Oy Yew (The Waifs of Duldred Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  ‘Oh don’t be. I’m happy enough to give it all up to you and Sly. Jeremiah will be better off away from here. It was his childhood that did it you know. He’s too sensitive. We need to be alone, just we two, if I am to help him heal.’

  Gwendalyn stood shakily and walked through to the stairs where she interrupted a row of upservants jostling to hear the scandal. She showed no surprise, merely asking Birkin to have her horse saddled. A chill wind was blowing but Gwendalyn paid no heed. In the thin dress she mounted side-saddle and galloped off to the sound of Viniga’s jeers.

  The waifs’ horse had begun to tire. Having realised that Gritty was all for break-neck careering, indeed had abandoned herself to it, he slowed to a trot.

  ‘Better let him get his breath,’ Alas called, ‘there’s a way to go.’

  But as they slowed, the dangers before and behind them crowded in and they began to be afraid.

  Oy touched Lucinda. ‘There’s something on the road behind us,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ she said, shielding her eyes and peering through the dust. ‘I can hear it though. Gritty!’ she shouted in alarm. ‘Pick it up if you can, there’s something behind.’

  Gritty flicked the whip. The horse stopped. Not for nothing was he named Contraire.

  ‘I see it,’ said Oy. ‘Black carriage and four horses, flying.’

  ‘Get on!’ shouted Gritty. She stood up and brought the whip down with all her strength. Still it was no more than a tickle to Contraire’s scarred hide.

  Then something floated up into Gertie’s mind. Her father’s face and voice, long forgotten. She leaned over and breathed a word towards the horse’s ear. The word blew into the hollow of his ear in a hissing caress. It flared in the base of his brain firing the nerves like crackers. No horse could resist. Contraire powered forwards.

  ‘What did you do?’ Gritty shouted into the wind.

  ‘Remember how Pa talked to the horses, that singing whisper he used to do. He could make them do anything, make their bones melt or their muscles cord like steel.

  I just remembered how he made the stubborn ones move.’

  The waifs watched fearfully as the Duldred carriage gained on them. It was pulled by four spoiled thoroughbreds. Contraire was an overworked, underfed dray-horse, full of spirit but not built for speed. Now they could recognise Baffin, the coachman, and see Jep’s head poking out of the side window, shouting orders. They were transfixed as the sleek black horses gained and gained, eating up the road between them. The glossy ebony and gold carriage symbolised all the power of Duldred. It made them feel like nothing; clinging to a few rickety, weathered planks. In a minute they would be overwhelmed.

  ‘Don’t look back,’ shouted Oy, ‘it puts fear in your minds, and your minds are acting like brakes. Think forwards, think freedom.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Lucinda said, ‘everybody look forwards. We can’t let them catch us now.’

  They turned their faces forwards and Contraire felt lighter. He lengthened his stride because now he believed that he was in a race and he hated to be beaten. Their straining for freedom and Contraire’s stubborn heart kept them just ahead of the Duldred carriage until the Glume bridge. The slope sapped Contraire’s legs and the black horses got their noses up beside the wheels of the cart. As they came down over the other side, the coach gained again.

  ‘Look for the turning,’ Gritty shouted.

  ‘It’s there,’ yelled Alas.

  The white milestone flashed in the corner of Gritty’s eye and she yanked Contraire’s head sharply round. The Duldred horses clipped the cart with their knees as it swerved violently off the road.

  The track was steep, narrow and bumpy. Gritty read the track and guided Contraire like she was born to it. Contraire’s survival instinct took over and he picked his path delicately. When the ground shifted under him he slid with stiff forelegs. Gritty clung to the seat, resisting the jolts so that her teeth knocked together and her brain shook inside her skull.

  Above them they heard the coachman’s shout. ‘Can’t go no further, sir. It’s like to kill us all and the horses.’

  ‘Get out and run then. There’s ten mariats for each one you catch, and fifty for the drains boy.’ Jeopardine started down the track. One of the men took his elbow to steady him. Jeopardine struck at him with his cane. ‘Never mind me – get after them!’

  Already they could hear the wave surges and see ranks of foam combing the black water. The track became almost vertical and the cart went into a free-falling slide. Gertie’s head whirled; ground and sky reversed positions as she fell. Gritty somehow hauled the cart round to the gorse bushes. She ran back to help Gertie. The others thrashed at the bushes looking for the raft.

