Storm Child (9 page)

Fifteen

Polly groaned.  ‘Nice work, Annie.’

One of the guards stepped
forwards.  ‘Right then, Missy. You want to tell us what you’re up to?’

Polly flicked her hair back. ‘You
simple or
somethin
’?’  The man’s mouth fell open.
‘You must be,’ she sniped.  ‘It’s obvious I’m
tryin
’
to bust someone out.’ All three men stared at her.  Annie shook her head
in a tiny movement but Polly ignored her silent warning. ‘I suppose you’re
goin
’ to lock us up an’ all now,’ Polly said carelessly.

The first man shook
himself.  ‘Grab her,’ he ordered.

Annie looked as though her legs
would give way. Polly winked at her as they were both grabbed and their arms
twisted up their backs. ‘Don’t you worry, sweet,’ she whispered, ‘there
ain’t
a cell that has held me yet.’

Annie didn’t look convinced and,
if possible, she paled even more than her usual lily-white complexion.

‘Two of these nippers are black
haired…’ one of the jailers said to his companion as they pushed the two girls
down the corridor.

‘Yeah…’ the second returned with
a leering grin, ‘I noticed that too. The missus could do with a new winter
coat.’

They burst into raucous laughter.
Had they not been holding her so tightly, Polly would have punched hers in the
face.

Isaac gave a quick grin as the
girls were pushed into the cell with him. ‘Ah, Poll, if I’d known you were that
keen to be with me I’d have got locked up sooner.’

The key rattled in the lock and
they were left alone, the sound of the men’s laughter still ringing in their
ears. 

‘Shut up, you great lump, afore I
knock your block off,’ Polly snapped. ‘We’re in more trouble than you know.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘
Nothin
’…
I just got a funny
feelin
’ about what they were
saying.’ She shot a quick, cautious glance at Annie before turning back to
Isaac, who said nothing in reply. He moved aside to let them sit on the bed,
and Polly’s expression softened as she noticed him wince. ‘What’s the matter
with you?’

He moved the fabric of his ripped
trousers to reveal an angry gash running the length of his thigh. ‘Got into an
argument with some railings, didn’t I?’  He gave Polly a lopsided smile.
‘The railings won.’

Annie sucked in her breath. ‘That
looks nasty, Isaac.  Does it hurt?’

‘Course it hurts, you idiot,’
Polly cut in. She stooped down to get a closer look. ‘You want to watch that
doesn’t get infected.’

‘You
goin
’
to kiss it better for me?’

‘Not likely,’ she said, standing
up.  She made her way to the bars and pulled at them.  ‘This is a rum
do,
ain’t
it?’

‘What do you think will happen
when Ernesto finds us gone?’ Annie asked quietly. 

‘He won’t be
makin
’
us a cake, that’s for certain.’ Polly went back to the bed and sat down.
 ‘That’s not the worst of our worries, though.’

‘What do we do?’ Annie asked.

‘I’m thinking,’ Polly
snapped.   Her attention was drawn to the tiny window.  ‘Too
small,’ she sighed after studying it for a moment. She looked at Isaac. His
skin was grey, black shadows under his eyes. ‘You don’t look so good,’ she
said.

He gave her a tired smile. 
‘I’m tougher than I look, Poll.’

‘How about you pretend to be more
ill than you look?’ she said slowly. He raised an eyebrow in questioning
response. ‘You pretend you’ve swooned an’ I’ll call the guards over. They’ll
have to open the doors, and when they do, we’ll jump ‘
em
.’

‘Do you think that will work?’
Annie asked doubtfully.

‘Got any brighter ideas?’ Polly
said.  ‘
Seein’s
as it’s your fault we’re in here
in the first place.’

Annie’s eyes widened. ‘My fault?’

‘If you’d kept them out of the
way a bit longer, I could have had the cell open and we’d have all been half
way to our beds by now.’

Annie chewed her lip. ‘I did my
best,’ she said quietly.

‘Ah, come on, Poll,’ Isaac cut
in.  ‘Weren’t Annie’s fault.’

‘How do you know, face-ache?’

‘If it were anyone’s fault, it
were mine.’

