Pengelly's Daughter Read Online Free Page B

proving more trouble than it was worth. The sooner I was nished, the better.

    Fosse and Porthruan glower at each other across the river mouth, Fosse condent in its greater prosperity. You are either from Fosse or Porthruan, but with the ferry so well established, people nd work where they can. Father and I were born in Porthruan: Mother’s family moved there when she was a small child. I was ten years old when Father moved us to Fosse and although Mother’s heart will always remain in Porthruan, my loyalties will always be to Fosse.
    We left the ferry and made our way past the malt house, the sweet smell of barley lling the air. It was a bright morning with a cloudless sky and even at this early hour the sun felt warm on my face. Fosse was always busy and today was no exception. The road was teeming. Tradesmen were straining under baskets piled high with produce and a cart was already blocking the way. A crowd was forming and as people pushed passed, tempers began to are. A mule driver stared down at me, and as I returned his glare, he spat at my feet, his foul spittle narrowly missing my shoes. Two men were rolling a barrel towards us.
    â€˜At this rate we’ll be late,’ said Mother, stepping into the road.
    â€˜Be careful,’ I cried, pulling her back as the barrel passed dangerously close.
    Her frown softened and she smiled. Hesitantly, she squeezed my arm, tucking it gently into hers before continuing behind the cart. It was a small gesture, but it meant more to me than any words and lled me with such pleasure.
    Our journey took us past the blacksmith and across the square. Whether Mother had really forgiven me for my rudeness to Mr Tregellas, or was just hoping I would give in to her wishes, was not important. What was important was I felt happier than I had done for a very long time. Walking arm in arm with Mother was how a mother and daughter should walk, and we had rarely done that before.
    We crossed the road and I could feel my mouth tighten. Black Dog Lane, with its crowded houses and overshadowing eaves, was always rancid and foul. No sunlight penetrated the alley and the air remained damp and fetid. Holding our breath we hurried our pace, stepping over the stagnant sewer as best we could. This part of town was a disgrace, with fever at every turn. It could never be right. How could the Corporation let people live in such poverty when those who own the tenements lived in such richness?
    We passed under the arch of the Ship Inn, walking quickly through the market which was already crowded with stalls, and only at the foot of the wooden, slightly rickety, staircase, held together by iron railings, did Mother let go of my arm. Madame Merrick’s dressmaking business was on the rst oor.
    Madame Merrick was clearly busy, her eyes unusually bright. She was a middle-aged woman with an enviable gure and always dressed with care. Her green cotton gown was plain, though fashionable, her mobcap demure. Her chu was edged with local lace, but while her appearance gave the impression of being dressed for service, the sheen on her dress, her expensive brooch, and the rustle of her ne silk petticoats were not lost on either her wealthy clients, or every other tradeswoman in town. Her height, her elegance, her aloof expression, prominent nose and beady eyes, gave her the look of a bird of prey. Already she looked as if she had her next victim in sight and was hovering, ready to swoop.
    â€˜We have another new tting, Mrs Pengelly – Mrs Hoskins is coming at noon. Mrs George Hoskins, no less , the wife of the new banker.’ Her French accent was only slightly discernible in her impeccable English. ‘And once Mrs Hoskins has one of my gowns, everyone will want one.’
    â€˜What is it she wants?’ It was good to see Mother’s excitement. Not losing a moment, she replaced her bonnet with a mobcap and began tying