‘Oh, yes, I do.’ He handed back the penny. ‘But I don’t need a reward, thank you.’
She took back the coin and smiled. ‘All right, off you go then. You know which shop I mean, don’t you?’
He put on his cap. ‘Yes,’ he said, and headed for the door. ‘I won’t be long.’
He wants to repay me, she thought, and looked out of the window as he went out of the gate and carefully shut it after him. What a well brought up child he is. His mother did well in spite of the circumstances she found herself in. Poor girl. She must miss him.
Robin ran all the way down the track towards the village and vowed that he’d try to get there and back within the twenty minutes. I won’t even stop to look at the river. But as he reached the road he saw it in front of him and noticed that today as the light was fading the water looked leaden and forbidding, the white crests dull and subdued rather than frolicsome as they had been when he had last been down here. Gulls were flying low, close to the surface.
Fishing smacks and tugboats were heading towards Hull; some coal barges and larger ships were steaming in the direction of the estuary mouth and the open sea. Some, he thought, were cargo boats but there were also two-masted schooners with their sharply pointed bows, and one graceful tall ship with three masts and billowing sails like the ones he’d seen on the Thames. Others were smaller and sailing towards the far end of Paull, and he wondered if these were the shrimp boats that the Paull fishermen used. Then he saw another boat in the middle of the river heading towards the slipway and he ran swiftly down the village street to the shop so that he might see it close up on his way back.
There was no one else in the shop and he asked for a bag of sugar for Mrs Peggy Robinson please, and the shopkeeper weighed it and bagged it, took the money and gave him change. He touched his cap and thanked her and wished her good day and she gave him a wide smile.
He ran back again towards the slipway. The boat had lowered its sails and he noticed a foreign name on the side of it; a man on board was reaching out to hand a parcel to another man, who was standing on the slipway with his back to Robin and his boots almost in the water.
As he paused to see how the sails would be hoisted, the man on shore turned round and saw him. ‘Hey,’ he shouted. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Startled, Robin turned his gaze to him. ‘I’m – I’m watching to see how the sails are raised.’
The man strode towards him. ‘Come here.’ He indicated brusquely with his hand and Robin moved closer. The next second he yelped as the man clipped him on the ear and then grabbed his earlobe between a rough and cold finger and thumb.
‘Ow,’ Robin yelled. ‘That hurts.’
‘Aye, it was meant to.’ The lobe was pinched again and he felt something sharp before he was let go. ‘Who are you and why you hanging around here?’ A fist was shaken in his face and he stepped back.
‘I – I’m not!’ His ear was stinging and his eyes smarting from the pain of it. ‘I was – just watching the boat.’
A florid face beneath a peaked cap was pushed close to his. The eyes were mean and the lips narrow. ‘You’re up to no good. Who are you? You’re not from round here!’
‘I’m – Robin Jackson, sir, and I’m staying with Mr and Mrs Robinson.’
‘Aaron Robinson, do you mean? Them with a houseful of brats?’
He nodded and saw no reason to tell him that the children were not living there as from today.
‘Go on, clear off then, and don’t let me see you down here again. Do you hear?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Robin started to back away, and when the man raised his stick to him he turned and fled.
Peggy glanced up at the clock as Robin flew in the door and stood with his back leaning against it, breathing hard. ‘There was no need to break your neck,’ she said. ‘I onny wanted you to be back afore dark.’
Robin breathed out and went to put the bag of sugar on the table, then sat down on the bench.
‘What’s up?’ she said, and took his cap off. ‘You’re bleeding; did you catch on a branch or something?’
Robin flinched as she touched his ear and he shook his head. ‘No,’ he muttered, and wondered whether or not to say anything else, but a tell-tale tear slid down his cheek.
‘What happened?’ She frowned, her eyebrows drawing together.
‘A man,’ he croaked. ‘He was standing on the slipway and I only looked at a sailboat as I was passing to watch how the seaman would raise the sails, and I think he must have thought I was watching him but I wasn’t, I was watching the man in the boat.’
‘And what did he do?’
‘The man on shore told me to come to him and when I did he hit me across the head and grabbed my ear.’ Tenderly he touched his ear and realized it was sticky. ‘He must have nipped me with his nail. It hurt,’ he said tearfully. ‘And I wasn’t doing anything, honest, and I barely stopped because I’d promised. I was only looking as I went past. The seaman on the boat was handing him a parcel.’
‘Was he now? Well, first things first. I’m going to bathe your ear with some warm water and then put some antiseptic on it in case his nails weren’t clean.’
She went to the cupboard and brought out a tin, then filled a bowl with warm water from the kettle. ‘Did you get a good look at him?’
‘Oh,
