The Secrets of Wishtide by Kate Saunders

Author:Kate Saunders
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781408866887
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2016-04-25T09:15:58+00:00

Seventeen

The cheese-woman sat on the lower step of the market cross, with her wares neatly laid out around her; it being winter, they were all hard ‘keeping’ cheeses, of the kind that is so expensive in London at this time of year. Mrs Bentley and I were both very fond of toasted cheese; since I was due to go home in a few days, I bought a pound, which the woman cut and wrapped with wonderful dexterity, though her fingers were red and swollen in the cold.

The market-day crowds were thinning, and the woman had sold most of her produce. She was short and broad (as many of the Lincolnshire women were), with a face as seamed and weather-worn as an old gatepost. Her name was Mrs Todd, and she was happy to answer my questions – indeed, the whole town was seething with gossip about the murder, and the forthcoming trial of Mr Charles, and I doubt she was able to talk about anything else.

‘Yes, ma’am, I certainly do remember that day – I can see those poor ladies in my mind as clear as I see you. The older lady was carrying a new broom and two hearth-brushes. The younger lady suddenly stopped in her tracks – right where you’re standing – and turned deathly pale. Awful, she looked.’ Mrs Todd’s account had a well-worn air; she had been retelling it all morning. ‘It’s my opinion that she saw someone she knew.’

‘Did you see who it was?’

‘Well, there was a mass of people, and I couldn’t be sure.’

‘Could you tell me the types of people you saw nearby? Did anyone look suspicious to you?’

Mrs Todd narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t say suspicious. A lot of folks come to town on market day – ruffians and thieves, farmers and suchlike. But I knew most that I saw. Mrs Tapp was there with her daughters –’ she reeled off a list of names, finishing with, ‘and Mr Drummond, the attorney – riding in a little open carriage with another gent.’

‘Was this other gent known to you?’

‘No, ma’am. But he was probably something in the horse trade. Mr Drummond’s a great one for racing.’

The icy east wind was turning me to stone. I thanked Mrs Todd and hurried across the square towards the inn, picking my way over cabbage leaves, horse-dung, wet sawdust and all the other litter left in the wake of a country market (I wished I had a pair of wooden pattens to protect my shoes; all the women were wearing them and they made a great din on the cobblestones).

Blackbeard had set up his headquarters in the dining room at the inn, and I had undertaken to call on him there. I was very glad to get into that smoky, noisy warmth.

‘Mrs Rodd.’ The landlady, Mrs Hinton, came out into the passage to meet me. ‘The inspector is tied up, ma’am, and asks if you’d be good enough to wait for a few minutes.’

‘Of course.’

‘The coffee room is busy this morning; please feel free to wait in my private parlour.

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