Calico Road (33 page)

No one spoke. Alice only tossed her head at him.

There was no one outside, so he went quickly into the necessary and relieved himself then came out again and made a quick tour of the stable area. There was quite a bit of lumber lying round because Fletcher was doing up the inn. One rickety wooden shed had had most of its front removed and was propped up on pieces of wood as the front wall was being rebuilt. That might just serve his purpose. Memorising where various things were he went back into the public room and ordered another pot, drinking it slowly.

When he went home, his wife wept with joy at the sight of a whole sack of potatoes, then looked at him in puzzlement. However had he found the money for all this? But she didn’t ask because she didn’t want him thumping her again.

Cully settled down for a nap on the settle in front of the fire while Sal boiled some potatoes, working as quietly as she could. However he’d got them, she was delighted to be able to feed her children properly.

16

T
oby woke with a start. What had disturbed him? He could usually identify most sounds and get off to sleep again, but tonight there had been something different . . . After a few minutes, just as he was drifting back to sleep, he heard it again. A door banging in the stable yard. Only there were no doors left open to bang like that. He always made sure everything was closed properly when he went on his rounds last thing at night and, thanks to his careful maintenance, there were no loose catches. From his bedroom at the rear you could see most of the yard so with a sigh of resignation he left the warmth of his bed and went to peer out of the window.

At first he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary then a light flickered inside the shed he was in the middle of repairing. It looked like a lantern being moved around. Somebody must be trying to rob him – only what would they find to steal in there? Then he realised. His tools! Well, they weren’t going to get them!

He slipped on his trousers, tucked in his night shirt anyhow and shrugged into his old leather jerkin. Thrusting his bare feet into his shoes, he left his bedroom. Although he tried to walk quietly some of the floorboards and stairs creaked. He hoped he hadn’t woken Meg and Phoebe, but didn’t stop to find out.

No one was going to rob him!

He found his way through the dark house by feel but as he was about to open the side door, he hesitated then decided it’d be more prudent to have some sort of weapon. As he went back he stumbled over Phoebe’s small but sturdy footstool and picked it up with a grin. When he’d made it he hadn’t expected to use it as a weapon, but he reckoned it would do as well as anything else. The grin faded. He hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

Holding it firmly by one of its short legs, he opened the side door and went outside, standing for a moment in the darkness listening. He couldn’t hear any sounds of movement but there was definitely a light flickering in the old shed. Anger welled up in him again. He hated thieves who took what other folk had worked hard for! If he caught this one, he’d give the rascal a beating that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

At the door of the shed Toby hesitated again, because although there was obviously a flickering candle inside, there was no sound of movement. But if the thief had left the inn completely, he reckoned the rogue would have put out the candle so as not to arouse suspicion. The fellow must still be around somewhere. He’d check quickly inside here then either hide behind the door or look elsewhere. Very slowly he pushed the door until it was fully open. He’d greased the hinges himself so it swung silently forward.

As he took his second careful step into the shed something crashed down on his head and he staggered, pain stabbing through him. Before he could gather himself together again, another blow landed.

Cully watched in great satisfaction as Toby crumpled to the ground. He set down his cudgel and fumbled for his knife, knowing he had to stab the bugger now, to kill him.

But he hesitated for a moment because it was hard to do that in cold blood to a man you knew. Images of Toby laughing with the other drinkers, teasing Phoebe, sending Sairey home with pieces of bread and butter, stayed his hand. Only the thought of the money and the freedom it would buy made Cully raise his arm and thrust downwards with the knife he’d sharpened earlier.

Meg couldn’t settle to sleep that night. If she dozed off, the wind would blow and something would bang or rattle, then she’d wake up with a jerk. She was too new here to know what was making the noises. The moon was shining fitfully because of the racing clouds and she watched its glow shine through the curtains then fade, only to grow brighter again a minute or two later.