  ‘Got it,’ yelled Alas. ‘Come on, some on each side, and I’ll go behind. Wait, it’s too wide for the path. Blinda, Elyut, go ahead, clear the big rocks.’

  Gertie had bloody, gritted hands and knees but was not badly hurt. They pushed, pulled and slid the raft down to the bay.

  Before them the sea swayed, immense and green-black.

  Oy grabbed Alas. ‘Alas, Linnet ain’t strong enough to swim in that.’

  Jeopardine’s men slowed, moving with apparent labour. Still, any delay and they would be caught.

  ‘I’m sorry, Oy, we ain’t none of us got no choice.’

  Alas flung the raft into the shallows and himself after it. Gritty was the first to follow him. Linnet sank to her knees on the pebbles. Oy bent over her with his hands on his knees. ‘Come on, Linnet. We got to try for the raft. Quick now.’ He took her hand. ‘I won’t let you go.’ They stepped into the water together.

  The waves unrolled heavily then slurped back drawing the raft quickly to waist-high water. Alas and Gritty steadied the raft. Even then the upservants could have hauled them back, but they were all bent double, holding their ribs and wheezing. Firkin collapsed onto the shingle, distinctly blue in the face.

  ‘That’ll be Molly’s doing,’ said Alas, smiling wryly. ‘She’s been switching the water jugs for weeks. Where’s Cinda?’

  Lucinda was still on the beach urging Elyut, Lizbuth and Blinda to take to the water but they were afraid. At last she pushed them into the shallows and began to strike out.

  Gritty scrambled on to the raft; she quickly strapped one wrist to the deck. Gertie came within reach when a wave carried her back. She waded forwards again but her heavy clothes dragged at her and the raft started to pull away. The beach suddenly shelved and Gertie lost her footing. ‘Come on, swim!’ Gritty screamed. ‘I’m not going without you.’ Gertie heaved one arm after the other, her head disappearing intermittently. With one last effort she came within reach of the raft. Gritty’s hand wrapped around her arm. Nothing in the world could have broken her hold. With all her wiry strength she pulled her sister in. The waves were kind to Oy and Linnet, washing them right up to the raft. Gritty and Gertie hauled them up.

  Lucinda had stopped swimming. She looked back at the smaller waifs struggling behind her. ‘Come on, Cind,’ Alas shouted. Though her face was growing distant Alas could see the goodbye in it. She swam back to help the others.

  Jeopardine had reached the beach. ‘Get them,’ he screeched, but only Curzon and Larkin could be coaxed into the water. Once they could feel the insidious sucking of the tide they refused to go on.

  ‘They don’t call this Drowning Bay for nothing, sir. Look at that.’

  The waifs remaining in the water were being drawn along a line of current. Their arms and legs were beating one way, but they were being pulled inexorably the other way.

  Alas was neck deep; there was nothing else to do but clamber onto the raft. The five on the raft stared helplessly as their friends drifted westwards.

  ‘Why did she go back?’ Alas moaned. ‘She’s not their mother. I never thought of leaving without her.’ Water filled his mouth, nose, eyes. A dark wall of water came down onto the raft. Gertie and Gritty were strapped on. Alas still had the strength to cling, and
to seize Oy’s shirt as he slid towards the edge of the raft. Linnet was washed away like food scraps from a plate. The sea did not notice Linnet at all. It turned her this way and that, light as paper.

  ‘Hold on,’ Oy shouted scrambling back to the edge ready to pitch himself over.

  Alas grabbed him again. ‘You’ll never reach her.’

  ‘I will, I will.’ Oy fought, but Alas would not let him go. ‘Don’t give up,’ Oy shouted desperately. ‘Swim!’

  But Linnet’s strength had gone. She tipped her head back and her white hair spread in the dark sea. Oy curled over with his forehead against the planks and began to mutter something very fast. He seemed to be pleading with someone.

  ‘Alright,’ said Alas, ‘I’ll go for her,’ and he plunged in.

  All of them hung from the edge of the raft urging him on. ‘He’s strong,’ said Gritty. ‘Look how strong he is.’

  ‘Oy, you can look. He’s got her.’

  Gritty and Gertie took care of Linnet, spreading her out to dry. Oy didn’t know what to do but arrange bits of her.

