Rosa's Island Read online

  About the Book

  Rosa grew up an orphan in a remote, watery island fastness on the wild East coast of Yorkshire. Taken in as a small child by the motherly Mrs Drew, she realised as she grew up that this large and seemingly close farming family contained many troubled souls. Mr Drew, whose religious fervour held a dark secret; Jim, the eldest son, who was terrified of something from his past; Delia, longing to escape from the island; and tall, handsome, confident Matthew, who wanted only one thing – Rosa herself.

  But Rosa’s background was one of mystery. Her mother, before she drowned in the sea near their home, had always promised that one day Rosa’s father would return to her – a handsome Spaniard, with jewels and silks in treasure chests, sailing in on a ship with golden sails. Mr Drew knew the secret of Rosa’s past – and so did the two mysterious Irishmen, who came back to the island after many years and who threatened everything which Rosa held most dear.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Maps

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  About the Author

  Also by Val Wood

  Copyright

  Rosa’s Island

  Val Wood

  To the people, past and present,

  of the real Sunk Island

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My thanks to Catherine for reading the manuscript and to Peter and Ruth for their constant support and encouragement.

  Books for general reading:

  John Whitehead, Sunk Island. Highgate Publications (Beverley) Ltd, 1991

  Meadley, A Sunk Island Miscellany

  The Victoria History of the County of York East Riding, Volume V. Published for the University of London Institute of Historical Research by Oxford University Press, 1984

  The Country Life Book of Nautical Terms

  PROLOGUE

  THE RIVER’S WATERS eddied and broke over the bank of sunken sand, covering it with a watery blanket and then retreating. Again it came and drew away. And again. Over the years the sandbank grew wider and higher and the constant rhythmic waves of the estuary surged and flowed and caressed its edges, flooding the greening centre only at high spring tides.

  Sonke Sande, a bare and empty lonely isle risen from the deep Humber bed. A still land and silent save for the haunting cry of the wild geese who stretched their wings in flight above it.

  ‘Tharlesmere. Frismerk. Ravenser Odd’s come again.’ The villagers who watched its mystical rising from the marshy mainland shore spoke in whispers of the lost lands of long ago, lands swept away by the swollen waters and their inhabitants drowned. Others shook their heads in disagreement and said that the sea had brought it, washing it down from the eroding cliffs of Holderness and into the estuary.

  However it had come, this lonely, mist-shrouded land, there was one opinion on which they were in accord. It was river land and the river one day would claim it back.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘NOW, LASSIE, TELL us again what your ma said.’ The Sunk Island farmer crouched down beside Rosa. ‘Where did she say she was going? Was she going to Patrington market?’

  Rosa shook her head, her thumb in her mouth, her dark eyes gazing into the farmer’s blue ones. Why didn’t they listen? She had already told them where her mother had gone. She was going to join her da. She took her wet thumb out of her mouth and wiped it on her pinafore. ‘She’s gone to Spurn to meet my da’s ship.’

  The farmer rose to his feet and pursed his lips. ‘It don’t look too good, Mrs Jennings,’ he said to Rosa’s grandmother. ‘Why would she tek it into her head to go all that way?’

  Mrs Jennings looked down at Rosa. ‘She’s been walking by ’river for ’last few weeks. Took bairn with her most times.’

  ‘We’ll organize a search on all of Crown land first, but if she has gone to Spurn we’ll have to notify Kilnsea constable. They’ll not want us tramping all over peninsula, road’s too dangerous. Besides,’ he said bluntly, ‘we’ve a lot o’ work on now ’weather’s turned. We’ve more embanking to start as well as ’spring sowing.’

  ‘We’re talking about a woman’s life.’ Mrs Jennings’s voice was sharp. ‘She’s been gone since yesterday. Doesn’t that mean owt to you?’

