The Fleethaven Trilogy (115 page)

‘Look, Grandpa, look what they gave me at school.’

She laid the box and the board on the kitchen table and
opened it up. ‘I was allowed to choose a toy, Grandpa, and
I picked this because you lost yours.’

Her grandparents exchanged a look and her grandpa
laid his hand on her curls. ‘Now, wasn’t that kind of
people to send things.’

Esther murmured, ‘They say all sorts of things have
been sent to folks further up the coast who’ve lost everything.
Food, clothes, toys – even furniture.’

Jonathan’s deep voice said, ‘There are some good people
in the world trying to do what they can to help out in a
tragedy.’

The symbol of a stranger’s kindness lay on the table, a
thoughtful gesture to ease the pain of the child’s loss.

But nothing and no one could bring back her beloved
mother.

‘Kill a pig? Why? We’ve only got one now . . .’ Ella’s eyes
widened in horror, a suspicion growing suddenly. ‘You
don’t mean – oh, you can’t mean –
Lady
?’

‘We have to eat, Missy,’ Esther said with exasperation.

‘But you can’t, I mean, not Lady. You saved her – took
her into the house. You can’t mean it!’

Since giving over her bedroom to Lady at the time of
the flood, Ella had become quite fond of the huge bristly
pink sow and she could not understand how her grandmother
could treat an animal with such concern one
moment and be planning to kill it the next. Why, Ella had
seen her tickling the sow behind her ears and scratching
her back, the animal snuffling pleasurably.

‘How can you—?’

‘Don’t be so silly,’ Esther cut in impatiently. ‘That’s
what farming’s all about.’

‘Come with me, Ella.’ Her grandpa took hold of her
hand and was leading her towards the line of buildings to
one side of the farmyard.

‘Where are we going?’

‘To see Lady.’

‘No!’ she said vehemently, but he held her hand firmly,
though gently, not allowing her to pull free.

‘I want to talk to you.’

‘Well, I don’t want to listen. I won’t listen.’

‘Now, now, that’s not like my little girl.’

Ella pouted but said no more.

They came to the sty and Ella, standing on tiptoe, could
just see into the dim interior. Jonathan leant his arms on
the half-open door. ‘Now then, old girl,’ he said softly to
the sow, who came waddling to the door, snuffling and
grunting, and stood looking up at them with bright, beady
eyes.

‘It’s time you understood farming ways, Ella. I know
you’ve been brought up in a town . . .’ As Ella opened her
mouth to protest, her grandpa raised his hand to silence
her. ‘It’s not your fault. I’m not criticizing you. After all, I
was born and brought up in Lincoln too.’

She looked up at him. ‘Were you? I didn’t know.’

He nodded. ‘I worked in an engineering works building
traction engines. Farming’s been your grannie’s whole life,
and mine, since I married her. But it took me a long time
to learn country ways. We care for our livestock. We’d
never willingly cause them suffering, but they’re raised for
a purpose. To provide food for us and for others. We grow
crops, we keep cattle for milk or for their meat and we
raise pigs either to sell on or to kill for ourselves.’

Ella could not prevent her lower lip from trembling,
‘But, Grandpa – Lady!’

‘I know, and don’t think we don’t care. We both do.
She’s a lovely old sow and we’ve had her a long time. She’s
given us lots of fine, healthy young piglets, over the years,
but she’s past her best for breeding now, so . . .’ Jonathan
sighed. ‘I’m sorry, love. But you’re old enough now to start
to understand. The flood’s hit us hard. The land that was
under water, the authorities have advised us not to touch
it for at least a year else they say we’re in danger of ruining
it for ten years or maybe even longer. So, all that land has
just got to be left doing nothing until the salt’s gone. The
trees in the orchard, we’ll lose most of them, I reckon,
when the salt gets down to the deep roots and you know
we lost the other two pigs we had?’

Ella nodded. They had been found floating in the sty,
too small to keep their heads above the water like Lady.

‘Well, two of the cows have got mastitis, that’s a disease
of the udders, through standing in that perishing water.
And the other four, well, their milk yield’s dropped.’

Ella stared at her grandfather, struggling with an inner
conflict. He was treating her like a grown-up, trying
patiently to explain the situation to her. The girl grappled
with her tender instincts, trying to force her reasoning –
her grandfather’s sound reasoning – to triumph.

