Storm Child (11 page)

The man reached to take Georgina
from her arms. 

‘No!’ Charlotte said, pulling her
in close.

‘She is my child,’ the man
growled, his courteous tones now becoming something more menacing. ‘I want her
back.

‘She is ours!’

‘Charlotte…’ her mother began.
‘If this is indeed Georgina’s father, then we have no choice but to reunite
them…’

‘Mother! How could you?’

Her mother’s eyes filled with
tears. ‘I will feel her loss as keenly as you. But we cannot keep a family
apart.’

‘She is not his! And even if she
were, what kind of father would have abandoned her out on the heath in a storm?
 He has no right to take her!’ Charlotte stamped her foot, anger now
replacing the fear that had gripped her only moments before.

Georgina began to cry, clinging
to Charlotte tighter than before.

‘Now you’ve made her cry, girl,’
the man said. Despite his words, there was a certain glee for Georgina’s
distress in his eyes.

‘You will have to prove that you
are her father.’

‘And how do you expect me to do
that?’

‘You must have papers.’

He stood back and appraised
Charlotte for a moment. Then he smiled. ‘Of course…’ his hand went to a jacket
pocket as if to look for something.  But an instant later he flew at
Charlotte and wrenched Georgina from her arms.  Charlotte screamed as he
shoved her against the wall.  Before he had chance to make his escape,
Charlotte’s mother lunged for him and grabbed Georgina back.

‘Run, Mother! Go find the smith!’

Charlotte’s mother hesitated,
clearly torn between protecting her own daughter and the baby who had become a
daughter to her.  But the decision was taken from her hands.  At the
same instant as the man leapt for her again, a boy, not much older than
Charlotte, burst into the room.

‘Ernesto! What’re you doing?’ he
yelled.

‘Get back to the cart!’ Ernesto
snarled.

‘I
ain’t
goin
back there to let you do this.’

‘She’s my child, I bought her
fair and square.’

‘You
ain’t
takin’ her!’ Isaac drew himself to his full height and stared at Ernesto who
simply let out a mocking laugh.

‘And you’re going to stop me?’

‘If I have to.’

Charlotte looked at her mother as
the confrontation between the two newcomers seemed to reach a standoff. 
‘Run,’ she mouthed.

Charlotte’s mother shook her
head, stroking Georgina’s hair as she cried.

‘Go!’ Charlotte pleaded, louder
now. Ernesto turned to her, his eyes blazing.

‘Hand over the baby and nobody
gets hurt.’

‘Apart from you,’ Isaac said.

‘What?’

‘You heard me. I
ain’t
takin’ no more from you, and I
ain’t
lettin
’ you take that baby from a nice home where
she’ll be cared for. It’s too late for me, Ern, I’m already a criminal. I
ain’t
lettin
’ you do that to
Annie’s sister.’

‘Who said anything about keeping
her?’ Ernesto hissed. ‘You think I would raise another ungrateful brat to grow
up and start answering me back? I have far greater plans for her.’

‘I don’t care. Enough is enough.’

Charlotte’s mother began to back
slowly towards the door as their argument raged.  Charlotte inched her way
around the wall, trying to reach her. Ernesto spun around as he caught the
movement.

‘Running away are we? I’ll take what
I came for and be on my way.’

In the instant he reached for
Georgina, Isaac leapt on him.  Ernesto Black might have been past his
prime, but he was still a bear of a man. He shook Isaac off easily and with one
swipe knocked him across the room. Charlotte let out a scream as Isaac fell
backwards against the stone fireplace and then was still.  Ernesto
wrenched Georgina from the arms of Charlotte’s mother, shoving her out of the
way, and then strode from the door out onto the heath.  Charlotte
hesitated for a moment, torn whether to help her mother or chase Georgina.

‘Go,’ Mrs Harding said, waving
her away as she hurried over to Isaac. Charlotte raced after Ernesto, but he
broke into a run, and Charlotte’s small frame weighed down by her huge dress
was no match for his long strides. Before she had even covered half the
distance, he had bundled Georgina onto the cart and they were racing away.

