Strange Star (8 page)

By the time I got the chance to tell Da what had happened, it was already too late. Very early the next morning I was awakened by a sound I couldn’t place. Groggy with sleep, I rolled over. The noise – feeble and cat-like – was coming from Peg’s side of the bed.

‘Oh no,’ I groaned, remembering what Mr Walton had said last night about Peg’s fondness for animals. ‘Tell me that’s not a kitten you’ve got there.’

‘I had to, Lizzie,’ said Peg, wide awake and excited-sounding. ‘Before Da and me went to Eden Court the other day, we were in the village and Mrs Pringle was at the shop with her kittens again and …’

‘… you talked her into letting you have one,’ I finished. ‘So you’ve had it for nearly two days and not told anyone?’

Peg made a ‘hmmm’ sound in her throat.

‘And you’ve hidden it away? How?’

But she didn’t really need to answer: Peg had been
hiding little animals about the place for years. She was very good at it.

Without warning, a tiny furry bundle was pressed against my cheek.

‘Give him a stroke,’ said Peg. ‘He’s called Spider because he’s eaten two already.’

I couldn’t stay cross. Not when Spider the kitten was as soft as a gosling. No wonder Peg couldn’t resist him; after all we’d been through, she deserved a proper pet to love.

‘So he’s the ginger kitten you liked, is he?’ I asked, stroking between his ears.

‘No, he’s black with white paws. Mrs Pringle had a few like him, so I didn’t think she’d notice that he was missing.’

I stopped stroking. ‘You took him without
asking
?’

‘Mrs Pringle wouldn’t let me have one without checking with Da, but he was in the post office at the time. And I
am
going to speak to him …’

‘But you haven’t yet.’

‘I will,’ Peg insisted. ‘Anyway, I waited for ages for Mrs Pringle to finish talking about those missing hens. But she went on and on, so in the end I helped myself.’

‘You stole Spider, you mean.’

‘No I didn’t,’ said Peg, grumpily. ‘She wanted rid of her kittens. I’ve done her a favour, really.’

‘That’s not how Mrs Pringle will see things.’ It was bound to set tongues wagging too. After what Mr Walton said yesterday, I didn’t suppose this would help.

Before I could say more, there was a knock at our back door. It was barely even light, and I’d an uneasy sense that whoever was out there hadn’t come with good news. Da got there first. I scrambled out of bed to hover at the top of the stairs.

‘What brings you here in such weather?’ I heard Da say, for it was bitter cold still and the rain fell in sheets.

Peg joined me on the landing, resting her head sleepily against my shoulder.

‘Who is it?’ she said. ‘What do they want?’

‘Shh! I’m listening.’

Da’s tone of voice changed. ‘Mr Henderson, I hardly see what this business has to do with us. Of course we haven’t taken anyone’s poultry.’

Feeling for Peg’s hand, I found it and held it tight. This was just as Mr Walton had said; the villagers suspected Peg of taking their livestock. It was nonsense. Utter nonsense.

‘What’s happening?’ she said, bewildered. ‘They’ve not come for Spider, have they?’

I shook my head. ‘Keep him out of sight, though, just in case.’

With Spider safely back in our room, we tiptoed down the stairs, stopping halfway to sit side by side on a step. I dreaded what Mr Henderson would say next, but I wasn’t about to miss it, either.

‘I’m sorry it’s come to this, Jed,’ said Mr Henderson, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But things have reached a head. We have to do something to stop these attacks.’

Outside, the noise of falling rain grew louder. Mr Henderson, still standing on our doorstep, would be soaked through. Yet Da didn’t invite him inside.

‘What do you propose to do about it?’ he asked.

‘We’d like to search your barns, if we may,’ Mr Henderson said.

Well, he could try, I thought bitterly. He’d not find anything in them, not even our own birds. After last night’s encounter with Mr Walton, I was surer than ever who or what really
was
to blame.

‘You see, Jed.’ Mr Henderson gave a nervous laugh. ‘I’ll get to the point. You know how it’s been since … well … since your
loss
. People do talk.’

Da shifted his feet. I imagined him tucking his hands into his armpits, dropping his chin. He didn’t
like to fight. But I knew he would if he had to – and that made me more nervous.

‘Not all people,’ Da said. ‘Just the ones who’re keen to judge us for our misfortune.’

