brave to come and sit with her and his mates were probably all laughing at him.
‘Tell me, then,’ she said more gently. ‘What did you think?’
‘I wondered as you’re so close to Yul if you might kind of … ask him for me? Or at least see if you think he’d listen if I asked? He’s so brilliant, such a fantastic rider and if he’d just take me out and—’
Leveret felt another rush of compassion. Poor kid – she needed to put him straight about his half-brother.
‘Rufus, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can help you. You’ve got the wrong idea about me and Yul. He never usually speaks to me at all and I was only in his office this morning to be told off.’
‘But you’re so close to him! I’ve seen you loads of times. I remember the day when he came on his horse – that beautiful Nightwing – to collect you from Nursery and he sat you up on the saddle in front of him and you galloped away together across the Village Green. And him giving you piggy-backs up to the Stone Circle for the ceremonies, and when he took you home from school that time you were sick all over the floor. And on the beach in the summer, you used to hold onto his neck when he swam out to the rock, and—’
Leveret felt a lump in her throat as his words spilled out. Poor Rufus; she’d never realised. It’d never occurred to her how Rufus must’ve felt watching her as a little girl with her wonderful big brother, who was also his big brother. She doubted it’d ever occurred to Yul either. She couldn’t actually recall one incident when she’d seen him even talk to the little boy, let alone make him feel special.
‘Oh Rufus! It’s true, Yul was lovely when I was young, before he went away to university and then came back and was hand-fasted. He was lovely and I adored him. But … but he’s not like that anymore. He’s horrible, really awful. He’s just been shouting at me in his office and I actually thought he was going to hit me!’
Rufus looked doubtful at this.
‘No, really! He grabbed me and his face was red and he was shaking with fury. He’s not a nice person anymore and really, you’re far better off without him. I’d steer well clear of him and not ask him about riding. He’ll just drop you when other people muscle in and he gets bored with you, and then …’
She couldn’t go on. Rufus stared at her, trying to gauge her expression under the curtain of black curls.
‘Leveret? Are you okay?’
She shook her head, keeping her face down.
‘Well … thanks for warning me. I might still ask him if I get a chance, but I won’t expect too much. Sorry if I’ve upset you.’
Rufus got up in embarrassment, taking his half-eaten lunch away. He’d never intended to make anyone cry.
9
Squatting alone at the end of a muddy lane, on the very edge of the Village, was a desolate cottage. It seemed to slither into the surrounding brambles and briars, the filthy, cracked windowpanes staring out like dead eyes. The front garden was untended and choked with tall weeds and inside was no better. The sitting room was dark and squalid with unidentifiable piles of mess everywhere, all furred with greasy dust. A fire burned in the hearth but other than that it was a cheerless place. The furniture was similar to that in all the other cottages but it was all heavily worn and soiled. Unlike Maizie’s scrubbed table and well-stocked dresser, the table was littered with stale scraps of food and mounds of dirty crockery. Acrid smoke from three pipes hung heavily in the air. Clustered around the fire on battered rocking chairs sat three women, two elderly sisters and one enormous, slack-bodied daughter, all drinking tea and smoking, engaged in desultory conversation.
Violet and Vetchling were wrapped in dirty shawls, their feet clad in ancient boots, whiskery faces lined and grimy. They were an unfetching pair, their faces permanently creased in expressions of dissatisfaction. Vetchling’s daughter, Starling, was little better. Long, greasy hair hung down her back, which was slabbed with fat. Her face could’ve been quite pretty – and once it had been – but her belligerent scowl and dark-stained teeth put paid to that. She drew deeply on the clay pipe and toasted her great rolls of stomach and side-sagging