Storm Child (3 page)

Charlotte’s mother nodded. ‘We do
indeed, Mrs Brown.’

The old lady moved back from the
doorway. ‘Come and stand in the hallway, out of the cold. I’ll see if he has
some time to see you.’

Charlotte and her mother stepped
into the vast entrance hall. Charlotte had never been inside Mr Finch’s house
before. On visits after her father’s death, her mother had spared Charlotte
that humiliation by going alone to beg for help.  It was dusty and
echoing, and the high windows, though large, let in little daylight. The room
they stood in smelt strongly of heavily polished wood, and there were stuffed
animal heads on the walls alongside dreary paintings of ridiculously fat horses
and cows.  Charlotte and her mother said nothing to each other, both of
them gazing around the lobby, though Charlotte knew that her mother had seen it
many times before. Perhaps because of the circumstances in which her mother had
seen it before, Charlotte could almost sense the shudder that rippled down her
spine.  Even the baby seemed dumbstruck by the solemn surroundings she now
found herself in. She made no sound but buried her face in Mrs Harding’s
shoulder. Mrs Brown shuffled away, her stiff skirts rustling in the dusty
silence.

A few moments later, Mr Finch,
tall, broad-shouldered, cruelly handsome, with a voice that could shake the
dust from the old portraits hanging on the panelled walls, entered the
hallway.  Charlotte dipped into a curtsey. He ignored her.

‘Mrs Harding… My housekeeper
tells me you have found a child.’ His gaze settled on the baby. ‘This, I take
it, is the infant in question.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Charlotte’s mother
answered quickly. ‘My daughter, Charlotte, found her out on the heath in that
dreadful storm two nights ago. We searched for a guardian, someone perhaps
injured on the road, but we found no one.’

‘The usual case, I imagine.’

‘Usual case?’ Charlotte’s mother
repeated.

‘A mother in trouble. Or perhaps
it just eats too much, cries too much,
sleeps
too
little, a drain, Mrs Harding, quite simply, a troublesome child.  It’s no
bother for me to take it off your hands…’

‘Oh, I do not think so…’
Charlotte began, but stopped, quickly, blushing. Mr Finch fixed her with a dark
stare.

‘What do you mean by this,
child?’

‘What my daughter means to say,’
Charlotte’s mother said, half in defiance and half apologetic, ‘is that we have
taken care of this babe for two nights, and she has been no bother at all.’

‘Well then, Mrs Harding, answer
this: if that is the case, pray, why has she been abandoned?’

Both Charlotte and her mother looked
at the floor. There were all sorts of reasons why the baby could have been
left, but Mr Finch was not a man that would have listened to any of them.

‘Do you want me to take the child
or not?’ he demanded.

‘Yes… I mean…’

‘Well, I’ll have Mrs Brown take
the infant down to the orphanage straight away.’ Without another word, Mr Finch
turned and left them standing in the vast hallway.

Charlotte cast an anxious glance
up at her mother, who seemed to be clinging to the baby much more tightly than
she had done before, and the baby seemed to be nuzzling into her neck much more
desperately than before, as if she understood her fate.  Mrs Brown
returned and held out her stubby arms to take her. Charlotte’s mother
hesitated.  It was then that Charlotte realised her mother didn’t really
want to part with the child either. But they had very little money, hardly
enough to feed themselves, let alone another mouth.

‘I’m sorry, Charlotte,’ she said.

Charlotte looked away, her eyes
brimming with tears. Her mother held the baby out to Mrs Brown, but then
stopped as the child clung onto her arm and uttered a noise, a word perhaps?
And it sounded like:
Mama.

Five

Isaac swore as the handcart caught in yet another pothole.

‘There are ladies present, you
oaf,’ Polly said in a sing-song voice.

‘I don’t see no ladies, only you
two rough pieces o’ work.’ Polly grinned as Isaac tugged at the cart. ‘You
could give me a hand with this,’ he grumbled.

Annie dropped her basket to the
floor and went to the back of the cart to lend her weight. 

‘That
ain’t
helping,’ Polly observed. ‘I seen mice weigh more than you.’

‘You get round an’ help her,
then.’ Isaac frowned at Polly.