Polly narrowed her eyes. ‘So it
was. Good thing you reminded me, goat-brains.’

Isaac smirked. ‘I love it when
you insult me. I want more. We
ain’t
had
clotpole
today, give me
clotpole
!’
Polly smacked him on the arm.  ‘Ow!’ he cried, rubbing the spot, his face
twisted in mock pain.

‘If you don’t shut up, you great
oaf, I’ll give your bad leg one an’ all.’ Polly left the bed and went back to
the cell door, leaning her head on the bars as she gazed out.  ‘I can’t
think of any other way to get out,’ she said. ‘We should try; it’s got to be
better than
sittin
’ in here with you two all night.’

Annie glanced at Isaac with a
hurt expression.  He winked at her. ‘She don’t mean it, Annie.’

‘I
bloomin
’
well do.’ Polly turned to them. They looked up at her and she smiled
slightly.  ‘I suppose you’re alright sometimes,’ she said, her tone
softer.

‘Let’s have a go, then,’ Isaac
said, lying himself face-down on the floor and closing his eyes. 

‘Help!’ Polly shrieked through
the bars. ‘Help us, he’s fainted!’

Annie leapt to her feet and
joined Polly at the cell door. One of the men appeared.

‘What’s all this racket?’

Polly could smell alcohol on his
breath even before he was within five yards of them.  ‘It’s Isaac, he’s
swooned.’

The man cast a glance at the
prone figure of Isaac. ‘Happen he has.’

‘
Ain’t
you
goin
’ to do
somethin
’
about it?’ Polly asked.

The man looked up at her. ‘No.’

He had already started to walk
away as Polly shouted after him. ‘Leave a young boy to die, would
ya
?  Heartless!  Wait till the magistrate
hears!’  She sighed.  Isaac lifted his head.

‘That didn’t go to plan, did it?’

Polly returned to the bed as
Isaac scrambled awkwardly to his feet and limped across the room to join
her. 

Annie continued to watch through
the bars, her attention drawn to the lights at the end of the gloomy
corridor.  She heard a long sigh coming from behind her, the swish of
fabric, and turned to see Isaac embrace Polly.

‘It’ll be alright,’ he said in a
low voice as she leaned against him and he stroked her dark curls away from her
face. ‘We’ll think o’ something, you’ll see. Me and you, we’ve been in worse
scrapes,
ain’t
we?’

 Annie blushed and quickly
turned away.  She stared out through the bars as the room lapsed into
silence.  The smell of mould and sawdust, and something that she dared not
try to identify, hung in the air.  From the main room, the low murmur of
conversation, punctuated by raucous outbursts, reached them as the guards continued
their night watch. It was then that she caught sight of a fleeting shape, and
looked to see a mouse scurry into a tiny hole in the wall.  Annie turned
her attention back to the others. Isaac was now leaning back on his elbows as
Polly carefully peeled back the rip in his trousers to look at his wound.

‘This is
goin
’
to get gammy, make no mistake.  We could do with some o’ that what they’re
drinkin
’ in there to clean it,’ Polly said.

Isaac grimaced. ‘Steady on,
Poll.  You want to make me scream?’

Polly tutted.  ‘I thought
you said you were a man?’

Isaac tried to smile, but the
effort seemed to be draining him.  He lay back on the bed and closed his
eyes.   Annie chewed on her lip as she watched them. Then, she turned
her face to the bars and began to sing.

Polly flicked her head in Annie’s
direction and stared.  But, moments later, her eyelids started to
droop.  She shook her head to clear it, but drowsiness took hold
again.  She rolled down next to Isaac on the bed and rested her head on
his chest. 

‘Sounds like an angel,’ he
murmured as his arm curled around her and his eyes closed too.

Annie continued her strange song,
a sound like crystal cutting through the air, sharp, sweet notes that seemed to
echo through the very fabric of the world itself.   

She looked to check on Polly and
Isaac. They were nestled together, both sleeping soundly. Annie went over and
laid a gentle hand on Isaac’s wound, resting it there for a moment, murmuring
softly. After a few moments, she began to sing again, a much quieter, lazy melody
this time.  The mouse appeared from its hole, sniffed at the air, and then
turned its bright eyes on her. 