Eighteen:

Charlotte’s knees buckled and she dropped to the ground as
she watched the cart go, Georgina’s plaintive cries carried across the heath on
the wind.  For many moments, she could do nothing but stare through her
tears, her numb mind refusing to process the events of the previous half
hour.  A man came and Georgina had gone. It was over as quickly as
that? 

A hand on her shoulder shocked
her back to her surroundings.

‘Charlotte, get up from the wet
ground, you’ll catch your death.’

Slowly, Charlotte stood. Her
mother’s face reflected the pain that Charlotte knew must be in her own eyes.

‘Georgina’s gone,’ Charlotte said
weakly.

‘Yes. But I need your help right
now.’ Charlotte looked at her blankly. ‘The boy,’ her mother said. ‘I think the
boy is dying.’

It took a moment for Charlotte to
realise who she meant. Then it all came back to her – the boy who tried to
prevent Georgina’s kidnap must still be in their house. 
Kidnap
:
the more Charlotte thought about it, the more convinced she was that a kidnap
was what she had witnessed that day, not a loving father coming to claim his
child.

‘There’s no time for us to feel
sorry for ourselves,’ Mrs Harding said, fear and urgency very real even beneath
the calm of her voice. ‘We can mourn Georgina’s loss later. You need to run to
fetch Dr Weston, right now.’

Though all she wanted to do was
collapse in a heap and cry, Charlotte nodded. Without another word, she ran for
the road to the village.

The winter sun was low in the sky by the time Ernesto
arrived back at the gates of the tumbledown mansion he called home.  The
child had finally fallen asleep, tired out from crying and screaming. He lifted
her from the cart but she didn’t stir, despite his rough handling.

‘Polly!’ he shouted as he stood
at the front steps.

She immediately appeared at the
door. ‘You got her!’ she cried, flying down the steps to him.

‘Yes,’ he replied grimly, ‘and
the little terror nearly drove me mad with all her wailing on the road home. If
the Brethren hadn’t wanted her I’d have dropped her into the nearest river to
shut the noise up.’ 

‘You should have got Isaac to do
tricks for her. It would have bored her to sleep.’ Polly glanced behind
Ernesto. ‘Where is he?’

Ernesto paused before answering.
‘Take Chester to the stables.’

‘That’s Isaac’s job.’

‘Know your place and do as I
ask.’

Polly took Chester’s reins. 
‘Is he on another errand?’

Ernesto started to walk up the
steps to the front door. ‘Isaac has shown his loyalty lies elsewhere. We won’t
be seeing him again.’

Polly watched him go inside with
the still sleeping baby. ‘Come on, Chester,’ she said absently, leading the
horse around to the courtyard where his stable was. Her mind was a jumble of
emotions. She had achieved the task Ernesto had asked of her, and she ought to
be pleased.  But Isaac’s absence and Ernesto’s reaction to her questions
made her feel strange.  She suddenly recognised the emotion. It was fear.
She was afraid for him. What had happened on the road between him and Ernesto?
Where was he?  And another thing bothered her. Ernesto had mentioned
the
Brethren
. She had heard rumours, amongst the street kids, about people
called the Brethren.  For some reason, Polly hadn’t imagined that handing
Georgina over to such people figured in Ernesto’s plans. But now it all made
sense. And it was another reason to feel afraid.

Polly undid the cart and led
Chester into his stable.  She busied herself brushing him down and feeding
him, all the while the terrible feeling of foreboding building inside
her.  Her thoughts were interrupted by a scream followed by Ernesto
shouting. Hurrying out of the stable, Polly was just in time to see their
guardian dragging a distraught Annie by the wrist towards the cellar
door.  Annie pulled and scratched at Ernesto, but he held her fast. 
The door was opened and he flung her in, locking it smartly as she pounded and
screeched inside.  Smoothing his hair and breathing heavily, he glanced at
Polly. 

‘She’s gone stark mad.’

‘I’ll let her out when she’s
calm,’ Polly replied.

‘You’ll let her out when I say
so.’

‘I take it she’s seen you got the
baby?’ Ernesto nodded slightly. ‘She’ll be none too happy about it
considerin
’ the trouble she went to hiding her.’

‘It’s my child to do with as I
see fit. I bought her fair and square.’ He glared at Polly and lowered his
voice to a menacing growl. ‘I bought you all fair and square, and don’t you
forget it.’

