Pauper's Gold (3 page)

‘That’s a farm,’ Luke said scathingly and his twin nodded. ‘It smells like one.’

Hannah glanced at them. She’d only known town streets with no trees or fields. The only animals she’d seen had been scrawny dogs and cats and most of them had been strays. So, she
didn’t argue, aware that the boys had known six years of life before coming into the workhouse. Who was she to say that they hadn’t seen a farm?

As if answering her unspoken question, Luke said, ‘Our dad worked on the land, but he moved about from job to job.’

Daniel nodded. ‘Every Lady Day, we’d be packing up and moving to a new farm.’

She saw the two boys glance at each other and knew they were remembering happier times.

‘Come on, then. Best walk a bit further,’ Hannah said briskly, trying to inject some encouragement into her tone. But they’d gone only a few yards further when they came to a
crossroads. The lane to the left led to the farm, but they’d no idea which of the other two roads they should take.

‘Which way now?’ Luke asked

‘I don’t know.’ Perplexed, Hannah glanced this way and that.

‘Let’s ask at the farm,’ Luke suggested. ‘They’ll know where the mill is.’

Hannah pulled a face, reluctant to knock on a stranger’s door, unsure of the welcome that four workhouse brats would receive. ‘All right then,’ she agreed diffidently, aware of
how tired they all were. They were hungry and thirsty too. She turned and frowned at the two boys behind her. ‘But just you two mind you behave yourselves.’

They grinned up at her with identical saucy expressions. ‘Yes, miss,’ they chorused.

The four of them trooped through the gate, the boys closing it carefully behind them. ‘You always have to shut gates on a farm,’ Luke said.

‘Oh – yes – right,’ Hannah nodded. She wasn’t sure why it was necessary. There was no one about in the yard but, again, she didn’t argue.

As they neared the back door, there was a scuffle, and a black and white collie appeared out of a kennel set to one side of the back door and began to bark.

Jane gave a terrified scream and clutched at Hannah’s skirt, hiding behind her. Even the two boys took a couple of steps backwards. Hannah too jumped, but she pulled in a deep breath and
held out her hand. ‘Here, boy. Good dog. Nice dog.’

‘He might not be as nice as you think,’ Luke muttered. ‘He’s a sheepdog. A working dog.’

‘And a guard dog,’ Daniel added.

But the animal ceased its barking, whined, wagged its tail and licked Hannah’s outstretched hand.

‘Well, would you look at that!’ Luke grinned at her. ‘Charm the birds off the trees, you could.’

In the workhouse, males, females, girls and boys had been strictly separated, but on the few occasions they had glimpsed one another, Hannah and Luke had liked what they’d seen. And now
here they were, having travelled together all day, standing outside the back door of a farmhouse seeking help.

‘Go on then,’ Luke encouraged. ‘Get on with it.’

Hannah glanced at the other three as she raised her hand to knock, seeing a mixture of trepidation and hope on their weary, pinched faces. It was exactly how she felt as she turned to face
whoever should open the door.

They heard heavy footsteps and then the door was pulled open. A tall, well-built, red-faced woman wearing a white bib apron stood looking down at them.

‘Come away in.’ She smiled and held the door wider open.

It seemed they were expected, yet Hannah still hesitated. ‘Is this the mill?’

‘Lord bless you, no. This is Rushwater Farm. The mill’s further on . . .’ She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. ‘Along this road.’ Her smile broadened so that her
round cheeks almost made her eyes close. ‘I guessed that’s where you’re heading. I’m used to youngsters coming to my door. Eh, dear me—’ She shook her head and
her smile faded. ‘If I’d a pound for every child who’s knocked at my door to be fed, I’d be a wealthy woman.’

‘Oh, we . . . we only wanted to ask the way. We weren’t sure, you see, which road—’ Hannah began.

‘Come along in, all of you,’ the woman stood back and beckoned. A mouth-watering smell wafted from her kitchen and the two boys, forgetting their promise to Hannah, pushed
forward.

Drawn by her own hunger and encouraged by the woman’s kindly, beaming face, Hannah stepped over the threshold. Jane, still clutching Hannah’s hand, followed.

‘Sit down, sit down. You’ve had a long journey, I’ll be bound, sitting in Bert Oldfield’s draughty cart.’

The four children gaped at her. ‘How . . . how did you know . . . ?’ Hannah began, but the woman chuckled. ‘You’re from Macclesfield workhouse, aren’t you?
You’ve come on the carrier’s cart to Buxton and then Bert’s brought you to the top of the hill. But the wily old bird won’t bring you all the way down in case his scrawny
horse can’t get back up again. Am I right?’

