Rosa's Island Page 5

Matthew had been reluctant but there was no arguing with his father: what he said was law. Matthew didn’t really mind school and he liked being with Rosa, although he had to be careful that the other lads didn’t realize it or his life would have been unbearable. So he joined in with playing jokes on the girls, pulling ribbons out of their hair and knotting their pinafore strings, or putting spiders or frogs in their desks.

  ‘Leave her,’ Delia called. ‘Let her be late if she’s a mind to. Why should we care? She’s nowt to do with us.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Delia. And don’t be so mean, either,’ Matthew retaliated. ‘Course she’s to do with us, she lives with us.’

  Delia tossed her head and walked on. ‘She’s nowt to do with me.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘But we all know that you’re sweet on her, Matthew Drew!’

  Matthew started to race after her. ‘I’ll get you for that.’ She began to run. He caught up with her and pulled on her thin brown plaits, forcing her head back. ‘Why should I be sweet on her? She’s onny a bairn, same as you.’

  ‘Ow!’ Delia kicked out at his shins and he jumped back but didn’t let go. ‘Cos you’re allus hanging round her, tekking her across marshes and catching tiddlers and that.’

  ‘You could come too if you liked,’ he argued, ‘but you’re that dowly you never want to.’

  ‘Phew, I’ve got better things to do than trail about wi’ you,’ she scoffed.

  Rosa slowed down as the other two quarrelled and looked round for somewhere to hide. There were very few hedges, though many deep ditches which divided the fields, but nothing else, no buildings or walls, only Marsh Farm and that was too far off for her to run to and not be seen. She gazed across at her former home and meditated. It’s Drews’ land now and Jim Drew is living in our old house all on his own.

  She’d looked through the window one day and seen the familiar kitchen which had been so cosy when she had lived there with her grandmother, but now was stacked with boxes of crockery and household ware which Jim Drew hadn’t bothered to unpack. The fire grate which had always been blazing, with a kettle steaming over it, was full of cold grey ash and a few dead sticks. Jim came to his mother’s house to eat and only went to the Marsh Farm house to sleep and wouldn’t have his mother or Maggie come in to clean for him. He always looks miserable, Rosa thought, as she scrambled into a steep-sided ditch. Mrs Drew wishes he would find a wife.

  She clung tightly to the side of the grassy banks, for the water was deep in the ditch and she knew that should she slip she could drown. She peered over the top. Matthew was looking round for her. Delia had run off towards school from where there was the sound of a handbell ringing. Matthew was scratching his head in puzzlement and she gave a little smile and wondered what excuse he would make for her. Delia, she was sure, would paint the worst possible, blackest picture. That Delia disliked her intensely was quite obvious, but Rosa cared not in the slightest for her opinion.

  Cowslips were growing in scattered clumps along the banks and behind the ditch was a straggly hawthorn hedge, planted to give some protection from the prevailing winds in the flat landscape. It was also home to blackbirds, hedge sparrows, wrens and long-tailed tits, and Rosa could hear their complaints as her presence disturbed their habitat. As she crouched, trying to keep still, she heard the rustling of long-tailed field mice and saw a sleepy hedgehog shuffling out of a nest of leaves and straw. Wild violets and golden celandine grew in the hedge bottom, whilst above her the long stalks of cow parsley waved their creamy heads and exuded heavy perfume which tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze.

  She saw Matthew give one last look round before going through the gate and across the yard; she waited a few minutes more before she scrambled out of the ditch and headed off in the opposite direction towards the marshland and the river, as she and her mother used to do when they were keeping a lookout for her father’s ship.

  There would be men working there, she knew, for there was constant work on the accretions as more and more land was claimed from the river, but they wouldn’t bother about her, they probably wouldn’t even see her, she thought, and if they do I’ll just say I’ve got a day off school.

  She took a deep breath. She valued solitude and this she had missed since living with the Drew family. There was never a time to be alone, always someone asking questions, talking, busy doing, and what she wanted more than anything was to feel the silence and isolation of the island wrap around her.