When she heard a noise inside the house her heart began to pound with anxiety, so she slid quietly out of bed and went to listen at the door. The stairs creaked as someone went down them, first the top one, then two together in the middle, and last of all, the floorboard you stepped on to at the bottom. It must be Toby because Phoebe wouldn’t be wandering around in her condition. What could he be getting up for in the middle of the night? Had he heard something too?

She tiptoed back towards the bed, lifted the edge of the covers to climb back in and stopped. It was none of her business what he did during the night. For all she knew he might be going out to meet someone. Only . . . she dropped the covers again. It was no good! She definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep until she found out what had made him get up. Grabbing her skirt, she slipped into it quickly, fastening it over her nightgown, then wrapped her shawl round her shoulders.

The stairs creaked beneath her footsteps, not as loudly as they had under Toby’s weight but loudly enough for him to hear her coming down.

Only he wasn’t in the house place, which was dark and full of shifting moonlight and shadows. Pressing her back against the wall she looked round and for a short time there was enough light for her to see that the room was empty. She moved sideways to peer through the doorway into the public room, but there was no sign of him there either. Feeling nervous, she listened carefully, but could hear no sounds of movement anywhere nearby.

Had he gone outside? The moon went behind some clouds just then and she hesitated before moving through the darkness towards the side door, feeling her way by touching the edge of the table. She found that the big bolt had been pulled back so opened the door.

Just then the moon came out again and revealed two figures in the doorway of the shed opposite. One was very tall, and must be Toby, and the other much shorter, standing behind him with one arm raised. He hit out and Toby fell.

‘Noooo!’ Meg started running across the stable yard, not noticing the cold and mud on her bare feet. When the knife blade gleamed in the moonlight as it stabbed downward towards the figure lying on the floor she began screaming at the top of her voice, terrified Toby had been killed. Heedless of the fact that she had nothing to defend him with, she ran towards him.

The attacker turned but she couldn’t make out his face, only hear the low rumble of a curse. He shoved her away so roughly she fell sprawling in the mud and by the time she’d rolled to one side in case he tried to stab her, he’d set off running.

She jumped to her feet, not even trying to follow him. Had he killed Toby?
Please no, please no!

She fumbled at his chest as the moon played games with her, now hiding behind the ragged clouds, now peeping out. When her fingers encountered a stickiness, she guessed it was blood and icy dread filled her.

‘Toby! Toby!’ She glanced behind her to make sure the attacker hadn’t returned, then felt the face of her employer, leaning closer to see if he was breathing.

He gave a low groan and she sobbed in sheer relief before calling out his name again. ‘
Toby!
’

Another groan then he muttered, ‘Hurts.’

‘Where does it hurt?’ she asked. ‘Toby, answer me. Please,
please
answer me!’ She cast another glance over her shoulder.

‘Head – hurts.’

The moon stopped its games and shone steadily. When Meg looked down again she discovered that the sticky wetness wasn’t coming from his chest but from the fleshy part of his arm.

‘You’ve been attacked,’ she said, still keeping a wary eye on the yard. ‘Can you stand up? We need to get into the house and lock the door in case he comes back again.’

With her help, Toby struggled to his feet, sagging against the wall as he tried to stay upright. ‘Lean on me,’ she ordered. ‘Quickly, now.’

So they staggered across the yard together, with him weaving unsteadily and pulling her from side to side because he was so much heavier. She kept trying to look round, to check that no one was about to attack them, but it was difficult and she knew with a sick certainty that they were very vulnerable. Toby could hardly stay upright and she was struggling under his weight.

When they got to the house she pushed him inside and followed, with her neck prickling uneasily in case the man had crept back to stab her too.

Slamming the bolt shut behind them, she leaned against the door for a minute, panting with the effort of supporting such a huge man and shuddering with sheer relief that they were safe. Toby was propped up against the wall beside her and didn’t seem fully aware of what was happening.

‘Got to sit down,’ he muttered, still in that thick voice.

She helped him across to Phoebe’s rocking chair and as he collapsed into it, she left him for a minute, pulling the damper out and getting the fire burning up. It was the work of a minute to stick a spill into the red glow and use the flame to light all the candles she could find. She didn’t want darkness anywhere if she could help it because with a big building like this someone might get inside through another door or window and attack them again.