The children glanced at each other and then smiled.

‘How d’you know all that?’ Luke asked.

‘Because it happens every year, that’s why. When Mr Critchlow wants more children to work in his mill, he sends word to the master of the workhouse and along you all come. Bin
happening for years.’

‘Why . . . why does he need so many?’ Hannah asked. A sudden shiver ran through her. She wasn’t sure she should have asked the question. She might not like the answer.

‘Ah well, now,’ the woman turned away, busying herself over a huge pan of stew sitting on the hob of the kitchen range, ‘I wouldn’t know about that.’

Hannah stared at her stooping back. She had the feeling that the woman knew only too well, but didn’t want to tell them. She sighed, but as a plate of stew and dumplings was set before
her, she forgot about her worries and concentrated on filling her empty belly.

The farmer’s wife sat down opposite. She let them eat their fill before she asked, ‘Now, tell me your names. Mine’s Mrs Grundy.’

‘This is Jane Pickering and these two are twins.’

Mrs Grundy nodded. ‘Aye, I can see that. Like as two peas in a pod, aren’t you?’

‘Luke and Daniel Hammond and I’m Hannah. Hannah Francis.’

The woman smiled at them and nodded, ‘I’m pleased to meet you all. And don’t forget, if you want to visit me any time – any time at all – there’ll always be a
welcome for you at Rushwater Farm. You’ll not meet my husband today. He’s busy with the evening milking now, but he’ll be pleased to see you an’ all. He loves children
too.’

Hannah rose from her chair. ‘You’ve been very kind, Mrs Grundy,’ she said politely, ‘and we’d love to stay longer, but perhaps we’d best be going. Could you
please tell us which road we should take to the mill?’

‘’Course I can,’ the woman said, heaving herself up from her chair and leading them to the back door. She walked out of the yard to the road and then pointed. ‘Take the
road on the left here and just keep on. You’ll soon see it. Mind you,’ she went on, ‘you’d be best to go straight to the apprentice house. Go up the steep slope at the side
of the mill to the row of houses directly behind it. It’s the third building along. A white house. Ask for Mr or Mrs Bramwell. They’re the superintendents. Now, off you go.
They’ll be expecting you and it’ll be dark soon.’

She stood watching the children walk along the lane until they were out of sight.

‘God be with you, my dears,’ she murmured, thankful that the youngsters couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

‘Is . . . is that it? Is that the mill?’ Luke’s voice was suddenly scared. ‘It’s awfully big, isn’t it?’

The four children stood in the pillared gateway and looked at the place where they’d come to live and work. There were three huge buildings. The biggest was rectangular and set with its
back against a steep hill, its rows of numerous small-paned windows facing down the dale. Set at right angles to that was another oblong shape, and the third, a square building, stood at the end of
the second one.

‘Look at those houses built on the hill behind it,’ Luke murmured. ‘You’d think they’d fall off, wouldn’t you?’

‘I can hear water,’ Daniel murmured.

Luke turned suddenly and darted across the road. ‘There’s a big pond here and a stream that goes under the road.’ He re-crossed the lane. ‘And it comes out here. Then it
goes in front of the mill.’ He pointed to the bubbling brook. ‘And joins the river over there. On the far side of the mill. See?’

They were all silent, staring about them. Jane, white-faced, cowered behind Hannah.

‘Come on,’ Hannah said briskly at last. ‘We’d better go and find this Mrs Bramwell.’ She smiled down at the younger girl and gave her cold hand a comforting
squeeze. Jane dragged her feet, and glanced apprehensively over her shoulder. ‘I don’t like it,’ she whispered. ‘It’s so big. I want to go home. I want to go back to
the workhouse.’

‘We can’t,’ Hannah said. ‘There’s no one to take us back. Besides, we’ve been sent here. At least let’s give it a try. It might be better than the
workhouse.’

‘Anything’s got to be better—’ Luke began.

‘Than the workhouse,’ Daniel finished.

They climbed the steep hill to the first row of houses perched just above the mill.

‘This end one looks like a school,’ Luke said excitedly. He grasped hold of the high window ledge and hauled himself up to peer in the window. ‘There’s boys and girls
sitting at desks.’

‘At this time of night?’ Hannah stood on tiptoe, trying to see in, but she was too low down, and she had no intention of scrambling up the side of the rough wall and tearing her
clean dress.

