The Blackberry Pickers

By Louise James

Set at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, this is the story of the orphaned Penry children, forced to flee from the cruel and unjust employment in north west Devon.

Janet, the resourceful older daughter, takes charge of Amy and Tom, hiding them from their pursuers, and tending the injuries they have sustained from beatings and abuse. Janet heads for Cornwall, but is slowed by the pain and fever suffered by Tom from a dog bite in his leg. Amy too is suffering from a recent beating. They follow the Northern Coastal path but soon find themselves in danger from footpads who seek money, food and other diversions..... At the end of their endurance they are later rescued by a woman named Meg, who lives alone in an isolated cottage. She restores them to health, and finds them occupation with a distant relative who lives near Tavistock in Devon.

They never reach their new home, however, because Jake, the pedlar who is taking them on his cart, stops to camp for the night and while the children are bathing in a nearby brook, is robbed and murdered. Terrified the three are once more on the run. Janet has lost the directions of where they were going. They are lost with nowhere to go. Janet sets her mind again on Cornwall, and after several days of hard walking they arrive at the small village of Indian Queens. Exhausted they stumble on a group of derelict houses deep in woodland.

Travelsick and weary they settle in a cottage which is in reasonable repair. It is late summer and Janet gets them all blackberry picking for pies which she sells at the local inn.
Later she makes more pies and cakes which she sells at St Austell market.

Tom finds work with the charcoal burners, and a degree of security is achieved. Amy, however, always difficult causes more trouble by becoming pregnant by one of the charcoal burners, although only fifteen she is pushed into a hurried marriage.

Janet falls in love with Geoffrey, younger son of the Hall, but when he proposes she become his mistress, while he marries another aristocrat, she rebuffs him. Amy has returned to the cottage because her mother-in-law is cruel. She later gives birth to a baby boy.

Janet takes on a small shop in St Austell to sell her cakes and pies, but encounters several serious problems until she meets Madselin who becomes her friend and partner and they become successful. Janet meets Matthew, a handsome young vet who falls in love with her and helps with her business, but he has secrets of his own and it takes a nasty accident for Janet to know where her true feelings lie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481789462

Louise James

Louise June James was born in the county of Staines Middlesex in October 1938 to middle aged parents who had already raised a family eighteen years before. The family moved to a cottage in the welsh hills during the war. Louise was educated at St. Michael’s Convent in Abergavenny. Writing since the age of twelve for a monthly Herb Magazine with small articles and poems. Louise’s childhood in a remote rural area stimulated a great imagination while living and playing in the countryside, developed a deep love of nature. When a teenage marriage failed she worked at several jobs in export and despatch offices. Her hobbies at that time were breeding and showing German Shepherd dogs, reading and painting. She married again in 1964, farming with her husband in the Black Mountains. Louise had three sons from this marriage and wrote her first book(not published) The marriage failed in 1980 she raised her teenaged sons unaided, managed a pub for four years then taking a course in Management Extension for the hotel trade. At this time her interest returned to writing poetry for pleasure and studying Astrology and the supernatural. Louise married Bryan James in 1989. His struggle to overcome the effects of a brain haemorrhage moved her to write a book for all who have come close to death or suffer some form of disability thus producing A rough kind of magic although it received favourable comments it was not published. Bryan and Louise moved to Sussex in 1990 where Louise worked in the book department at W.H.Smith where she was inspired to write The Blackberry Pickers in her spare time . Before it was completed Bryan was taken ill with M.E. and had to give up his job as farm manager. They moved back to Hereford where Louise has been able to continue writing and publishing several poems and her three books.

Book preview

Chapter 1

As Janet reached the orchard gate, she heard the scream; dropping her basket of wet sheets, she raced for the house. As she entered the kitchen Mrs. Bates caught her arm.

Don’t ee go up them stairs, girl. Don’t ee interfere else yer’ll get what for as well.

Let me go, Cook. She’s got Amy, she’s killing her.

Janet pushed past her running up the back stairs and through the green baize door which separated the servants quarters from the main house. Cook turned on Ellie the kitchen skivy who had dropped her tray of cutlery on hearing the screams. Get on with yer work Ellie. Don’t stand there gawping. Pick them spoons up or we’ll all be in trouble. Old Grey’s got her rag out alright, there’ll be all ’ell ter pay afore the day’s out. You mark my words.

Mrs. Bates turned back to the table thumping her dough with unwonted vigour, while Ellie trembled so much she could barely pick up the spoons.

