Читать книгу A Surprising Legacy - Ernest Swain - Страница 13

Chapter 5.

A forbidding place to say the least, thought Amos as he approached the big wooden doors. A shudder went down his spine at the prospect of entering the place. He pulled down on the long iron handle that operated the bell which responded with quite a resonant clang. He looked around him but not a soul stirred. He turned his back to the doors and resigned himself to the wait. He looked back pensively to where Ruth waited with Maggie. After some short time he felt disposed to ring again but just at that moment he heard movement behind the doors, then slowly one door opened to reveal a rather portly fellow in a rather drab prison uniform.

“What’s your business?” he asked rather brusquely.

“Sir”, began Amos, - he had the sense to always address anyone in a position of perceived authority as ‘Sir’,

“I have but only a short time since, left Mr. Simms, the clerk to the Justices, and he has directed me here with regards to a prisoner who is in your custody. I would be grateful to see someone of authority who could confirm certain details”, trying to sound as business like as he could.

“Wait there”, said our portly guard, and without warning slammed the door shut again. Amos stood back and looked up at the building and tried to imagine what lay inside, beyond those dirty, inhospitable, sandstone walls. Ruth watched somewhat mystified by the delay. Some time passed and Amos occupied himself walking back and forth across the entrance. It seemed like an eternity but he thought that nothing was ever done in a hurry inside such a place.

Eventually the gate again swung open and the same portly guard bade him enter. The door was again slammed shut behind him. It was a strange unsettling feeling to be on the wrong side of those locked gates. He was led along a dingy corridor and into an office lit by a single oil lamp. The lamp needed a good clean and its wick trimmed, the neglect was causing it to smoke and the slightly acrid vapour filled the air. His throat caught on the smoke but he said nothing. The fumes from the lamp seemed to be fighting the smell of bad breath from the guard. Again he was told to wait and he sat on one of the two hard wooden chairs that faced a large desk.

The guard left the room and Amos was alone with his thoughts. He observed the cleanliness of the stone flagged floor which contrasted with the grubby state of the ceiling and said to himself, “That’s what comes of failing to trim your lamp”. Just then his thoughts were jolted back to the purpose in hand when he heard approaching footsteps and he rose to his feet and turned to see a huge woman in prison uniform enter the room. She was obviously someone of authority, her uniform was clean and neat and carried silver buttons that must be insignia of some sort. She had an air of dominance about her. “I’m Chief Warden Somers. Who are you sir, and what is your business?” she asked.

Amos felt a little over-awed in her presence but he tried hard not to let it show.

“My name will mean little to you, but I am Amos Carlisle. My business is a prisoner held here from the Leeke court last week. Her name is Sarah Fletcher and she was charged with begging”, said Amos.

“I see, but how can I be of assistance?” asked the Chief Warden.

“Well, I’m hoping that first you can confirm that she is held here. Next I need to know her date of release. The fact is that I am the guardian of her child and I feel a duty to help her upon release. She is apparently destitute – nowhere to shelter and no means to support herself. Without help her only course is to resort to begging again and she will undoubtedly return again to this establishment, unless someone is prepared to help her”, he said.

The Chief Warden’s attitude visibly softened, and she stepped behind the desk and raised a huge ledger from within. Holding the open ledger towards to lamp she read out, “Fletcher. Sarah. Sentence; fourteen days for begging to the annoyance of passengers and residents. Leeke Justices Court, September, twentyfourth.” She continued, “That, as you can work out for yourself, makes the release date the eighth of October. She will be released at ten o’clock in the morning. Does that answer your questions?” Amos thanked her profoundly and said, “I’ll be waiting outside for her when she is released”.

Having achieved all the information he had sought, he was ready to leave, but Chief Warden Somers asked him to remain where he was. She went to the door and summoned the guard who had led Amos to the office. There was a quiet conversation between the two and the guard left. She again turned to Amos and said,

“I’ve sent for Fletcher. I’m sure you would wish to speak with her”, and Amos replied,

“Thank you ma’am. I fear she won’t know me but I’m quite sure she’ll be pleased to learn of her daughter”.

Some minutes passed and Amos was left alone in the room again. The waiting was unbearable, the expectation of at last meeting this lady, Sarah, and the worry that she wouldn’t accept his good intentions. Footsteps along the corridor, accompanied by a persistent cough, announced the entrance of Sarah with both the Chief Warden and the portly guard. The Chief Warden said,

“Fletcher, this is Mr. Carlisle. He wishes to help you and he has news of your daughter. I’ll leave you alone for a moment or two. The guard will be outside the door”, and turning to Amos continued,

“Goodbye Mr. Carlisle, there is no need for me to see you again. The guard will see you out when you have finished”, and with that she turned away and was gone.