  She gazed up into the vast infinite sky. It was so wide and boundless and made her feel so small. There were no hills or undulations to obscure the landscape, no trees against the skyline, only acres of rolling farmland and a wide canopy of drifting clouds floating against a backdrop of pale blue and meeting a slender finger of brown river, and beyond that the low grey line of Lincolnshire, at the horizon.

  ‘Hah!’ She gave a little laugh and started to run, then lifting her arms up, she gave a jump and somersaulted, her skirt, petticoat and pinafore flying over her head. Her plaits came undone and her long dark hair ran free.

  She half ran and skipped down long tracks, sometimes cutting down the sides of cornfields or along the wide dykes, avoiding when possible the farm workers who were out in the fields. Some of them looked up as she passed and she gave them a cheery wave and most waved back, and she continued on her passage towards the river.

  There were few houses on Sunk Island, and those which were there were old though substantially built. There was talk at the Drews’ dinner table that more were to be built as the island accreted and more embanking was undertaken, and farmers, answerable now only to the Crown agents, were eager to come and work and live on the rich fertile land.

  ‘Where’s tha going, little lass?’ A voice hailed her from across the fields. A man was standing by a bullock-drawn waggon, cupping his hand to his mouth as he called.

  ‘Hawkins Point,’ she called back.

  ‘Don’t tummel in,’ he shouted. ‘It’s muddy, there’s been some flooding down there.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she called in answer, and, worried that he might come after her and fetch her back, she quickened her stride.

  The sun was getting higher as she reached the marshy waterlogged area along the edge of the river, though the wind was blowing strongly and whipped her hair around her face. The tide was going out, flowing swiftly down deep runnels and narrow channels on its way back to the river, and she looked down at her feet to find the dry patches to walk on.

  ‘Always watch your feet.’ It was as if her mother’s voice was speaking to her and a sudden vision of her face, which she had lost before, came back to her. ‘I will, Ma,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll be careful. And I’ll find out where my da is so that you don’t have to search any more.’

  It was with this sudden clarity of vision that she knew that was why she was here.

  As she watched where she put her feet so that she didn’t sink, she trod on clumps of yellow kingcups and thrift. Grey sea lavender spread a carpet over the marsh and crane flies buzzed around it, and as she stepped carefully she took hold of the tall reeds and rushes to steady herself, to come at last to the lonely Hawkins Point.

  There was nothing in the land behind her. No habitation, not a single person to be seen in the silent isolated landscape, no sound but the sigh of the river, the cry of the birds, the herring gulls and curlews overhead, the piping of the redshanks and plovers which were sifting out crustaceans from the mudflats. The wind soughed through the grass and rippled across the young green corn, for the reclaimed land was cultivated almost to the edge of the marshland.

  She stopped and wrapped her arms around herself as she saw a grey heron standing motionless among the reeds, and she too waited without moving, until she saw it pounce and emerge with a struggling frog between its beak. It flew with its long legs trailing, along the river’s edge towards a thick bank of reeds. She waited a moment and then another appeared, flying low in swooping graceful motion from the direction of the dykes, to join its mate.


  With a satisfied sigh she found a dry patch of ground. The walk had made her hungry and she sat down to eat her dinner. Mrs Drew and Maggie were generous with food, there was always a good table at the Drews’ house, and Maggie today had packed her dinner bag not only with bread and cold bacon, but with a hunk of cheese and a thick slice of fruit cake as well.

  She gazed out at the river as she ate and although the land was empty, the river wasn’t. The river was busy with craft making their way to or from the port of Hull.

  How did Ma know which ship my da would be on? she wondered. There are so many. Some she recognized as coal barges, making their slow way upriver. Some were fishing smacks coming in fully laden with cod and haddock from the northern fishing grounds and others were merchant ships from all countries of the world.

  From her position at Hawkins Point she saw a coggy boat pulling towards the narrow channel which once led to Patrington Haven, but which now petered out to an inlet, close to where they had crossed in Henry’s boat. She noticed too, as she looked the other way to the west, a small cutter with its sails lowered going into Stone Creek where the farmers shipped off their grain.

  ‘So what you doing, Rosa? Playing twag?’

  She jumped, so engrossed in watching the river that she hadn’t seen or heard any movement behind her. Henry was standing there with a grin on his face.