As Janet pushed past her heading for the stairs Mrs. Bates returned to her baking. Turning the corner, she came upon the housekeeper, red in the face, sparse ginger hair falling in long wisps about her face and shoulders, apron torn, blouse straining at the seams as she dragged a screaming girl of not more than thirteen across the landing by her long hair, all the while beating her with a small riding crop. Totally out of control, she lashed at the girl’s body, each lash raising weals on the tender young skin. Even as Janet appeared on the scene, blood began oozing on Amy’s legs and arms. The child screamed again as her hands clutched helplessly at the woman’s skirts, trying in vain to pull herself to her feet to remove the dreadful grip on her hair.

Janet sprang forward, wrestling the whip from the housekeeper’s hand, taking her more by surprise than strength as Mrs. Grey was a big woman and Janet only slight.

Leave her alone. Let her go, you bully. She shrieked, shaking with rage and fear. She could see her sister fainting under the savage attack, her small face white as chalk, the livid marks visible even through her thin dress.

Hoe dare you? Mrs. Grey panted. Give me that whip at once. This one deserves a thrashing and you too for your impudence, Missie. It’s locked in her room she’ll be until the constable comes, he’s already been sent for. The Master’s due back soon. They’ll see you two put away for sure.

Let her go. Janet raised the whip as Mrs. Grey yanked against Amy’s hair almost lifting her from the ground where she had collapsed. You just dare, see where you’ll land up.

The hard grey eyes narrowed as once more she yanked at Amy’s hair. Janet barely hesitated before bringing down the whip with all her might on the woman’s hand. With a scream of pain Mrs Grey let go of the girl and snatched her hand to her breast where the blood stained her blouse.

You trollop she spat. You’ll be locked up for this. I’ll see to it.

In spite of her injury she lunged for Janet but she was not match for the sixteen year old girl. Light on her feet, crazy with anger, Janet whirled around and around the older woman, raining blows wherever she could with a savage glee until the whip was suddenly snatched from her hand. Spinning around, panting, her eyes blazing, she saw George, the under footman who throwing down the whip caught Janet and held her firmly. Mr. Trescombe, the portly butler puffed his way down the corridor closely followed by the head footman and a rush of chambermaids and housemaids with Nanny Tallis, bringing up the rear as fast as her rheumaticy knees would allow. Mr. Trescombe came to a stop alongside trying to regain his dignity as well as his breath.

What the devil is going on here, Mrs. Grey? he demanded when he could speak.

"Janet pulled away from George, falling to her knees beside her sister.

Please help, Mr. Trescombe. I’m sure she has stopped breathing. Mr. Tresombe stooped to feel Amy’s pulse. Although a kindly man, he had a great sense of his own importance and position. He sensed here things going out of his hands and this must not be allowed to happen. He quickly took charge.

Nonsense she has merely fainted. George carry her to her room, let her sister go with her and lock the door until the constable comes. She certainly deserves a whipping not I may add to such a degree, Mrs. Grey, you have certainly been too heavy handed this time. I don’t know what his Lordship will say but her Ladyship will be upset. You all know what a soft heart she has; though perhaps not over soft this time.

But what is Amy supposed to have done? Janet tried to pull away from the head footman James’s hand on her arm. She felt sick suddenly as she watched George carrying Amy up the attic stairs.

Pinching her Ladyship’s jewels, that’s what. I caught her in her room with her hand in the chest. Shrieked Mrs Grey who now looked considerably like fainting herself.

She wouldn’t do any such thing. You are making it up. Janet felt ready to fly at the woman again. Her heart began to pound and her head ache. What had Amy done? This couldn’t be true but something had happened although Mrs. Grey was known to have a cruel streak with young members of staff. What would happen to her Amy now?

It’s not true. Fear made Janet’s voice tremble.

That’s enough. Interrupted Mr. Trescombe looking at his watch. Time enough to talk when the constable gets here. I can’t begin to imagine how the girl came to be in her Ladyship’s room, Nanny, when she was supposed to be in the nursery. No don’t tell me now. I’ll see you later. Back to work all of you. The fuss is over.

His position restored, Mr. Trescombe drove his minions before him and descended the stairs.

James hurried Janet up to the attic bedroom she shared with Amy. George had just laid Amy on the bed where she moaned faintly. James frowned. That Mrs Grey is a cruel woman, any excuse to chastise the younger staff, but she has gone too far this time. I’ll send Ellie up with some hot water and a cup of tea for you both. Come away now George. This is not our affair.