‘I would,’ she laughed. ‘But I
don’t want to make you look like a girl.’

With a lurch, the cart broke free,
the momentum throwing Isaac to the floor.  Brushing mud encrusted hay from
his coat, he glared at Polly.  ‘I know it
ain’t
much but I
ain’t
got another one and look at this,
it’s covered in dirt now!’

‘Ah, stop your whining. 
‘I’ll wash it for you later.’  She threw him a sideways glance and twirled
an ebony curl around her finger. ‘Maybe I’ll even let you give me a quick
cuddle too.’

The vexation dropped from Isaac’s
expression and he grinned. ‘You always say that an’ you never do.  You
know I’m mad for you, Poll.’

‘Yeah, I know.  But come see
me when you’re a man.’

Isaac puffed out his chest. ‘I’m
nearly seventeen.’

‘Too young,’ Polly teased and
flicked her head towards Annie. ‘Come on, sweet.  We can’t stand
chopsin
’ here all day, we got money to earn.’

Isaac’s
face set into a scowl as he grabbed for the handle of the cart again. 
Polly slid her arm through Annie’s.  ‘Got your basket there?’ Annie held
it up. ‘Good girl.’

Once they had crossed the boundaries of
Uxmouth
,
they headed for the towering stone cross of the market place.  The day was
bright, the air heavy with the aromas of freshly baked bread, exotic spices,
and the sourer tang of horse sweat.  The town was vibrant, buzzing with
market goers, the clopping of hooves ringing out over the rabble of a myriad
conversations and the regular holler of vendors advertising their wares. 
Polly’s dark eyes were alive with expectation, her head darting constantly as
she took in some new sight.  Annie clung to her, more subdued, nervously scanning
every face that approached. 

‘What’s up with you, Annie?’
Isaac called as he watched her carefully.  ‘You look like you’re scared of
seein
’ someone you oughtn’t.’

‘She
ain’t
been on market day before, has she?’  Polly called back.

‘Can’t she speak?’ Isaac grinned.
Polly looked behind and threw him a flirtatious look. ‘Ah, Poll, would you stop
doin
’ that to me.’

She shook out her curls and
laughed as she faced forwards again. Annie pulled closer, wrapping her arm
tightly around Polly’s. ‘Someone in
Uxmouth
helped
you with that baby?’ Polly whispered as she put her head close to Annie’s.

‘What you whispering about now?’
Isaac shouted.

‘Keep your nose out,’ Polly fired
back.

He put a hand through his long, dark
fringe and laughed. ‘I love it when you’re mean, Poll.’

‘You should be
faintin
’ with joy when I come and punch you on the
nose.’  Polly turned her attention back to her conversation with Annie.
‘Is that why you’re so scared?’

Annie turned her wide blue eyes
on her. ‘I
ain’t
scared.  Like you said, I
ain’t
done market day before.  So many people, it’s
making me nervous, that’s all.’

‘It’s just tricks. 
Ain’t
no one
goin
’ to mind us
doin
’ a few tricks.’

‘Depends who’s watching,’ Annie
said as she drew closer.

Polly narrowed her eyes. ‘What
does that mean? You’ve lived her before,
ain’t
you?’

Annie hesitated before giving a
short nod.  ‘I ran away from the
Uxmouth
workhouse with my sister. There were people there...’

‘What? You were scared of ‘
em
? That’s the workhouse for you,
ain’t
it? There’s not a one of ‘
em
with a charitable bone
in their body.’

‘It weren’t like that… They
weren’t just cruel like all the other workhouses…’ Annie sighed. ‘You wouldn’t
understand.’

‘Well,’ Polly laughed, ‘they
ain’t
gonna
want you back, if
that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘You think so? I wouldn’t be so
sure about that.’

‘They
ain’t
gonna
want to feed you if someone else is
doin
’ it. Anyway, you don’t need to be in the workhouse
now, do you? You got Ernesto’s roof over your head.’ 

Annie seemed to relax and
loosened her grip on Polly’s arm. ‘I suppose so.’ But her gaze still darted
here and there as she scanned the crowds.

