Read Online A Mother's Sacrifice by Catherine King - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Catherine King
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The cart was heavy, filled with baskets and sacks, some hanging over the side, held on with every last rusting nail and piece of twine they could find.
‘I’ll help you push, Mr Ross,’ Quinta volunteered.
‘There is no need. But if you wish . . .’ He handed one of the shafts to her.
She bent her back into the task and pushed. ‘It would not be such a burden if you had not chopped so much wood.Who will pay you money for all this?’
‘Innkeepers. Housekeepers in merchants’ houses. Towns are full of people who have to eat. How are they to cook their food?’
‘They have coal, of course.’
‘So they need wood to light it.’
‘But surely they can chop kindling for themselves? Even I can manage that!’
‘I do not doubt that. Many town folk are not as resourceful as you, Miss Quinta.’
She was silenced. He had proved her wrong and flattered her at the same time. Her breathing became laboured as they approached the summit.
‘I’ll take over now,’ he said. ‘Your mother needs your arm.’
They stopped for rest at the top. The town sprawled below them: smoking chimneys and furnaces, a glint of water from the navigation and brick terraces of labourers’ cottages snaking through the bustle. Already carriers and merchants were gathering to water their horses at the spring by the crossroads.
‘Not far now,’ Quinta observed.
Mr Ross narrowed his eyes and nodded. He said very little. He didn’t smile much either. She wondered what sort of life he had led up until now and the kind of man he really was. Normally so withdrawn, she noticed that he seemed to cheer as they drew near to town.While Quinta and her mother were displaying their produce in the marketplace he said, ‘I’ll take the cart and make haste to sell the wood. I must visit the Dispensary for my father.’
‘My mother has need of a stronger medicine to ease her chest,’ Quinta said. ‘Will you get some for her?’
‘Does she not wish to talk to the apothecary herself?’
‘She is tired from this walk and will have to rest.You know how her cough sounds.’
‘Very well.’ He disappeared with their cart into the market crowds.
Chapter 6
‘There are so many people! Where do they come from?’ Quinta stood at the corner of the market square and gazed in wonder at the throng.
‘All the manufactories you can see down by the canal, and from the pit villages round and about. Look at those beasts over there! The butchers’ll be busy tomorrow.’
‘Do you think we’ll be able to buy a bit of butcher’s meat tonight, Mother?’
‘We’ll see.You hold on tight to the purse for me and watch your back. Midsummer Eve attracts all sorts.’
They had a pitch by a corner and next to an alley that led away from the square. Quinta and her mother were kept busy all morning selling their produce while Patrick took his kindling wood off in the cart, heading up the hill to where fine houses had been built for the owners of the new manufactories. These newcomers were not gentry, but they had servants and carriages that were paid for by their profits.
It was a fine day, warm and sunny, and they sold everything before noon. They had enough for the rent and to buy flour. Quinta stowed her takings safely in a drawstring pouch under her skirts, then stacked her baskets and empty sacks by the wall behind them. Laura coughed as she helped and Quinta wondered when Patrick would be back with the medicine.
‘You look pale, Mother,’ Quinta said. ‘Rest a while. I’ll fetch dinner from a pie-seller.’
When she returned with hot meat pies, Laura was asleep on the sacking in front of their baskets and she hadn’t the heart to waken her. She left her pies behind the baskets and joined a crowd to watch a juggler throwing lighted flares in the air. Then she sat on a low stone wall in the shade, near to where her mother was still sleeping, to eat her dinner.
She had noticed a group of three people arrive in the square and walk backwards and
‘I’ll help you push, Mr Ross,’ Quinta volunteered.
‘There is no need. But if you wish . . .’ He handed one of the shafts to her.
She bent her back into the task and pushed. ‘It would not be such a burden if you had not chopped so much wood.Who will pay you money for all this?’
‘Innkeepers. Housekeepers in merchants’ houses. Towns are full of people who have to eat. How are they to cook their food?’
‘They have coal, of course.’
‘So they need wood to light it.’
‘But surely they can chop kindling for themselves? Even I can manage that!’
‘I do not doubt that. Many town folk are not as resourceful as you, Miss Quinta.’
She was silenced. He had proved her wrong and flattered her at the same time. Her breathing became laboured as they approached the summit.
‘I’ll take over now,’ he said. ‘Your mother needs your arm.’
They stopped for rest at the top. The town sprawled below them: smoking chimneys and furnaces, a glint of water from the navigation and brick terraces of labourers’ cottages snaking through the bustle. Already carriers and merchants were gathering to water their horses at the spring by the crossroads.
‘Not far now,’ Quinta observed.
Mr Ross narrowed his eyes and nodded. He said very little. He didn’t smile much either. She wondered what sort of life he had led up until now and the kind of man he really was. Normally so withdrawn, she noticed that he seemed to cheer as they drew near to town.While Quinta and her mother were displaying their produce in the marketplace he said, ‘I’ll take the cart and make haste to sell the wood. I must visit the Dispensary for my father.’
‘My mother has need of a stronger medicine to ease her chest,’ Quinta said. ‘Will you get some for her?’
‘Does she not wish to talk to the apothecary herself?’
‘She is tired from this walk and will have to rest.You know how her cough sounds.’
‘Very well.’ He disappeared with their cart into the market crowds.
Chapter 6
‘There are so many people! Where do they come from?’ Quinta stood at the corner of the market square and gazed in wonder at the throng.
‘All the manufactories you can see down by the canal, and from the pit villages round and about. Look at those beasts over there! The butchers’ll be busy tomorrow.’
‘Do you think we’ll be able to buy a bit of butcher’s meat tonight, Mother?’
‘We’ll see.You hold on tight to the purse for me and watch your back. Midsummer Eve attracts all sorts.’
They had a pitch by a corner and next to an alley that led away from the square. Quinta and her mother were kept busy all morning selling their produce while Patrick took his kindling wood off in the cart, heading up the hill to where fine houses had been built for the owners of the new manufactories. These newcomers were not gentry, but they had servants and carriages that were paid for by their profits.
It was a fine day, warm and sunny, and they sold everything before noon. They had enough for the rent and to buy flour. Quinta stowed her takings safely in a drawstring pouch under her skirts, then stacked her baskets and empty sacks by the wall behind them. Laura coughed as she helped and Quinta wondered when Patrick would be back with the medicine.
‘You look pale, Mother,’ Quinta said. ‘Rest a while. I’ll fetch dinner from a pie-seller.’
When she returned with hot meat pies, Laura was asleep on the sacking in front of their baskets and she hadn’t the heart to waken her. She left her pies behind the baskets and joined a crowd to watch a juggler throwing lighted flares in the air. Then she sat on a low stone wall in the shade, near to where her mother was still sleeping, to eat her dinner.
She had noticed a group of three people arrive in the square and walk backwards and
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