The following morning at breakfast, Esther said, ‘We really
must get this pig killed and put away, Jonathan. There’s
not many months left with an R in.’

Ella swallowed the sick, nervous feeling rising in her
throat and tried to stop the spoonful of porridge, suspended
in mid-air, trembling. She stared from one to the
other, puzzlement on her face. A small smile was twitching
at the corner of her grandpa’s mouth.

‘And dun’t you laugh at me.’ Esther was wagging her
forefinger at him, but there was a twinkle in her green eyes.
‘We should have got it done afore Christmas, but – well –
we didn’t, what with me dad and then . . .’ The sparkle
was gone as she remembered. Esther cleared her throat and
added firmly, ‘Well, we didn’t and that’s that.’ She turned
and bustled into the pantry to fetch more fresh milk. Ella
leaned forward and whispered, ‘Grandpa, what’s she mean
about an R in the month?’

Jonathan glanced at the pantry door and leaned towards
her, his voice scarcely above a whisper. ‘It’s an old
superstition that if you kill a pig in a month when there’s
no R in the spelling, the meat won’t keep.’

‘And doesn’t it?’ she asked reasonably.

‘Oho, I wouldn’t dare risk it to find out, love.’ He was
still chuckling as he levered himself up and moved towards
the door from the kitchen into the scullery. Reaching up to
the peg behind the door he pulled on his scarf and cap.
Then he winked at Ella. ‘But seeing as how we’re into
March already, we’d better get a move on.’ He raised his
voice and called to Esther, ‘I’ll go and ask Danny if he can
come and help us, shall I?’

Esther appeared in the pantry doorway, carrying a large
jug of milk. ‘Please. He’s the best man I know hereabouts
for the killing. Quick and clean . . .’ Her gaze came to rest
upon Ella and she added, quietly, ‘We try to be as humane
as we can. I would never let any animal suffer unnecessarily,
if I could help it.’

The girl returned her grandmother’s steady gaze and
knew she was speaking the truth. Although she sighed
inwardly, slowly the girl nodded, accepting the inevitable.
She nodded and mumbled, ‘Grandpa explained it all to
me.’

Esther’s eyes widened and her gaze went from one to
the other. ‘Oh.’

Jonathan smiled and nodded. ‘We went to have a look
at Lady and had a little chat, didn’t we, love?’

Ella nodded.

‘And do you understand now?’

The girl gave the question serious, almost adult, consideration.
‘I understand why, Gran, but I still don’t like
it.’

Her grandmother nodded. ‘Well, that’s a fair and sensible
answer. Don’t run away with the idea I enjoy it, ’cos
I don’t, but, well, it’s the way it has to be.’ More briskly
she added, ‘And I’ll be needing your help, Missy,’ Esther
said, placing the jug on the table and sitting down to her
own breakfast.

Ella’s eyes widened and her grandmother laughed. ‘Oh,
it’s all right, you needn’t watch the killing if you’re
squeamish.’

Needled, the girl stuck out her chin and said defiantly,
‘I’m not. I’ll be there.’ As she dropped her glance to her
bowl and resumed her meal, Ella was conscious of her
grandmother’s amused smile.

I’ll show her, the girl thought.

But Lady’s squealing almost broke Ella’s resolve and it was
only the thought of how foolish she would look in front of
them all, her grandparents, Uncle Danny and Rob too, if
she turned and ran away. So she stood, holding her breath,
as Danny went into the sty. Through the open door she
saw him stand behind the sow and place a rope in its
mouth, twitching it up tightly round the pig’s nose. Then
he drove the animal out of the sty and towards a hook in
the wall near the wash-house. Looping the end of the rope
round the hook, he pulled it tight. It was then that Lady
let out such a high-pitched squeal that Ella jumped and bit
her lip to stop herself crying out too. Her grandmother,
standing just behind her, rested her hands on the girl’s
shoulders.

Ella saw Danny, holding a tool like a gun in his hand,
glance at her and then look up at her grandmother. Above
the squealing he shouted, ‘Hadn’t Ella better go?’ but from
behind her, Esther shouted back, ‘No, she’ll have to learn.’

He gave a slight shrug and turned his attention back to
the job in hand.

‘Right, hold her . . .’ Danny said and he held the
humane killer close to the sow’s forehead. There was a
noise and the pig slumped sideways to the ground and was
silent. Grandpa Godfrey and Rob held the limbs still and
the long, sharp knife flashed in Danny’s hand. Ella held
her breath, her body rigid. The knife slid deeply into the
soft folds of flesh between the sow’s front legs and was
drawn quickly upwards to her chin. Ella shut her eyes,
screwing up her face.

