properly,’ he growled, ‘or you’ll know what real pain is.’
‘Yes, s-sir.’ Snivelling, the boy wiped his nose on his sleeve and tightened the girth, pulling as hard as his small hands could manage.
Pushing him aside, Rupert mounted. He looked down at the boy and then raised his cane. The boy flinched away and Rupert laughed. ‘Just so you know what’s in store for you should you decide to tell anyone about this little interlude.’
‘I-I won’t breathe a word, sir.’
‘Very good.’ His good mood restored, Rupert tossed the boy a farthing; it landed on the ground. ‘Here you go, then. For your trouble.’
He set off at a brisk canter, and didn’t notice the boy glaring after him, a look of utter contempt on his face. The coin lay untouched in the dirty straw.
The following day was market day, and since there was no more work to be done in the fields for the moment, Cora decided to go to town. She put on her only good gown, a dark grey skirt and a faded blue cotton bodice, a second-hand purchase which she usually kept for Sunday best. Over it she donned a clean white apron, tied back her black curls with a piece of string and chose an old straw bonnet as protection against the sun.
Ned had left early that morning to check his traps for rabbits, and as always this activity gave her a twinge in the stomach. If he should be caught by his lordship’s gamekeeper, there was a risk they would hang him; but Ned was careful, he said.
She collected the eggs from the hen coop, and carefully placed them in a basket on top of a piece of cloth, under which lay the rich man’s waistcoat as well as the ring and the watches she had stolen. Her contact in town would know what to do with them.
Touching the items again was an uncomfortable reminder of how she’d obtained them, but only a few days ago she’d noticed that Ned’s medicine bottle was nearly empty, and she had to find a way to pay for it to be replenished.
She picked up the bottle and slipped it in the basket with the other things. It was completely empty now. This morning he had taken the last dose under her watchful eye, because she had a sneaking suspicion her father would pour the foul-tasting liquid away if she didn’t keep a close watch. Her father didn’t seem quite as concerned about his illness as she did. Sometimes she suspected he would welcome death just so he could be reunited with his wife, but Cora couldn’t bear for that to happen. He was all the family she had left.
With her basket over her arm she walked through the forest and across the Heath. It was a cumbersome walk in the scraggy heather and prickly gorse, and when she arrived at Hospital Bridge she already felt hot and sticky. Squinting up at the sun, she realised it was going to be even warmer, and she sat down on a log by the roadside in the hope that someone would offer her a ride. Soon enough a farmer turned up in a hay wagon pulled by two oxen.
‘Going to town?’ he asked kindly. When Cora nodded, he said, ‘It’s a long way to be carrying them eggs. Hop on.’
Cora thanked him and walked to the back of the wagon. There were already two other passengers, an elderly woman carrying a basket of strawberries and a young man about Cora’s age with four chickens in a cage. The chickens squawked nervously as Cora climbed up, and the man moved them further up the wagon to give her room.
‘Thank you.’ Cora smiled at him.
The young man went red as a beetroot and turned away. ‘You’re welcome.’
Cora tended to have that effect on the young men of her acquaintance, and although she was used to it, it bothered her slightly. It was almost as if every young man she encountered was in awe or afraid of her, and because of it she had never had the pleasure of walking out with one. She was almost as tall as her father and had often wondered if that frightened them off, but didn’t know for certain. Sighing, she watched as the bridge slowly disappeared from view. It would
‘Yes, s-sir.’ Snivelling, the boy wiped his nose on his sleeve and tightened the girth, pulling as hard as his small hands could manage.
Pushing him aside, Rupert mounted. He looked down at the boy and then raised his cane. The boy flinched away and Rupert laughed. ‘Just so you know what’s in store for you should you decide to tell anyone about this little interlude.’
‘I-I won’t breathe a word, sir.’
‘Very good.’ His good mood restored, Rupert tossed the boy a farthing; it landed on the ground. ‘Here you go, then. For your trouble.’
He set off at a brisk canter, and didn’t notice the boy glaring after him, a look of utter contempt on his face. The coin lay untouched in the dirty straw.
The following day was market day, and since there was no more work to be done in the fields for the moment, Cora decided to go to town. She put on her only good gown, a dark grey skirt and a faded blue cotton bodice, a second-hand purchase which she usually kept for Sunday best. Over it she donned a clean white apron, tied back her black curls with a piece of string and chose an old straw bonnet as protection against the sun.
Ned had left early that morning to check his traps for rabbits, and as always this activity gave her a twinge in the stomach. If he should be caught by his lordship’s gamekeeper, there was a risk they would hang him; but Ned was careful, he said.
She collected the eggs from the hen coop, and carefully placed them in a basket on top of a piece of cloth, under which lay the rich man’s waistcoat as well as the ring and the watches she had stolen. Her contact in town would know what to do with them.
Touching the items again was an uncomfortable reminder of how she’d obtained them, but only a few days ago she’d noticed that Ned’s medicine bottle was nearly empty, and she had to find a way to pay for it to be replenished.
She picked up the bottle and slipped it in the basket with the other things. It was completely empty now. This morning he had taken the last dose under her watchful eye, because she had a sneaking suspicion her father would pour the foul-tasting liquid away if she didn’t keep a close watch. Her father didn’t seem quite as concerned about his illness as she did. Sometimes she suspected he would welcome death just so he could be reunited with his wife, but Cora couldn’t bear for that to happen. He was all the family she had left.
With her basket over her arm she walked through the forest and across the Heath. It was a cumbersome walk in the scraggy heather and prickly gorse, and when she arrived at Hospital Bridge she already felt hot and sticky. Squinting up at the sun, she realised it was going to be even warmer, and she sat down on a log by the roadside in the hope that someone would offer her a ride. Soon enough a farmer turned up in a hay wagon pulled by two oxen.
‘Going to town?’ he asked kindly. When Cora nodded, he said, ‘It’s a long way to be carrying them eggs. Hop on.’
Cora thanked him and walked to the back of the wagon. There were already two other passengers, an elderly woman carrying a basket of strawberries and a young man about Cora’s age with four chickens in a cage. The chickens squawked nervously as Cora climbed up, and the man moved them further up the wagon to give her room.
‘Thank you.’ Cora smiled at him.
The young man went red as a beetroot and turned away. ‘You’re welcome.’
Cora tended to have that effect on the young men of her acquaintance, and although she was used to it, it bothered her slightly. It was almost as if every young man she encountered was in awe or afraid of her, and because of it she had never had the pleasure of walking out with one. She was almost as tall as her father and had often wondered if that frightened them off, but didn’t know for certain. Sighing, she watched as the bridge slowly disappeared from view. It would
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