The children cluster round their father as he comes through the door. On the way home he has bought them all a small sweetmeat, and their delight enthralls him.
Susannah’s mood has brightened since the previous day, although she is still very pale and drawn. Samuel kisses her on the cheek in greeting. He gives her the two pounds, saying there is more to follow. She barely smiles and asks if his day has gone well.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘I stopped off at the Lamb. Has Netherford called?’ She nods and gives him a folded scrap of one of Major Morgan’s handbills advertising the wonders of the air balloon.
Samuel opens it.
Fri p.m.
Mr K
I’ll report on my difficult day in B’ham tomorrow.
Mrs N unwell. Have taken the children to Aunty Meg’s.
Yr Obd Servant
Watchman D. Netherford
PS. I have a number of other items to discuss with you that have accumulated over the week – petty larceny (1 – I let the girl off with a warning), sheep stealing (1), poaching (several), soiling the street (2), drunkenness (6)
‘And you?’ Samuel asks.
‘Daniel is as trying as ever. His mother spends most of her time in bed, incapacitated by one malady or another. Daniel needs his father to take an interest in him. There’s faint hope of that. He’s still not home.’
‘Not until Monday, as I’ve heard, and then Rigby wants a word with him.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s connected to events that surround Newton’s death. But I think Rigby wants to protect him.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time the High Constable has looked after wealthy members of the community,’ says Susannah.
‘He didn’t think much of my report either. I’ll need to work on it on Sunday.’
‘Another reason not to come to church with us.’
‘I need to go out this evening too.’
‘Must you?’ she says. He nods.
‘Well, eat first. There’s a pigeon pie in the oven.’ He stands behind her and puts his arms around her. She turns her head to kiss him. ‘You’re feeling better?’ she says and holds his gaze. He kisses her back.
‘And you,’ he says. His left eyelid flickers as a muscle pulses in his cheek. He clenches his jaw.
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The argument starts during the meal. Samuel’s irritability first surfaced when Josh knocked some of his food to the floor. Samuel checks his anger, realising it has more to do with the parting remark from Potts than Josh’s clumsiness. But once the children have left the table, he can contain his impatience no longer.
‘Did a man called Potts visit you yesterday?’ He demands of Susannah, as she stands to clear away the plates and he kneels to pick up some remaining scraps of Josh’s meal.
‘Two men came to see me yesterday. I suppose one of them could have been a Mr Potts.’ Susannah takes the pile of plates into to the kitchen. Samuel stands and follows her.
‘A small, stocky man. Cropped red hair.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Susannah turns back towards Samuel. ‘He came to the school at about midday. But he said his name was Willoughby. He said he was an Inspector of Education. He had a letter from the Dean.’
‘Why did you not tell me of his visit?’
‘Why should I mention it, Samuel? It slipped my mind.’ She picks up the pail and pours water into the sink. ‘We haven’t been on the best of terms and you have been very occupied with your researches.’
‘Did he ask about me?’
‘Only to enquire of your occupation and circumstances in conversation, Samuel. He was more concerned about the pupils. I told him of the problems I was having with the Brougham boy.’ Susannah puts down the pail.
‘What else?’ Samuel’s voice is sharper than he intends.
‘Well, he was more civil to me than you are now, Samuel.’ She starts to wash the plates and cutlery. ‘We talked of French teaching, I believe, which prompted him to express his sorrow about the Vesqueau girl. He asked if she had any friends, French friends living in Lichfield. I said I didn’t know but that Mrs Lariviere had taken Monique under her wing when she first arrived here, and that they continued to enjoy each other’s company.’ She turns back towards him, wiping her hands. ‘Did I do wrong?’
‘I’m not sure,’ says Samuel. They look at each other in silence for a moment, the sound of the children’s voices suddenly louder.
‘You said you had seen two men at the school. Who was the other?’
‘Oh, that was a little strange. I became aware of someone watching me through the window of the schoolroom. I went outside and there was a man in the alley to the back door. He went away but…’ Susannah falls silent, looking down as if summoning a memory.
