[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

As the brazen echoes reverberated far and near, a baby cried.

Eileen popped her head through the back window of the almshouse, looking none too pleased. “Stop that noise this instant! I just got little Willum nicely to sleep out ’ere, now you gone an’ wakened ’im, poor mite.”

The old man lowered the crowbar sheepishly, stating his excuse. “But, marm, that’s the first time the bell’s sounded in nigh on three hundred years!”

Eileen stood with her hands on her hips. “Oh is it now, well, let it be the last for the moment. Get down from that table, Will Drummond, an’ you, too, Jon Preston. Standin’ up there like two naughty children, covered in dust an’ muck an’ I don’t know what. You should see yourselves!”

Will climbed from the table, dusting himself off. “Sorry, my love, you go an’ have a nice cup o’ tea at Evans, I’ll get Willum back to sleep again.”

Amy could not help smiling at the two big men, now friends. As Jon got off the table, she brushed whitewash flakes from his beard. “Go on, the pair of you, take Eileen over for tea and crumpets. I’ll see to Willum.”

Jon threw his arms about Will and Eileen. “Come on, you two, let’s do as Amy says—my treat, though!”

They were halfway across the square when Jon noticed his friend’s absence. “Wait, I’ll go an’ ask Ben if he an’ Ned want t’come to the Tea Shoppe with us.”

Eileen gave him a playful shove. “Go on with you, what does the lad want with old fogies like us? Ben’s prob’ly lookin’ after little Willum with Amy. Leave the young ’uns to themselves, you great fusspot!”

The farmer was in full agreement with his wife. “Aye, she’s a pretty girl an’ he’s an ’andsome lad. Leave ’em be, mate.”

An engine tooted and the stationmaster’s whistle shrilled over at the railway station. Jon checked his old pocket watch. “There goes the ten-fifty, right on time.”

Eileen patted a cloud of dust from the old carpenter’s back. “I’ve never been on a train! Huh, progress they calls it. Noisy, great, smelly things. Trains are only for travelin’ folk an’ those in a hurry to leave home. I ain’t in no rush t’go runnin’ off. Chapelvale’s my home!”

48

ONE WEEK LATER.

SATURDAY ARRIVED AGAIN, MISTY AT first, but soon clearing up to reveal a warm, soft day. Mrs. Winn had done her shopping, but there was so much of it that she had paid the delivery boy to take it up to the house. Evans Tea Shoppe was pleasantly busy. She sat alone at the window, reading and rereading the precious letter she had received.

Blodwen Evans brought a pot of tea and Mrs. Winn’s usual tea cake to the table. Winnie caught her trying to glance at the letter and covered it with her handbag. Pretending she had not been trying to pry, Blodwen looked through the window.

“Look you, ’ere’s Amy an’ Alex.”

As the young people drew closer, Winnie tapped the windowpane with her worn gold wedding ring, beckoning them inside. “Bring ice cream and lemonade for them, please, Blodwen.”

The brother and sister seated themselves in the window corner. The old lady poured herself tea. “What are you two up to today, still helping Jon at the almshouse? He’s not short of willing hands these days.”

Alex settled himself back against the cushion. “We’re going to help him build a new fence and gate for the front.”

Mrs. Winn sliced her tea cake precisely into four and leaned closer to Amy, keeping her voice low. “I hope you’re over the weeps and sniffles now. Come on, let’s see a little smile?”

The girl tried a smile, which did not quite work. She looked down at the tablecloth. “We still haven’t heard from him, Miz Winn.”

Alex blinked several times and sniffed. “We liked Ben, and Ned, too—why did they have to go? It’s not fair!”

There was silence. Alex looked away through the window as Winnie did her best to answer the question. “There’s a lot in life that isn’t fair, you’ll find that out as you grow older. When Ben first came to me, he said that he could only stay awhile, I never pressed him about it. He was a bit of a mystery, I suppose as much to you as to me, a good boy, a real friend, but so strange. What made him leave so suddenly I’ll never know—his rucksack and change of clothes are still in his room. Did he ever mention leaving to you?”

Amy dabbled her ice cream spoon thoughtfully. “I remember the afternoon we met him outside the station. I asked him would he be staying in Chapelvale, he just said, I don’t know, maybe. As if he was teasing, or just shrugging the question off. I could never tell with Ben. He had those sort of eyes, cloudy blue sometimes, bright, shining blue at other times. They could twinkle and smile, make you feel happy somehow. But often they would grow distant and mysterious, so you couldn’t tell what was going on behind them.”

Mrs. Winn watched Amy apply herself to the ice cream. “I sensed the same thing. Perhaps not as much as you did, but I’m an old lady and you’re about the same age as Ben, so you understand him better. What about you, Alex?”