‘I’ll look after him, Gran,’ Molly proclaimed. ‘Cos I know how careful you have to be when you’re near water. Even when you can swim. I can swim, Robin. Can you?’
‘I’ve swum in the sea at Brighton and Eastbourne,’ he said, ‘but only in the shallows.’ He was about to say more when he realized he would be giving away some vital information. ‘When we were on holiday,’ he finished.
Peggy told them they could walk by the fence, and then set off towards the main street, calling back that she wouldn’t be long.
‘Grandda used to be a fisherman.’ Molly stood on the bottom rail of the fence and stretched up on her toes to look over into the deep water. ‘He said when I’m bigger he’ll tek me out in his boat.’
‘Has he got a boat?’ Robin asked in surprise. ‘Where does he keep it?’
‘It’s tied up in Paull creek wi’ some of ’other boats. You can’t see it from here. Sometimes he lends it out.’
They walked alongside the fence until they came close to the slipway and the Humber Tavern, and Robin thought that had he been alone he might have walked down the slipway and nearer to the water where dark viscous seaweed gathered in tangled brackish clumps; but he had promised, so he wouldn’t. But how exciting it was to know that the estuary was so close; he loved it, the smell of it, and the smack and slurp of the choppy waves dashing and splashing against the retaining wall, throwing up a salty spray that wasn’t brown as he would have expected but a sparkling crystal shower.
It wasn’t long before Peggy was on her way back. She had gleaned what she wanted to know from the post office, the time and day of the funeral, and having expressed her sorrow at the old man’s death and agreed that he had had a long lifespan, had casually asked what was happening to the homestead.
‘Our Jack and his wife are looking to move. They need a place of their own with four growing bairns; they want somewhere near to ours, of course, as Jack works with his da.’ Dropping her voice, she imparted the news that they’d just lost a baby.
Peggy Robinson had a respected standing in the village. Her father, Bill Foster, had been a canny man who had bought up odd pieces of land that large landowners didn’t want and small landholders couldn’t afford; eventually these parcels of land joined up and some he farmed himself, or his sons did, and others he let out to tenants.
The farm that Aaron and Peggy ran had once been one of these parcels of land. When eighteen-year-old Peggy fell in love with a Paull fisherman, Aaron Robinson, she knew that the only way she would be allowed to marry him was if he showed that he was deserving of her by agreeing to work the land. Peggy, sharp and decisive, had told him that it was the best piece of land her father possessed, and that he would still be able to go shrimping, since she would help him on the farm until their sons were old enough to help as well.
Aaron was an amenable young man and the idea of running his own farm had appealed to him; he had become a fisherman because his father and grandfather had been Paull Shrimpers too, and only sometimes after their marriage had he longed for the camaraderie of his fellow shrimpers and the smell of the sea as it flowed into the estuary bringing in its briny harvest. But he loved Peggy more than he loved the sea and it hadn’t been a difficult choice to make.
‘Right then,’ she said, as the children climbed back into the cart. ‘What do you think of Paull, Robin?’ She clicked her tongue to urge old Betsy on.
‘I like it a lot!’ Robin said enthusiastically, adding, ‘I wish I lived here.’
‘Well, you are living here, aren’t you?’ Peggy said over her shoulder.
‘Yes, but we’re going to Hedon again.’ His voice dropped. ‘So I suppose you’re going to try and give me away to a policeman.’
Peggy half turned her head. ‘I’m doing no such thing! Didn’t I tell you that I’ve spoken to ’schoolmistress?’
‘Yes, but …’ He spoke in a teary voice. ‘I’m used to being moved on. I don’t think I’ll ever be in one place for very long.’
Peggy drew the horse to a standstill; they had driven down the main street past the post office and the small school that served the children of Paull, and were about to turn along another road. They could hear the creak of masts and the rattle of rigging.
‘If I don’t enquire whether they’ve heard of ’whereabouts of your mother,’ she told him, ‘and she comes looking for you and then thinks I’ve kidnapped you, what kind of hot water will I find myself in? Eh? What if I find myself in trouble with ’law?’
Molly began to whine. ‘Will you go to prison if you’re in trouble, Gran? I won’t like it if you do.’
‘No. No, she won’t,’ Robin broke in. ‘I’ll tell them. I’ll say that I wanted to stay.’
‘And what will your ma say then? Won’t she be upset if she thinks you prefer living wi’ strangers rather than her?’
‘I don’t prefer it, but I don’t feel as if I’m with strangers,’ he said, putting his arm round Molly’s shoulder and patting it. ‘I wish she could be here too, but she’s not, and,’ he hesitated, ‘I think she’d understand.’
Peggy explained the situation to the duty officer at the police station, and he said that posters would be distributed to outlying villages as well as round Hedon. Peggy hoped that the school-mistress wouldn’t see them, or she’d be caught out in a lie.
‘They’d be better placed in Hull,’ she told him.
‘No, Mrs Robinson,’ he said patiently. ‘It’s too