  ‘Give us a bit o’ cake,’ he asked. ‘I’ve not had me dinner yet.’

  ‘Why haven’t you? Didn’t Maggie pack you up?’ She broke the cake in half and handed him a piece.

  He popped it in his mouth and chewed before answering. ‘I was sent for,’ he said. ‘Word got back to Ma that you hadn’t gone to school.’

  ‘Delia!’ she said petulantly. ‘I knew she’d tell!’

  He shook his head. ‘Not Delia. Some fellow saw you and went to tell Ma. He was worried about you and said this is where you were heading.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have come to any harm.’

  ‘That’s what I said.’ Henry stretched and yawned. ‘But Ma and Maggie said I had to come and find you.’ He looked down at her and grinned. ‘They didn’t want Da to find out you’d missed school.’ He transferred his gaze beyond her and pointed at the progress of a Dutch merchantman as it sailed upriver. ‘Look at that!’

  Rosa gazed at the ship. ‘What is it?’ she asked huskily, for the sight of the vessel had made her feel strangely excited. She hadn’t seen such a ship before.

  ‘A Dutch fluyt. What a sight, and soon to be gone.’

  ‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Where’s it going?’

  ‘It’s an old ship and soon everybody will be using steam power and it won’t be needed.’

  She barely listened to what he was saying but kept her eyes firmly on the ship. The sails on the three-masted vessel were set to catch the breeze as it moved gracefully along the river. Its decks were long and narrow and were piled with timber. ‘My da is coming on a ship,’ she murmured. ‘Well, he was going to come, but he’s taking a long time.’

  Henry sat down beside her. ‘He might not come,’ he said slowly. ‘Don’t think on it ower much in case you’re disappointed. It’s been ten years since he went.’

  ‘I’d like him to come.’ She turned towards him as the fluyt drew away from them. ‘I really would.’ Her mouth trembled. ‘Then I could tell him how my ma waited for him.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said softly. ‘I know. But we don’t allus get what we want. I’d like to have my own farm instead of working for Da. I could go off, I know, but Ma would be upset and I’d never earn enough to save up for a place of my own.’

  ‘Jim’s got our old place,’ she murmured. ‘But he doesn’t like to live in it, does he!’

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’ Henry drew his knees up to his chin and looked thoughtful. ‘He doesn’t like it one bit. Not ’farmhouse, I don’t mean. He doesn’t like ’land around it. He says it isn’t good land.’

  ‘My grandda had it,’ Rosa began.

  ‘Aye,’ Henry interrupted her. ‘But some of ’land got flooded and it wasn’t properly drained and some of ’dykes got covered in. He never made a good living from it. I’d have it,’ he brooded, ‘if onny Da would let me. I’d work it properly if it was mine.’

  They heard the sound of voices and laughter and looking back across the marshland, they saw a group of men coming their way. Rosa sighed. It seemed that her solitude was over.

  ‘Hello there, Henry,’ one of the men called across to him.

  Henry stood up. ‘Don’t come across. You’ll get your boots wet. Come on, Rosa,’ he said. ‘Let’s go, you’ll have to come back another day. Onny tell me when you do and I’ll mek an excuse for you.’

  They slopped their way back across the marshland and Henry confronted the men. ‘What’s up, Danny?’ he asked. ‘Why aren’t you at work? That long dyke’s supposed to be finished this week.’

  ‘Sure and it is finished,’ said another man, ‘or almost. But it’s too nice a day to be spent up to your knees in water.’ He smiled at Rosa. ‘Or to be spent in school. Now wouldn’t you agree with that, young lady?’

  He crouched down besides her. ‘Better to be catching butterflies and frogs than learning spellings?’

  She smiled and nodded. He had a friendly face with blue eyes and crinkly grey hair, an older man than the others.

  He looked up at Henry. ‘You don’t remember me, Henry. You were just a wee lad when I was last here.’

  Henry shook his head. They had had many Irish working for them over the years and although he had employed this gang of men for the embankment, he hadn’t known them. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Seamus Byrne.’ The man rose to his feet. ‘Ten years ago. My brother and I were here – er, working for your da. How is Mr Drew?’ he added. ‘In good health?’