Now all she could hear was scuffling as the men and the
boy struggled with the awkward thirty-stone lump. Ella
risked opening one eye, squinting fearfully. ‘Is – is she
dead, Gran?’ she whispered.

‘Yes. I told you Danny was quick, didn’t I now?’

Ella nodded, her gaze held by the sight of the blood
pouring from the slit in the animal’s throat. Her grandfather
was working the front leg to pump the blood out.
Then they heaved the pig into a large rectangular wooden
tub.

Ella pointed. ‘Why’ve they left that long chain in the
bottom of the tub under the pig?’

‘They use that to slough all the bristles off. You’ll see in
a minute,’ Esther said.

Now Danny was lifting buckets full of near-boiling
water from the copper in the wash-house and pouring it
over the carcass. Standing one on either side of the tub,
Danny and Jonathan each picked up one end of the chain
and worked it backwards and forwards under the pig,
gradually moving it along. Ella watched as they turned the
carcass over and repeated the action. Jonathan bent down
and, with a metal scraper, began to clean all the bristles
from the pig’s skin. Then together, he and Danny lifted it
on to the cratch, a low wooden bench with barrow-like
handles at each end, and swilled water over the carcass.
With sharp knives they shaved off all the remaining
whiskers even on her tail and inside her ears.

Ella winced as she watched Danny cut off the head, but
to her surprise, once that was done, she found she ceased
to think of the pig as Lady and was now fascinated by all
that was happening.

Danny put a stretcher between the back legs to hold
them wide open and hoisted the whole carcass up by its
back legs onto a tripod of poles, just clear of the cratch
beneath. He slit open the pig’s belly and all the insides, red
and slimy, came tumbling out, but instead of throwing
them away, he placed them carefully into huge brown
pancheons which her grandmother had carried out from
the pantry.

‘You can help me with all that later,’ Esther said, close
by her ear. ‘I’ll show you how to clean and turn some of
the intestines to make sausage skins.’

The two men and Rob were hoisting the pig even higher
and stretching the gaping slit wider open.

‘Right, Missus. We’ll leave her like that for now but I’ll
be back tonight. Can I give you a hand to carry this lot
into the pantry?’

‘No, Danny, we’ll manage for a while now, thanks. I’ll
get you a beer afore you go.’

Danny’s mouth widened in a smile. ‘Home-made,
Missus?’

‘Of course.’ Esther smiled back, pretending to bristle
with indignation that he should suggest that she would
offer him anything else but her own home-brew. Ella saw
her grandmother wink at Rob. ‘And a little drop for you,
eh, Boy? If ya do a man’s work, ya deserve a man’s
reward.’

And Rob’s grin seemed to stretch right across his thin
face.

‘Do you use all that?’ Ella watched as the pancheons
were carried carefully into the pantry and set on the red
tiled gantry.

‘Every bit.’ Her grandmother laughed. ‘We always say
we use everything but the squeal.’

‘What’s Uncle Danny coming back tonight for?’

‘To cut the carcass up, once it’s cooled, into hams and
flitches. Then he’ll put it all in that big tub again with salt
and we leave it in the little barn for about a month to cure.’

‘Won’t the rats and mice eat it?’

‘Not if your little cat does his job.’

Ella’s eyes widened and she stared at Esther, who
laughed and said, ‘I’m only teasing. He’s not really big
enough yet. No, we’ll cover it over with a wire-meshed
frame.’

Ella nodded, relieved that poor little Tibby would not
be expected to stand guard.

‘Can I watch Uncle Danny tonight?’

‘My, my, we are changing our tune.’

The girl shrugged. ‘It wasn’t as bad as I thought except
just the bit where Uncle Danny – did it.’

‘Maybe you’ve more farming in your blood than you
know, Missy.’

Ella looked up at her grandmother, half expecting, half
hoping to see, for once, her grandmother smiling down at
her. But Esther was turning away. ‘Well, I can’t stand here
idling all day, there’s work to be done and a lot of it over
the next couple of days. I’d best be gettin’ a move on.
Rosie’ll come over tomorrow to give us a hand. Come on,
Missy, there’s plenty for you to do an’ all. Get yarsen an
apron out of that drawer and—’