‘So it
ain’t
someone in
Uxmouth
who helped you get rid of that
baby?’ Polly pressed.

Annie was silent as she continued
to look through the crowds.  She took a deep breath.  ‘I left her on
the heath.’

Polly’s mouth fell open. ‘You
left her where?’

‘New Forest.’

‘What you go and leave her there
for?’

‘As far away as I could get her
from Doctor Black, that’s why.’

‘He
ain’t
gonna
hurt her, you know, he just wants the same from
her that he gets from us.’

‘He doesn’t, I heard him.’

Polly thought for a moment. ‘She
has real magic, don’t she? Is that why you ran away from the workhouse at
Uxmouth
?’

Annie nodded. ‘And then we had to
go and end up in another one, the one Doctor Black found us in. Magic is why he
wants her back.’

‘He bought you and she was thrown
in. He didn’t know she’s got magic.’

‘Not at first. But she did
something… by accident… I tried to hide it, I tried so hard…’ Annie’s eyes
filled with tears. Polly gave her arm a squeeze and smiled.

‘That
ain’t
it. We
ain’t
got real magic and he wants us. All he
wants is someone to look after his house and earn him money.  That’s all
he wants Georgina for. Once she’s old enough she’d be turning tricks like us,
and nobody would need to know she got magic… it could be our little secret.’

Annie shook her head. ‘She could
make him a lot of money, not like what we bring him.’

‘What did you hear him say?’

‘Oi, you two gossips!’ Isaac
shouted as he ground to a halt with the cart.  ‘Are you helping today or
swapping recipes?’

Polly frowned, vexed that she had
come so close to gaining Annie’s trust to be interrupted at the crucial
moment.  ‘Ruddy ‘ell, Isaac, can’t you do anything by yourself?’

‘We’re supposed to do this
together.  That’s why you come.’

Annie placed her basket on the
floor and went over to the cart, signalling to Polly that the conversation was
at an end.  Polly stuck her tongue out at Isaac.

‘Not very ladylike,’ he grinned.

‘Never said I was.’

‘Here, Annie, I’ll put the table
out and you lay the cloth,’ Isaac directed.

As they began to unpack items
from the cart, curious passers-by began to stop and watch them.  The crowd
gradually increased, and by the time the trio were ready to begin, about thirty
people awaited their performance with interest.

Isaac put on his most winning
smile and addressed the audience.  ‘Who likes a bit of magic?’ Three or
four young women giggled.  Isaac turned to them and bowed, flashing them a
wink which made them practically hysterical. ‘Let us delight and entertain you
with our mystical gifts –’

‘Mystical gifts?’ a man from the
back heckled, ‘The state of you three, it looks like you’ve had some mystical
dinners!’

A ripple of laughter ran through
the crowd and Isaac waited, unperturbed, for it to end.

‘The magician’s mind must be a
clear one, sir,’ Isaac replied.  ‘To study our art, we must be pure of
body and spirit.’ He turned his attention on the group of young women once
more. ‘So no scoffing meat pies when the wife
ain’t
looking.’ 

The hysterical giggles erupted
again and the man who had heckled could be seen pushing his way out of the
crowd to leave. 

Isaac scanned the onlookers and
spotted a young girl at the front, around seven years old or so, clinging to
her mother’s hand, rapt.  He squatted down to her level.  ‘I bet you
like pretty white doves, don’t
ya
?’  She nodded
eagerly.  Standing up, he took a satiny top hat from the table and placed
it on his head at a jaunty angle. ‘See this hat?’ he said to the girl, loud
enough that everyone could hear. She nodded again, her eyes wide, the frost
biting through her thin shoes forgotten. ‘If it’s on my head, then there can’t be
a bird in it, can there?’ He removed the hat and showed the inside to the
crowd, doing a twirl as he did.  Polly stifled a guffaw and he flashed her
a wink. ‘Everyone agrees that this ‘ere hat is empty?’

