The Girl with the Red Ribbon (12 page)

‘Ah, Sab. Let us go through, Rowan. There are a few things I wish to discuss with you, and he happens to be one of them,' Fanny replied, disappearing back into her parlour.

‘Now,
first things first. I suppose you found it amusing to trim both our garments with the emerald ribbon?' she said, staring at Rowan with those stony grey eyes.

Rowan swallowed but, determined to stand her ground, she stared boldly back.

‘Well, Fanny, although I bought that ribbon for myself, you made it quite plain you wanted it for trimming your blouse. It occurred to me that with careful cutting there would be enough for both of us,' she explained. She waited for her stepmother to explode but, to her amazement, the woman nodded in agreement.

‘It makes sense when you think about it, I suppose. In future, though, you will not wear that dress at the same time I'm attired in my lilac blouse. That way, we will not be classed as being from the same stock,' she said, laughing at her own little joke.

Rowan smiled politely but did not answer. It was for her to decide when she wore her green dress, thank you.

‘Now, about Sab – such a ridiculous name. Why is he called that?' Rowan stared at her stepmother, surprised at the change of subject. ‘Well, Rowan, am I talking to myself?' Fanny demanded.

‘Sorry. Sab is short for Sabbath. As he was discovered by the sisters of the foundling hospital on the Sabbath, they named him accordingly. He hated that, so we shortened it to Sab.'

‘When was this exactly?' Fanny asked, peering intently at Rowan.

She frowned, trying to remember. ‘It must have been about ten years ago, I suppose. Mother couldn't have any more children after me. She was so small, you see …'

‘Yes,
yes,' her stepmother cut in abruptly, her eyes calculating. ‘And he's what, about fourteen years old now?'

Rowan nodded. ‘Why, has he done something wrong?' she asked, puzzled by the woman's questions and anxious not to get Sab into trouble.

As was her way, Fanny abruptly changed the conversation again.

‘You didn't tell me how you got on at the market last Thursday. I expect you saw all the old faces, but did you meet anyone new?' Fanny's gaze bore into her, making her feel uncomfortable. She thought of the slimy man, but some inner sense told her to hold her tongue.

‘Well, I expect you will be making more bread and cheese to take to the market on Thursday?' Fanny said into the lengthening silence.

‘Oh, yes, I could have sold lots more last week if I'd had the produce,' Rowan said.

‘Well, I suggest you spend the next few days making sure you have sufficient for this time,' Fanny said. ‘We shall share the household duties until Mrs Dunmore starts.'

As her stepmother smiled graciously, Rowan felt the ribbon tighten around her wrist and a prickle of unease crept up her spine.

Rowan spent the next few days making her produce, but as she chopped herbs for her soft cheese and kneaded dough for her bread, her mind kept going back over the strange conversation she'd had with her stepmother. She wanted to discuss it with Sab, but with the path finished he must have been put to work elsewhere on the farm. Unusually, he hadn't put in an appearance at mealtimes
and she'd been so busy she hadn't had a chance to go and find him. Still, they'd have plenty of time to chat on their journey to market. They'd be by themselves and would be able to talk freely.

By Wednesday afternoon, Rowan was satisfied she had enough cheese to meet demand. Wanting to make sure she had more bread than the previous week, she sought her stepmother's permission to make her loaves that evening after they'd finished their supper. Unusually the woman was obliging, and by the time Rowan went to bed that night the kitchen table was completely covered with cooling loaves and rolls. She fell into bed exhausted but satisfied she'd made enough produce to make a decent profit.

Creeping downstairs at daybreak the next morning, she found the kitchen quiet and the kitchen table empty. Puzzled, she hurried out to the dairy, and saw to her dismay that all her cheese was missing, too.

Thinking Sab might have risen early and packed everything onto the cart, Rowan ran outside. The yard was empty and everything eerily quiet for this time of the morning. With an uneasy feeling uncurling in her stomach, she threw open the shippon door but there was no sign of Sab or her father, and she could tell by the placid way the cows were staring at her that they'd already been milked.

She was just letting the chickens out when she heard the high-pitched squeal of an animal in distress. Hurrying over to the barn, she saw old Davey, hand inside a struggling ewe, shaking his head.

‘Lamb's breech and I've been trying to turn it. Can't get me big old hand up far enough, though,' he muttered, and from the beads of sweat running down his face, Rowan could see he'd been trying for some time.

‘Here, let me try,' she said, quickly pulling up the sleeves of her dress.

Under Davey's guidance she gently but firmly twisted until finally the lamb was turned the right way. No sooner had she removed her hand than the tiny animal slithered from his mother, landing with a soft plop on the straw at her feet. Immediately, the ewe nuzzled the lamb and began licking away the membrane covering it. Wondering at the miracle of Mother Nature, Davey and Rowan exchanged
relieved looks and then went over to the water trough to wash the muck and blood from their arms. Collapsing onto a nearby bale, they watched with satisfaction as the mother completed her job. Tenderly old Davey encouraged the lamb to its feet and directed it towards its mother's teat. As it began to suckle, its midwives gave a triumphant cheer.