‘It’ll be after they’ve worked at the mill,’ Luke said. ‘There’s a boy asleep at his desk. Oh!’

Suddenly, he let himself drop to the ground.

‘What? What is it?’

Luke was laughing. ‘The master saw him sleeping and cracked his cane on the desk. The lad didn’t half jump. He thought he’d been shot.’

‘Do you think we’ll go to school?’ Jane asked quietly.

‘I don’t know,’ Hannah said. ‘Maybe for a few hours a week.’ She sighed. ‘But what I do know is – we’ve been sent here to work.’

They moved on, dragging their feet now that they had seen the other children. Suddenly, however strict school life might be under a cane-wielding teacher, they yearned to join those children
instead of entering a new and frightening world. At least a classroom – even a different classroom with strange children – was a familiar world to them. There had been a schoolroom at
the workhouse with a master for the boys and a school-marm for the girls. Of the four of them, only Jane couldn’t read or write. She’d been a sickly child, and her schooling, even in
the workhouse, had been spasmodic.

They knocked on the door of the white house, next door but one to the school, and waited. A girl, not much older than they were, opened it.

‘Come in, the missis is waiting for you.’

They trooped after her, through the large kitchen and a hallway, and were shown into a small, stuffy room where a woman was sitting at a desk going through some papers.

The girl bobbed a curtsy. ‘The new ones have arrived, Mrs Bramwell.’

‘Thank you, Mary.’

The girl left the room, closing the door quietly behind her, leaving the four new arrivals standing nervously just inside the door. The woman didn’t even look up but continued to write
notes at the edge of one of the sheets of paper. They waited for what seemed an age, until Jane tugged at Hannah’s hand and whispered urgently, ‘I need the privy, Hannah. I need it
now.’

‘Hush,’ Hannah whispered. ‘You’ll have to wait.’

‘I can’t.’ Jane’s voice rose in a wail. ‘I’ll do it. Oh – oh, I am . . .’

The woman looked up. ‘Take her out this minute. It’s out the back.’

Hannah pulled open the door, dragging Jane with her. She rushed back the way they had come, startling the young girl, Mary, as they hurried through the kitchen. Hannah paused briefly.
‘Where is it? Where’s the privy?’

Mary pointed. ‘Out the door and down the path to the left. It’s the—’

Hannah waited to hear no more but hustled the unfortunate Jane out of the door and along the path. ‘There it is. Hurry up.’

Moments later, Jane emerged from the wooden hut. She was calmer now, but tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah.’

‘Yes, well, you should’ve said you wanted to go before we went in.’

Jane sniffed loudly. ‘Sorry.’

Hannah took her hand and smiled down at her. The little girl was obviously weary from the journey and fearful of the strange place and people. They all were. ‘Come on, we’ll have to
go back.’

Mrs Bramwell was a tall, thin woman. In her early forties, she nevertheless looked old to the young children. She had a long, straight nose and grey eyes. Her mouth was small, with thin lips
that rarely smiled. She was wearing a black dress with a white apron, and her hair was hidden beneath a white cotton bonnet tied beneath her chin, its white frill framing her face.

When they entered the room once more, Hannah saw the telltale puddle on the polished wooden floor. Mrs Bramwell rose from her desk, and, standing before them with her hands folded in front of
her, she scrutinized them slowly.

‘Well now, so you’re the four urchins Mr Goodbody’s chosen to send us this time.’ Her gaze rested upon Luke and Daniel and she sniffed. ‘Hmm. Boys, eh? And twins by
the look of you. Mr Critchlow prefers girls. So much less trouble.’

Luke dared to laugh out loud. ‘Her won’t be.’ He jerked his thumb towards Hannah. ‘Her’s as bad as any boy. Worse.’

Mrs Bramwell’s glance swivelled to Hannah.

‘Well, we’ll see about that, young lady, won’t we?’

Hannah bobbed a curtsy as she had seen this woman’s maid do. ‘I’ll be as good as gold here, ma’am. I promise.’

Mrs Bramwell nodded. ‘You certainly will,’ she said firmly. Her words had an ominous ring. ‘Now,’ she went on briskly. ‘I expect you’re hungry after your
journey.’ She paused and there was the briefest flicker of amusement as she added drily, ‘Or has the good Mrs Grundy been feeding you her stew and dumplings?’

The four youngsters glanced at each other.

Hannah’s honest gaze met the woman’s eyes. ‘Yes, ma’am. We stopped – just to ask the way – and she was very kind . . .’ Her voice trailed away. Had they
done wrong? Were they all in trouble already?