Even in the poor light of the oil lamp Amos could see only too well Sarah’s emaciated form. The sunken cheeks and that cough were evidence enough of how she had been living. In the few seconds before either of them spoke he could see beyond the sunken cheeks, the red eyes from her crying, and her lank, unwashed hair, that there was a certain beauty that could be coaxed back again with care and support.

“Sarah, you don’t know me, but I know a lot about you; Ruth has told me”, he began.

Sarah took a step towards him,

“Where is she? Is she alright?”

The pleading in her voice and the wringing of her hands betrayed the agony that she was going through. Taking Sarah gently by the shoulders and looking straight into her eyes, he said,

“Ruth’s fine. She’s waiting for me just outside. She’s staying with me and I’m looking after her. They’re going to release you on the eighth, that’s just seven days time, and we shall both be waiting for you outside when you’re set free”. She took Amos’s hands in both of hers and squeezed. The mixture of anguish and gratitude inside her welled up and the tears cascaded down her cheeks.

“Thank you, thank you. Thank you a thousand times. Please keep her safe for me. I don’t know how I shall ever repay you”. Amos quickly silenced her putting a finger to her lips, saying, “Hush now, there’s no need to talk of repayment. I just want to help you both”.

Outside once more, Amos drew in deep lungs full of clean fresh air, pleased to escape the acrid air of the prison and the unpleasant smell of bad breath. He pulled his coat around him as he hurried down the road to where Ruth waited with the horse. She looked at him with wide eyes full of anticipation. Amos couldn’t help the tears welling in his eyes as he spoke to her. He tried hard to hide his emotion but it was to no avail.

“I’ve seen your ma and she’s alright. She’s been worried about you but I’ve told her that you’re staying with me and we’ll both be waiting here for her when she’s set free in seven days time.” Turning towards the horse he tried to hide his tears which he wiped away with the sleeve of his jacket. The ride back to the caravan wasn’t going to seem half as far.

The week was going to pass very slowly for them both but Amos had a remedy to take their minds away from the days of waiting – the strategy was work. After a good breakfast the next morning, they headed towards a small farm on the sloping land towards the foot of the Roaches, a high rocky formation, separating the pasture land from the high moors. As with most farms in this area it was rented from the large Swythamly Estate, and the living was hard. As they walked into the farm yard a dog ran to greet them, barking excitedly.

An elderly gentleman looked out from the doorway of a cattle shed, and seeing Amos, shouted,

“Amos owd friend, how art thee?” and then catching sight of Ruth hiding behind him, continued, “and who be the young un?”

“I’m well Master John, and this here’s my young friend, Ruth”. The farmer obviously knew Amos and knew full well that he didn’t have a child of his own, but Amos chose not to elaborate at that moment, and Master John didn’t pursue it. Leaning his fork against the shed, he said,

“Come thee in and see Sissie”, and he led them toward the house. Before they had chance to cross the yard, a large motherly figure appeared in the open doorway, beaming a welcome.

“Amos, what a surprise. Yer lookin’ well - but who’s this young lass?”

“I’m well Mistress Sissie, this is my friend Ruth”.

Mistress Sissie looked slightly puzzled but said nothing. She turned her large frame sideways and held out her arm, inviting them into the kitchen,

“Come thee in and hae breakfast wi’ us”.

Amos graciously declined breakfast but accepted a warm drink.

“I’ve come to ask if you could find me some work for perhaps a day or two?” he said.

“Well, the hays in and there’s not much to do”, and then after a moment’s hesitation, he rubbed his chin in thoughtful expression and continued, “but come to think o’ it, ar could do wi’ somebody to cetch some moles. The little blighters are starting to mek a mess o’ me hay medders agen”, said Master John. Amos asked Ruth if she would like to have a look around the farm at the animals whilst he organised the day’s work, and Master John added,

“There’s an old sow wi’ a litter in yon shed”, pointing across the yard. Ruth was only too eager and with the farm dog for company she skipped across the yard to explore.

Amos took the opportunity to explain the situation regarding Ruth. He knew that whatever he said would be treated in confidence. He held the couple in high regard, so he related the story of their meeting;

“I’d set some snares and I had some time to kill before I went back to them, so I went to that barn on the roadside going up towards Halsmere. I went inside to rest and that’s when I found Ruth, she was hiding there. She came to me at the caravan and I fed her. She told me the story about her mother being arrested and how she managed to run away before they caught her too.” He paused, seeing the raised eyebrows of Mistress Sissie.

“Look, before you say anything, I’ve found out where her mother is – she’s in the gaol on the Stafford Road. I’ve been to see her and she’s being released in a week’s time. The problem is she has nowhere to go and no means of looking after herself or the child, so… I’m offering them the chance to stay with me”

Master John and Mistress Sissie listened intently without saying a word until Amos had finished and then Mistress Sissie, grasped the nettle and said,

“Well now Amos, just think fer a moment what yer doin’. You’ve looked after the child, an’ credit to yer, but when her mother comes out o’ gaol she’s no longer your responsibility, after all, yer know nothin’ about her”.

