Free Children of the Tide by Valerie Wood

behalf and that of the child’s. Provision will be made, Aunt Ellen. We were wrong to let Sammi take him, I realize now, but she was so taken with him that it seemed the obvious answer at the time.’
    She nodded, pacified for the moment, and put down her cup and saucer. ‘I’ll wait to hear from you then, Gilbert. You or your father.’ She looked at him frankly. ‘I trust that you will make the right decision and soon.’
    He escorted her down to where Johnson was waiting in the yard, puffing on a smouldering wet pipe as he sat on a mounting stool.
    ‘Ready then, ma-am?’ Johnson stood up and knocked out the pipe. ‘We’d best be off then. ’Master worries if you’re late. He allus thinks I’ve turned this cumbrous old carriage over and you’re lying dead ina ditch.’ He flicked an imaginary speck from his frock-coat and adjusted his top hat. He gave her a small bow and extended his hand to help her in.
    ‘Good-bye, Gilbert.’ She leaned from the carriage window. ‘Tell Billy I’ll see him soon.’
    Gilbert almost collided with Billy as he turned to run up the stairs.
    ‘Oh! Has my mother gone already?’
    ‘Yes,’ Gilbert answered shortly.
    Billy watched the carriage pull out of the yard and lifted his hand in a wave. ‘I say, Gilbert—’
    ‘Not now, Billy.’ Gilbert took the stairs two at a time. ‘Can it keep?’ He closed the door behind him without waiting for an answer, and turned the key. He stood for a moment leaning against the door and stared unseeing, his mind only dwelling on the face of a girl, a girl with a cloud of dark hair who had shared her love with him for such a brief time, and who had died giving birth to his son.
His
son, whose tiny hand he had held. His son whom he had denied. He sat down at his father’s desk and looked up at the portrait of his grandfather. He seemed to gaze down, admonishing him. Gilbert clenched his fist and banged on the desk. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean this to happen.’
    Tears gathered in his eyes and a lump came into his throat. He put his head in his hands and started to weep.

5
    When James had delivered Sammi and the child safely into Johnson’s care, he’d crossed the High Street and entered The Black Boy Inn. He’d ordered a meat pie and a small glass of ale and contemplated what he should do next. Sammi had suggested that he should go to see his former drawing master and, on reflection, that seemed to be the only recourse. He didn’t want to go home and face his parents, particularly his mother, and although he wasn’t too perturbed about Anne’s opinion of his behaviour, he didn’t want to be in the house if there was any kind of hostile atmosphere.
    The landlord brought his food and ale and placed it on the table in front of him. The aroma rose from the crust and he licked his lips. He had the normal appetite of a young male and now that the immediate problem had been driven away with Sammi, he felt quite hungry. He enjoyed the pie, mopping up the gravy with a chunk of bread, drank to the bottom of the glass and scribbled a note to Gilbert, explaining that he was going to York and why. Crossing the High Street once more, he gave the letter to one of the clerks in the office.
    He pulled out his pocket watch and immediately broke into a run. He was familiar with the coaches to York and realized that he had just time to catch the two o’clock diligence before it moved off. James had often wished that the railway companies would make up their minds about a direct line to York, rather than having to take the route via Selby and changing trains at Milford Junction to get there.
    For the moment, the regular coach service was the most efficient and reliable, and for several years as he’d travelled the journey to and from his school, he’d watched with his artistic eye the changing vista from the flatlands of Hull through to the gently rolling meadows which skirted the foothills of the Wolds.
    In the summer months, the fields of