All the dear faces by Audrey Howard Read Free Book Online

Hesper, a bundle of soiled linen under one arm and the bucket of water in the other, had gone and Annie was left in the hushed company of the baby who was hers, hers and Anthony Graham's .
    It was a week since he had left, he and the company. She had been with him for just fourteen months and in those months she had learned many things, acquiring an education in a life she had not known existed. She had gained a knowledge of the world which was to stand her in good stead in the years to come. The life of the strolling company had been one of casual drifting from one town to the next, of bookings which had been cancelled, days of excitement and others of boredom and uncertainty, thrilling at first to the young girl to whom, in her old life, the arrival at the door of a pedlar had been one of dazzling intoxication. She had taken small parts in the production, those that did not involve speaking and when Anthony, on a whim, had taught her to speak as the rest did, she had become understudy to the leading lady. She had passed out handbills in every town they played. She had, because she could sew a little, taken care of the company's wardrobe. She had learned how to slip out of town without paying bills, how to make love to her lover's satisfaction; how to avoid being made love to by amorous actors and playgoers alike. How to live well when the takings were good and how to starve when they were not. She had been a part of them, doing what they did until her increasing girth made it impossible, and last week, as she was doing her best to earn a few pennies, hanging out Polly Pearsall's washing at the far end of the long back garden of the inn, they had all slipped away without her, one by quiet one, leaving their bills unpaid and the landlord, Seth Pearsall, in such a state of menacing rage, Annie had feared for her own safety .
    Polly, his cheerful, uncomplaining and phlegmatic wife, had stepped deftly between Annie and her husband's rage, her own hefty proportions complementing his.
    “ 'Tis no good threatening the lass, Seth. She's no money else why should she be workin' fer me, tell me that? This last week while them lot were jabbering their piece on't stage in that there barn, aye, despite size of 'er, she's worked like a good'un from mornin' 'til night so she owes us nowt. Yes, I know she were with them but that don't make 'er responsible fer their debts, do it, me duck? So 'tis no good you threatening ter fetch constable. Now, she can go on earnin' 'er keep alongside Hesper in t' kitchen until babby comes an' then . . . well, we'll see. We could do wi' another body ter give a hand, me an' Hesper, so just you calm down an' get back inter t' bar fer there's men wi' their tongues hangin' out fer a pint. ”
    For a week, until she was brought to bed, Annie had filled a pail each morning, scrubbing the floor of the kitchen and the flagged passage which led to the dining room and bar-parlour of the inn. There was mud and grease mixed with straw and even manure stamped into it and though her head swam and the baby inside her kicked and squirmed she did not falter. She washed and ironed and heaved this and that and though Hesper and even Polly Pearsall, who were both good souls, did their best to save her from these heavy tasks, Annie would not hear of it.
    “ Yer'll 'arm that child, Annie," Polly protested but Annie did not care. The child was not real to her who was merely a child of fifteen herself. What would she do with it when it came? Perhaps it would be born dead which would be a blessing but, of course, it hadn't, and here it was .
    She studied the small, round face of her daughter, the fluff on her head which was not red but a pure, golden copper, the shape and colour of her eyes which were open and seemed to be studying her. Her skin was like satin, clear, pale, flawless, her mouth pink and pouting and her hands, one of which had escaped Polly's binding and flexed helplessly in the air, were like daisies, perfect in