Amos drew a long breath and looked the couple squarely before answering,

“Yes, I only know what Ruth has told me, and I know I’m taking on responsibilities of which I’ve no need, but I am involved now, and in all honesty, I couldn’t turn the child away to live as she’s been living these last weeks. I’ve decided that when her mother is released I’ll offer her shelter. If she decides not to accept, that’s beyond my control, but I know that if she returns to a life sleeping under hayricks and begging for food, then not only will she become seriously ill, she’ll almost certainly end up in gaol again. At best she’ll end up in the poor house somewhere”.

“Yer a kind mon Amos an’ I hope things g’ well for yer. It’s a big responsibility to tek on, an’ a big risk – after all yer don’t know ’em. All I’ll say is just be careful, because there’s them who’d brand yer wi’ the Devil’s mark just fer associating wi’ such a woman. There’s bin a lot o’ trouble lately an’ I know feelin’s are runnin’ high”,

and with those words of warning Mistress Sissie passed Amos his drink.

He knew that what she was saying was said with only the best of intentions and deep within he knew that what she said was true. He was quite used to prejudice, as most travelling people were, but his hide was thick enough, and he would usually let unsavoury or antagonistic comments fly over his head without response.

“Yes, I quite understand what you say, but can’t believe that people can harbour such ill will against a mother and child who find themselves in such distress. The circumstances are hardly of their own making and they surely deserve a little charity”.

Mistress Sissie reached over the table and patted the back of Amos’s hand in a soothing manner,

“Yer truly a compassionate mon an’ I applaud yer for doing what yer doin’, but I felt I had to mention it. There’s many abart these parts who’d profess to be Christians but ’ould be only too quick t’ condemn yer. We’ll say n’ more except that if ever yer need a friend, then we’re here”.

Amos thanked her sincerely. There was a slight silence and then Amos, finishing his drink, rose to his feet asked,

“Right Master John, are you going to show me where these moles are that you want me to catch?”

The mole hills, of black peaty soil, were a regular problem in the hay meadows, where, if not cleared they would cause the scythes to dull at mowing and contaminate the hay. Apart from these practical problems, no farmer worth his salt would cherish the sight of mole hills on his meadows because his pride in the appearance of his land in the eyes of his neighbours, would embarrass him. Amos decided on his plan of action and then spent the remainder of the afternoon cutting hazel whips to make his traps. Ruth followed him about but her afternoon was rather more a light hearted romp with the farm dog. She was always interested in the ways of the countryside but the dog held more enjoyment at that moment.

The days were beginning to get shorter now and so they made their way back to the van, collecting firewood along the way. The fire was soon blazing and they relaxed whilst the cooking pot steamed away. Ruth had one of the storage boxes for a seat, pushed up against the caravan wheel forming a back rest. Amos watched her, thinking that she must be worn out after running with the dog. She seemed rather quiet. “A penny for your thoughts” he said and Ruth looked up at him and smiled.

“I was thinking about you and thinking about Ma. I wondered where you came from and how you came to be here?”

Amos pulled his seat to where he could poke the fire to keep it blazing, and he said,

“It’s good that you were thinking of your Ma, she’ll be back with you very soon.”

He picked up a piece of wood, drew his knife and began to whittle. The fire was rather intense and he felt it burning his face and legs so he moved away and sat next to Ruth, leaning against the wheel of the vardo. She looked at the wood that he was whittling. It was white and the slivers of shaved wood were being left attached to the main stem, curling over to resemble the ballooning skirt of some doll.

“It looks just like a fairy”, she said.

“Then that is what it will be”, he replied, “Just for you”, and he carried on whittling.

“You didn’t tell me about you, where you’re from or how you come to live in this caravan?” Ruth reminded him.

Looking at her intently he said,

“I don’t know whether you’ll understand, you’re so young, but I’ll try to explain. Some years ago my parents had a cottage in a beautiful place a long way from here in Shropshire. I remember it but I was very young. There were lots of trees to climb and a river where we swam and I never wanted to leave. Like lots of other people, they didn’t own the cottage where we lived, and they weren’t wealthy people but they kept a pig, some geese and a cow. All the land near us was open land and everyone who had animals grazed them on this common land. One day, the Lord of the Manor came along with his men and forced everyone to move their animals and they fenced the land. There was a lot of trouble and some people broke down the fences and there was fighting. The law always favours the rich, so some were arrested and taken before the courts and were gaoled. Others lost their jobs with the estate and unfortunately my father was one of those people. My parents couldn’t afford the rent for the cottage without a job, and they were finding it difficult to survive so they left the area. They bargained the animals they had for this caravan and they wandered about picking up work where they could, much the same as I do now. Both my parents are dead now but they left me this caravan. So, there you are, now you know all about me. I don’t have any other family and so it’s nice to have someone like you around”.