Peggy drove into the Sun Inn yard from the back lane – Church Lane, she called it – and asked one of the stable lads to keep an eye on the old horse. Robin stroked the mare and said to Peggy how lovely she was, so quiet and calm.
‘Does anyone ride on her, or does she only pull the trap?’
‘She’s old now, so she doesn’t get ridden, though she used to.’ Peggy patted her too. ‘She’s a grand girl, aren’t you, Betsy?’ she murmured and the animal snickered and snorted at her. ‘She lives a quiet life nowadays, though she likes to be useful.’
‘Just like me, then.’ Robin grinned.
They walked into the back entrance of the inn and Peggy called out, ‘Is anybody about?’
A grey-haired woman popped her head up from behind the bar counter and groaned as she got off her knees. ‘Onny me. Clearing up after everybody. What ’you doing here again, Peg?’
‘Come for information,’ she said, drawing Robin forward to stand beside her. ‘Do you know this young feller-me-lad, Mary?’
The woman scrutinized Robin and then shook her head. ‘Don’t think so; he’s too young to drink in here. Why? Where did you find him?’
‘He was in here yesterday at ’hirings and then turned up at our place. I’m looking for his ma and wondered if she’d been in here looking for him.’
‘Well, who is she?’ Mary frowned.
‘That’s just it. I don’t know and he’s not saying much. Just that his name’s Robin Jackson,’ Peggy said on a huff of a breath.
‘Jackson’s a common enough name round here, but I can’t think that I know anybody wi’ that moniker wi’ a son; but in any case,’ she peered at Robin, ‘he’s old enough to know who his mother is. Cat got your tongue?’ she asked him and he grinned and put just the tip of his tongue out, so that she wouldn’t think him cheeky.
‘You’ll have to tell ’police, mebbe,’ she advised Peggy. ‘Perhaps he’s been abandoned, though it’s a bit unusual; it’s generally babbies that get left behind if their mothers can’t look after ’em, not grown lads that are coming up to working age.’
‘He’s not old enough to work; he’s onny ten, aren’t you, Robin?’ Peggy said. ‘I don’t really want to involve ’coppers, though Aaron said I should go to ’cop shop to see if there’s anybody there who can help. There never is, o’ course, when you want ’em. And anyway,’ she added, ‘who knows where he’ll end up if they get their hands on him, so I came in to say that if you get any enquiries – cos this is where he was left – he’s staying wi’ us.’ She made the statement flatly. It wasn’t in her nature to leave the bairn to cope alone. ‘And I might pop into ’town hall and see if there’s anybody there who might know what to do next.’
‘You’re a bit soft in ’head, Peggy,’ Mary said. ‘He’s a waif and stray. You might get into bother for keeping him.’
‘I’d like to stay,’ Robin interrupted. ‘I like it where you live, and my mother wouldn’t mind; she’ll come back eventually.’
The two women stared at him. ‘So do you know where she’s gone, Robin?’ Peggy asked.
‘No, I’ve no idea, but I expect she’ll have a plan in mind; and this is only a small place, not like London or Manchester, so she’ll soon find me again when she’s ready.’
Molly, who had kept silent whilst the conversation was going on, tugged on Robin’s jacket. ‘Mebbe she’s gone on a ’venture, Robin, and knows that you’ll be safe wiv us. I’ll look after him,’ she said to her grandmother. ‘He’s my best friend.’
Peggy looked down at her and smiled. ‘I suppose that settles it then, but I don’t know what your da and grandda are going to think about it.’
‘Will it make any difference what they think?’ Mary folded her arms across her chest. ‘If Peggy Robinson’s made her mind up there’s nowt else to say, is there?’
Peggy laughed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
Mary shook a finger at her. ‘I’ve onny known you lose one battle.’ She gave a swift glance at Molly, whose attention was wandering elsewhere. ‘And that was when your lad got married.’
Peggy sighed. Her expression was cynical. ‘Aye, well, he had a shotgun at his head so to speak, didn’t he? Nowt I could do about that, but I reckon he’s lived to regret it. It’s not a marriage made in heaven, that’s for sure.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Delia held back her tears until reaching the Hedon railway station and then wept and wept on the train back to Hull. She had beaten a hasty retreat out of the Sun Inn when she saw the Robinson family seated at a table, and her own boy chatting to the little girls and tucking into an enormous plate of food.
It was as if he belonged with them, she told herself in justification of leaving him there; and Peggy Robinson is a kind woman, though a no-nonsense type.
She’d hovered outside in the street, hidden within a crowd watching a juggler, and had seen the Robinson family and their in-laws and several children, including her own son, pile into various wagons, gigs and carts. She’d anxiously waited to see if he’d turn to look for her as they pulled away, but he didn’t, so busy was he, chatting to the little girls and another boy who had climbed in with them.
Although she knew Peggy Robinson to be a caring compassionate woman, it bothered her that the driver of the wagon, Peggy’s only son, wasn’t; she had known him since they were children and had thought of him then as a friend, but he had subsequently proved that he didn’t care for anyone’s feelings but his own. Well, Delia thought, I hope he’s got his just deserts with his wife. She concluded with some satisfaction that they hadn’t