  On hearing that he was, he said, ‘You must tell him I was asking about him. And is this one of your many sisters, Henry? I remember years ago, your ma had a fresh babby every time I came back.’

  ‘I’m not his sister,’ Rosa butted in. ‘But I live with them. My ma’s dead.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ The man dropped his voice. ‘She’ll have gone to a better place, there’s no doubt of that. So what’s your name? Are you an island child? Or did somebody bring you to this godforsaken plot?’

  ‘It’s not godforsaken!’ Rosa said boldly. ‘We have our own church and it’s a very special place, everybody who lives here says so!’

  The man looked taken aback. ‘Sure and I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to offend.’ Then his eyes twinkled. ‘It’s just that my home is amongst the mountains of Ireland and here couldn’t be more different.’

  ‘Well, you could go back,’ Rosa said calmly. ‘If you don’t like it here.’

  He shook his head. ‘Ah, child, if only it was so easy. There’s no work in my mother country—’

  ‘And a price on your head too, Seamus,’ one of the other men laughed. ‘Don’t forget that!’

  He dismissed the fellow’s remark with a disparaging grimace. ‘Take no notice of him, he’s a witless youth. So what’s your name?’ he asked. ‘So that I can remember it when I think of you, for undoubtedly I will. You’re a lot like my own daughter was at your age. In fact,’ he said, ‘you could even have Irish blood to my way o’ thinking?’

  ‘No,’ Rosa said. ‘I haven’t. My ma was from Sunk Island and my da was from Spain. I think he was a prince,’ she added cautiously, hoping that he wouldn’t laugh, as some did when she told them.

  He didn’t laugh but looked curiously at her. ‘A Spanish prince! Now wouldn’t you just know it? With those dark eyes and that lovely hair, why, your daddy couldn’t be anything else.’ He leant towards her again. ‘And what did you say your name was, child?’

  ‘It’s Rosa,’ she said. ‘Rosa Maria Carlos.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE WAS GIVEN a beating by Mr Drew for being absent from school. Delia told him. She made out that i
t was an accident, but she said in a loud clear voice at supper that Rosa had missed her favourite lesson at school that day, botany, and that they’d been outdoors collecting wild flowers.

  She’d put her hand to her mouth in pretended dismay as Mr Drew demanded, ‘Missed a lesson? How’s that?’

  There was silence around the table. Matthew glared at Delia, but she just pursed her mouth into a smirk and looked away.

  ‘Mrs Drew?’ her husband questioned.

  Mrs Drew looked reproachfully at Delia, then at Mr Drew. ‘Rosa missed school today. She didn’t go in.’

  ‘Why not?’ He turned to Rosa. ‘Were you sick?’

  ‘No.’ She was honest. ‘It was too nice a day to be in school.’ She remembered the Irishman and what he’d said. ‘Better to be catching butterflies and frogs than doing spellings. I went down to ’river. I saw a heron. It caught a frog. And then I saw its mate.’

  She saw Henry smile but his smile disappeared as his father bellowed at her. ‘Go stand in ’corner, face to ’wall!’

  ‘But – I haven’t finished—’

  ‘You have finished! There’ll be no more supper for you, my lass. You’ll stand there until we have all done and then I’ll attend to you.’

  ‘She’s onny a bairn, Da!’ Henry protested as Rosa got up from the table. ‘Everybody plays twag at some time or other.’

  ‘Not in my household they don’t.’ His father’s face reddened at the confrontation. ‘I’ll not have disobedience, especially not from one who isn’t my own, but who is my responsibility. Saw a heron,’ he muttered. ‘You can see a heron any day of ’week!’

  When supper was finished and cleared away, Mr Drew called her to him. ‘Get me that strap that’s hanging behind ’door and then stand here.’ He indicated a spot in front of him.

  ‘Da!’ Henry was still in the room. The others had left. Matthew and Delia had hung back but had been ordered out by their father. ‘Leave her be. She doesn’t deserve ’strap just for missing school!’

  His father pointed a finger. ‘Nothing to do wi’ you. I make ’rules here. It’s my Christian duty to punish for wrongdoing.’