‘Yes, well.’ Mr Henderson swiftly moved on. ‘Our business today regards missing livestock – hens, ducks …’

‘And geese.’ I stood up, unable to stay quiet any longer. ‘Ours got taken last night, Mr Henderson, so it’s no good coming here thinking Peg’s to blame when she was upstairs fast asleep at the time.’

‘Why, I never mentioned your sister by name!’ he said, sounding flustered.

He didn’t need to. The fact he was here at all was enough.

‘You’ve seen that hole in our hedge, have you?’ I said, thinking of what had hidden there last night. ‘Something escaped through it with our geese.’

‘It’s hardly proof. A badger could’ve made it.’

‘A badger? Mr Henderson, what was out there was huge!’ I cried.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he addressed Da again. ‘So if we could check your barns, Jed, it would clear up any misunderstanding.’

The doorway grew lighter as Da turned round.
‘Did you know about this, Lizzie? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Peg’s hand in mine felt hot and sticky. Her breath was coming fast.

‘I’d heard something about what folks have been saying,’ I muttered. ‘But how can it be Peg who’s taking animals when our birds got taken as well?’

Da didn’t answer.

Here in the light of day, I knew I should tell him all of what had happened last night. And I very nearly did. But if I shared Mr Walton’s secret, he’d come after me, I was sure of it. So the words stayed jammed in my throat.

Peg began to sob. ‘It weren’t me, Da! Whatever the man says, it weren’t me!’

‘Hush, my sweet,’ said Da, coming over to us and scooping Peg into his arms. ‘We know it wasn’t you. It’s all a big mistake.’

From the doorway, Mr Henderson coughed. There were shufflings from outside: other voices, other restless coughs. With a sinking feeling, I realised Mr Henderson wasn’t alone.

‘My men and I are ready, Mr Appleby,’ he said, confirming my fears. ‘Shall we start with the barn nearest the gate?’

There was no more ‘Jed’: it was surnames only. Da must’ve noticed it too. He stayed close to me and Peg.

‘No one is to search my barns,’ he said. ‘My daughter has done nothing wrong. You’re mistaken in coming here.’

Mr Henderson huffed irritably. ‘Very well. I can’t force a search today. But if necessary, we will return with a warrant.’

The men left soon after that. Then Da did too, heading off to work on the commission for Eden Court, which he’d talked his way into keeping, despite us. Poor Peg was still upset. Dragging me to the nearest chair, and though she was too big to do so, she climbed onto my lap and burst into a fresh bout of tears.

‘I didn’t do it,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t take no poultry. Everybody blames me and it isn’t fair!’

‘Hush, I know you didn’t.’

‘The whole village must hate me. But I’m not lying, Lizzie, honest I’m not.’

‘I know, I know,’ I murmured into her hair.

By the time she’d grown calmer, I felt the opposite. My brain was all awhirl. A large animal had escaped from Eden Court and was attacking poultry, of that
I was pretty certain. I needed not to be scared and to tell someone what I knew. Trouble was, I’d no idea who.

Not Da, who’d made it clear what he thought of loose talk concerning Mr Walton. And though Mercy might listen, she’d never hold her tongue. Times like these, I missed Mam so much it hurt. She’d listen. She’d believe me. She’d also know just what to do, and be bold enough to do it.

All the crying had left Peg exhausted. Through the fabric of her shift, her skin felt hot and humid. I hoped it wasn’t a fever coming on.

‘Go back to bed and cuddle up with Spider,’ I said to her, easing her off my lap. ‘I’ll wake you in a while.’

I listened to her heavy footsteps climb the stairs. Then to the creak of floorboards, the shuffling covers, her murmuring voice as she spoke to her kitten. When a hush finally settled, I got to my feet. There was laundry to wash, floors to sweep, the stove to tend. But I couldn’t settle to any of it. Instead, I went outside.

Head bent against the rain, I walked towards our hedge. Just to check. Just to be doubly certain last night wasn’t a bad dream.

Sure enough, on the ground nearby were leaves and
broken twigs that fidgeted beneath my feet. By the gate was a hole. It was way bigger than any badger would make. Against my fingers, I felt the rough ends of newly snapped hawthorn where whatever it was had smashed its way out into the lane. That strange damp smell lingered too.