‘Help us, little one.  Do
this one thing for me.  I promise your will is your own afterwards.’ 

The mouse’s whiskers twitched
slightly, and then it scampered off, down the corridor. Annie waited. It was
gone a while but she didn’t move, only to turn her head occasionally and check
that Polly and Isaac were still asleep. Eventually, it returned, slowly nudging
a key, inch by inch down the corridor towards the cell. Annie watched it
patiently. The key was a huge weight for such a tiny creature. Annie smiled.
‘Perhaps you need help.’  She opened her mouth to sing again, and this
time three more mice appeared from gaps in the stone walls. They pushed at the
key together, inching it along the corridor until it was in reaching distance.
Annie put a hand through the bars and grabbed it.  She turned to check on
the others, and saw that they were still asleep. 

The mice stood before her,
motionless.  She clicked her fingers and they all shook their heads before
scurrying away into their holes. 

Rattling the key in the lock,
Annie opened the cell door.  She went over to Isaac and nudged him.
‘Isaac, the cell was unlocked the whole time!’

He opened his eyes, not quite
able to focus on her.  ‘What’s that you say?’

‘Polly!’ Annie shook her. 
Polly grumbled and nuzzled into Isaac, who gave a contented grin and closed his
eyes again.

‘Get up!’ Annie hissed. 

Polly opened her eyes. ‘Who are
you
shoutin
’ at?’

‘The door is open.  We can
go but we have to hurry.’

Polly stared at Annie.  ‘How
did… it weren’t open before, I’m sure of it.’

‘It must have been.’

Polly stuck an elbow into Isaac’s
ribs before sitting up.

‘Ow!’ he cried.

‘Get up, you big oaf.  Time
to go home.’

Isaac pushed himself up. ‘What
are you
talkin
’ about?’

Annie went over to the door and
pushed it open. ‘See?’

Polly leapt up and Isaac
followed. 

‘That was locked, I tried it,’
Polly said.

‘It
ain’t
now, Poll,’ Isaac replied, a slow smile spreading across his face.  ‘I say
we get back afore old Ernesto misses us.’

Polly went cautiously down the
corridor and stopped at the opening to the main room, peering around the
corner.  The three men were all seated, but slumped across the table, a
hand of cards and a glass of spirits before each one.  Polly crept over to
the nearest one and lowered her face to his, hardly daring to breathe. 

‘Asleep,’ she whispered to the
other two as she straightened up. Isaac and Annie emerged from their hiding
place around the corner. 

Isaac nodded as he made his way
over, Annie following. Polly turned to go. ‘Wait!’ he called in a loud whisper.

Polly scowled at him. ‘What now,
clotpole
?’

‘I got to get Ernesto’s money
back. They gave some back to the cove who got me arrested but they couldn’t
find the other and they kept it…’ he went to the drawers and started to rifle
through, as quietly as he could. Polly frowned and Annie stole an anxious
glance at the sleeping men. ‘It’s not here,’ he said.

‘We’ll have to go without it.’

‘We can’t. I’d rather face
deportin
’ than Ernesto if I go home without it. Hang on…’
he said, making his way over to the sleeping men.

‘You’ll wake them!’ Annie
whispered fearfully as he began to search their pockets.

‘Don’t you worry, sweet,’ Polly
grinned. ‘They don’t even notice Isaac
lookin
’ when
they’re awake, never mind asleep.’

With a look of triumph, Isaac
held aloft the second coin purse he had stolen that day. ‘Got it!’ 

‘Good, now hurry up!’ Polly
hissed.  They headed for the entrance and stepped out into the dark
street, closing the doors quietly after them. 

‘That were a stroke of luck,’ Polly said as they marched
back towards the main road out of the town.

‘Yeah,’ Isaac agreed.  ‘They
must have been
stinkin
’ drunk.’

Polly turned her attention to
Annie and watched her carefully.  Annie glanced at her, but said nothing,
and then turned to face the road once more as Polly’s penetrating gaze
continued to bore into her. ‘Your leg looks alright now an’ all,’ Polly said
glancing at Isaac.