There was no doubt in her mind that the man had been trying to kill Toby, else why would he have stabbed him when he was lying unconscious and no longer a threat?

When she looked up from lighting the last of the candles she saw Toby staring across at her, looking as if he was starting to think more clearly. He stared down at his arm and the bloody, slashed sleeve of his nightshirt, then across at her again.

He spoke slowly but in a clearer voice. ‘That fellow set a trap and I walked right into it, fool that I am. But why? Why would anyone want to kill me?’ He closed his eyes for a moment then looked at her. ‘I reckon you saved my life tonight, Meg. I heard you screaming and moved, so he missed my heart. Thanks, lass.’

She tried to speak lightly, but her voice wobbled and betrayed her. ‘What would I do if anything happened to you?’

He was frowning in thought as he studied his wound. ‘The stool must have deflected the blow. Eh, I never thought when I made it that it’d help save my life one day.’

His expression was very serious, unlike his normal one, and there was no twinkle in his eyes tonight. Suddenly Meg felt so dizzy with relief she had to sit down with a thump on the nearest stool. ‘I’m glad.’ The words didn’t begin to describe how she felt. And what she really wanted to do was cling to him and weep tears of joy all over him because he was alive and she just couldn’t have borne him to be dead.

‘You’re a brave lass.’

‘Anyone would have done the same.’

‘No, Meg, they wouldn’t. But
you
risked your life for me and I won’t forget that.’ He looked down at his arm and tried to move it, wincing. ‘It stings.’

‘We’d better have a look at the wound.’ She tried to sound brisk but knew she hadn’t succeeded. She pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’ll get some water boiling and we’ll wash the cut clean.’

He nodded and sagged back in the chair. ‘I feel a bit unsteady and my head’s thumping like a drum.’

‘I’m not surprised. He must have hit you hard.’

‘
What’s happened?
’

Meg swung round to see Phoebe standing at the bottom of the stairs, her grey hair tumbled on her shoulders, her nightcap askew. ‘Someone attacked Toby.’

‘Eh, dear, no! Whatever is the world coming to?’

The older woman was holding on to the door frame so Meg hurried across to help her to a seat, scolding gently. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’

‘I heard you screaming, heard the side door slam, and couldn’t stay in bed wondering if someone was coming up to kill me.’

Meg eased her down onto a stool.

‘I’m all right, Phoebe love,’ Toby said gently. ‘There was a fellow in the shed and he attacked me, but it’s just a bang on the head and a bit of a cut in the arm. Meg’s going to wash it for me.’

But Phoebe couldn’t sit quietly until she’d checked for herself that the injury wasn’t serious. ‘It’s a long cut, that one. It’ll need stitching together if it’s to heal without puckering. I’ll do that for you. I’ve done it a few times afore.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘When did you learn to do things like that?’

‘When I had to.’ She wouldn’t let him talk any more but supervised Meg and then showed her how to stitch a cut.

When the two women had finished Toby lay back in the rocking chair, his eyes closed, his face drawn.

‘You’re not to use that arm till it’s healed, mind!’ Phoebe warned.

He opened his eyes and managed a smile. ‘No, ma’am.’

‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t,’ Meg said firmly.

He smiled at her in turn, then moved incautiously and winced, wriggling as if he didn’t know how to sit comfortably.

‘I think we should all get back to bed now,’ Phoebe said.

‘I don’t think I can sleep,’ Meg said with a shiver. ‘What if that villain comes back?’

‘I doubt he will,’ said Toby, ‘but you can get in with Phoebe and I’ll use your bed, if you don’t mind. That way we’ll all be close enough to hear one another.’

When they’d helped him into Meg’s bed, he lay there wondering who had attacked him and why. Surely his half-brother wouldn’t go to these lengths to get rid of him? Apart from anything else, he didn’t seem the type to commit murder. And anyway, surely Jethro would have attacked him or paid others to attack him before now if he’d wanted him dead? After all, Toby had had the inn for over three years.