What had been here last night was definitely not my sister. Nor was it even a person. It was, I recalled with a shudder, something that ate goose innards raw, which Mr Walton wanted kept secret from the world.

Mid morning, I took Peg up a cup of tea. Much of it sloshed down the front of my frock as I bumped my way upstairs, but I dearly hoped she’d drink what was left. The last thing we needed was for her to be ill.

Outside, the rain had turned to sleet. I found our bedroom window easy enough – icy raindrops beat against it like grit. Putting Peg’s tea on the sill, I sidestepped to the bed.

‘Wakey-wakey, Peg,’ I said.

She didn’t reply.

‘I’ve brought you some tea, sleepy,’ I said.

She still didn’t speak. Nor did she move, or groan, or
snore. I felt my way up the bed. First her side, nearest the window. Then mine. Spider was there, all curled up in a ball. But no Peg. The covers were cold to the touch.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. Perhaps she’d fallen out of bed. Perhaps she lay fainted on the floor. Dropping to my knees, I reached under the bed, finding only handfuls of dust. I checked the rest of the floor, behind the door, the chair.

Nothing.

‘Don’t hide from me,’ I said. ‘’Cause it isn’t funny.’

I started to feel very uneasy. It wasn’t like Peg to take herself off. And surely I’d have heard her if she had? Stumbling downstairs again, I went out into the yard. The sleet fell sideways in the wind.

‘Peg?’ I called, pushing hair from my face. ‘Where’ve you gone to?’

The cobbles were slippery underfoot. I stepped in puddles, slid in mud, but found my way across to the main barn and heaved the door open wide.

‘Peg! Enough of this, now! Come on. Come out, please!’

Over to my right, something rustled in the straw. I held my breath. It moved again. Very fast. Very light – like a rat, not a nine-year-old girl.

I pulled the barn door shut and leant against it, the sleet stinging my cheeks. I didn’t know where to look next. But I realised the gut-churning truth. Peg wasn’t here. She wasn’t hiding, either.

‘What d’you mean – she’s
gone
?’ said Da, when I went to his workshop to tell him.

There was a thud and a rattle as he put down his tools. He clicked his tongue too, which meant he wasn’t best pleased. Generally when he was working, Peg was my responsibility. I’d failed in that
and
I’d disturbed him in his workshop, and it made me feel pretty useless.

‘She won’t have got far,’ said Da. ‘She’ll be in the house somewhere, won’t she?’

I detected the coolness in his tone, the disappointment that I’d not quite measured up. It’d been there since Mam had died, and I’d just made it worse.

‘Tell me what happened,’ he said.

‘She … she … was upset and went to bed and now she, well, she isn’t there.’

‘Maybe she’s gone off to do laundry. Perhaps she’s up in the orchard hanging it out to dry.’

But we both knew Peg didn’t do laundry. Last time
she’d tried, her frock shrank to doll-size and she’d sworn never to touch a bucket of lye again.

‘It’s sleeting,’ I said. ‘Not even Peg would put out washing in this weather.’

Da sniffed. Then came the sound of him putting on his jacket. ‘Still, we’d better have a look, hadn’t we?’

So we tried the orchard first. But it was so windblown and cold, it was obvious she wouldn’t linger there. Back inside, we called and called Peg’s name to no avail. The house was empty. All the while, my discomfort grew.

‘She’ll have gone to the village, I s’pect,’ said Da, though he was sounding increasingly concerned.

Then up in our bedchamber, I made another discovery. Peg’s woollen shawl, usually flung across the chair, wasn’t there. Nor were her stockings or her nightgown. The sixpence she kept under her pillow had gone too. The only thing she’d left was Spider, who’d woken up and was following me around, mewling for food. Though I tried my best to keep him out of Da’s way, it wasn’t long before the kitten was discovered. Da didn’t take this news well, either.

‘What’s got into you both?’ he cried. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I only found out myself this morning.’ I also wanted to point out that Peg had been out with
him
when she’d
taken the kitten, not me. But it didn’t seem the right time to say so.

‘Well, it doesn’t look good for Peg, not now people are talking about all this poultry going missing. And if she has run off, well, that just makes her seem guilty, doesn’t it?’