‘I don’t,’ Polly pouted.

‘It seems all the others have.’

‘I
ain’t
the others.’

‘See it stays that way. And when
you’re finished with the horse, there’s work to be done indoors. I haven’t had
a decent meal all day.’

‘Where’s the baby?’

‘I’m keeping a close eye on her
after last time. She’s locked up.’

‘Where?’

Ernesto narrowed his eyes. ‘What
do you need to know for?’

‘
So’s
I
can feed ‘
er
.’

‘If there’s any food to go in,
I’ll take it.’

‘You don’t trust your
ol
’ reliable Poll?’

‘Right now I don’t trust anyone.’

‘But I helped you…’

‘What do you want, a medal for
it?’

‘A bit of gratitude would be
nice,’ Polly grumbled.

‘Thank you,’ he replied in a
mocking voice with a deep bow.

In her apron pocket, Polly’s
fingers tightened around the vial she always kept with her. It looked as though
she would need the help of her sleeping potion again soon. She seemed to recall
making a promise to Isaac only that morning which involved employing the
contents of that very same infamous bottle.  It only served to remind her
of the fear for him that twisted her gut.  What had the idiot gone and
done now?

With Ernesto snoring lightly, Polly pulled a shawl around
her and headed out into the chilly evening.  Taking Chester was too risky
– he would make too much noise as he was led out – she would have to walk, and
at a fair pace if she was going to get back before Ernesto woke and missed her.
Striding through the courtyard, her gaze was drawn to the cellar door, now in
shadow. Annie had stopped hammering on the door hours ago, but every so often
Polly would pass and hear her whimper or cry softly.  Without incurring
the wrath of Ernesto, there was little Polly could do to help her. Shortly
after dinner, she had pushed a bag containing bread crusts and an apple through
the metal grille on the ground outside the door, underneath which the room at
the bottom of the cellar steps lay. It was as much as she dared do for the time
being. Whether Annie had found the food or not, she had no idea.  All was
silent for now, and Polly made her way out of the gates undetected.

Ernesto had remained tight-lipped
about Isaac’s whereabouts and Polly hadn’t dared ask him, so she had done her
best to piece the puzzle together herself. She could only assume that Isaac had
somehow fallen foul of Ernesto’s temper at some point during their errand
together because he had disagreed with something Ernesto was doing. And as
Isaac had lived with the man for many years, he was immune to any personal
insult, which meant that it had to be some moral objection on someone else’s
behalf. And the only thing Polly could think of was Ernesto taking Georgina
from the home of the
Hardings
. Isaac always did have
a hero streak in him, Polly reflected ruefully. She always warned it would get
him into trouble. Perhaps the

Hardings
would know what had
happened to Isaac?  Though she didn’t relish the idea of returning there,
Polly didn’t see she had a choice if she was to get to the bottom of the
mystery.

Some hours later Polly stood outside the door of the tiny
white cottage, her heart beating madly. The sudden feeling of despair that
gripped her had taken her completely by surprise. What if they didn’t know
where Isaac was? What if she never saw him again?  She had always been
fond of Isaac – they had grown up together, after all – but this was something
she’d never felt before. Smoothing her dress, Polly took a deep breath and
knocked.   

‘You…’ Mrs Harding glared at
Polly as the door opened.

‘I’m sure I
ain’t
popular with you right now, but I need to find someone and I think you might
know where he is,’ Polly replied quickly. 

‘You are the reason that man
visited us and took Georgina, I presume?’ Polly didn’t see any point in lying
now. She nodded. ‘What could we possibly have to say to you now?’ Mrs Harding
retorted coldly. ‘You’re lucky I don’t fetch the magistrate.’

‘What would you have me locked up
for?’ Polly shot back. Belligerence wasn’t going to help her but there was
little she could do to stop it coming out. ‘It weren’t your baby either.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I told you, I’m looking for my
friend.’

‘Why would your friend be here?’

‘Because he came with the man who
took Georgina and he
ain’t
come home again. I thought
it was a good place to start.’

At once, Mrs Harding’s expression
softened. It made Polly’s stomach lurch. She knew that look. It was the same
look that had preceded every bit of tragic news she had ever been subjected to
in her short life.

