Children of the Tide by Valerie Wood Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Valerie Wood
weather was dry, for the old road often became a quagmire after rain, when the potholes and ridges made by the wheels of carriages and carts filled with rainwater and mud, and made it almost impassable.
She looked up at the high banks on either side of the narrow road: yellowhammers were nesting in the hedgerow, and early bluebells were emitting their glorious heady perfume. Sammi pulled down the window and then picked up the baby. ‘Look,’ she said,holding him up, ‘Your first flowers. If you’d been a girl we could have named you Flora.’ The baby puckered up his mouth and started to cry. ‘Well, that sounds healthy enough.’ Sammi rocked him. ‘I was beginning to get quite worried about you. But you’re not a girl,’ she mused. ‘So what name shall you be given, I wonder?’ She felt a small chill as the thought struck her that her parents would be angry with her for bringing him home, but she brushed it aside and refused to think about it.
Her home, Garston Hall, was nearly a hundred years old and had been built on the site of an old castle. It was designed to follow the Gothic architecture so admired at the time, and was embellished with round towers, turrets and battlements, and in the autumn its south face was covered in red creeper. To the east, by the round tower, a cascade of winter jasmine straggled and tumbled over the stone walls, and facing north, a glossy-leaved ivy battled against the elements. It was also very close to the sea, with only an orchard and rose walk between it and the house, and a fifty-foot drop over the cliffs to the sands below.
Her mother was waiting at the door, fully dressed in her warm cloak and hood. She came out as the carriage approached, the wind catching hold of her skirts and whipping away the shawl which she had draped around her shoulders.
‘I’ll get it.’ Sammi jumped from the carriage and chased after the fluttering shawl.
‘Leave it. Leave it, Sammi!’ Her mother called after her. ‘I must go. You are
so
late. I particularly told Johnson that I wanted you home early. You are too bad!’
‘I’m sorry, Mama.’ Sammi kissed her mother. ‘Johnson did say. It’s all my fault. Well, not completely. I—’
‘Oh, hush now, Sammi. I must drive into Tillington. Richard has taken the gig, otherwise I would haveborrowed that rather than this great lumbering thing. I’m sorry, Johnson. You’re going to have to go back into Tillington again.’
Johnson touched his top hat and murmured something and glanced at Sammi.
‘Mama! Before you go! I have something to tell you.’
‘Not now, Sammi. I have a call to make and I’m already late.’
Johnson opened the carriage door, his eyes averted to the sky.
‘Victoria has gone to bed with a headache, she’s not well, so don’t disturb her, there’s a dear. There’s cold meat in the larder if you’re hungry. Help yourself. Don’t bother Cook if she’s busy.’
Sammi waited with baited breath as her mother put her foot on the step.
‘What’s this? You’ve left something. Sammi!’
The baby stirred as an icy blast from the open door filled the carriage, and he opened his mouth and wailed. Hunger and thirst cramped his stomach and he screwed up his face and screeched.
‘Sammi! For heaven’s sake. What’s this?’
‘It’s a baby, Mama.’
‘I can see it’s a baby, foolish girl! But what’s it doing in our carriage?’
Ellen Rayner leaned in and lifted him out. ‘Whose child is it? Is it hungry? Why, it’s such a young baby!’ She looked at her daughter in alarm, her large blue eyes widening. ‘Sammi! You have some explaining to do.’
‘Can we go inside, Mama? He’s cold and hungry. I’ll need to warm some milk.’
‘Milk!’ Sammi’s mother swept inside with the child in her arms. ‘He needs the breast, not warm milk! Where’s his mother?’
Sammi cast a glance at Johnson waiting resignedly by the carriage. He raised his eyebrows at her as she closed the door. ‘Sorry,’
She looked up at the high banks on either side of the narrow road: yellowhammers were nesting in the hedgerow, and early bluebells were emitting their glorious heady perfume. Sammi pulled down the window and then picked up the baby. ‘Look,’ she said,holding him up, ‘Your first flowers. If you’d been a girl we could have named you Flora.’ The baby puckered up his mouth and started to cry. ‘Well, that sounds healthy enough.’ Sammi rocked him. ‘I was beginning to get quite worried about you. But you’re not a girl,’ she mused. ‘So what name shall you be given, I wonder?’ She felt a small chill as the thought struck her that her parents would be angry with her for bringing him home, but she brushed it aside and refused to think about it.
Her home, Garston Hall, was nearly a hundred years old and had been built on the site of an old castle. It was designed to follow the Gothic architecture so admired at the time, and was embellished with round towers, turrets and battlements, and in the autumn its south face was covered in red creeper. To the east, by the round tower, a cascade of winter jasmine straggled and tumbled over the stone walls, and facing north, a glossy-leaved ivy battled against the elements. It was also very close to the sea, with only an orchard and rose walk between it and the house, and a fifty-foot drop over the cliffs to the sands below.
Her mother was waiting at the door, fully dressed in her warm cloak and hood. She came out as the carriage approached, the wind catching hold of her skirts and whipping away the shawl which she had draped around her shoulders.
‘I’ll get it.’ Sammi jumped from the carriage and chased after the fluttering shawl.
‘Leave it. Leave it, Sammi!’ Her mother called after her. ‘I must go. You are
so
late. I particularly told Johnson that I wanted you home early. You are too bad!’
‘I’m sorry, Mama.’ Sammi kissed her mother. ‘Johnson did say. It’s all my fault. Well, not completely. I—’
‘Oh, hush now, Sammi. I must drive into Tillington. Richard has taken the gig, otherwise I would haveborrowed that rather than this great lumbering thing. I’m sorry, Johnson. You’re going to have to go back into Tillington again.’
Johnson touched his top hat and murmured something and glanced at Sammi.
‘Mama! Before you go! I have something to tell you.’
‘Not now, Sammi. I have a call to make and I’m already late.’
Johnson opened the carriage door, his eyes averted to the sky.
‘Victoria has gone to bed with a headache, she’s not well, so don’t disturb her, there’s a dear. There’s cold meat in the larder if you’re hungry. Help yourself. Don’t bother Cook if she’s busy.’
Sammi waited with baited breath as her mother put her foot on the step.
‘What’s this? You’ve left something. Sammi!’
The baby stirred as an icy blast from the open door filled the carriage, and he opened his mouth and wailed. Hunger and thirst cramped his stomach and he screwed up his face and screeched.
‘Sammi! For heaven’s sake. What’s this?’
‘It’s a baby, Mama.’
‘I can see it’s a baby, foolish girl! But what’s it doing in our carriage?’
Ellen Rayner leaned in and lifted him out. ‘Whose child is it? Is it hungry? Why, it’s such a young baby!’ She looked at her daughter in alarm, her large blue eyes widening. ‘Sammi! You have some explaining to do.’
‘Can we go inside, Mama? He’s cold and hungry. I’ll need to warm some milk.’
‘Milk!’ Sammi’s mother swept inside with the child in her arms. ‘He needs the breast, not warm milk! Where’s his mother?’
Sammi cast a glance at Johnson waiting resignedly by the carriage. He raised his eyebrows at her as she closed the door. ‘Sorry,’