The Liverpool Rose (46 page)

Another voice cut across the first. ‘That ain’t her,’ it mumbled thickly. ‘She’d have no need to knock, she’d just . . .’

The cabin door shot open and Clem saw two men’s faces, dark against the light. One, the older of the two, had thick brown hair falling across his forehead and the beginnings of a beard on his square and jutting chin; the other had hair so fair it was almost white, pale blue eyes and a thin, angular face. Without knowing which was which, Clem guessed the dark one to be Abe and the other Reuben. But Jake was speaking now, his voice level and friendly. ‘Evenin’, fellers! Had a good Christmas?’

There was a short, astonished silence before Abe said reluctantly: ‘Oh, aye, it weren’t so bad. Is that you, Jake? It’s difficult to see who’s who on a night like this. What’s you doin’ in this godforsaken spot, anyroad?’

‘We’re searchin’ for a pal of our ’n, or rather a pal of young Clem’s here,’ he said. ‘She’s called Lizzie Devlin and we know she got aboard a canal boat some time on Christmas Eve. She were rannin’ away from a – a family row.’

Abe opened his mouth to reply, but Reuben cut in before he could do so. ‘We ha’ n’t seen no girl,’ he said thickly. ‘What’d we do wi’ a girl anyroad? Now clear orff, the lorrof you!’

Jake, looking baffled, took a step backwards, but
Clem leaned forward until his nose was no more than an inch from Reuben’s and said threateningly, ‘So what were you sayin’ just before Jake here knocked on your cabin door, eh? You said something about a girl, we all heard you.’

Reuben began to reply, blustering that they must have misheard, and for the first time Clem smelt the rum on his breath and realised that the younger Trelawney, at any rate, was still drunk as a skunk. But at this point Priddy took a hand.

‘If it’s all the same to you, we’ll take a look in your butty boat,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m not a one to call names or make accusations but the girl could easily have hid away in the butty boat wi’out either of you knowin’. If she’s been there she’ll have left traces, and if she ain’t we’ll say goodnight and continue on our way. What’re you carryin’?’

Clem had to bite back the words,
It’s fleeces, you know it is,
but Abe answered reluctantly: ‘We’re carryin’ fleeces, Missus, but I don’t know as it’s necessary for you to go pokin’ round in our cargo. We’ve done nothin’ wrong. You heered what me brother said, there’s been no girl . . .’ He stopped short as Clem bent and picked something up from the deck by his boots. It was a small scarlet bow of ribbon.

For a moment no one spoke; every eye was focussed on the scrap of ribbon in his hand. Then Priddy said in a tone of voice which Clem had never heard her use before: ‘Where is she? What in God’s name have you done with her? If you’ve hurt a hair of her head . . .’

‘. . . I’ll kill the pair of you, and I’ll kill you slow,’ Clem finished for her. ‘What’s more, we know all about your thievin’ ways and we’ll make sure . . .’

At this point Reuben clearly decided that actions
spoke louder than words. He turned back into the cabin, grabbed a heavy iron pan from by the stove, and swung it at Clem’s head. If it had connected, he would have been splattered all over the deck but, what with the drink spoiling Reuben’s aim and Clem’s quick evasive action, all that happened was that the pan bashed against the gunwhale, making Reuben howl and drop it. Fortunately it landed on his own foot. Almost gibbering with pain and rage, Reuben looked round for another weapon, but his brother grabbed him, threw him roughly into the cabin and slammed the doors shut, then turned to the three intruders. ‘There were a girl aboard. She were a good girl, I’ll grant you that,’ he said grudgingly. ‘She led the horse, took a turn at the tiller, even cooked the odd meal. But she left us a while back . . . dunno where she went. I reckon she thought she’d do better ashore with the weather so fierce.’ As he spoke, Clem noticed the other man’s eyes slide sideways and, following the direction of his eyes, he realised that a great many tracks led across the towpath towards open country.

‘You’re a liar, same as your brother,’ he said harshly. ‘She left the boat here for good reason and now she’s gone off into that wilderness to gerraway from the pair of you. You think that if she’s found tomorrow, frozen to death, she won’t be able to tell on you, but it ain’t goin’ to happen. We’ll find her and you’ll bleedin’ well help us!’ He grabbed the huge man by both ears and shouted to Brutus, who leapt aboard and stood with bared teeth, growling ferociously at Abe. ‘If you don’t, I’ll set him on you and in five minutes you’ll be dog meat. Understand?’