  His face softened. ‘Tha knows as well as me that if Mary’s tekken it into her head to go down to Spurn, owt could have happened. She could have tummelled into a ditch or dyke, watter’s deep after all ’rain we’ve had. Or got stuck on ’marsh.’ He dropped his voice. ‘We all know how she’s been for ’last few years. She’s never been right since yon foreigner left.

  ‘But we’ll keep looking,’ he assured her as she turned away. ‘We’ve got men working on ’river bank and on ’channel. They’ll know if she’s been down there, they’ll have seen her. There’s no hiding place on this land.’

  ‘Aye,’ she said wearily. ‘I know. I know.’

  ‘Will Ma bring my da back home?’ Rosa asked eagerly as they went back into the farmhouse. ‘Will he come in a ship with golden sails like she said? And will he have gold and silver like he promised?’

  ‘There’ll be nowt like that, so don’t be thinking it.’ Her grandmother was terse. ‘Your ma filled you up wi’ fancy ideas and none of it was true.’

  Rosa sat in a corner and considered. Her mother had promised. She’d said that her da was a Spanish prince and that one day he would come back in a great ship with billowing sails, and sail around the Spurn Point and into the Humber. They would go aboard to meet him and he would dress them in fine silks and jewels and take them back with him to his own country: a country where it was always sunny and warm and the people sang and danced all day and the women wore flowers in their black hair.

  ‘Spain’s not windswept and isolated like it is here on Sunk Island,’ her mother had whispered in Rosa’s ear, ‘where ’river is constantly beating at our door, and where we do nowt but work every day that God sends.’

  It would seem then, Rosa silently reflected as she sat in her corner, that her mother might have gone without her. It was true, as her grandmother had said, that her mother had frequently taken her down to the Humber, where the water lapped at the marshland and where gangs of labourers were reclaiming the land which the river rejected.

  Her mother would stand on the embankment holding Rosa fast by the hand if the tide was high, so that she wouldn’t fall into the deep muddy river, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the water and staring down in the direction of the peninsula where the sailing ships rounding the narrow tongue
of Spurn followed the pilot ships to avoid the hidden sandbanks, and came into the Humber.

  ‘We’ll see him pass, Rosa,’ she used to mutter. ‘Have no fear. He’ll pass Sunk Island and send a signal to us.’

  But he never came and Rosa grew cold and fretful and tugged on her mother’s skirts so that they could go home to a warm hearth and the steaming broth that her grandmother always had on the fire.

  Her father had gone away before she was born, but she had a picture of him in her head, painted by her mother in bright descriptive colours. ‘He’s so handsome, Rosa,’ her mother would sigh. ‘On our wedding day he wore a black suit and white shirt which showed his sun-browned skin, and his hair is black and sleek, just like yours, and he gave me this ring.’ She held out her left hand. ‘Spanish gold, it is, not base metal like ’fellows round here give their wives.’

  And Rosa had listened to the stories for as long as she could remember, and believed that he would come.

  It was nearly a week later that there came a hammering on the door of Marsh Farm and a message for her grandmother to go at once to the village of Kilnsea where the cottages huddled precariously between the river and the sea.

  ‘Can you tek me?’ Rosa heard her grandmother say to the caller. ‘Mr Jennings is poorly, he can’t go and I daren’t drive ’trap down that lonely road, I’d be scared of tummelling into ’water.’

  ‘Can I come, Gran?’ Rosa asked eagerly, hoping that there was news of her father and his ship.

  ‘No.’ Her grandmother patted her cheek. ‘It’ll be late when I get back. Stay here and mind ’house and keep fire in and set table for supper and get whatever your grandfer needs.’

  Her grandfather wanted for nothing and the fire blazed with dry driftwood and after she had set the table with a clean cloth and soup dishes, she sat on a stool by the fire and waited for her grandmother to return with her mother and father.

  ‘It’s Mary, right enough.’ The boatman came out of his cottage to greet Mrs Jennings, and led her towards his boat shed. ‘I recognized her straight away even though she’s been in ’water for a while. ’Constable’s been and agreed wi’ me that it was her. I’m sorry for thy loss,’ he added, ‘and for ’young bairn.’

