‘But that’s not what the rules say.’
‘The rules are cruel.’
‘That’s as may be. We still have to follow them.’ Hornbeam looked at Jenn Pidgeon and said: ‘Your application is refused. You must apply at Hangerwold.’
He expected the woman to sob, but he was surprised. ‘Very well, then,’ she said, and she walked out with her head held high.
It was as if she had a fall-back plan.
*
Elsie loved her new house. Instead of the grand echoing chambers of the bishop’s palace, the deanery had human-sized rooms, warm and comfortable, with no marble floors on which children might slip and fall and bang their heads. The family had simpler meals and fewer servants, and no obligation to entertain visiting clergymen.
Arabella liked it too. She was in mourning, and would continue so for a year; and the colour black against her fair complexion made her look pale and slightly ill, like the beautiful heroine of one of the Gothic romances that she liked to read; but she was happy, Elsie could tell. She walked as if she had shed a burden. She often went shopping, sometimes taking five-year-old Abe with her, but sheusually came back without having bought anything, and Elsie assumed she was surreptitiously seeing Spade. They were both single now, but they still had to be discreet, for it would have been shocking for a woman of her status to be openly courting while still in mourning. Nevertheless, their relationship was the worst-kept secret in Kingsbridge, known by everyone who had an ear to the ground.
No doubt some people wondered whether Spade was the father of Abe, especially since the destruction of the rose garden – that story had kept Belinda Goodnight and her friends chattering for weeks – but no one except Arabella would ever know for sure. Anyway, there was a general feeling that such questions were better left unasked. Perhaps, Elsie speculated, other married women had babies whose paternity was questionable, and they feared that gossip about one might lead to gossip about others.
The new bishop was settling in well. Marcus Reddingcote was a traditionalist, which was what most of Kingsbridge expected a bishop to be. His wife, Una, had a stiffly superior air, and seemed to find her palace predecessors a bit raffish. When Elsie said that she ran the Sunday school, Una had said in amazement: ‘But why?’ And she had been visibly shocked to meet Abe and realize that the forty-nine-year-old Arabella had a child of only five.
Elsie envied her mother’s passionate romance. How wonderful it must be, she thought, to love someone with all your heart, and to be loved the same way in return.
One morning Elsie looked out of the window and saw crowds of people walking along Main Street, heading for the square, and she remembered that today was St Adolphus’s Day. The mills were closed and there was a special fair in the marketplace. She decided to take her eldest, Stevie, and Arabella said she would take Abe.
The November sun was weak and the air was cold. They dressed in warm clothes with colourful additions: Elsie had a red scarf and Arabella a green hat. Many others did the same, and the square wasfull of bright hues against the grey stone backdrop of the cathedral. The stone angel on the tower, said to represent Caris, the nun who had founded the hospital, seemed to look down benevolently on the townspeople.
Elsie told Stevie to hold her hand tightly and not to wander off and get lost. In truth she was not very worried: many children would get separated from their parents today, but they would not go far, and all would be found with the help of a friendly crowd.
Arabella wanted some white cotton for a petticoat. She located a stall selling a fabric she liked at a reasonable price. The stallholder was serving a poor woman who was haggling over the price of a length of coarse linen, so they waited. Elsie looked at a display of embroidered handkerchiefs. A skinny boy of about fourteen was studying the many different shades of silk ribbon on a tray, which Elsie thought was unusual: she had taught many fourteen-year-old boys and had never met one who was interested in ribbons.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him casually pick up two reels, put one back, and slip the other inside his ragged coat.
She was so surprised that she froze, silent, hardly able to believe her eyes. She had seen a thief in the act of stealing!
The customer decided not to buy the linen, and the stallholder said: ‘What can I do for you today, Mrs Latimer?’
As Arabella began to tell him what she wanted, the boy thief turned away from the stall.
Elsie should have shouted: ‘Stop, thief!’ But the lad was so small and thin that she could not bring herself to denounce him.
However, someone else had seen the theft. A burly man in a green coat grabbed him by the arm and said: ‘Just a minute, you.’
The boy wriggled like a trapped snake but he could not escape the man’s grip.
Arabella and the stallholder stopped their conversation and stared.
‘Let’s see what’s inside your coat, shall we?’ said the man.
The boy yelled: ‘Get off me, you bully! Pick on someone your own size!’ People around stopped what they were doing to watch.
The man thrust his hand inside the ragged coat and brought out a reel of pink silk ribbon.
The stallholder said: ‘That’s mine, by God!’
The man in the green coat said to the boy: ‘You’re a little thief, ain’t you?’
‘I never done nothing! You put that there, you great big lying toad.’
Elsie could not help liking the boy’s spirit.
