Eppie by Janice Robertson Page B

roar and tear of the storm.
    Wriggling in at the table, Eppie picked up a pea and popped
it into her mouth. ‘The rain sounds like a water wheel. Why can I hear the wind,
but never see it?’   
    ‘Give me that leftover giblet pie, and all,’ Gillow told
Martha. ‘I take some stuffing.’
    After the meal, the storm intensified.
    There was not much heat in the flames, so Gillow dragged his
chair close to the hearth.
    Her head resting on his chest, Eppie scarcely felt the meagre
warmth of the gusting fire. Rain dislodged clots of soot and sent them rattling
into the grate.
    From the stream came the sound of stones rolling and
grinding.
    ‘I fancy a drop of mulled ale with a double kick of rum,’
Gillow said. ‘It’ll knock me out for the night.’
    Martha warmed the drink. ‘At Craft’s bakery they were
selling quarten loaves for twelve shillings. They were only seven and a half pence
at the start of the year. How most folk manage I can’t imagine.’
    ‘Mmm,’ Gillow answered, disinterested. ‘What d’ya say to a game
of knuckle-bones before bed, my little maid?’
    ‘I’ve won!’ Eppie shrieked as her last sheep bone sent
Gillow’s scattering across the hearthrug.
    ‘You cheated.’
    She stamped her foot. ‘I never cog!’
    ‘If that’s true you look me in the eye, without giggling.’ 
    Throwing back her head, she hooted with laughter.
    ‘See, you did cheat.’
    ‘It’s your face; your bushy eyebrows go up and down, all
silly.’
     He took the flagon from Martha and blew hard on it. ‘Lovely!
Nice and warming on a miserable night.’
     Eppie hopped before the fire.  ‘Give us a taste.’
    ‘Eppie, is this your tumbler of milk in the larder?’ Martha
asked. ‘It smells off.’
    Eppie yawned. ‘I think it was left over from tomorrow.’
    ‘Sounds like someone’s ready for their sack,’ Gillow said,
grinning at Eppie.
    Martha helped Eppie to slip on her nightdress. ‘As it’s so
cold tonight I’ll put your truckle bed beside the hearth,’
    ‘Shh!’ Eppie whispered, putting a finger to her lips. ‘The
badgers are by the stream, saying quick, quick, quick . They’ll have
soggy paws.’ Straw crunched as she snuggled down.
    ‘Now go to sleep,’ Martha said. ‘You’ll be exhausted after
running around with Grumps.’
    ‘And Mister Lord’s new ram, Carronade. Grumps says he’s got
an exploding bottom.’
    Gillow chuckled. ‘I’ll have an exploding bottom if I sit
here much longer.’ In weariness he rose and stretched to the rafters.
    Martha was in the bedroom, plaiting her hair in readiness
for bed. ‘I hope we don’t have trouble with that fox tonight. He killed
Claire’s best layer.’ 
    Gillow glanced at the fowling piece which hung from leather
straps above the chimney hood. ‘If he dares show his muzzle in my garden I’ll
make a cushion out of him, like I did to his missus.’ Staggering in the gloom,
he kicked over the stool.
    ‘Are you sure you can see straight to get to bed?’ Martha
asked.
    ‘Jus’ about.’
    Wind tramped. Rain beat on the door like a drum. 
    Eppie threw her hands over her ears. ‘It’s a growly wolf picking
up the cottage!’
    Martha kissed her goodnight.
    ‘I can’t sleep, Mammy! Tell me a story out of your ears.’
    ‘Why don’t you tell me one out of your ears! That way you’ll
talk yourself to sleep like you did last night.’
    ‘May I come in with you and pa?’
    ‘No chance,’ Gillow answered.
    Eppie dived between them.
    ‘That dog’s place is in the stable,’ Gillow said, his feet
squashed as Twiss curled up on them.
    ‘He’s frightened, like me,’ Eppie said. ‘He wants to come in
with us.’
    ‘The things I have to put up with,’ Gillow grumbled.
    Warm and happy now, Eppie told Martha, ‘Your belly’s as bumpy
as a pig’s.’
    ‘Are you excited about the new baby?’ Martha asked.
    ‘Yes, I’m ‘cited.  I’m glad I was born Eppie ‘cos I love you,
Mammy.’
    ‘What about me?’ Gillow groused