Chapters (53)
- Cover
- Title page
- Dedication page
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Sow the Seed
- Reap the Harvest
- About the Author
- ALSO BY MARGARET DICKINSON
- Acknowledgements
- Copyright page
‘Got time to stand all day gossiping, have you?’ Sam Brumby’s voice made them all jump. Esther turned back into the cowshed and in her haste, turning from the bright morning light back into the darkness of the shed, she tripped over the pail and fell sprawling into the dirt. The milk spread across the cobbles, running rivulets of white amongst the cow muck.
‘Get back to your work, you idle creature!’ Sam roared at Matthew and punctuated his words with a blow to the side of the lad’s head. ‘And forget ya wenching!’
Sam took no notice of Beth Hanley, who nevertheless scuttled out of the yard and up the lane towards the Point as if a nest of hornets were in pursuit.
Esther cursed herself roundly for her own stupidity. The appearance of first Matthew and then Beth had unnerved even Esther’s determination to prove herself useful to Sam Brumby.
And spilling a full pail of his precious milk would do her no good at all.
Three
BY the time she had dealt with the one remaining bucket of milk and had come out into the yard again, Sam Brumby and Matthew had disappeared. She sighed, unsure what to do. She badly needed to prove herself useful to Sam. She had nowhere else to go. She would not go back. Not ever! But now she had probably ruined her chances of staying here. She knew just how precious every drop of milk was to a small farmer who had only three cows; and one of those was not being milked just now because it was due to calve at any time.
Esther was standing uncertainly in the middle of the yard when she heard a scuffling from one of the sties and went to investigate. Esther liked pigs. She loved their pink, hairy coats, their snuffling and grunting, and their noisy troughing made her want to giggle. As she looked in over the first door, a half-grown young gilt squealed and rushed excitedly towards her. She expected Esther to be the bringer of food.
Esther laughed. ‘You look hungry. I’ll go and see what I can find.’
She turned away from the sty and looked back towards the house. There were two buckets of pig swill standing outside the back door. She fetched them and the young pig scurried around her ankles, knocking against her in its eagerness to get at the food Esther carried.
‘Let me get to the trough to tip it in, then,’ she laughed.