that was so precious to him that he’d kill Da and hurt Mam?
After what seemed like hours, Mam and Morgan came back downstairs. There was a red mark across Mam’s cheek and her eyes were dull. She poured herself a drink and knocked it back in one gulp.
‘Mr Morgan’s going to be doing some business from the inn,’ she said to me. Her voice was casual but she couldn’t meet my gaze.
Morgan chuckled loudly.
‘Business,’ he said. ‘That’s right.’ He took a pouch of money from his pocket and threw it on the bar where it landed with a loud jangle of coins. Mam’s cheeks were flushed with drink or shame. I couldn’t tell which. But she picked up the pouch and stuffed it in her skirt anyway.
Morgan laughed again and crossed the bar in just a couple of strides of his long legs. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said, over his shoulder.
Mam didn’t look at me. She just reached out her hand and I gave her the cloth I’d been using to polish the surfaces. ‘You can go and hide in your room now,’ she said. ‘Do your drawing.’
I wanted to say something, but as usual, I didn’t have the words. Instead I touched her lightly on the arm and then I turned and fled upstairs.
Chapter 7
Emily
1799
In my tiny room I slumped down on to the bed, thinking about what had happened. Then I pulled my box of drawings from my shelf and leafed through, looking for the pictures I’d sketched on that awful night when Da had been murdered. And there was Morgan, staring up at me from the paper, broad-shouldered and brutal, with his white stripe gleaming like a badger’s fur in the moonlight. I remembered him saying that Da’s missus would be easier to persuade and felt a wave of fear. Da had resisted Morgan so strongly that he’d died for his belief. He’d put up a fight and he’d lost his life. But now whatever it was had come to our doorstep anyway and Mam had to go along with it, to protect me.
I felt that fluttery panicky feeling in my chest again and pressed my hands against my sternum, trying to calm down. I breathed in deeply, in and out, in and out, as Da had taught me to do.
When I was small, Da had told me stories about a wonderful place – a new world with only a handful of people. Where there was so much space, you could travel for miles and never see another soul. Where you could load your belongings into a cart, and head off into the unknown, and build a new life for yourself, away from the bewildering rules and expectations that caused me so much worry.
Mam used to tut when he told me the stories and say: ‘Stop filling the girl’s head with dreams.’ But I knew that Da understood how my brain worked and I thought he wouldn’t have told me about this place if it wasn’t real.
I’d been too big for bedtime stories for a long time, but I still thought about that place. I drew pictures of myself sitting on a cart, driving through the wilderness. And when I was scared, or overwhelmed, or things – life – just got to be too much, I would close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to live in such a quiet place, and soon I would find myself calming down.
Now, sitting in my room, breathing deeply, I thought about my place, seeing myself in my mind’s eye, perched on top of my cart. Lately though, when I’d thought about it, I’d not been alone. My friend Arthur was in my dreams now too. Sitting next to me, as our horse took us to a new life far, far away from Kirrinporth.
Arthur.
He was the only person who understood me like Da had and the only person I would even think about sharing my place with. And, I thought, he could be the only person who would listen when I told him about Morgan.
I would go and see him in the morning, I decided. I’d go and tell him the truth about what had happened to Da, and see if there was any way we could bring Morgan to justice.
Feeling a tiny bit better, I crept downstairs to see what state Mam was in. She was slumped over a table, staring into the distance and she looked at me when I walked in.
‘What time is it?’ she mumbled.
‘Time for bed.’
She didn’t argue. She just let me take her by the hand and walk her upstairs to her room. Then, like an obedient little girl, she sat quietly as I helped her off with her dress and pulled her nightgown over her head.
‘Emily Moon,’ she said, as I pulled the blanket over her. ‘You’re a good girl, Emily Moon.’
A tear trickled from underneath her closed eyelids. I tried to say something back, to reassure her or comfort her, but I couldn’t. So instead, I put my hand on her shoulder, very briefly, and then went to bed myself.
I was up early the next day. I laid out some bread for Mam to eat when she eventually woke, swept the floor of the mud left from Morgan’s boots. Then I picked up the sketches I’d drawn on the night Da had been killed and shoved them into a bag that I slung over my shoulder. I pulled on a cloak as the weather was turning colder and then, filled with a new feeling of determination, I marched along the clifftop track towards the village. I needed help, I knew, if I was going to stop this man, this Cal Morgan, from taking more from my family. And I knew the only person who would be on my side.