‘I clean forgot about that,’ he
said, looking down at himself in some surprise. ‘It does feel better.’

‘That’s lucky,’ Polly replied
darkly, ‘coz if we don’t get back before Ernesto wakes, you’ll have more than a
bad leg to worry about…. We all will.’

Sixteen:

Polly had remained silent on the subject after they had
broken back into the house and she finally managed to inspect Isaac’s leg only
to find that the wound was almost healed. Isaac himself seemed unconcerned by
the strangeness of it, and Polly merely threw Annie a glance loaded with
understanding, Annie doing her best to avoid the intensity of her gaze. 
There had been no time for anything else, as Ernesto was heard moving about in
his study and the three of them had hurried to their bedrooms before they could
be discovered.  By the time dawn had arrived and the three had roused for
their daily chores, it was difficult to see that Isaac had ever been injured at
all.

‘It’s all there.’ Isaac tipped the coins out onto Ernesto’s
desk. Ernesto looked slowly up at him with a dark scowl, but Isaac held his
gaze defiantly.

‘Do I need to know how you came
by this?’ Ernesto began in a low voice. ‘Because if you bring trouble to this
house…’

‘There’ll be no trouble.’

‘There’d better not be, because I
will point them straight to you and deny any knowledge of where this came
from.’

‘You won’t be
lyin
’
then, because you don’t know where it came from.’ Isaac’s reply was cheerful
enough, but there was a barely perceptible steel to his tone.

Ernesto opened a desk drawer and
scraped the coins into it. ‘Get to your chores; that stable stinks like the
breath of Beelzebub himself.’ Tipping his cloth cap, Isaac turned to leave.
‘Tell Poll I want a word with her,’ Ernesto added. 

Isaac glanced back once, and then
left the room without reply.

‘What did he say?’ Annie asked anxiously as Isaac emerged
into the courtyard.

‘He wants you, Poll,’ he replied,
turning to Polly as she came from the washroom drying her hands on her apron.
Polly glanced between the two of them before grimacing and making her way into
the house.  Annie narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched her go.

‘Annie,’ Isaac said in a low voice
when Polly was out of earshot. ‘You may think I’m simple, but something strange
happened last night in the jail. Whatever you’re hiding, you need to hide it
better than that.’

And with that, he strode off to
muck out Chester.  Annie stared after him, her already pale skin seeming
to lose a shade. What did Isaac mean?  Had Polly said something to him? He
had seemed oblivious to all that she had done the night before, but then he had
been in quite a state when they finally got home, despite his bravado. Isaac
might give the impression that he was an ineffectual, happy-go-lucky oaf, but
he was far from stupid.  What if he had worked it out once his head was
clear? Could she trust him if he had guessed her secret?  More
importantly, could she trust Polly if Isaac shared his suspicions with her?
Polly already knew far too much, and Annie knew that was her fault.

Twisting her fingers together,
Annie glanced at the door to the house. Polly was in there now, and God only
knew what she was telling Ernesto.

Polly pushed the door open to Ernesto’s study and went
in.  His head shot up at her entrance and he hurriedly stuffed a sheet of
paper into his desk drawer.

‘Don’t you know how to knock,
girl?’ he thundered.

‘You knew I was
comin
’. Didn’t think I needed to.’

‘Well start. I am supposed to be
the man of this house, but some days I wonder.’

‘What’s
eatin
’
you?’

Ernesto wiped a hand down his
face. He seemed unusually agitated; his bad mood far more transparent than it
had been with Isaac moments earlier.

‘Have you managed to get anything
more out of that blasted girl down there?’

‘About her sister?’ Polly twirled
a curl around her finger with a satisfied smile as she stood before him. She
liked it when Ernesto needed something from her; it gave her a chance to turn
the tables on him for once. ‘I might have.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means have some patience. I
ain’t
no
bleedin
’ miracle
worker.’

‘For Pity’s sake, all you have to
do is ask her.’

‘She
ain’t
tellin
’! It takes a woman’s cunning to get that sort
of information.’

