‘I – I don’t want to see anyone.’ For a moment Sophy’s voice almost broke, but then she cleared her throat and a trace of bitterness showed through when she muttered, ‘My mother managed perfectly well, didn’t she, and she was a year younger than me when she ran away.’
Her uncle had come and sat with her earlier that evening and explained exactly what had happened to his sister, the life she had led, and the events which had driven her to seek refuge in her old home just before Sophy’s birth. He had tried to be kind as well as honest, but nevertheless, his abhorrence at his sister’s defilement had shown through. He had told her it had been his wish that she never find out the truth about her mother, but in a strange way Sophy was glad she had. It explained so much, not least the passion that burned in her when she sang and danced and had acted in the little plays and soirées the school had put on. She was her mother’s daughter. Her eyes took on the hardness of polished amber. But she would never let herself be used by men as her mother had. She would die first.
‘Sophy, please stay.’ Patience tried one last time. ‘No one has to know about your mother; everything could be the same as before.’
They both knew that wasn’t true. Pandora’s box had been opened and there was no going back. Besides which, Sophy told herself fiercely, she wouldn’t live another day under the same roof as her aunt. ‘I can’t,’ she said for the third time, her voice stronger. ‘I’m sorry, Patience.’ She leaned forward and hugged her cousin briefly, before standing up. ‘You go back to sleep.’
‘Wait.’ Patience had slid out of bed. ‘You’ll need money. Wait here a minute.’
Before Sophy could stop her, Patience had flitted out of the room like a little white ghost in her voluminous nightdress, leaving Sophy in an agony of suspense and frightened that her cousin might rouse the house. She needn’t have worried. Patience was back in two or three minutes. ‘Here.’ She thrust a handful of notes into her cousin’s hands. ‘This will give you a bit of a start at least.’
‘I can’t take this.’ Sophy couldn’t see clearly but it felt like a good deal of money. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘Out of Mother’s cash box. Don’t worry, I shall tell her I gave it to you, I promise. She owes you far more than this, Sophy, the way you have worked for her for years, and I know she has quite a bit hidden away from her housekeeping elsewhere too. I saw her once, when she didn’t know I was about, counting notes into a cloth bag which she concealed in the back of her wardrobe, and since the boys have started work they give her their board too. She’s always going on about the cost of things and what she has to pay out to the tradesmen and so on, but there’s quite a lot in that bag, I can tell you.’
‘But why would she do that? What can she possibly be saving it for?’ Sophy asked in amazement.
Patience shrugged. ‘Who knows?’
Bridget had always used to say that there was nowt so queer as folk, and she was right, Sophy thought. What was the use of piles of money in a bag at the back of the wardrobe?
‘Anyway, take what I’ve given you. You’ll need it.’ Patience now hugged Sophy, holding her close for a long moment which touched Sophy more than anything else. ‘And write to me when you’re settled and let me know you’re all right.’
Sophy didn’t reply to this. Heartsore and smarting from her aunt’s revelation, which had made her feel she didn’t know who she was any more, she wanted to cut all threads which held her to the Hutton family and Southwick. Instead, she whispered, ‘I can’t take this money, Patience.’
‘You can and you are going to, else I’ll wake the whole house and tell them you’re leaving. You’ve earned it, Sophy, you know you have. And I shall tell Mother exactly that. And that I know about the bag in the wardrobe. She won’t make a fuss if she knows I’m on to that.’
The boys, and Patience too. Her aunt had no one who cared about her, but right at this moment in time Sophy couldn’t feel a shred of pity for the woman who had made her life a misery whenever she could, and who’d ripped her apart with her tongue earlier.
She stuffed the notes into the carpet bag and put on her bonnet, wanting to get away before it was light. Normally she would have been in fear and trepidation at the thought of leaving the vicarage in the middle of the night and walking into Bishopwearmouth, but now it was as nothing. And the money Patience had given her would enable her to put a good distance between herself and Sunderland.