George showed a marked tendency to linger but reluctantly left after a few moments. The key turned in the lock.

James, true to his word, sent Ellie up a while later with a jug of hot water. George behind her with two cups of tea. Ellie, placing the jug on the washstand, averting her eyes from the figure on the bed, hurried out again.

Jan looked at George with surprise. Although they had walked out once or twice, in the early nineties, for an under footman to be in a maid’s bedroom was to risk his position, as George, who had worked hard to get from boot boy to footman, well knew.

How is she? he whispered. Look I can’t stop but I had to warn you; you are in big trouble. I don’t know what Amy has been up to but I like you Jan and I thought I had better tell you that unless you get out of here, you’ll be sent to the loony bin on Bodmin and Amy will be taken God knows where. I heard Mr. Trescombe talking to Mrs. Grey. Nanny is dressing her hand, but I think she deserved all she got the old witch, but she’s fired up and Trescombe is a funny old fart when he has a mind. Beg your pardon, girls. When old Trescombe—Mr. Trescombe, I mean, gets to his Lordship; he’ll put it right for ’isself and Mrs. Grey, don’t you fret.

What can I do George? Look at her, she’s hurt and we have no one to turn to. Where can we go?

I don’t know, but we better think of something quick. I must go.

Janet looked at him, handsome in a florid kind of way, his thick fair hair ruffled, blue eyes anxious. She felt a sharp pang that this particular relationship was most probably doomed. They had one thing in common; she too had worked hard to become head laundry maid from kitchen skivvy. When their mother died two years ago, she had brought Amy to Bratton Court. Taking her courage in both hands had asked to see Lady Trelacy instead of the housekeeper. This was most likely the origin of today’s trouble. Her Ladyship, a kind hearted woman, had agreed to take the pretty little Amy to help Nanny Tallis in the nursery with Master Henry and Baby Charles. A year later little Susanna had come along and Nanny had her hands full. Amy saved Nanny’s legs, running the errands, helping with the babies. Amy had been happy. Why, oh’ why had things gone wrong now? Mrs. Grey had been very put out when Amy had been taken on without herself being consulted but had dared not show her feelings when it had been her Ladyship’s wishes. This year the Trelacys had gone to stay with some friends who had come from Italy and taken a house in Kent where they had entertained friends and relatives. Leaving Mr. Trescombe and Mrs. Grey in charge of the household and Nanny with only Susanna to look after, the family had been away for two months. Mrs. Grey had seen her chance for revenge and taken it. As the family were due back this very evening the timing couldn’t have been better.

George was at the door, I must go, Jan. I just wish I could help.

Janet jumped off the high bed where she was holding Amy’s hand. You can, George, I’ve had an idea, though I don’t know if Amy’ll manage it. How long do you think we’ve got?

Well, Constable won’t come until he can see his Lordship and they won’t be back until six thirty. I heard Mr. Trescombe telling James that dinner was to be put back until eight o’clock. Yard clock has just struck five, so about two hours I’d say. What’ll you do?

Could you make sure the next attic window but one to us is open? If I can get Amy out into the gully that runs around the house, we could climb back into that room and take our chances down the back stairs while you are all preparing for the family. Mrs. Grey will be nursing her hand in her room. Nanny will be busy with Susanna as she hadn’t got Amy and the housemaids will have finished cleaning so we might get away with it.

I must go. Mr. Trescombe has already asked me for the key. I will do what I can but where will you go?

I can’t think. One step at a time, just to get away from here first.

As George locked the door, Amy awoke and began to cry.

Jan, my back hurts and my legs.

Hush, love. I’ll bathe them for you. Then you must be a brave girl because we have to get out of this house now.

I can’t, Jan. I can’t walk. Amy was sobbing rubbing grimy fists into her eyes like a small child.

You must we have to be out of her before the family gets back and the Constable comes or you will be sent away and God knows what they will do with me; looney bin most likely after old Grey has had her say. Come on, get these clothes on. I’ll help you. As she spoke Janet was hauling their old carpet bag out of the cupboard. Changing out of their uniforms and into their own clothes and their outdoor shoes seemed to take forever. Janet forced herself to be patient and gentle with her sister. But her fears were growing; suppose George hadn’t been able to open the other attic door? What if she couldn’t get Amy out of this window and into the next? If she could would they be lucky enough to get through the house and gardens without being noticed? Here Janet had to shut out her wild thoughts and concentrate on the first task of getting through the window and along the gully.

