Free Smuggler's Kiss by Marie-Louise Jensen Page B

her mother is dead and her father drinks. And even when he can get work, the doctor costs a week’s wages,’ said Will.
    I didn’t reply. It seemed unfair to be sure, that they couldn’t afford a doctor. ‘But they are so dirty!’ I said. ‘Why do they not clean up and wash and put on fresh clothes at least?’
    Will shook his head at me. ‘Washing requires clean water nearby,’ he said. ‘Clean clothes means having some to spare. And someone having time and energy left over from working a twelve-hour day and caring for small children to do the washing. And money for soap. Decent housing would help too.’
    ‘Well, I would never allow myself to become so … degraded,’ I said with a sniff.
    ‘Perhaps you would not. You’ve known something different, after all,’ said Will. ‘But what if you had ten children, three died, the rest ran wild and had no chance of education? How would they fare?’
    ‘I would teach them,’ I said, but though I kept arguing from force of habit, clinging to my beliefs, my voice had lost its conviction. I began to have some insight into how hopeless one might become in such a situation.
    ‘I’d like to see you find the time for that, let alone the money for the materials. And even if you did, what of their children? Your daughter marries a man who beats her and drinks the money. She’s surrounded by dirt and work and want. She isn’t well. How long would this superiority last, Isabelle? In two generations, you and yours would become those people. There’s no difference. Don’t think that you are something better. Besides, take a look at yourself! Two days on the road and you are as dirty as them, and smell very nearly as bad.’
    His words shocked me. I took a cautious sniff at my clothes and could smell sweat, manure from the midden, and slime from the marsh we’d skirted. I thought of the little urchin Jess, her dark eyes so clear sighted. The way her hand had slid trustingly into mine. And I did something I’d never done before. I imagined what it must be like to live someone else’s life. It wasn’t a pleasant reverie. Could Will be right? Was there really no difference between me and the people in the cottages?
    ‘How did you get to know them?’ I asked Will as he strode out across the turf.
    ‘It’s a long story.’ Will’s voice was curt and dismissive.
    ‘I couldn’t have asked for a more charming companion,’ I remarked bitterly.
    Will turned on me and gripped my wrist. I bit my lip as his hand tightened uncomfortably. ‘You can talk,’ he said. ‘We saved your life and all you’ve told us about yourself is lies. We’ve given you food and shelter and risked our safety for you, and have had precious little in return. So before you criticize me, take a look at your own behaviour.’
    He released me abruptly and strode off into the darkness. I stumbled wearily after him. We walked quietly through the next settlement; a poor place but cleaner than the last. It was late now and the houses were all in darkness. Will paused at one cottage, pushed open the gate and then hesitated, turning back to me. ‘Wait here,’ he said.
    He walked to the front door, and taking a key from around his neck, he unlocked it. He stepped inside the house, leaving the door ajar behind him, and I saw him lay several things on the table, though I couldn’t see what. He was just emerging from the door again, when small hands grasped his coat and tugged. He turned back and I saw him bend down to embrace a small child, kissing her on each cheek.
    ‘I can’t stay,’ I heard him say. ‘I’m so sorry! But you should be asleep, Beth. You can look at the parcels in the morning.’
    He stepped outside, pulled the door to behind him and walked back to me without a word. As we left, I glanced up at the window and saw a child’s face pressed against the dark glass of a window in the upper storey. ‘Who is that?’ I asked Will.
    ‘You don’t need to know,’ he said sharply,