The Fleethaven Trilogy by Margaret Dickinson Page B

what Will had advised her to say. Without argument the young man consulted a large book. ‘I’m afraid Mr Thompson won’t be able to come out until tomorrow.’ He looked up anxiously. ‘Do you think that will be – all right?’
    Esther stared at him in surprise. The young man had evidently understood the situation only too well. She relaxed a little. ‘Yes, yes, I should think so.’
    ‘Very well, miss.’ The young man picked up a pen. ‘Mr Thompson will come out to the farm at eleven tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Thank you, thank you very much.’
    ‘Good day, miss.’

    Esther hurried along the lane, every so often taking little running steps. She seemed to have been away from the farm and from Sam for such a long time. Even though she worked all day about the farm, she checked on Sam every hour or so. This was the longest time she had left him alone, and because he seemed even worse today, she was anxious.
    She turned in at the farm gate at last and hurried across the yard. Beth was standing at the back door raising her hand to knock. At the sound of Esther’s footsteps on the cinders, she turned and then let her hand fall.
    ‘Oh, there you are. I’ve bin knocking for ages.’
    ‘Mester Brumby’s very ill,’ Esther told her shortly and brushed past her to go into the house, but Beth caught hold of her arm. ‘Where’s Matthew? I’ve got to see Matthew.’
    ‘How should I know?’ Esther muttered. ‘I ain’t seen him for days. Just when I could use a bit of help, Mester Matthew decides to do one of his disappearing acts!’
    ‘I thought – he was here – with you.’ The statement was an accusation.
    ‘Well, he ain’t.’ Esther twisted her arm impatiently to release Beth’s grasp and added, with a touch of the malice that Beth had used towards her on occasion, ‘Mebbe he’s chasing a bit o’ skirt on one of the other farms.’
    The girl turned white and swayed slightly. She put out her hand to steady herself against the wall. With her other hand she clutched at her shawl, pulling it closely around her.
    Esther gave her a click of exasperation. Beth’s possessive behaviour over Matthew irritated her, and besides she had enough on her mind over poor Sam. She went inside and slammed the door behind her – right in Beth’s face.

Ten
    M
R
Thompson, the lawyer, arrived promptly at eleven the next morning. He was a thin-faced, balding gentleman in a pin-striped suit. The broad, stiff white collar seemed too big for his thin neck. His eyes were large behind the thick lenses of his steel-rimmed spectacles, which seemed to be forever slipping down his long, thin nose.
    He was closeted with Sam in the front parlour for an hour and a half, at the end of which time he came out into the yard to find Esther talking to Will Benson, who had driven in.
    ‘Come here,’ he beckoned her with a long bony finger. ‘Would you be kind enough to ask Mr Benson to step into the house for a moment.’
    Will followed the lawyer into the house, whilst Esther waited outside in the yard, stroking Will’s horses and watching the back door. Will was not required for many minutes for he appeared again almost immediately and climbed up on to his cart.
    ‘Good day, lass. I’ll see you later in the week.’ He turned his cart around and rattled out of the yard.
    ‘Will . . .?’ Esther called, but he did not seem to hear her shout above the noise of the cart’s wheels.
    A few moments later, the lawyer too came out of the house, unhitched his pony and climbed into his trap. Touching his hat in a very gallant way to the young girl still standing uncertainly in the middle of the yard, he too turned his conveyance around and left the farm.
    Esther watched the cart and the trap disappearing down the lane. Then she turned and went slowly back into the house.

    That night it took Esther half an hour to help Sam up the steep stairs to his bedroom and the next day he did not even try to get up out of his bed.
    A worried frown