The manor was built four square with all the attic windows projecting from it’s roof over a deep gully which ran around the house carrying rainwater from the pointed turrets each end of the building. The windows themselves were narrow, but opened wide enough for a slender person to climb through. Here in the height of summer when the attic bedrooms were like ovens, the maids would climb through and sit in the gully to catch any evening breeze or the last of the sunshine which they hadn’t seen all day. Sometimes they visited each other’s rooms though this was to invite trouble if they were caught. No one could see them from the ground or any of the house main windows and it was this fact that Janet was banking on. There was a fire ladder that ran down the wall of the main house but this was exposed to the gardens. As the maids were allocated one room between two and most of the attics were the other side of the house, several on this side were used as store rooms; it was through one of these Janet hoped they might escape if George kept his word.

Though anyone slim enough could get through the window quickly getting the stiff and sore Amy out would be a problem. Janet bundled their uniforms into the cupboard, keeping only their soft house shoes which she placed with their few clothes, soap and flannels in the bag. Some instinct at the last minute made her roll up her apron and cap and add them to the bundle. Helping Amy over to the window, she threw the bag down into the gully, darting back for their winter shawls. She then knelt beside a mousehole in the skirting; pulling out a small leather bag she quickly checked the contents, before slipping it into her pocket. Eleven pounds, eight shillings, including the two pounds she had when the contents of the cottage had been sold after their mother died. Janet had realised that Amy and Tom were dependant on her and had saved all she could in case they had to find a home somewhere. For nearly three years now she had saved nearly all her wages and most of Amy’s, only buying small necessities from the peddler once a month, and paying for any breakages. She occasionally managed to take Tom some small thing when she visited him every fortnight on her day off. Janet froze with horror. Tom’ what was she going to do about her brother?

Janet, I’m out Amy whispered from the window. Janet pulled herself together.

Good girl. Easing herself out of the window, she realised that she would have to get out of immediate danger before she could think of anything else. She caught up the bag and leading Amy past Rose and Ellie’s room, saw with a sigh of relief the next window stood ajar. Thankfully she pulled the weeping Amy into the attic storeroom.

Hush, now you must be quiet as a mouse. I know you’re hurt, but if we are to get away we must be very very careful. She tiptoed over to the door almost falling over a linen bag leaning against the wall; a note was pinned to the strap. ‘Best I could get. Good luck ‘G’. Inside a bottle of milk, a loaf and a thick slice of cheese.

Bless him, bless him. Janet clasped her hands together tightly. Then opening the door a crack, she checked the passage up and down. Now, Amy, quickly. Keeping close to the wall they reached the back stairs which spiralled downwards, keeping them on tender hooks as they crept down unable to see if anyone was coming up. It was much worse when they reached the second floor where voices ebbed and flowed along passages. Twice they had to duck behind chests as chambermaids appeared out of doorways carrying armfuls of linen. The next set of stairs were much safer as they led to the pantries and the kitchens. Mr Trescombe and his footmen were preparing the dining room for dinner or working in the main house. The greatest fright was coming upon Ellie in the back pantry cleaning vegetables. She gaped at them with open mouth as Janet, with finger on lip, pulled Amy past her and out into the garden.

The next part was a nightmare; there were gardeners boys raking gravel, gardeners bringing barrow loads of flowers and potted plants to the house and more tidying beds. When the second gardener came around the corner in front of them, Janet thought she would die and Amy began to squeal. Fortunately for them the man thought they had been sent to hurry him up.

I can’t ’elp it if they don’ give me any orters till this a’ternoon, he moaned. They fergets it takes time ter dig ’em up an then they wan’ts ’em washed off. I can’t go no faster.

I know, I’ll tell cook you did your best. Janet reassured him, pulling the frightened Amy off down another path. The man continued towards the kitchen muttering.

The lake running along the western side of the estate was wide and deep. Fringed with willows it lapped peacefully onto a pebbled bank. Swallows dived low across the water, mallards and moorhens called from under the trees. Janet longed to paddle in the cool water, but her objective was the old boathouse which she had seen when walking back from visiting Tom. She had noticed an old boat on its side, deep under the willows with a high bank behind it. She would have never seen it from the path if she hadn’t walked that way in winter. The boathouse itself was seldom in use now; her Ladyship had never liked the lake and was nervous for the children, only young male visitors sometimes took out a rowing boat in the summer. It would be safe here for a while, but once the hunt for them was on, the boathouse was one place they would look. At the moment Janet knew she could go no further without some kind of plan; she just could not think straight. They crept in under the willows. The old boat was warm and dry, well hidden from the path. After a drink of milk, Amy fell asleep while Janet for the first time tried to collect her thoughts. They certainly could not stay here. She had to get to Tom to tell him they were going away. Her heart sank. She clutched her aching head in her hands.