  Mrs Jennings looked down at the swollen waterlogged body of her daugher, lying in a coggy boat and respectfully covered in a white sheet. ‘I’ve been expecting it for many a long year,’ she said huskily. ‘Poor lass is at peace now.’

  The boatman nodded. ‘Aye. Well, ’sea took her, but ’river fetched her back like it allus does. We’ll bring her home for thee.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘SUNK ISLAND ISN’T really an island, you know, Gran.’ Rosa skipped alongside her grandmother. ‘So why is it called that?’

  Rosa was now seven and had started school for the first time that day. Her teacher had pointed to a large map on the wall and told them that this was the island of Great Britain and was where they lived. It had sea all the way around it.

  She had wanted to tell the teacher that she was wrong, that they lived on Sunk Island which had water around three parts of it; but she held her tongue for the mistress was very strict and would brook no disobedience, and Rosa was glad that she had, as the teacher then traced with her cane from the Spurn peninsula and along the river Humber and, pointing to a rounded smudge of land, said that that was Sunk Island.

  Her grandmother seemed to be lost in thought. Her head lowered to watch where she was walking was covered by her black bonnet, which hid her face. Rosa shook her hand to attract her attention. ‘So why is it called an island?’

  ‘Because once it was,’ she murmured. ‘You’ll learn about it at school afore long. Everybody does. I did when I was a bairn and it was still an island then. Ships came along North Channel then, and we had to get a boat to go to Patrington Market.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Rosa asked. Her grandmother had collected her from school but they were not headed in the direction of home, but walking down a long track towards one of the other farmsteads.

  ‘Home Farm. Visiting Mrs Drew!’ Her grandmother was brief. ‘Now hold your tongue. I’m trying to think!’

  Two dogs prowling in the yard barked at them as they approached the farmhouse door but then wagged their tails and came to sniff at Rosa. ‘Wait here,’ she was told. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Rosa climbed into an empty hay cart and sat down to wait. She wiggled her toes in her new boots which were too large and made her feet sore, but her grandmother had told her that she would grow into them. It was very tiring being at school and having to pay attention all day, she decided. She had looked out of the window of the old farmhouse, which was where the school was held, as they had no proper school on the island, and saw and heard a flock of wild ducks as they flew towards the marshy land of the estuary. She had craned her neck to watch their quacking flight and the teacher had seen her and brought her to the front of the class and asked what she was doing.

  ‘Watching ’ducks, miss,’ she answered truthfully. ‘They’re flying to ’mud flats.’

  ‘Watching ’ducks!’ the mistress said sharply. ‘Instead of doing what?’

  Rosa couldn’t remember what it was she should have been doing, so she was put in a corner with her face to the wall until she could remember. It was only by dint of listening to the teacher and the hesitant chanting of the other pupils that she remembered. They were learning their times tables. She’d put up her hand and was then allowed back to her desk.

  It was a warm September day and Rosa was glad to be out of school and into the open air. She hated the closed-in feeling of the schoolroom and constantly had to tear her gaze away from the window, where across the vast fields she could see lines of scythes-men in their cotton shirts and cord breeches, moving rhythmically and in unison, their scythe blades flashing across the ripened corn.

  ‘Hello, Rosa.’ Matthew Drew gave her a bashful grin as he crossed the yard. ‘What you doing here?’

  She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. I came with my gran. She said I had to wait here.’

  ‘I heard Ma telling our Maggie that Mrs Jennings’d be coming afore long.’

  Rosa frowned. Matthew was ten and attended school with her, along with three of his five sisters, Nellie, Lydia and Delia. ‘My gran says there’s no secrets on Sunk Island!’ she said.

  There were few families living on Sunk Island and those who had made their homes in the scattered farmhouses and cottages had mostly lived there for generations. With the exception of the wheelwright, the blacksmith, a shoemaker and cow keepers, they were all farmers, tending the rich fertile land as their fathers and grandfathers had done before them.