‘But what?’
‘I don’t know. I felt uneasy.’
‘Do you know who he was?’
‘No,’ says Susannah. ‘When I asked him his name he never replied.’
‘Can you describe him?’ Samuel asks. He had never expected to interrogate his wife.
‘Yes. Dark, well, black hair. Sallow complexion. But good looking, tall.’ She glances at Samuel, then looks away again. ‘But he was, I don’t know, odd. He didn’t respond in the way people normally do.’
‘How was he dressed’
‘Leather jerkin, leather breeches.’
‘Have you seen him before, or since?’
‘I don’t think so. Although I thought it might have been him at the funeral. I just wasn’t sure.’
‘Where at the funeral?’
‘After I left you. I was walking back through the churchyard and it could have been him walking on the far side.’ She picks up a cloth to dry her hands. Samuel is thinking, tapping his finger on the table.
‘Oh, and he has a pigtail,’ she adds.
Samuel jolts upright. His stomach tautens. He thinks of the man who stood beside him at the crossroads after Monique’s burial. Clayton. He must find him.
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Susannah brings a pot of tea to the table. Samuel calls the children in from the garden and opens a bottle of Allsopp’s pale ale. Susannah scowls as he holds up his tankard and drinks.
‘Another luxury we can ill afford,’ she says. ‘And one you enjoy in greater abundance.’ Samuel gives her a blank look as he places the tankard on the table.
Susannah fetches a jug of milk and tea bowls for the children and sits down.
‘You speak French, don’t you, Susannah?’ Samuel asks. He knows the answer but wants to break the tension. The children look up.
‘You know I speak a little, but not well.’ Susannah seems more interested in making sure Josh drinks his milk.
‘It’s just that Frank overheard a strange conversation last night. My name was mentioned. Frank thinks they were speaking French. One of them, perhaps the man who watched you yesterday, used the words ‘tu ay’. Any idea what it means?’
As Samuel finishes speaking, Susannah fumbles Josh’s cup and milk cascades across the table and onto Mary’s clothes.
She cries out, ‘Ma! Josh! It’s all over me.’
Susannah fetches a small towel from the kitchen and dabs the table to soak up the milk. Samuel pulls Mary up and undoes her pinafore.
‘It will be all right Mary. You know what they say.’ He tries to jolly her out of her tears. ‘Don’t cry over spilt milk. Ma has a clean one, I’m sure.’
‘Not yet, I haven’t.’ Susannah snaps.
Ignoring the general disruption, Alma starts to eat a piece of bread but throws it down on her plate.
‘Why do you buy this white bread, Ma? It’s disgusting.’
‘You will eat what you are given, Alma,’ Susannah speaks with uncharacteristic sharpness. ‘Enough.’
Alma falls silent. Her eyes wash with tears.
Shaking her head, Susannah closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She throws the towel on the table and walks out of the kitchen and into the garden.
Once he has calmed the children, Samuel asks Alma to look after Josh while he speaks with their mother.
He goes into the garden. Susannah shrugs off the arm he raises to put round her shoulders.
‘Leave me be,’ she says.
‘What’s the matter? One minute we’re talking, next you fly off the handle because Josh spills his milk.’
‘No real work,’ she rounds on him. ‘No real income.’ She glares at him. ‘And what now? Threats? To you? Or to all of us?’
Samuel holds out his palms. ‘Susannah, I don’t understand.’
‘Perhaps it’s time you did. Time you stopped playing your boyish games. Remember you have a family to look after, Samuel.’
‘What have I done?
‘It’s not what you’ve done,’ Susannah is shaking. ‘Those words. In French.’
‘Frank thinks they mean ‘you are’.’
‘’Tu es’? Perhaps. But it has another meaning. ‘Tuer’ – the verb. It means to kill.’
They look at each other.
In the silence comes the shrill alarm call of a blackbird.
‘I cannot live like this any longer,’ Susannah says quietly. ‘If you have put us in harm’s way again, Samuel, I will never forgive you.’
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