‘Phew, that were a near thing,' old Davey said, wiping the sweat from his face with his kerchief. ‘Thank heavens you was here. I couldn't have managed without you, girl.' His words jerked Rowan back to the present.

‘That's just it, Davey, I'm not meant to be here. It is market day and I should be on my way to Sudbury with Sab. I've spent all week preparing my produce. Why, I even worked late into the night baking extra bread as there seems to be a demand for it. I left it cooling on the kitchen table but when I got up this morning, it had all disappeared. There's no sign of Father or Sab either. It's almost as if Fanny's intent on keeping me away from them,' she wailed.

‘Are you sure?' Davey asked, wrinkling his forehead. ‘Mind you, I vaguely remember hearing the cart rumbling off some time ago, but I was that busy in here, I didn't take any notice.'

‘Why would Sab have gone without me? It's not like him. But then he's been ignoring me all week. And Auntie Sal and Uncle Silas haven't visited in ages. It's so unlike them.'

‘Happen I agree it's that Fanny who's behind it all. Divide and rule, that one,' he said, scratching his head.

‘What do you mean?' Rowan asked.

‘That
lady will go to any lengths to get her own way. Things is becoming a bit strange all around here. She was even asking if we dealt with them owlers.'

‘Surely not. Everyone knows decent folk steer clear of those hoodlums,' Rowan cried.

‘Said she'd heard we could get a better price for our wool. Told her, she'd be a right fool to get mixed up with them,' he said, shaking his head.

‘But Father would never deal with owlers, Davey. You know how he despises them.'

‘True enough, but that woman's got him eating from her hand. Never seen a sensible man change as fast as Edward since her's been here. When I looks in her eyes, all I sees is greed. Don't worry,' he added, seeing Rowan's look of alarm. ‘Old Davey will see he stays on the right track, for this year at least.'

‘Why only this year?' she asked, looking at him in alarm.

He gave a deep sigh. ‘After that it's going to be up to you, little un. Old Davey here won't be seeing another spring,' he said, shaking his head. Rowan gasped. ‘Oh, don't worry; 'tis the way of things. The circle of life, as your dear mother used to say. Come next year, old Davey here will be returned to the earth.'

‘No, Davey, please don't say that,' she cried, grabbing hold of his arm.

‘Don't you fret; old Davey here's had a good life. But you needs to look out for yourself, Rowan. Promise me that, eh?' he begged, staring at her with blue eyes that were surprisingly all-seeing and clear for an old man. Too choked to speak, she nodded. ‘That's all old Davey needs to know,' he said, patting her shoulder. ‘Now, I expects
her ladyship will still be in bed, and I've a feeling she be behind all your problems. Go and speak to her, eh? This be the last of the sheep to lamb this year, so old Davey'll do as he's been told and take himself back to his hut.'

‘Do as you've been told? I don't understand,' Rowan said, although she had a hunch.

‘The old besom said I'm not welcome to bed here in the barn no more, and old Davey don't stay where he's not wanted. Thing is, I knows I've seen her afore but I'm blowed if I can remember where. It's that smell, you see. Gets right up your nose and stays there.'

Rowan grinned, knowing how true that was.

‘Happen I'll remember once I've had a nice long nap,' he said, wincing as he got to his feet.

Rowan stroked the ribbon around her wrist.

‘Your mother used to do that when she was worried, too. Said that ribbon would tighten itself around her when she needed alerting to something wrong. You've got her gift, so just you take heed of what it's trying to tell you, young un,' he said, whistling to his dog.

Rowan watched through the open door as, dun-brown collie at his heels, the shepherd hobbled his way across the yard, heading towards his hut in the hills. She was about to call after him and offer him a ride on the cart, then remembered it wasn't here.

Gazing at the new lamb sleeping beside its mother, she thought about what Davey had said about the owlers. Surely even Fanny couldn't persuade her father to deal with the hoodlums he deplored. Those evil men were known to offer higher than the market price for the sheep's wool and then turn on those who'd been tempted by their
offers. Often they'd had their farms razed or were found dead in their beds.

The rattling of a cart disturbed her musing and, jumping to her feet, she was just in time to see Fanny, dressed in her finery, climb up beside the driver. Anxious to find out why her father and Sab had left without her, and where her stepmother was going, Rowan raced out of the barn.

‘Hey, Fanny …' she called, but before she'd got even halfway across the yard, the cart had disappeared in a cloud of dust. Peering through the settling haze, she thought that she recognized the set of the driver, but couldn't recall where from.

It was midway through the afternoon when Fanny came bustling into the kitchen. Rowan finished setting a pot of broth to simmer over the fire, then turned to face her.

‘There you are, Fanny. I need to speak to you about …' she began.

‘Not now, child, can't you see I'm busy?' Fanny snapped, struggling under a load of parcels. As Rowan watched her disappear up the stairs, she heard the rattle of a cart disappearing down the lane at speed. By the time she'd raced outside, she was too late to make out anything other than an outline of the driver before the cart turned the corner and was lost from view. There was definitely something familiar about him, she thought, making her way back inside.

Not long afterwards she heard another cart drawing up and her father appeared, shrugging off his jacket and cap.

