Free The Arrival of Missives by Aliya Whiteley Page B

this was a task only you could undertake, and now you know why. You must make him love you, and you must bind him to you, before he becomes the instigator of destruction on a scale you cannot possibly imagine.
    I ask so much of you. Perhaps this task is why you were born, have you thought of that? I have seen the patterns of time spread–
    'What're you reading?'
    I look up into Daniel Redmore's eyes, and then I fold up the letter and slide it into my apron pocket. 'None of your business,' I tell him. 'Help me up.' I hold out my hand and he takes it and pulls me into his arms, pretending to be cheeky and charming while all the time I know this is only a pretence to get to my letter.
    'I think you are my business, miss.' His arms are around me, and I like it. It is as if we are playing house, as we did when we were little. I could imagine us married, and this is how we are with each other every day, because that is what couples do. It is a game, but a good one. If only he wasn't so jealous. I know he suspects it is a letter from Mr Tiller.
    'I agreed to be your business on May Day, and that is still over a week away. Now let me go; it's nearly time for the bell to ring.'
    'Not yet…' he says. 'Tell me who's writing to you. You're my girl.' He sounds breathless, a little scared, as if he can't quite believe what he is doing. How could he be responsible for anything terrible, let alone the end of humanity?
    I could kiss him, and he would soon forget the letter. But I do not want to kiss him in order to protect Mr Tiller, or at his bidding. The nerve of a schoolmaster to ask a pupil to – take up with another pupil, to even go so far as to defy the laws of the church… He is mad, and I should show his letters to Reverend Mountcastle.
    But even as I think it, I know I won't do that. I will do things my own way.
    'Shirley?' says Daniel. I hear his breathing, so fast, and his strong arms are around me still. We are frozen in the moment. He is my ally, and we both must live by rules set by our fathers, teachers, vicars. Well, no more.
    'Listen,' I say. 'I have a meeting arranged for the training college in Taunton, to become a teacher. My father has forbidden me from going.'
    'So the letter is from Taunton?'
    I nod. Let him think so.
    'You should go,' he says. 'I'll take my father's cart. We'll miss school. I'll take you there myself.'
    'You are a gentleman,' I tell him, and his smile is so broad and becoming that I stand up on my tiptoes and kiss him anyway, just for myself. His mouth is harder than I expected and his lips dry; he is rigid with surprise. Then the bell rings, and he lets go of me. I run around the corner of the shed to see Mr Tiller standing there, holding the bell.
    He looks upon me, and I can tell the exact moment that he sees Daniel emerging behind me. Mr Tiller's expression is a curious one. Does he approve, or disapprove? I don't think he knows himself.
    That's how I know, as I make my way past him, that he is no rock. Not all the way through. Not yet.
    *
    My parents, knowing that we have reached the date of the meeting in Taunton, watch me over breakfast with intensity, but we do not speak of it. I am so meek and mild with my newfound ability to dissemble that I give them no reason to be mistrustful. If I place a foot wrong my father would lock me in my bedroom today, but he cannot play that role unless I give him cause.
    I see now that this is a lesson all women must learn, and my mother is an adept. I had never noticed her performance before. She handles my father with her downcast eyes and serene expression. She skips over the obstacles he lays for her with deceptive ease, so when he complains about the stale bread she takes it away and presents a fresh loaf without a word. When he asks why she is silent, she says cheerfully of how she was just thinking of a funny thing Mrs Barbery said to her in the village, and relates a piece of tattle with such charm that my father forgets that he was looking for a