  ‘I’m going fishing in a minute,’ Matthew said. ‘Do you want to come?’

  Before Rosa could answer, the kitchen door opened, and Maggie, Matthew’s eldest sister, called to her to come inside and for Matthew to change out of his school clothes and help Delia feed the hens.

  ‘But I’m going fishing wi’ some of ’other lads,’ he complained. ‘They’re waiting on me!’

  She indicated with her thumb for him to go inside, then said, ‘When you’ve finished you can go, otherwise you’ll be in bother with Ma.’

  Rosa followed Maggie inside. Home Farm was a bigger farm estate than her grandfather’s and the farmhouse was bigger too. She went first into the back kitchen where a fire burned in the wide fireplace. A crane and hooks were set into the fireback and a piece of beef sizzled and spat as it turned on a spit. In the wall next to the fire was a bread oven, and next to the back door beneath a window was a deep stone sink and a wooden hand pump. In the corner of the kitchen stood a wooden washtub and posher, and on the shelf above was a row of box and flat irons.

  The twins, Lydia and Nellie, were sitting with Delia at a scrubbed wooden table in the middle kitchen. A bright fire was burning in the inglenook and a large kettle hanging over it emitted gentle puffs of steam. The sisters were dressed as Rosa was, in navy dresses with a white pinafore over them,
and dark stockings and laced-up boots. They stared curiously at Rosa as she came in, but at a command from Maggie they got up from the table, opened the staircase door and ran up the narrow stairs to change out of their school clothes and put on their old ones. Maggie smiled at Rosa and led her through to the parlour where her grandmother was sitting with Mrs Drew.

  ‘I expected a visit,’ Mrs Drew remarked as she opened a cupboard door at the side of the fireplace. There was no fire burning in here but the grate was laid ready with sticks and logs. Mrs Drew wore a plain high-necked grey gown and a white apron, with a flat cotton cap secured by pins set upon her head. After a moment’s hesitation, she took down an earthenware tea service with painted blue flowers from the shelf and laid it on the table, then sat down and poured the tea. ‘I heard as you might be flitting.’

  ‘Aye, well, word soon gets around in our community,’ Mrs Jennings said, ‘and I don’t mind, as it saves me a deal of explanation if you know why I’ve come.’

  Mrs Drew glanced towards Rosa, who hadn’t been invited to sit down and still stood just inside the door. ‘Who’ll tek over ’tenancy?’

  ‘Fowler, our foreman. He’s a good young fellow, we couldn’t have managed without him this last year. He asked if we’d put his name for’ard to Crown Agents if – when – Mr Jennings—’ She didn’t finish what she was saying and pressed her mouth into a thin line.

  ‘I do understand, Mrs Jennings.’ Mrs Drew was sympathetic. ‘It will be very hard for you.’

  Mrs Jennings sighed. ‘Aye, it is. A lifetime spent here. But we shan’t move yet – not till, well, till Mr Jennings passes on. He wants to die here.’

  ‘Of course he does,’ murmured Mrs Drew. ‘Of course he does.’ She poured two cups of tea, and then got up and taking a small beaker from the cupboard filled it with milk and handed it to Rosa.

  ‘Does Rosa know of ’change of circumstances, Mrs Jennings? That she’ll be moving?’

  Mrs Jennings sipped her tea and took a proffered slice of fruit cake, and as Rosa was offered a piece also, warned, ‘Don’t drop crumbs, Rosa! No, she doesn’t, Mrs Drew. I wanted to get things settled first before I telled her. You see, my cousin who I’ll go to live with in Patrington is a single woman, never been married and had bairns.’ She pursed her lips and continued. ‘Never wanted any either, and though she’s offered me a home wi’ her, mainly I have to say because she needs somebody to look after her now that she’s getting on in years, she’s not keen on having our Rosa.’