‘They are the same thing.’
‘And that is more important than giving broth and bread to God’s little children?’
‘You always have to simplify everything.’
‘Hunger is simple. When you see hungry people you give them food. If that isn’t God’s will, nothing is.’
‘You think you know all about God’s will.’
‘And you think you know better.’
‘I do know better. I’ve studied the matter with the wisest men in the land. So has your father. You’re an ignorant, uneducated woman.’
That was too stupid even to argue with. ‘Anyway, I can’t close the school – it’s not in my power. I told Hornbeam that.’
‘I don’t care about the school. I don’t care about the strike either. I care about my future, and I want a wife who will obey me and stay out of trouble.’
‘Oh, Kenelm,’ she said, ‘I think you married the wrong woman.’
21
ONSATURDAY AFTERNOON, after the mills shut down at five o’clock, Kit and his friends played football on a patch of waste ground near the new houses on the other side of the river. Kit was smaller than average; he could run and dodge but he could not kick far and was easily knocked down. All the same he enjoyed it and played enthusiastically.
When the game ended they broke up. Wandering aimlessly, Kit found himself in a street of empty new houses with doors opening directly onto the street. Out of idle curiosity he looked through a window and saw a small bare room, floorboards and plastered walls, and a staircase leading up. There was a fireplace, a small table and two benches.
For no particular reason he tried the front door and found it unlocked. There on the doorstep he hesitated. He looked up and down the street and saw no one but a few of his football friends. He recalled a saying of Jarge’s: ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’
He slipped into the house and quietly closed the door behind him.
The place smelled of new plaster and fresh paint. He listened for a moment, but there was no sound from upstairs: he was alone. On the table were four bowls, four cups and four spoons, made of wood, all new. It reminded him of one of his mother’s stories, the tale of Goldilocks and the three bears. But there was no porridge in the bowls. The fireplace was clean and cold. The house was not yet lived in.
He went up the stairs, treading softly, just in case there should be someone up there, sleeping silently.
There were two bedrooms, each with a single window to the street in front. He realized there were no windows at the back, and recalled hearing the phrase ‘back-to-back houses’. It made sense: each house shared a wall with the one behind, thereby saving bricks.
There were no beds, no silent sleepers. In one of the rooms he saw a stack of four canvas palliasses, filled presumably with straw, and a small pile of blankets. The house was ready for occupation, though barely.
Occupation by who, he wondered?
He had exhausted the interest of an empty house. He went down the stairs and out onto the street. He was shocked to see a heavy-set red-faced man standing a few yards away. The man was equally shocked. They stared at one another for a moment, then the man roared angrily and stepped towards Kit.
Kit ran.
‘Little thief!’ the man yelled, though Kit was empty-handed.
Kit raced away, his heart pounding with fear. The fellow was probably some kind of watchman. He must have been sleeping on the job when Kit arrived, but now he was very awake. Men could run faster than boys, if they were in good shape, but in Kit’s brief look this one had appeared unfit. However, when he glanced back over his shoulder he saw that the man was gaining on him. I’m going to get a beating, Kit thought, and he tried to run faster. He saw his friends scattering in panic.
Ahead of him, coming along the street, he saw a strange sight: a large wagon, pulled by four horses, packed to overflowing with men, women and children. He passed it, then again looked behind at his pursuer. He saw the man stop, breathing hard, and lean on the side of the wagon to speak to the driver.
Kit wondered if he had been saved.
He slowed his pace but ran on until he was at a safe distance. Then he stopped and turned around, panting.
The people on the wagon were all strangers, and they looked about them with eager interest. Kit could hear them talking but did not understand what they said. Some of the words were recognizable but they were spoken in a strange accent.
The newcomers began to climb down from the wagon, carrying bundles and bags. They seemed to be in families: husband, wife and children, plus a handful of young men, about thirty individuals altogether. As Kit watched, a second wagon appeared, similarly loaded.
Sixty people, Kit thought, doing arithmetic in his head as usual; fifteen or twenty families.
