Meridon twt-3 Read online

  I found I was sorry to say goodbye to Mrs Greaves. She was the first woman I had ever known who had spoken to me kindly, and on our last evening I lingered in her kitchen as if it had become some sort of refuge for me. Jack and Dandy had gone on ahead. Katie was throwing the last bits of rope and string into a bucket in the stable yard. I said a gruff farewell to Mrs Greaves and she turned from the slate sink and held out her arms to me.

  I stepped back. I still had my old dislike of being pulled about, and she saw the gesture and the warmth went from her face.

  ‘God bless you, Merry,’ she said, and I was ashamed of my prickly coldness.

  ‘I am sorry,’ I said awkwardly, and I stepped forward and offered her my forehead for her kiss.

  She put her hands on my shoulders, gently, as I would handle a touchy young foal.

  ‘Keep safe, dear,’ she said softly. ‘If you are ever in trouble and I can serve you, you should send for me.’

  I stepped back and looked in her face. ‘How can I keep Dandy safe?’ I asked her, demanding an answer as if she should know everything, just because she was a woman old enough to be my mother who had put out her arms to me.

  Her pale eyes fell before my urgent gaze.

  ‘You cannot,’ she said.

  14

  We only travelled a short way, that first day. I think Robert had planned the route to see how the journey went, to test the pace of the horses. We went north from Warminster, a little chalk-white lane still sticky with winter wet which skirted the great slope of Warminster Down on our right. We went slowly through the village of Westbury, and past the mill where the miller’s wife sold us some fresh-baked bread rolls which we ate as we rode. Robert had a hand-drawn map on his knee and ignored the signpost to Trowbridge. Katie and Dandy looked longingly down the road as we went past but Robert’s wagon led the way into a bank of trees ahead called Castle Wood. Jack and I were riding and we left the lane and the swaying wagons and rode ahead. Sea and Snow were well matched but we did not race, we cantered side by side under the fretwork of bare branches. Deeper in the wood to my left, a robin was singing.

  When the horses were sweating and blowing we pulled them up and walked slowly, waiting for the wagons to catch us up. Robert’s wagon was in the lead and I trotted back to him.

  ‘We’ll stay at Melksham tonight,’ he said. He was back in his element on the driving box of the wagon, his pipe sending little contented puffs upwards to the wintry white sky. ‘You can ride on ahead and pick somewhere for us to pull in. Make sure there’s firewood near, we’ll need a good fire tonight.’

  ‘Cold?’ I challenged him.

  He grinned and hunched his coat up around his shoulders. ‘It’s not midsummer,’ he conceded.

  ‘You’re well served,’ I said unsympathetically. ‘No one I know sets out in the middle of winter.’

  ‘Go ahead you hedge-bit,’ he said unperturbed. ‘And get the fire going before I pull in.’

  Jack and I rode on and pulled in at the left of the road where there was some common ground and a little brake of woods with plenty of kindling. Jack hobbled the horses and rubbed them down while I went into the woods to fetch sticks for the fire. We had it lit and burning by the time the first wagon turned in.

  William was handy at lining up his wagon, but Dandy had to take over from Katie who could only drive in a straight line. Then while we were taking the horses out of the shafts and feeding and watering them, Dandy strolled quietly off deeper into the wood. Katie watched her go with a scowl and muttered in Robert’s hearing that Dandy was skipping off without doing any work. Robert glanced at me as he was setting up the trivet for the pot and I told Katie to wait and see where Dandy had gone. Sure enough, she came back within the hour with three plump brown trout with a string through their gills swinging from her hand.

  ‘Tickled ‘em,’ she said to Robert’s glance of inquiry. ‘I know this stream, I’ve been here with Da and Zima. The keeper’s old and the squire don’t care about fish, he only cares about his game. I’d never touch a pheasant in these woods, not if it dropped dead at my feet I wouldn’t.’

  She gutted the fish and washed them. There was a little bacon in our stores and she fried that and then tossed them into the smoking fat. They sizzled and grew brown. Katie and I took the bread from the crock and unpacked the plates and the knives, and by the time Robert, William and Jack had come from hobbling the ponies the meal was ready.

  ‘Damn,’ Robert said suddenly. ‘Forgot the salt again.’ He smiled at us all, impartially. ‘There’s always something,’ he said. ‘I can’t think how many years I’ve been on the road and yet there’s always something you forget. I made a list this time as well and Mrs Greaves packed every darned thing on it. And then I forget the salt!’

  ‘We’ll buy some,’ Dandy said. ‘I could go into Melksham this afternoon and get some. We’ll need some more bread too, and bacon.’

  Robert nodded his approval. ‘One of you girls go too,’ he said. ‘Or William. I don’t want any one of you girls wandering around on your own. The show’s got to seem classy. You little whores have got to be chaperoned like young ladies.’

  Katie and Dandy giggled, I smiled. There was no malice in Robert. He was miles away from the town where respectability was his ambition. He was once more the man who had sat in the sun and watched me work the little pony. Who had praised me for a job well done and then bought me in a job-lot from my cruel and doltish stepfather. He could call me a little whore if he chose. We were none of us any better than we needed to be when we were working on the road. We were a team again, we belonged together.

  The next day set the pattern for the rest of the days of the tour. We got up at dawn, around five or six o’clock, and gave the horses water. Sea, Snow and the carriage horses got some oats as well; Robert said the ponies were as fat as butter and should make do with the grass in the fields and waysides. He liked early rising. He was always the first to wake, and it was his knock on the side of our wagon which waked Dandy and me. When we tumbled out into the sharp morning air Robert would be stripped to the waist shaving in cold water and when he finished he would ask one of us to tip the bucket over his head and shoulders. He would burst out of the icy deluge puffing and blowing, ruddy with health.

  Dandy would get the kettle on the fire and William and I would fetch dry crisp kindling for a quick blaze. We always carried some dry wood slung under the wagons for wet days. Jack never emerged until he heard the clink of the tin cups then he would come out, frowsy-eyed with his blanket huddled around his bare shoulders for his cup of tea – the last in the pot and as strong as it could be.

  ‘My God you’re an idle whelp,’ Robert would say; and Jack would smile apologetically and dip his face into the wide mug.

  Katie was the worst of all. She would stay in her bunk until the last possible moment and not the hiss of the boiling kettle nor the smell of frying bacon was enough to get her out. Not until we were starting to pack up to leave and Robert was hammering on the side of the wagon and threatening to fetch her out would she come. She was a sight in the mornings! Her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, her hair in a straggly plait. Robert was at his most dour when he saw Dandy and Katie before they had combed their hair and washed their faces, and he often glanced over to Jack, convinced that his son could not desire such girls having seen them at their sleep-dazed worst.

  But Robert was blind. He missed all the clues. It was some snobbery in him which made him oblivious to what was happening every day on the road. Dandy and Jack collecting kindling, Dandy and Jack fetching water from the stream, Dandy and Jack dropping behind and then running, flushed and sweaty to catch up with the wagons. Robert was looking for something else, he was watching for signs of tenderness, for Jack seeking one of us out. He did not know that Jack was well past the courtship time when he had halloed up the stairs and watched Dandy in the firelight. Now he needed her to slake his thirst, but between the repetitive cycle of lust and sating they did not seek each other out.