‘When you find one let me know,’
Ernesto muttered. Polly grinned. ‘I need that child,’ Ernesto said slowly. ‘The
situation has developed and I need her quick.’

‘Situation?’ Polly frowned.

Ernesto waved his hand in a
dismissive gesture. ‘Never mind that, you wouldn’t understand if I told you.
Just find out where the infant is.’

‘How rich is this baby
goin
’
ter
make you?’ Polly asked
slowly.

Ernesto leapt from his seat and
slammed a hand on the desk. ‘JUST FIND HER!’

‘I
gotta
go out for the day…
alone.’ Polly announced at the door of the stable.

Isaac paused in his brushing of
Chester. ‘Alone? But what about chores?’

‘You and Annie will have to do
mine.’

Isaac’s jaw clenched but he said
nothing on the subject of extra work. ‘Where are you going?’

‘There and back to see how far it
is.’ Polly pulled her shawl tight over her shoulders.

‘You shouldn’t be out alone,’
Isaac said in a low voice. ‘Have you forgotten there are robbers on the roads?’

‘Unlike you,’ Polly said, tossing
her hair back, ‘I have my wits about me.’

‘I don’t like it, Poll. What’s so
important you got to go swanning off all by
yerself
?’

Polly stepped forward and prodded
Isaac’s nose playfully. ‘That’s my business,
ain’t
it?’

Polly made quick progress, the clean, cold air filling her
lungs and making her feel more alive with every step. Full of nervous energy
and plans forming in her head, she hardly noticed the length of her journey as
she bounded towards the place where the town gave way to the wild heath, and a
small white cottage could be seen on the outskirts of a rural village.
 The occasional pang of guilt was pushed firmly to the back of her mind.
She, Isaac and Annie were alright in Ernesto’s care, so why shouldn’t Annie’s
sister be too? Whatever Annie thought she had overheard, it couldn’t be true,
could it? Ernesto might lie to the others from time to time, but he wouldn’t
lie to his favourite, old reliable Poll, would he?  So what harm was she
doing by going to fetch the baby home? If anything, Annie ought to be grateful
that she was reuniting them. She might be angry at first, but in time, Annie
would see that Polly had been right to do this all along. And if Ernesto
happened to show his gratitude as well, by leaving her the house and all his
money, then that was alright by Polly.  She’d even let Annie and her
sister live there as long as they wanted, and she wouldn’t make them do chores
every day like old Ern did.

The cottage looked to be roughly
in the same location that Polly recalled seeing the first time Annie had given
her reason to suspect that it housed the missing toddler, although the heath
all looked so flat and vast, the same in every direction save for the woods
bordering one side and the village on the other, it was hard to be certain of
anything.  Painting on her most innocent expression, she picked her way
through the undergrowth of brackens and wilted ferns to investigate.

A couple of knocks at the front
door brought no reply.  She went to a small window and peered in. 
There was no movement in the kitchen and the fire was low.  Polly mused
for a moment on where the occupants might be, until she recalled it was Sunday
and they would almost certainly be at church. Polly allowed herself a wry smile.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had stepped inside a church.  The
amount of sin she must have accrued since then would probably make her combust
on entry to one now.

A moment of indecision and then
Polly made for the next building she could see on the horizon.  As she
drew nearer she could hear the echoing clang of metal on metal, thick smoke
rising into the clear air.  The door was open, the heat blasting out from
the space inside was terrific as Polly stepped in. 

The smith looked up from his work
as she cleared her throat loudly.

‘Afternoon, Miss. What can I do
for you?’

‘I’m
tryin
’
to visit my friend, and I can’t find her house.’

The smith stood straight and
wiped his brow. ‘Who might that be?’

‘Miss Harding…’ Polly had no idea
of any more specific information. She hoped it would be enough to confirm that
the people she was looking for lived in the cottage she had just been to. 

‘They’ll be at church now,’ he
replied.

‘I know,’ Polly began, thinking
quickly. ‘I said I would go with them but I fear I’m too late and now I’m
lost.’ Her eyes watered slightly. It had the desired effect – the man’s tone
softened.