There was more giggling from the
crowd and then a gasp as Isaac reached into the hat and then into the air,
setting the dove free to circle the crowd once before climbing over the
rooftops of the city and disappearing.   Clapping began as a slow
ripple but then spread into enthusiastic applause as Isaac bowed and placed the
top hat onto the ground in front of him.  ‘Now then,
me
and my good lady friends here,’ he gestured to Annie and Polly, ‘will
be
performing some more tricks for your delight and delectation.’  He
grinned. ‘And if you want to chuck us a copper or two while we’re at it we’d be
much obliged.’

As the crowd dispersed, an hour or so later, Polly retrieved
the hat, now heavy with coins. 

‘A good day here,’ she said,
rattling it.

‘Yeah, Ernesto should be happy
tonight.’

‘He
ain’t
ever happy,’ Polly replied.

‘He’s lucky we don’t keep it for
ourselves,’ Isaac huffed as he lugged the table back to the cart.

‘He’d set the wolves on us in a
heartbeat,’ Polly said carelessly. 

‘He
ain’t
got no wolves,’ Isaac shot Polly a loaded glance, noting Annie’s hands shake as
she packed some wooden balls into her basket.

 ‘Keeps ‘
em
locked up, though,’ Polly added, glancing at Annie now. 

Annie looked up for a moment, and
then bent her head back to the basket.

‘Wolves or no,’ Polly said as she
kneeled down next to the younger girl, ‘beats the workhouse, don’t it?’

Annie
nodded uncertainly.

The sun was beginning to set as they dragged the cart back
onto the road out of
Uxmouth
.  The walk was slower
than it had been going there, all of them beginning to tire now.  Annie
was silent, her arm linked with Polly who threw back the odd flippant remark to
Isaac every now and again.  He would laugh and return one of his own; an
easy banter between two people who had shared secrets and hardships that no one
else could ever begin to understand.   As the city grime gave way to
open heathland, Polly’s thoughts turned to the baby again. 

‘Was it nearby?’ she asked Annie
in a low voice.

‘No.’ Annie replied, not needing
to ask what she meant.

Polly stared into the distance,
squinting down the track as the sun blazed gold just above the horizon, making
the brackens look as though they were on fire.  She shivered and pulled
her coat more tightly around her, a plume of steam rolling from her mouth as
she spoke again. ‘Must have been cold out there for the little ‘un.  Hope
you wrapped her good an’ warm.’

 ‘Someone took her in. 
She weren’t out for long.’

‘Was a bad storm that night,
weren’t there?’

‘I made sure she was
alright.  When I went back the next day she’d gone, basket an’ all.’

‘Could have been wild animals
took her?  There’s wolves loose out there, Parson’s wife told me a week
ago.’

Annie shook her head vehemently.
‘It weren’t.  They wouldn’t have her basket an’ all, would they?’

Polly shrugged.  ‘Just
sayin
, you sure you done the right thing by her? It seems
awful extreme just to get her away from Ernesto. What’s so bad about him
wanting her to live with us? I know he’s scary sometimes, but there are worse
out there.’

‘That’s what I was afraid of.’

‘All the more reason to keep her
close then, I’d have thought.’

Annie was about to reply when
there was a cry from behind.  They turned to see Isaac crumple to the
floor and a man waving a cudgel menacingly at them. 

‘Give us that money!’ he growled.

Annie screamed and ran to Isaac,
who was motionless on the ground. 

‘I said give us that money!’ the
man repeated.

‘What money?’ Polly pouted. 
‘Do we look like we got money?’ she asked, pulling at the hem of her shabby
jacket.

‘Don’t play innocent with me,
missy.  I saw how much
them
folks at
Uxmouth
threw into that hat.  Hand it over.’ He
gritted his teeth and raised his weapon as if to strike again.

‘Hit me, then.’ Polly folded her
arms.  ‘You’ll never get it that way.’

‘Righto,’ he scoffed, and then
turned his attention to Annie, who was still kneeling by Isaac’s unconscious
form and watching the exchange with wide eyes.  ‘I’ll beat your little
friend black and blue, then I’ll finish off your young buck, here.’

Polly scowled.  She sighed
and rummaged under the covering sheet of the cart before tossing the man a
leather bag. 

‘Just so you know,’ she shouted
as he walked away, grinning. ‘It’s cursed money that is.  I hope you get
what’s
comin
’ to you an’ all!’