‘Weather's definitely warming, my dear. Oh, Rowan, it's
you,' he said, looking round from the peg. ‘Are you feeling better?'

‘Better?' she asked.

‘Yes, Fanny said you had a bad stomach. You know woman's …' he stuttered to a halt, blushing as red as the flames in the fire.

‘Ah, there you are, husband of mine,' Fanny said, appearing at his side and kissing his cheek. ‘Don't you worry, my dear, I've been looking after Rowan whilst you've been away. We women have to bear these things stoically, don't we?' she said, throwing Rowan a defiant look.

‘But it's not …' she began.

‘Now don't embarrass the girl, Edward. Let me take care of her,' Fanny simpered. ‘Did you do well at the market?'

‘Yes,' he said, smiling now that he was on safe ground. ‘Sab sold all your bread and cheese, Rowan. He's taken orders for more of those scarves and caps you made, too. Said people were very complimentary about them.'

‘Where is Sab?' Rowan asked. At least he'd tell her what had been going on.

‘Let Edward sit down before you bombard him with questions,' Fanny scolded, placing a proprietary hand on his arm. ‘I'm sure you've been busy and could do with a rest, couldn't you, my dear?' she asked, making to lead him towards the parlour.

‘That's very kind of you, Fanny, but I must help Sab with the milking. Did you have a good day?'

‘Well, I had Rowan to look after, of course, and, as you can smell, our supper is cooking.'

‘But
you never –' Rowan began, indignant that her stepmother should lie so glibly.

‘Well, you go on out to that cow place and I'll make sure your supper's ready and waiting when you come in,' Fanny said. Edward looked from his wife to Rowan, shrugged, and then in the time-honoured way of men who sense trouble, hastily put his cap back on and disappeared outside.

‘What is going on, Fanny?' Rowan demanded. Her stepmother gave her supercilious smile, her eyes remaining cold.

‘You'll find out soon enough, Rowan, believe you me,' she smirked, before disappearing into the parlour and slamming the door behind her. Rowan made to follow, then thought better of it. She'd speak to Sab when he came in for his supper.

However, he didn't appear for his meal.

‘Said he was still full up from his meat pie,' her father said, when she tackled him. ‘Now sit down and have your own meal,' he added. But Rowan had too many unanswered questions to even think of eating.

Deciding she'd have her supper later, she went outside to find Sab. She didn't know what was going on but she intended to find out.

He wasn't in the shippon, and although she searched the barn and around the darkening farmyard she couldn't find him anywhere. It was almost as if he was staying out of her way, she thought. Whatever was going on, she vowed she'd get to the bottom of it.

Over the next few days, though, it seemed as if Sab was playing cat and mouse with her. She'd no sooner catch a
glimpse of him than he'd disappear. Or, if she did manage to catch him, Fanny would materialize and he'd scarper so fast, his shadow would have had difficulty keeping up with him. Strangely, he never appeared at meal times. When Rowan asked her father where he was, he claimed Sab was catching up with the chores he'd got behind with when he was laying the path, adding that he'd asked for cold meat or cheese and bread to be left for him to eat in his hayloft.

Deciding she'd had enough of his strange behaviour, and determined to have it out with her father, one morning she waited until he'd finished his breakfast. When he finally pushed away his empty dish, she said, ‘Father, I need to speak to you about Sab.'

‘Ah, yes. Good job you reminded me, Rowan. Sab said to tell you that he'd be obliged if you could help me turn the cattle out into the field today as he has other jobs to see to,' he said, his weathered face breaking into a smile as he got up from the table.

‘But, Father –' she began.

‘I know it's early in the season, Rowan, but Fanny's been going on at me something dreadful about needing the shippon for her things, and the weather's warmer now, isn't it?'

Realizing her father's mind was on his beloved cows Rowan knew she'd be wasting her time talking about anything else.

‘Do you still want me to switch them?' she asked.

‘Why, yes, Rowan. It wouldn't do to turn them out without protection. We don't want anyone putting evil on them, now, do we?'

‘Tonight
is Eostre, Father, so will you and Sab be up at the top field tonight?'

‘Indeed we will, Rowan. Funnily enough, Fanny was asking about that only last night,' he said, getting to his feet and grabbing his cap. ‘Happen she'll make a good farmer's wife yet,' he said, chuckling.

‘I'll clear these dishes and then collect a fresh bough,' she promised, turning away before her expression betrayed her true thoughts. Anyone less likely to make a good farmer's wife than Fanny she'd yet to meet.

‘And I'll get the cows ready,' her father said. ‘I don't mind telling you, it'll be a relief not to have Fanny nagging me about it. Once planting and sowing's finished, Sab can swill down the shippon, give it a limewash and then she can move all her blooming stuff in,' he muttered. Before Rowan could ask him about Sab, he'd disappeared out of the door.

Rowan followed, selected her switch from the rowan tree beside the door and stood ready at the entrance to the shippon. As her father drove them out, she struck each beast lightly on the back, saying: ‘
May the milk rise in the udder as the sap in the stick.
' Then, leaving her father to herd them up to their field, she buried the rowan switch and completed her chant.