fellow back there, he’s a right old busybody. Always sticking his nose into other folks’ business, he is. If he knew you two were staying with us, it’d soon be the talk of the town.’
‘Folks in these parts likes to keep ’emselves to ’emselves,’ said Adam. ‘That’s just the way we are.’
They rode along for some distance in silence. Peter felt moved to say something else, if only to hear the reassuring sound of his own voice.
‘We have a postcard,’ he announced, and the two adults turned their heads to look at him again. ‘We’re to fill it in with your address and send it off as soon as possible, so our mum can write to us.’
Mrs Beesley considered this information for a moment, then made that forced attempt at a smile. ‘Goodness me, what’s your ’urry?’ she asked him. ‘We’re not even there yet. There’ll be plenty of time for all that, once we’ve got you settled. I’ve a room already picked out for you,’ she told Daisy. She glanced at Peter. ‘And I expect we’ll find one for you,’ she added.
‘Can’t we stay together?’ asked Daisy, sounding apprehensive.
‘A big girl like you? Oh, don’t be silly! It’s time you had your own room. Mr Sheldon is the most successful farmer on the Marsh and the Grange is a great big place. So it would be silly to throw you in together, wouldn’t it?’
‘The … Marsh?’ asked Peter.
‘Yes. Romney Marsh, of course. That’s where the Grange is. Did nobody tell you where you’d be goin’?’
‘Nobody told us anything,’ said Peter.
‘Well, that’s where we’re ’eaded, right enough,’ said Adam. ‘Romney Marsh, the biggest wilderness on God’s earth. Lived ’ere all me life, I ’ave. I know the place like the back of me ’and.’ He seemed to think for a moment. ‘If you two should ever chance to be alone out here, you watch out for the canals,’ he said.
‘The canals?’ Peter looked around but he couldn’t see any water.
‘Oh aye. They’re out there, right enough, and sometimes you don’t see ’em until you’re right next to ’em. They can be dangerous. The water’s dark and there’s thick, clingin’ weeds. Why, I remember once—’
‘Let’s have less of the chat,’ Mrs Beesley interrupted him. ‘And can’t you get this ’orse moving faster?’
‘I already told you,’ said Adam. ‘Her fetlock …’
‘Never mind about her blessed fetlock! Use the goad if you have to.’ She indicated a long leather whip that was standing in a container at Adam’s side.
‘It’ll be all right,’ Adam assured her. ‘We’ll be there in time.’
‘We’d better be.’ Peter noticed how Mrs Beesley kept looking towards the western horizon, where the sun was rapidly turning the clouds crimson.
As they moved on, he spotted a tiny stone building to his right. The place had once had a roof but that had fallen in and the remains of a stubby chimney stuck up at one end. It looked far too small for anybody to have actually lived in. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing.
Adam followed his gaze. ‘That? It’s an old sheep ’ouse,’ he said.
‘The sheep live in houses?’ asked Daisy, delighted by the idea.
‘No, that place is where shepherds can stay. Lookers. That’s what we call ’em on the Marsh. So when they ’ave to stay out overnight, they can ’ave themselves a fire and a place to stretch their legs, out of the rain.’
‘But I don’t see any sheep,’ said Peter.
Adam snorted. ‘There’s still some around, but they go where they’ve a mind to,’ he said. ‘There’s no fences nor nothin’ to keep ’em in. So you’ll see huts like that all over the Marsh. Quite a few of ’em are still in use. They goes back to the Middle Ages, they does, round the time of the Great Plague.’
‘What’s the Great Plague?’ asked Daisy nervously.
‘Oh, it’s just something that happened hundreds of years ago,’ Peter told her, not wanting to give her too much information. He knew
‘Folks in these parts likes to keep ’emselves to ’emselves,’ said Adam. ‘That’s just the way we are.’
They rode along for some distance in silence. Peter felt moved to say something else, if only to hear the reassuring sound of his own voice.
‘We have a postcard,’ he announced, and the two adults turned their heads to look at him again. ‘We’re to fill it in with your address and send it off as soon as possible, so our mum can write to us.’
Mrs Beesley considered this information for a moment, then made that forced attempt at a smile. ‘Goodness me, what’s your ’urry?’ she asked him. ‘We’re not even there yet. There’ll be plenty of time for all that, once we’ve got you settled. I’ve a room already picked out for you,’ she told Daisy. She glanced at Peter. ‘And I expect we’ll find one for you,’ she added.
‘Can’t we stay together?’ asked Daisy, sounding apprehensive.
‘A big girl like you? Oh, don’t be silly! It’s time you had your own room. Mr Sheldon is the most successful farmer on the Marsh and the Grange is a great big place. So it would be silly to throw you in together, wouldn’t it?’
‘The … Marsh?’ asked Peter.
‘Yes. Romney Marsh, of course. That’s where the Grange is. Did nobody tell you where you’d be goin’?’
‘Nobody told us anything,’ said Peter.
‘Well, that’s where we’re ’eaded, right enough,’ said Adam. ‘Romney Marsh, the biggest wilderness on God’s earth. Lived ’ere all me life, I ’ave. I know the place like the back of me ’and.’ He seemed to think for a moment. ‘If you two should ever chance to be alone out here, you watch out for the canals,’ he said.
‘The canals?’ Peter looked around but he couldn’t see any water.
‘Oh aye. They’re out there, right enough, and sometimes you don’t see ’em until you’re right next to ’em. They can be dangerous. The water’s dark and there’s thick, clingin’ weeds. Why, I remember once—’
‘Let’s have less of the chat,’ Mrs Beesley interrupted him. ‘And can’t you get this ’orse moving faster?’
‘I already told you,’ said Adam. ‘Her fetlock …’
‘Never mind about her blessed fetlock! Use the goad if you have to.’ She indicated a long leather whip that was standing in a container at Adam’s side.
‘It’ll be all right,’ Adam assured her. ‘We’ll be there in time.’
‘We’d better be.’ Peter noticed how Mrs Beesley kept looking towards the western horizon, where the sun was rapidly turning the clouds crimson.
As they moved on, he spotted a tiny stone building to his right. The place had once had a roof but that had fallen in and the remains of a stubby chimney stuck up at one end. It looked far too small for anybody to have actually lived in. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing.
Adam followed his gaze. ‘That? It’s an old sheep ’ouse,’ he said.
‘The sheep live in houses?’ asked Daisy, delighted by the idea.
‘No, that place is where shepherds can stay. Lookers. That’s what we call ’em on the Marsh. So when they ’ave to stay out overnight, they can ’ave themselves a fire and a place to stretch their legs, out of the rain.’
‘But I don’t see any sheep,’ said Peter.
Adam snorted. ‘There’s still some around, but they go where they’ve a mind to,’ he said. ‘There’s no fences nor nothin’ to keep ’em in. So you’ll see huts like that all over the Marsh. Quite a few of ’em are still in use. They goes back to the Middle Ages, they does, round the time of the Great Plague.’
‘What’s the Great Plague?’ asked Daisy nervously.
‘Oh, it’s just something that happened hundreds of years ago,’ Peter told her, not wanting to give her too much information. He knew
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