Abe was beginning to reply, in a mumble, that they had meant no harm, that they did not mean the girl to
die, when the cabin doors burst open and Reuben emerged on deck, this time gripping a wooden rolling pin. ‘Gerroff this boat,’ he screamed, ‘and leave my brother alone or it’ll be the worse for you. Go on, clear orff.’

Clem had grabbed the big dog’s collar as soon as Reuben appeared but Abe, clearly already terrifed of Brutus, turned and disarmed his brother in one swift movement, then pushed him back into the cabin and followed him, slamming both doors shut. ‘It’s all right, Jake, Priddy,’ his voice came to them, only slightly muffled by the closed doors. ‘It’s just the drink speakin’. Reuben’s a good feller really, he don’t wish the girl harm no more ’an I do. She lit off for the nearest village, I reckon, so you’ll probably find her, no trouble. I’d give a hand but I think I should stay here wi’ Reuben till he’s sobered up else he’ll make more trouble for you. As for that dawg, you keep a hold on him, young feller, ’cos if he attacks us it’ll be murder, no less.’

Jake picked up a couple of stout staves and began to fix them across the cabin doors. Very soon the two men were imprisoned. Then he turned to Clem. ‘Tell Brutus to guard ’em and tear ’em limb from limb if they so much as shows a nose outside,’ he said grimly. Then with raised voice, ‘Brutus already knows what sort of men they are, so he won’t hesitate to maul ’em pretty bad if they tries to escape.’ He gestured to the other two to leave
The Singing Lark
and, as soon as they were some way from her, lowered his voice and spoke again: ‘There’s tracks a plenty leading away from the canal at this point. All we need do is identify which were made by the girl. Then we can follow easy enough.’

‘But first we’d best get back to
The Liverpool Rose
and fetch a lantern each,’ Priddy said with her usual good sense. ‘What’s more, we’d best carry a blanket and a bottle o’ my brandy wine because that poor girl has been out in this wicked weather for a while judgin’ by the snow settling into the footprints.’

‘You go back to the boat then, and I’ll take the lantern and start ahead of you,’ Clem said.

Lizzie came to herself and, for a moment, thought she was back in the butty boat, cuddled down amongst the fleeces. There was something warm and woolly against her face. But when she moved, every bone in her body seemed to shriek a protest and the darkness before her eyes became filled with stars which owed nothing to the firmament above. Hastily, Lizzie stopped moving and with infinite caution opened first one eye then the other. It was no longer dark but the light was very peculiar, not in the least like the faded green glow to which she had grown accustomed while aboard the butty boat. The light here was yellowy-grey, a very odd colour indeed, and seemed to be coming from above her, but when she tried to move her eyes to look up, such an appalling pain arrowed through her head that she quickly closed her lids once more, deciding to give herself a few moments before further exploring her surroundings. She lay where she was for some time, she could not have said for how long, before daring to move again, and during this time, forced her mind to go back, to the chase on the hillside, her slide down into the gulley, and the manner in which what had seemed to be a snowy bank had simply given way beneath her feet.

She had no idea how long she had lain here, nor where the pursuit had gone, but she was quite sure she was alone so that when she distinctly heard
someone breathing, followed by a little cough, she was so frightened that she nearly screamed out loud. However, instead of screaming, she opened her eyes and began to peer around her. She was careful not to swivel her eyes, but moved her whole head and was at last able to see, dimly, where she lay.

She was lying among a flock of sheep, all of whom were huddled into a cave-like structure, roofed by what appeared to be yellowing ice, through which came the light which illuminated her surroundings. A small stream nearby flowed between ragged banks and she realised, with some surprise, that the place was pretty well snow-free. The body heat from the sheep obviously kept the place sufficiently warm to melt it and she supposed, vaguely, that both sheep and shepherds knew this, which meant the shepherd would not search for his flock with too much anxiety, guessing that they were safe. As she watched, one of the sheep coughed again, sounding so human that, had she not seen it, Lizzie would still have looked for the shepherd. Now that she looked more closely about her, she could see the hole through which she had entered the sheep cave – if cave it could be called; it was quite small and fringed with snow and she guessed it would soon ice over, for already snow was forming around the edges. Having seen the stream, Lizzie became aware that she was terribly thirsty and tried to get herself on to her knees so that she might crawl over to the water and have a drink. As she began to move, she looked down at her hands and saw the knuckles raw and bleeding and the fingers of her left hand swollen into purple suasages. What was more, as she moved, she felt something trickle across her brow and her exploring fingers found a nasty gash on her scalp which stretched down on to her forehead and
had begun to bleed sluggishly as she moved.

