“Any more?” asked Amos.
She shook her head in answer and patted her tummy. Going about his normal chores he was pleasantly surprised to find Ruth had followed him to the stream. She seemed more relaxed now in his presence as she bent down to pull several stems of long grass which she plaited together. Amos said to her, “I’m sorry I frightened you yesterday but I honestly didn’t know you were there”, and Ruth responded,
“I thought you might be one of the men who took Ma. They’re still looking for me”.
Now that she had accepted him a little he took the opportunity to delve a little deeper.
“Where did they take her?” he asked and she answered,
“I don’t know. They put her in a cart and locked her in”.
Amos was pondering upon the situation when Ruth continued, “We were hungry. We’d only had a few berries to eat so Ma knocked on the doors of some houses and asked for food. People weren’t very friendly and some threatened to set their dogs on us if we didn’t go away. Not everyone was like that, one old lady gave us some bread and some biscuits”.
Things began to click into place in his mind and he was guessing that the law had been summoned and she had been taken to gaol. He was well aware that beggars had become troublesome and for those not residing within the parish, the poor-house was not an option as that had to be maintained through parish funds and was for the benefit of true parishioners.
“Well, if you’ll help me, tomorrow we’ll find out where she was taken” Amos offered.
The child’s eyes lit up and she seemed to smile. He just hoped he hadn’t promised too much. He asked,
“Where have you been sleeping?” and she replied,
“In that barn, in the hay”.
“Well, if they’re looking for you, that’s one of the first places they’ll look, so you’d better stay here with me. You can sleep in the cot up front”, he said.
Throughout the rest of the day the pair bonded, Ruth following Amos about as though on a piece of string. They collected wood for the fire and then moved the horse on its tether to allow it fresh grass. He watched this small waif who seemed quite unafraid of this big equine and the mare seemed to sense the vulnerable nature of its admirer and showed equal respect. The mundane matters taken care of, they walked together along the stream to where the bank overhung the water.
Lying flat on his belly alongside the stream he reached down into the water, remaining motionless for some minutes. “Keep still and be very quiet” he whispered, and he lay motionless for what seemed ages, then, suddenly scooped his arm from the water, at the same time rolling over and flinging a small fish onto the grass. The child was amazed and squealed with delight.
“It’s called tickling and these little trout love it. I hold my hand still and then when I feel the fish against my hand, I gently tickle its belly. I let it start to enjoy the sensation and then I suddenly grasp it and fling it out of the water”.
The trout in this stream weren’t particularly big, probably because the stream was coming directly off the peaty moors, maybe a little acidic and carrying little food, but they were size enough to eat. Moving along the bank he tried again. It wasn’t success each time, but after a couple of hours they had four fish that would make them an ample supper.
“Can I try? I’ve never held a fish before”, she asked. “How did you do it?”
“Lie flat on your belly and just let your arm dangle in the water. You’ve got to be quiet and stay very still. Just cup your hand and you might find that a fish will settle against your hand. When you feel it, you start to gently tickle – very lightly with just your finger-tips. The fish will start to enjoy being tickled – that’s when you suddenly grasp it and at the same time you roll over and fling it onto the grass”. It was something that had taken Amos years to achieve and he didn’t expect her to catch anything but it was something she needed to learn, and so he gave her the time. At one stage she was sure she felt something touch her fingers and she convinced herself that it was a fish. She grasped at it but if it was a trout it slipped away and she emerged empty handed.
By the time the fish had been prepared and cooked, it would be dusk. Amos put a small spill of wood into the fire and lit one end, then lifting the glass of his oil lamp he lit the wick with the taper. It didn’t throw much light outside the caravan, but the fire was casting sufficient light for their needs. However, taking the lamp into the caravan the warm glow lit up the interior. The fish had been opened up along the belly from head to tail and the innards removed, then the heads and tails cut away. They were opened and laid flat on a hot, flat stone whilst one side cooked, and then turned. They were cooked in no time at all and Amos showed Ruth how, by placing the edge of a knife blade along the spine of the cooked fish, the flesh could be easily pushed off the bones. The child had had two substantial meals, probably more than she’d had for ages, and she was soon tucked up in her cot where she slept warm, comfortable and safe.
Chapter 4
Ruth was awake with the first rays of early light. Amos was already busying himself with the preparations for the day. “Come on sleepy head. Time to get up” he cajoled, but she was reluctant to move from the warmth of this new found luxury, and she allowed her thoughts to wander in her drowsy head. She thought she must be about eight now and her mind wandered over the recent days that had brought her to this juncture. A tear began to well in her eye as her thoughts dwelt upon her mother, the long cold, wet times without shelter and with little food, and it became hard to bear. She threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of the cot.
“You said we could go and find Ma today”, she said sleepily.
“Yes, and we will, I promise”, Amos assured her.
“Why are people so nasty? We only wanted to get some food. Ma told them she’d work for it - do anything, just for some food, we were hungry”.
“Well, some people are just like that, but not all folk are bad”, Amos said.
“No, there was one old lady gave us some bread and some biscuits even though she didn’t want us to do any work”, Ruth replied, “At another place we cleared some rubbish for a lady, and carried some buckets of coal. It was only at that place they were so nasty. They threatened to set the dogs on us”.
It had been like this on the day of Sarah’s arrest. It had been some time since they had eaten anything and then Sarah had given Ruth most of what they had. It had been mostly stale bread that had been intended for a pig trough; hardly nourishing food, but sure to take the ache from her belly. As they moved from cottage to cottage there suddenly appeared about four or five men confronting them and two took hold of Sarah’s arms. Another tried to grab at Ruth but she ducked under his outstretched arms, evading his grasp, and ran. She ran, too afraid to look back, her flight fuelled by fear, and didn’t stop until she was well out of reach. Her tattered canvas shoes almost lost in the flight.
Peering from behind a bush she looked back and could see no sign of the men and her fears then were for her mother’s safety. She began to creep back to where the men had pounced, and careful not to be seen, she stealthily emerged near the cobbles of the market square. Her heart beating like a drum, she saw the same group of men gathered around a black horsedrawn cart and caught just a momentary sight of her mother being bundled into the cart and locked inside.
There was no escape for her mother and Ruth felt totally helpless and began to sob, not knowing what to do. She watched for a while from her hiding place and it seemed that the men were looking about – probably for her. As the cart moved away she was desolate and so afraid; what could she do? She withdrew from her hidden vantage point and made her way back towards the barn where they had spent the previous night. Probably, if her mother could get away she would return there to find her. She ran, still careful not to be seen, crossed over the cart track and quickly climbed the gritstone wall into the field beyond. The grass was high and offered