‘She was upset about being blamed,’ I said. ‘She thinks everyone in Sweepfield hates her. Honestly, she sobbed her poor heart out.’

I felt truly terrible. What sort of big sister was I to let Peg get wrapped up in all this? I had to find her, and tell her everything would be all right and that we’d clear her name.

‘It’s Mr Walton that’s behind all this,’ I blurted out. ‘There’s some animal he’s got that escaped and ate our geese. It’s done it before too, but he’s letting Peg take the blame.’

Da cussed under his breath. For a split second, I thought it meant he believed me. And I was about to tell him more too, when he said, ‘That’s enough, Lizzie.’

Tears of frustration sprang into my eyes. ‘Won’t you even listen?’

‘No, because we need to find Peg, all right?’

‘It is true though, Da. I’m not making it up.’

‘I’ve not got time for this now, Lizzie,’ he snapped. ‘I’m going to ask in the village. Someone must’ve seen her or taken her in.’

I wiped my tears in my sleeve. I’d tell him all about what a
genius
Mr Walton was, even if I did have to wait for the right moment.

‘What shall I do?’ I asked.

‘You stay here in case she comes back,’ Da said. ‘And for once do as you’re told.’

It was late evening when Da returned. Straight away I knew Peg wasn’t with him. There was only one set of footsteps, and when he dropped into his seat by the fire, he gave an exasperated sigh that said more than any words.

‘No one’s seen her,’ he said, eventually. ‘It doesn’t make sense. People don’t just vanish.’

I thought of all those ducks and hens, and how our geese had gone too. Da was right; things didn’t just vanish. They got taken. Often by people or creatures who thought it was their right to do the taking.

This though was different.

Peg had been upset, enough to grab her clothes
and leave. Not simply down the road, but somewhere where we couldn’t find her – all because of these awful rumours. I kept imagining her broken-limbed in a ditch or falling under the wheels of a stagecoach. It wasn’t much help. We had to think of where she might be heading.

Da didn’t sit still for long. Getting up again, he threw open the back door. I joined him in the doorway. The rain had passed, leaving the night clear and cool. Our yard was all grey stone and dark shapes.

‘The comet still up there, is it?’ I asked.

Da nodded. ‘’Tis bigger if anything. Got a grand tail on it, too.’

Which was how it’d looked on Midwinter’s Eve, a mighty tadpole shape burning through the heavens. It had been spectacular. And that same sense of dread I’d felt then still hung over me.

‘Why’s all this happening to us, Da?’ I asked. ‘All these bad things? Is it, like folks say, because of the comet?’

He took a deep breath through his nose. ‘People round here are superstitious, Lizzie. First, it was about the comet, then all this strange weather. And that day you got struck? It was a freak storm. Lightning in a snowstorm in January
is
mighty rare, so in a
way it wasn’t a surprise that it got people talking and wondering why it happened to us.’

We’d not spoken of that day before. And now we were, I felt as if I’d been dragged from a cave, blinking at the daylight.

‘And,’ he said, ‘I’m not sure how to put this, but the talk’s not just been about Peg. It’s been about you, too.’

My stomach dropped away.

‘What d’you mean?’ Yet I knew exactly. I’d sensed those bellringers gawping. I guessed why Mrs Heathly had given us the brush-off, and perhaps even why Mrs Pringle didn’t really want Peg to have a kitten. And I knew that Mercy, out of kindness, had tried to keep me away from the village. Though it didn’t prepare me for hearing Da say it.

‘Your mother died, but somehow you survived,’ Da said. ‘Here you are, scarred and blind, and when people see you it reminds them of what happened. It
unsettles
them.’

‘Do you feel like that too, then?’ I asked. ‘Is that why you’ve been distant with me?’

He sighed, deep and weary, in a way that made him sound old.

‘No, Lizzie, I don’t and it isn’t,’ he said. ‘You went along with your mother that day when it clearly
wasn’t safe. She had many strengths, your mam, but she was stubborn as a donkey. I just hoped you’d have more sense.’

The disappointment was there in his voice. Again.

I didn’t think I’d slept a wink that night. Nor did I bother going to bed. But the next I knew, I’d woken stiff and sore in a chair by the fire with Peg’s kitten curled in my lap. It was dawn. Someone was hammering on our door. This time it wasn’t Mr Henderson. Mercy was on our back step, having run all the way from the village, and was now almost too breathless to speak.