‘You can take a seat here awhile
until they return.’ He nodded a head towards the cottage just visible through
the open door. ‘They live there so you didn’t stray too far. It shouldn’t be
long now and it
ain’t
safe for young ladies to wander
around the heath these days.  I can’t say I’ll be much company, mind.’

Polly sniffed and looked as
grateful as she could manage. ‘Thank you, sir. It’s lovely and warm in here.’
She paused as she cast around for a place to sit. Just inside the doorway was a
rough wooden bench.  Polly settled herself.  ‘You
ain’t
at church, sir?’

‘Been ill in bed this week.
Sunday is a day of rest for those who can afford it, but metal don’t work
itself and I got a family to feed.’ He gave a tense smile as he noticed Polly
suddenly look concerned.  ‘I
ain’t
infectious if
that’s what you’re
thinkin
’.’

‘No, not that. Don’t let me stop
you working.’

He gave a short nod and turned
back to his task.  Polly watched with interest for a while as he heated
the piece of iron he was working on before beating it. There seemed to be no
pattern at all to the way he hit it, but every so often he would pause and take
a closer look before resuming, and before long, the lump of metal began to look
like a shape. 

‘What are you making?’

The smith looked up; a faint
expression of surprise on his face as though he had quite forgotten Polly was
there. ‘It’ll be a new section of railings for the churchyard when I’ve done.’

Conversation halted again as the
smith returned to working.  Polly blew out a breath and swivelled round to
peer out of the open door.  Not one for sitting around, waiting was
something she wasn’t very good at.  But at least it was giving her time to
think through in more detail her approach when the time finally came to act.
 Finally, she could stand the silence no more.

‘What does Mr Harding do?’

The smith stopped work again and
glanced up, this time a look of suspicion crossing his features. ‘Don’t you
know he’s dead?  Master George too.’

‘I
ain’t
been acquainted with them long,’ Polly said quickly, realising her mistake.

The man turned and spat on the
floor behind him. Polly didn’t flinch – she’d seen much worse down the alleys
of
Uxmouth
.  ‘
Ain’t
safe for them living out here with no man in the house.’

So, there was no Mr Harding. It
would make Polly’s investigations a lot easier. The perfect introduction to the
Harding residence had presented itself.  All she needed to do now was
check that the baby did indeed live there, and that it was the right baby, and
Ernesto’s fortune was practically hers.

‘Do you think church will be over
now?’

The smith threw a glance up at
the darkening sky. ‘Happen it might.’

Polly stood and dusted down her
billowing skirts.  ‘I’ll thank you for the warm, sir, but I’ll be on my
way now.’

‘Miss…’ Polly turned back from
the door. The man’s expression was deadly serious. ‘Wolves have been heard
around these parts.  Don’t be out after nightfall.’

‘Don’t concern yourself, sir…’
Polly tossed her hair back with a mischievous grin. ‘
Ain’t
a wolf alive that can outwit
me.
’

By the time Polly had reached the cottage, lights could be
seen in the window.  Evergreens stood sentry at the porch, pretty but
modest floral curtains framing the windows and the smell of newly burning peat
reaching her even from feet away.  It looked warm and homely, a place of
safety and love. Somewhere from deep within, a strange emotion tugged at
her.  In another life, perhaps Polly might have lived in a house like
this, sitting by a peat fire eating bread and homemade jam with a mother to
care for her.

Shaking such ridiculous
sentimentality, she knocked at the door.  After a moment or two of
waiting, it was opened cautiously to reveal the face of a woman who could only
be called beautiful.  She was dressed in an elegant forest green gown with
a complimentary floral bodice, one that had clearly seen better days, but still
lovelier than anything Polly had ever owned.  Polly felt that tug at her
heart again, and was taken aback for the shortest time until she collected
herself.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m
lost.’

The woman cast an appraising
glance over Polly. ‘Where are you travelling to?’

‘
Uxmouth
.’

‘
Uxmouth
?
Alone? Why did you leave the road and come over the heath?’

‘On account of the howling.’
Polly’s eyes were wide. ‘I was afraid.’

The woman glanced back into the
house and then seemed to make a decision. ‘It will be dark soon and you
shouldn’t be out in these parts alone after nightfall.’