‘You’d better step in,’ Mrs
Harding said, moving back from the door.

Polly followed her into the
kitchen.  Charlotte’s head snapped up from a pot she was stirring on the
stove and she shot her mother a questioning look. Mrs Harding merely gave her
head a warning shake.  A makeshift bed lay in front of the fireplace. On it
was a grey-faced, unconscious Isaac. Polly’s hand flew to her mouth.

‘What’s wrong with him?’  

‘Your gentleman friend threw him
across the room. He hit his head and hasn’t gained consciousness since.’

Polly stared at Mrs Harding. ‘Has
he been tended to?’

‘We’ve had a doctor out. There is
little that can be done for him now but to ease his passing.’

‘
Ease his passing
?’ Polly
repeated.

‘He has bleeding on his brain.
I’m sorry, but he’s going to die.’

Polly felt as though someone had
stripped the bones from her legs. She dropped into a seat at the table and
stared at Isaac. None of this made sense. Isaac couldn’t die. This was Isaac,
who had always been there for her, no matter what she did.   

‘No!’ Polly cried. ‘You’re
lying!’

‘I’m so sorry.’

Polly shot from her chair.
‘You’re lying! You’re lying to get revenge. I tell you, I can’t bring the baby
back now, so you can just stop!’

‘We know Georgina didn’t belong
to us. My mother would never do something so low,’ Charlotte cut in. ‘Shouting
at her will not help.’

‘No,’ growled Polly, ‘but it will
make me feel better...’ She flew over to the bed and dropped to her knees.
‘Isaac, you
clotpole
! Get up!’ She raised her hand to
slap his face and Charlotte dived to grab it.

‘What are you doing?’

‘He’s
foolin
’!
He
ain’t
dying, he’s asleep. Water…. That’ll wake
him. I’ll throw a bucket over him…’

‘Celia, stop!’ Charlotte cried.

Polly stared at her. Then she
started to laugh. ‘Celia… that’s a good ‘un
ain’t
it?’

Charlotte looked helplessly at
her mother as Polly’s laughter became louder still, until she suddenly buried
her face in her hands and began to sob. Charlotte leant down and gently pulled
Polly up to stand. ‘Sit at the table and let me get you a warm drink.’

Polly sniffed hard as she looked
up and nodded. ‘I
ain’t
cryin
’
over him. I’m just tired; I’ve come a long way.’

‘It’s late,’ Mrs Harding agreed.
‘I cannot allow you to go back on the heath this time; it’s too dangerous.’

‘I have to. Ernesto will miss me
when he wakes and there’s no
tellin
’ what he’ll do then.’

Charlotte placed a cup in front
of Polly. ‘Who is this Ernesto?’

‘Not someone you want to mess
with,’ Polly replied darkly.  Her gaze was drawn to Isaac again. For a
moment she was mesmerised by his erratic breathing and she watched it, her own
breathing somehow falling into step as she willed his to regulate.  But
nothing changed. He was dying – any idiot could see that. ‘What happened?’ she
asked quietly, never moving her eyes from him.

‘Your friend – Isaac – tried to
stop him from taking Georgina. He was knocked out of the way and hit his head.
He never moved after that. We called Dr Weston as soon as we could but it was
as we had feared… there was nothing Dr Weston could do for him.  We’ve
made him as comfortable as we can until the time comes.’

‘He’ll be alright,’ Polly
insisted. ‘He’s Isaac. He’s always alright…. Only the other day he gets a clout
round the head from a robber, and he’s up the next
mornin
’
right as rain.’

‘Not this time,’ Mrs Harding said
gently. ‘It would take a miracle this time.’

A
miracle
…

Polly straightened suddenly.
A
miracle
.  There was a miracle locked in the cellar of Ernesto’s house.
Maybe there was hope.  She leapt from the chair.

‘I got to go. Don’t let him die.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Charlotte
began.

‘I know who can help. I just got
to get her.’

Before anyone could stop her,
Polly had yanked open the door and was running across the heath. There was a
miracle locked up at Ernesto’s house alright. But it was going to take another
miracle to get her out of that cellar.