  ‘Don’t fuss,’ said Gritty. ‘She’s as comfortable as she can be on a plank of wood. She’s breathing clear. Let her come round in her own time.’

  So Oy took to thanking Alas until Alas told him to stop.

  The raft moved over a calmer stretch, on course for the northside of the bay, but they could not feel relief while six of their friends were still like to drown. Worse still the bobbing heads in the water were beginning to move in a circle where the waves were a deep and cloudy green.

  ‘The plughole,’ whispered Gertie.

  ‘No, look,’ said Gritty, rising up and shading her eyes. ‘There’s things in the water. Look Oy. You’ve got good eyes.’

  On either side of every waif were long grey shapes like upturned boats just breaking the water. Oy blinked and focussed hard. He could see grey whiskery faces. ‘It’s manatees,’ he said. ‘Manatees are taking them in.’

  The massive beasts were indeed supporting and guiding the waifs to the shore.

  Gritty clapped her hands. ‘Oh thank you,’ she said. ‘And there’s Molly and Sly coming down the beach. See that white spot. That’s Molly’s cap. They won’t let anything bad happen will they?’

  ‘No, they’ll see to things,’ Gertie said, though she was far from certain.

  ‘Ah look, we’ve got some too,’ Gritty cried in delight.

  Whiskery faces appeared wetly all around them. The manatees nosed the raft in a wide arc clear of the rocks, then forming a line behind the raft they gave it one last push out to sea. The waifs felt the sudden tug as the little craft was grabbed by a powerful current.

  They were rushed east at incredible speed. Their hair streamed away and their breath was caught and thrown behind them. The black-green waters lightened and sparkled in the sun. They waved as the semi-circle of grey noses grew small and faded away. The Affland headland shrank and finally disappeared from sight. Then they knew that they would never be caught.

  ‘See how brave Cinda was,’ said Alas, ‘waiting for the others like that, and I didn’t think; I came straight out with the raft. Nothing was going to stop me getting away.’

  ‘I had a feeling Cind wouldn’t come,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Why?’ said Alas.

  ‘Her ma,’ said Oy. ‘There’s more chance of getting back to Poria from Affland than from there.’ He waved vaguely at the eastern horizon.

  Linnet coughed.

  ‘That’s the girl,’ said Gritty, lifting her up and rubbing her back. Oy sat beside her and fussed.

  ‘Any of us could have got left behind,’ said Gertie. ‘Molly and the Doctor and the law will do right by them. Best we can do is make lives for ourselves, then come back with money and a chance to help.

  Alas nodded slowly.

  For some time they all stared silently ahead, then Gritty began to laugh. ‘We did it,’ she said. ‘Next stop Lackland. I’ve been afeard to say this till now in case I jinxed things but I’ve got it all planned out: my first proper paid work. I’m Gritty Garnet, I’ll say, experienced — what does Inch call herself? Parlour maid, experienced senior parlour maid in a very fine establishment. I was much valued. My employer didn’t want to lose me.’ They all laughed at this. ‘I like the look of you and your household, so as a favour I’ll accept two jebels a week.’

  ‘Imagine having money,’ said Linnet. ‘I ain’t never touched any.’

  ‘Gert and me found a jebel in the street once. Took it to the bakers. Gives you a powerful feeling swapping money for the thing you want. Criss-cross tarts we had. Let’s all go to the bakers with our first wage shall we? How about you, Alas? What job will you do?’

  ‘I want to be in the open. No runs, no chimneys, no basements. I want to be like this always, wide spaces and air.’ He pushed his hair back so that for once his eyes were showing.

  ‘You could get work scribing, Gert, the neat hand you got,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Me?’ said Gertie. ‘Never.’ But her face lit with wondering hope.

  They talked about life in Lackland. Compared to Affland it was a poor country. All their survivin’ ways would be needed. They would build a makeshift shelter first, then look for work. It would be lowly work and low paid, but they would prove themselves and rise, it was certain. The future was open. With wit and hard work anything was possible.

  The raft drifted on. Linnet slept. They talked about their friends. Sly had the right to take them but Molly wouldn’t let them come to harm. She was probably feeding them cake right now.

  The wind changed, clouds gathered and the air turned chill. The sea grew choppy again. It doused Linnet and woke her. Oy mopped her face.

