Free Spilt Milk by Amanda Hodgkinson Page A

frightened a herd of cattle being driven through the thoroughfare and they began to barge and push each other, knocking into the piled baskets of fish on the quay, spilling more of them. Children and stray dogs came out of alleys and mossy passageways just as fast as the seabirds descended. Men and women, too, fought for space among gulls and urchins, cramming fish into their pockets and shopping baskets. All around, the seagulls screamed and the fishermen yelled.
    Anna Moats heard the commotion as she limped out of the Jug and Bottle. She saw the fish thick on the ground, the gleaners bent to their task, policemen and a few soldiers running, and the cattle stampeding. She decided to get a fish for her supper. The cattle veered towards her. Anna pulled a toad’s bone from her bag and held it out. The cattle cantered past, not one of them touching her.
    It had once been common knowledge that Anna had something cunning about her. She had been proud of her reputation. If you wanted a neighbour’s cows to stop giving milk and their hens to stop laying, then Anna Moats was the woman to call on. She could help if you were the one whose cattle had been cursed or the butter kept curdling. A runaway herd of cows on the docks held no fear for her, and anyone who had known her as a young woman would not have been surprised to see the way the animals parted around her.
    She tried to grab a fish, but her gnarled fingers couldn’t hold on to it. The fish were everywhere, slick and bright and smelling of the sea. A pain in her hip took her breath away. She looked at the harbour waters and tried to step away from them,but the crowds pushed and shoved her. If the cattle had been afraid of her, the people were not. Anna was old in her bones. She was too often seen drinking to be taken seriously. A man bowled past her and nearly knocked her flying into the water.
    By now, more people were coming to gather fish. The butcher himself had heard the commotion and brought a basket to fill. Rumsby’s mother complained about the smell of fish guts in the air. Nellie told her to hold her handkerchief tighter over her nose. The old woman coughed and spluttered and said she wished she were back in her own home again.
    ‘Shut up, will you?’ snarled Rumsby. ‘You smell worse than a load of fish yourself.’
    Nellie carried the basket into the crowds. The cattle had been driven off towards the market square, but people were still on their hands and knees on the quay, pulling fish from pools of cow shit. There was an old woman far too close to the water’s edge.
    ‘Be careful,’ called Nellie. When she got close, she realized she knew her.
    ‘Mrs Moats?’ she said, taking her arm. ‘It’s me. Nellie Marsh. Come away from the edge.’
    ‘Nellie Marsh?’ said Anna. ‘What’re you doing here? Your sister said you was visiting relatives. Let me look at you. You came to me years ago and I cured you. Didn’t I?’
    Nellie said she had.
    ‘People like you believe in what I do. These days all anybody wants is motor cars and machines. Men and women are slaves to ’em. They don’t care, do they? They have their picture houses and trips to the seaside and the old ways are being lost. If I had book learning I might have written books so nobody could forget how things were. I know just as much as doctors, and probably a damn sight more. I might not be able to read words, but I can read a face.’
    Anna pointed a finger at Rumsby. ‘That one, for example. I canread his face all right. He thinks he owns you. You should stay away from that man. He’s got blood on his hands.’
    ‘Pig’s blood, Anna. He’s a pork butcher.’
    ‘Not how I see it. You’ll have no life with that one, I assure you. Get away as quick as you can.’
    ‘I’ve nowhere to go,’ said Nellie.
    ‘Nowhere to go? But of course you do. You come on home with me.’
    Nellie glanced at Rumsby and his mother. They looked back expectantly, like large birds waiting to be