The crawl down to the stream was slow and incredibly painful but she managed it at last and filled her hands with the icy water, cupping them to her face and drinking greedily until she had slaked her thirst. I’ll just lie here quietly and wait to be rescued, Lizzie told herself, for the effort of reaching the stream had completely exhausted her.

The sheep, huddled together placidly chewing, glanced incuriously at her as she crawled past them back to her former nest amongst these living fleeces and Lizzie, aware that but for their warmth she would probaby be dead by now, smiled at them as she lay down once more. As she settled herself, she realised she had run away from
The Singing Lark
in darkness but while she had lain unconscious another day had dawned. A shiver of fear ran through her. How long would it be before someone came searching, either for her or for their sheep? How long could she survive on only water and with her hurts so many and various? Come to that, who knew she was missing? She felt certain the Trelawney brothers would not search for her, nor tell anyone she had run away from them and their boat the previous night.

But it was no use worrying. Lizzie took a deep steadying breath and reminded herself that sheep – if not runaway girls – were a valuable commodity for which someone would be searching. Then she began to pray.

Clem set off to follow the trail in hot blood and with considerable faith in his own ability to catch up with Lizzie before too long, but it proved much more difficult than he had expected. For a start, he had not realised there would be three trails; clearly, despite
their words, Abe and Reuben had both been out on the hillside, presumably trying to find the girl. It was impossible, therefore, to tell one trail from the other because the snow was so deep – almost waist-high in places – that one could not see the footprints. What was more, the trails crossed and re-crossed each other and, in places, the wind had already blown enormous drifts over the marks in the snow, making his task incredibly difficult.

By the time Jake and Priddy joined him, Clem was beginning to despair. Had Abe been right? Had this foray up into the hills ended in Lizzie returning to the towpath in order to make her way along it, in comparative comfort, to the nearest village? After several hours of desperate searching in the dark, the three of them saw the dawn begin to grey the sky with considerable relief. ‘
Now
we’ll have a chance to see what we’re doin,’ Jake said, with real satisfaction. ‘D’you realise, Priddy, that it’s been too dark to see a barn, even though we passed one by less than ten feet away? The gal could be shelterin’ in such a place and us none the wiser, but now the light’s come, we stand a good chance of catchin’ up with her before . . .’

But despite their hopes, daylight was well advanced and they had still not discovered Lizzie, and what was worse the hillside was now a churned up mass of tracks where the three of them had been frantically searching.

Finally, they returned to the towpath, considerably chastened as well as exhausted by their unsuccessful search. ‘We might as well make our way to the next village . . .’ Clem was beginning, when Priddy gripped his arm. ‘Brutus!’ she said excitedly. ‘The gal’s hair ribbon! Dogs can follow a trail even after it’s cold if they’ve got something to go on . . . to sniff at like, so’s
they know the right scent to follow.’ She gestured to
The Singing Lark
and the dog still sitting patiently on the deck, eyes fixed on the cabin doors. ‘Go and fetch him, Clem, and let him show us what he can do.’

‘But if we takes the dog away, they’ll be off, sure as eggs is eggs,’ Jake said doubtfully. ‘They’re thieves as well as scoundrels don’t forget, Priddy.’

‘So far as I’m concerned, they can get off scot-free, if only we find Lizzie alive,’ Clem put in grimly. ‘But perhaps, now that it’s light, they could lead us to her. We could rope their wrists and force them to walk ahead of us.’

But Priddy shook her head at him and gripped his arm. ‘Let ’em go,’ she said quietly. ‘They’ll be no manner o’ use, they’re more likely to hold us up. Let Brutus sniff that there ribbon and tell him to find Lizzie. He’s an intelligent dog and scent’s a wonderful thing. As for these fellers . . .’ She jerked her head towards the cabin. ‘They can’t go far from the canal, so they ain’t likely to escape justice, but we’ve got better things to do. Lerr’em go, then we can get Brutus on Lizzie’s trail. Believe me, he’ll be far more use to us than them idle, lyin’ buggers.’