The Innkeeper's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

in their cottage garden near the school. He had a pint of porter and she a neat gin in a straight glass. They always sat in the same seats near the fire and neither spoke. Bella had tried to talk to them but they never answered; it was as if they didn’t hear her. But on leaving they always bade her good night.
    A man in his thirties came in every Thursday at eight thirty, drank a pint of cider and left at a quarter to nine. He nodded to whoever was serving and did the same as he left. His name was Took, Joseph said. Then there was a young man who came in once a fortnight on a Friday evening. He was tall, slim and dark-haired, and always wore a white shirt with dark trousers, waistcoat and jacket and drank a glass of mild.
    Joe speculated on who he was and what he did for a living, for he thought that he wasn’t much older than him. He didn’t think he was local to the area, but they couldn’t find out without asking him outright what his occupation was, or thinking of a way to turn the conversation so as to require an answer. William, who might have been able to, wasn’t interested in him, and Joe hadn’t acquired that ease of interrogation that invited confidences without appearing nosy. Besides, the young man usually took himself off to a corner to drink his ale, though he often kept an interested eye on a game of dominoes.
    ‘He’s a toff,’ Joe pronounced. ‘Bet he’s a landowner’s son.’
    William shrugged and then said, ‘Still at school, I’d say,’ and at that Joe laughed hilariously at his brother’s stupidity for who would stay on at school at his age.
    Bella missed the good-natured banter of the casual labourers now they had left. They were always complimentary to her, telling her she was a right bonny lass, and enquiring if she was walking out with a lad, and that if she wasn’t wouldn’t she choose one of them.
    She always replied in a similar vein, telling them that she was too young for courting, and never getting too familiar, as her mother had warned her not to.
    ‘Never forget you’re ’innkeeper’s daughter,’ she told her. ‘Keep a step apart. Friendly, but not too friendly; keep a barrier between you.’
    William, when he did help, politely served the customers with whatever they asked for, but never communicated with them; never chatted about the weather or the harvest or the price of cattle or corn as his father did; nor did he sit with them and have a glass of ale as Joe often did when his father wasn’t there.
    ‘He fancies himself as ’landlord,’ William said to Bella one evening. ‘Look at him.’ He glanced towards one of the tables where a game of dominoes was in progress and Joe was sprawled in a chair at the end of the table with a tankard in one hand and gesticulating with the other.
    Bella shrugged. ‘He’s old enough to drink now. I hope he doesn’t get too much of a liking for it.’
    ‘He has already,’ William muttered. ‘He’s had a fair amount of practice down in ’cellar.’
    Bella turned her head to look at William. ‘Are you joking?’
    William shook his head. ‘No. He’s been having a tankard of ale most nights for a twelvemonth or more.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘But now he’s sixteen, he thinks he can have a drink whenever he wants.’
    ‘And not pay for it,’ Bella murmured, and wondered how she could warn her father without being a sneak, and whether it was worth the aggravation that would ensue if she did tell him. So she told her mother instead, saying that she was a bit worried that Joe was getting a liking for ale.
    But her mother was indulgent. ‘He needs to try it out,’ she said. ‘If he doesn’t know ’strength of it, how’s he going to know when ’customers have had enough?’
    ‘Well, I know,’ Bella answered. ‘And I don’t drink. Mr Hemp was drunk ’other night and me and William had to help him out of ’door.’
    ‘Where was your father?’
    ‘Oh, it was almost closing time and I’d told Father we’d