  ‘Let’s hope it don’t get rougher than this,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Is it me or is it getting dark?’ Gritty looked back at the west horizon. ‘What’s that?’ she said. ‘It’s like a big ship is on fire.’

  They watched the horizon with a growing sense of unease.

  ‘That’s no fire,’ said Alas. ‘Of all the bad luck, of all the days to be at sea...’

  ‘What is it, Alas?’ said Oy.

  ‘That is a storm chimney,’ said Alas.

  ‘T’ain’t,’ said Gertie. ‘I’ve seen ’em from Poria. They don’t sit in one place like that.’

  ‘I’m telling you that’s a piece off the storm wall, broke off and running around,’ said Alas. ‘It’s taking a breather before it heads back east.’

  ‘And which side of it are we?’ said Gritty.

  ‘East,’ said Alas. Even as he said it, cloud shadows raced towards them across the face of the sea. ‘Wherever I go it finds me out.’

  ‘What does?’ said Gritty. ‘A storm chimney? Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Bad luck, chimneys, storm chimneys; it’s all the same. Something is set on finishing me off. If it hits us we’re lost. This is all we got, a bit of wood five thighs wide.’ Alas leaned forwards to ride a larger wave. ‘I’m sorry, I never meant for this. You all should never have listened to me.’

  ‘Fool talk,’ said Gertie, ‘we’ll ride it out. Get the straps on, quick as you can.’ As the girls helped each other the raft was bucked by a fiercer swell. Alas tightened Oy’s strap and secured himself last. They watched and waited.

  Oy felt oddly detached. The storm chimney seemed to buzz along the horizon like a bluebottle trying to find its way out of a window. He didn’t think it was looking for Alas. He couldn’t say why, but he felt as though it was looking for him. Then, pausing as though it had seen him, it advanced with treacherous speed.

  The sky blackened, convulsed and began to swirl. The waifs’ upturned faces turned grey-green in the dying light. The waves scattered in all directions as if the water itself wanted to get away. The whirling cone gathered light and cloud and water into itself. Growing in size and strength it came on.

  The wind hit them with terrifying force. ‘Lie flat,’ shouted Alas, ‘try not to resist.’

  They all lay flat on the
deck. Only Gritty kept her eyes open. She watched the changing light on Gertie’s screwed up face, but even she did not look outwards. Wave after wave broke over them. Often they thought it was the end, and that the raft would continue its downward plunge, but each time air followed water and they breathed again. One time they came up into darkness. Gritty thought that she was blind but she was not. They were inside the chimney.

  It was utterly still. The black walls of the chimney whirled around them, but inside the water was placid as a pond. Then, just as they began to raise their heads and steady themselves the raft lifted into the air and began to climb.

  ‘Now I know I’m dreaming,’ said Gertie.

  The chimney walls looked close enough to touch, seething with storms of firing atoms, like imps and demons released after thousands of years with a passion for havoc.

  Linnet clung to Oy, wonder and terror on her face. Gritty felt thrillingly alive. Gertie hoped their Porian luck would hold. Alas waited calmly now, expecting every second to die. Oy, with his nose in the wall of a tornado, smiled beautifully. He had caught his first whiff of home.

  The storm rained them down with sticks, fish and a dazed gull. They lay on their backs till the stars steadied. Feeling around them, their hands clutched at hay. They called to each other and five voices told that they were unharmed. Then, because they were tired beyond words, and because they were free, and because the straw was warm and the air smelled of summer drowse, they slept.

  It was past dawn when they awoke. The haystack they slept in was threaded with flowers and the people who walked towards them across the fields had violet eyes and coppery hair.

  ***

  Part two of the

  WAIFS OF DULDRED

  trilogy,

  Nondula

  will be published by

  Mother’s Milk Books

  in 2016

  ***

  Mother’s Milk Books

  is an independent press, founded and managed by at-home mother, Dr Teika Bellamy. The aim of the press is to celebrate femininity and empathy through images and words, with a view to normalizing breastfeeding. The annual Mother’s Milk Books Writing Prize, which welcomes poetry and prose from both adults and children, runs from September to mid-January. Mother’s Milk Books also produces and sells art and poetry prints, as well as greetings cards. For more information about the press please visit: www.mothersmilkbooks.com