‘I’ve news,’ she gasped. ‘Peg was seen … late last night … getting on … mail coach … Bristol.’

My legs went weak with relief.

‘Oh thank goodness!’ Though I didn’t understand. ‘But
Bristol
? Why would she be going there?’

Or, come to think of it, why
wouldn’t
she, especially after how the people of Sweepfield had behaved towards her.

Bristol.

In my mind’s eye it was a place of tall brick houses and wide pavements where well-dressed, feather-hatted
ladies walked. The whole city would be abuzz with talk of new ideas. They wouldn’t blame an innocent little girl if their hens went missing. Perhaps they didn’t even
have
hens.

Then the gate clicked again. The footsteps, slow and heavy, were Da’s. He’d been out all night scouring the fields for Peg.

‘Da!’ I cried. ‘We’ve news!’

He rushed over. ‘Where is she? Is she all right?’

Mercy repeated what she’d told me. Then Da asked her to tell it again, holding my hand and trembling from head to foot as she did so.

‘Bristol?’ he kept saying. ‘Why would she want to go to Bristol?’

But it was dawning on him too. Bristol was only twenty-five miles away, and coaches that went there and on to London travelled the Netherton road every day. It’d be easy enough to get to. And perhaps in such a busy place, Peg wouldn’t stand out and be talked about, but could melt into the crowds. I had to admit it sounded appealing.

‘Who saw her?’ I asked.

‘The man from the flour mill,’ Mercy said. ‘He came just this morning with our delivery. Said he saw her getting on the Bristol coach.’

‘He’s certain it was her?’ asked Da.

‘He said she had this puff of blonde curls and was wearing a green frock with a dirty apron over it. And that she gave the horses a pat before getting on board.’

It had to be Peg. Especially the last part.

‘How would she pay the fare?’ Da said.

‘She had a sixpence under her pillow,’ I told him. ‘She found it in the gutter and kept it, though she claimed she’d earned it in the summer clearing hay.’

It was another little Peg lie.

‘Was she with anyone else?’ I asked Mercy. ‘Did she seem upset?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know any more. I’d better get back before Mam thinks I’ve run off too. She needs me in the shop today. She sends you both this and her prayers.’ Mercy handed me a still-warm pie. Then she was gone.

Moments later Da was leaving too – to Bristol, he said, to find Peg and bring her home. Though not before he’d scratched out a note and pressed it into my hand.

‘Take this to Eden Court, Lizzie. It explains where I’ve gone and why it might delay my work a day or two.’

‘Eden Court?

‘Yes. Give the note to Mr Walton.’

I gulped. ‘Mr W-Walton? Won’t the footman do?’

‘No, poor Mr Jeffers is run off his feet up there. He’ll stuff that piece of paper in his pocket and forget it until suppertime. It must go directly to Mr Walton.’

‘Oh.’ I turned the note over in my fingers. ‘Right.’

‘And be polite, won’t you? I’m lucky Mr Walton wants to employ me after what happened last time you went there.’

My cheeks grew hot at the memory.

‘Take the main road and mind you keep close to the hedge. Come straight home; no going to Mercy’s when she’s working. Do it this morning, if you will.’

I nodded, trying to look attentive. I was desperate to prove to Da that I
could
do something properly. But the idea of going to Eden Court alone made me feel very nervous, especially if I had to see Mr Walton, who’d distinctly told me not to ‘visit’ again.

‘Da,’ I said. ‘I’ll be all right, won’t I?’

‘You’ll be fine, my girl,’ he said. ‘You might be as stubborn as your mother but you’re brave like her too.’

Though he didn’t kiss me, his words, at least, were something. The gate clicked shut behind him. Then he was gone.

The kitchen fell silent. It was too early to go to Eden Court. Fashionable households didn’t rise
before ten, Mercy once told me. So I picked up some sewing, then put it down again. I added wood to the stove, brought in armfuls more from the barn, played with Spider and a piece of string. Nothing seemed to settle me. In the end, I grabbed my shawl and stuffed Da’s note in my pocket.

Never mind what time fashionable people rose. I was up and awake. Unlike before with the brass button, this time I’d make sure Mr Walton’s delivery reached him.