Poor Law by R J Lynch

Author:R J Lynch [Lynch, R J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mandrill Pres
Published: 2018-12-28T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Jeffrey Drabble had told Blakiston that William Snowball was the first person Susannah Ward had seen after finding Margaret Laws dead on the farmhouse floor. Chopwell Garth and New Hope were not the only farms on Lord Ravenshead’s estate that were harvesting, had just harvested or were about to harvest and Blakiston was busy each day from early morning till he fell exhausted into bed after a late supper. Almost a week was to pass before he could find time to think once more about the killer of Margaret Laws and Ezra Hindmarsh and it was on Saturday the eighth of September that he went looking for Snowball. Regarded with the caution a squatter must always feel in the presence of a landowner’s agent, Blakiston did little to calm the man’s fears. He did not wish to spend more time than he must in this sad hovel. It occurred to him, too, that if the other Snowballs did not hear what William Snowball told him they would be less able to align their story with his so he walked out of the single room in which the family lived, slept, cooked and ate and signalled with his head that Snowball should follow him. ‘Only you, Snowball. The rest of your family shall remain here.’

When they were outside, Blakiston wasted no time in beginning his attack. ‘How did you come to be so close to New Hope Farm that morning?’

‘I was looking for a lost pig, Sir.’

‘Were you, now? A lost pig. And did you find it?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Good grief, man, your very countenance gives the lie to your words. Have you so many pigs, a man like you so poor he must make a beggar’s home on common land, that you can afford to let one go? If you had been telling the truth, I and everyone in this parish would have seen you going from door to door searching for your lost treasure. Either that or the air would have been heavy with the smell of roasting pork. Let us put this sad tale behind us; I shall ask you the question once more and this time your answer will be more convincing or you will find yourself in Durham Jail with Joseph Laws. How did you come to be so close to New Hope Farm that morning?’

The hat Snowball turned in his hands looked old enough to have been worn by his grandfather. That could not be, for it was round and in the early years of the eighteenth century when Grandfather Snowball would have been young no-one saw any but three-cornered hats. As Blakiston eyed the grease stains with distaste, he remembered Drabble’s words: “all the Snowballs run to fat”. It was true enough in this case, for Snowball was as round as a bee skep and sweat beaded his skin. He looked as though unsure whether to speak or make a run for it but he must have realised that flight would avail him nothing. ‘I had heard that Joseph Laws was from home, sir.

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