Free Hope by Lesley Pearse Page A

something for Hope.
    She hoped it might be a paintbox like the one Rufus had.
    ‘Why are you crying, Mother?’ Hope whispered later. She was getting bored now because the Reverend Gosling kept asking Albert and then Nell the same things, and it seemed to be taking for ever.
    ‘Shhh,’ Meg hissed, putting one finger to her lips.
    ‘I pronounce you man and wife.’
    At the Reverend Gosling’s words, said in a loud and important voice, Hope got interested again. She hoped that was the end of it now and they could go home for the party.
    Everyone had been very worried that it would rain today, because the cottage wasn’t big enough for everyone to get inside. But it had been warm and sunny for three days now, and last night Silas and Matt had fixed up a long table made of old doors in the field next to the vegetable patch, and there were planks resting on logs for seats. Nell had borrowed some sheets from Briargate as tablecloths, and there was a whole barrel of ale, enough pies, buns and other food for the scores of people, and Gareth Peregrine was going to play his fiddle so everyone could dance.
    ‘You may kiss the bride.’
    Hope put her hands over her eyes at the Reverend Gosling’s order to Albert; she couldn’t bear seeing men kissing women. Matt was always kissing Amy, especially when he thought no one was watching, and she didn’t think she could bear it if Nell and Albert kept doing it all the time too.
    But she had to peep through her fingers just to check Albert did it, because she’d never seen him kiss Nell before. She was relieved it was just a peck. Matt and Amy did big sucking ones.
    Mabel Scragg, who owned the bakery next door to the Rentons, came waddling up to them as soon as they’d got out of the church. Hope didn’t like her, she always called her ‘a little madam’, and once she’d boxed her ears for calling her Scraggy. ‘The first one married off then,’ she said to Meg, her fat chins wobbling. ‘I reckon it will be your Matt next.’
    ‘Aye.’ Meg smiled towards her oldest son who as always was standing so close to Amy they could be stuck with glue. ‘But it’ll be her folk paying for it, thank heavens.’
    ‘Your Nell’s done well for herself with Albert and no mistake,’ Mabel went on. ‘Fancy them getting the gatehouse and Lady Harvey’s keeping Nell on too! Mind you, that won’t be for long, not if she takes after you!’
    Hope frowned at Mabel’s last remark. She wasn’t the first to make it. Almost everyone had. She wanted to know what they meant.
    By the time it grew dark, Hope had her answer. All the grown-ups still at the party were tipsy, including her mother and father. The food was all gone, they had to tip the barrel up now to get the last dregs, and Gareth Peregrine had stopped playing his fiddle and was sleeping off the drink down by the chicken coop. Even Joe and Henry had helped themselves to some ale. Hope had tried it too, but she didn’t like it.
    She had noticed that ale made people say things they wouldn’t normally say. Matt had said he loved Amy in front of everyone, and she’d giggled as if she thought he was wonderful.
    There had been a great many gardening jokes all evening about beds, planting and seeds as they were leaving, none of which Hope understood. But as the couple went off over the common hand in hand, someone said they wondered if they’d be wetting a baby’s head next June.
    ‘Silas only had to sneeze and I was in the family way,’ Meg said, laughing her head off. ‘I just hope Nell doesn’t take after me, or she ties a knot in Albert’s John Thomas.’
    There was more talk along these lines later among the women, and Hope listened to it all carefully. One said she thought Albert was a cold fish, and there were several voices raised in agreement, including her mother’s. Even Ruth said she’d seen more passion in a rice pudding than in him, and she pointed out Matt who was dreamily dancing cheek to cheek with Amy and said