Tom had been only six and Amy eight when their father had been lost at sea in a tornado off the coast of Florida. Janet remembered the terrible time waiting for news that never came. No one knew if he was dead or alive but he had never been heard of since.

Jess, their mother, had pulled herself together for her children’s sakes but she had never properly recovered. She had always taken in washing and sold garden produce to eke out the money her husband had sent her. After his disappearance she had to do without his money. She was well known in the area for her fine preserves, so her friend, Mrs. Bates, had put in a word with her Ladyship about Jess’s circumstances. The outcome was that Jess had been asked to supply the Court with jams and chutneys and to help out in the kitchen with the cooking. Janet had been taken on as kitchen maid. Later she had been placed in charge of laundry, giving her wages to her mother so they were able to afford the cottage.

Three years later Jess who had never ceased grieving for Daniel, caught a heavy cold at Bideford market, which quickly turned to pneumonia; within a week she was dead. The cottage which was given to the Landlord’s son. Jess’s children had less than a fortnight to get out of their home. Tom, then eight, was the problem. In vain Janet begged the Trelaceys to find something for him in the gardens or on the estate so they could stay together but there was nothing, the estate was fully staffed. When Farmer Gregory, who lived only three miles away, approached the schoolmaster for someone to pick stones along with his sons, it seemed an answer to Janet’s prayers. The farmer promised that Tom should have a home and carry on with his schooling for the next two years. He also promise Janet, when she went to see him, that Tom should have two and sixpence a month and a rise every year. Janet agreed with relief only to find with dismay a few months later that Tom was kept from school on one pretext or another and had certainly not received any pay. He was never allowed to eat with the family, his meals consisting of what was left after everyone else including the housemaid and finished. He slept in the stables with the dogs and was beaten by the farmer and tormented by the sons on a regular basis. The blond haired, lively little boy, who had been his mother’s and sister’s joy was cowed, dirty and silent with greasy matted hair, his eyes shadowed and dark. Janet notice fresh bruises every time that she saw him. In vain she confronted Farmer and Mrs. Gregory only to be verbally abused and lied to. In vain she had walked the villages and farms to find another place for him but without success. Tom at first, used to cry, clinging to her, begging to be taken away, but now he barely hugged her and Amy, saying very little at all, interested only in the cakes or pastries she brought him. Occasionally she bought him a shirt or socks from the peddler but he said the farmer’s sons stole them from him, although they wanted for nothing.

Janet was broken hearted over sweet-natured Tom. How was she to tell him they must leave. A faint hope stirred within her. She might be able to find him somewhere when they were settled. Tom wouldn’t see it that way. He would feel even more abandoned. She couldn’t bear to imagine the look on his weary, pale face, old beyond its years. She thought her head would burst. Did she honestly think she could get Amy and herself away safely? Where to? Could Amy stand the days of walking and sleeping rough? How long would their money last, be she ever so careful? What was she going to do about Tom? He would never survive without that monthly visit. He knew now they were only three miles away, how could she tell him that his sisters who were all he had in the world, were going out of his life? He wouldn’t even know where they were. The tears that Janet had held in all afternoon now burst from her eyes, pouring in torrents she felt would never stop. What in God’s name were they going to do?

Chapter 2

Janet came to with a start; somewhere a clock was striking. Seven o’clock; she shook Amy awake.

Come on, love. We must go.

Amy sat up rubbing her eyes. Where to, Jan? Ooh’ I’m too stiff to move. I can’t.

Yes you can. You’ve got to. Come on.

Before she had cried herself to sleep, worn out with worry, a half formed plan had slipped into her mind. What it was exactly she still wasn’t sure.

Follow me. Quickly.

They cautiously left the shelter of the boat, keeping well under the willows. Following the line of trees until they came to a gap in the hedge. They climbed through onto the lane which led from Goldsworthy to the main road to Launceston. Halfway along the lane stood the 11th century church with its thick yew hedges concealing an old kissing gate. The churchyard was full of