I found Arthur in the churchyard, picking blackberries. His freckled face lit up when he saw me. ‘Come and try these, Em,’ he said. ‘They’re so good. I’ve been trying to make them sweeter for an age and I think I’ve done it this year.’
He held one out and I took it in my mouth, enjoying the sharpness on my tongue and then the rush of sweetness that followed. Arthur was so clever when it came to growing fruit. It was like he understood the land and how to make it produce the crispest apples and the juiciest berries.
‘Delicious,’ I said.
Arthur, my friend, grinned at me. ‘Must be good if they’re getting you talking,’ he said, but he was teasing because I always talked when I was with him.
‘Do you have chores? Or studying?’ Arthur’s father was the vicar and he was stern when it came to learning. But today was Friday and I hoped that meant Arthur didn’t have to work.
Arthur shook his mop of red hair. ‘Nothing. I’m free as a bird. Want to walk?’
We dropped the basket of blackberries off to the cook, Winnie, in the kitchen at the vicarage and then wandered through the village and out into the fields where we found our favourite spot under a tree and settled down.
‘What’s wrong?’ Arthur said as soon as we were comfortable. I frowned at him. He knew me so well it was as though he could read my thoughts. ‘You’re jumpy and distracted and you look like you haven’t slept. What’s the matter?’
I bit my lip. ‘Difficult.’ My voice sounded croaky to my own ears.
‘Take your time.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Secret,’ I said. ‘Don’t tell.’
‘I promise,’ Arthur said. ‘You know you can trust me, Emily.’
I nodded, looking at his friendly, familiar face.
‘Da was murdered,’ I said, forcing the words out.
Arthur looked shocked. ‘I thought he’d gone,’ he said. ‘That’s what everyone said.’
I shook my head vigorously. ‘I lied.’
‘Why would you lie?’
‘Scared,’ I admitted. I felt the flutters in my chest again and breathed in and out, aware of Arthur’s eyes on me.
I lay down the grass and stared up at the sky. Sometimes it helped me to talk if I didn’t see the person who was listening.
‘I saw it,’ I began. I had to talk slowly, because each word was an effort. But I knew if I kept going, it would become easier. At least, that’s what I hoped.
‘You saw your father murdered?’ Arthur said in horror. ‘And you didn’t say anything?’
‘Da knew I was there. He told me to stay quiet; put his fingers to his lips.’
‘You must have been so scared.’
There was a pause. ‘Why are you telling me now?’ asked Arthur.
‘I know who did it.’
Arthur was quiet for so long that I turned my head to check he was still beside me.
‘Who?’
‘Cal Morgan,’ I said.
‘Who?’
I sat up suddenly. ‘He came to the inn today,’ I said.
‘Are you sure?’
I sat up and pulled my sketchbook out of my bag. My words were coming easier now. I didn’t understand why being with Arthur helped, but I was glad of it. ‘I drew his face when he killed Da,’ I said. ‘I drew the man who killed him. And that’s the man who came to the inn. He …’ I trailed off. ‘He hurt Mam.’
‘You must tell someone? Mr Trewin? Or the magistrate? Get help.’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
Arthur frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘You know.’ I looked straight at him. ‘You know why.’
‘You don’t think they’ll believe you?’ Arthur’s kind face twisted in doubt.
‘I don’t,’ I whispered.
‘Why not?’
‘Because …’ I stopped talking, my throat tightening. I took some deep breaths. Arthur waited patiently. ‘Because they think I’m simple.’ I said, eventually. ‘They’ll say I can’t talk and that I’m stupid.’
Arthur looked like he might cry. ‘You can talk, though. I know that. You could talk to them and show them you’re not simple.’
But I shook my head. ‘I can’t,’ I said.
We sat there together, both deep in thought, for a while.
‘Why did he come to the pub?’ Arthur said.
I looked up at the sky. ‘Business.’
‘What kind of business?’
‘Bad.’
‘Criminal?’
‘Maybe.’
Arthur had been lying on the grass next to me but now he sat up. ‘Did he hurt you?’ he said sharply.
I shook my head vigorously. ‘Not me.’
‘Just your mother?’
My eyes filled with tears and I nodded.
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