Page 180 of The Armor of Light

She was about thirty, wearing a threadbare dress and shawl with moth holes. On her feet she had wooden clogs. She looked half starved, Hornbeam observed. That was in her favour. His wife, Linnie, said that fatness was an illness with some people. Hornbeam thought they were just greedy.

Poole said: ‘And where do you live?’

‘At Morley’s farm, but not in the house, there’s a kind of shed up against the barn wall, they call it a lean-to, it’s got no chimney but there’s a smoke hood, they let me have it for a penny a week, and they gave me a straw mattress for the two of us to sleep on.’

Hornbeam said disapprovingly: ‘You sleep in the bed with your fourteen-year-old boy?’

‘Only way to keep warm,’ she said indignantly. ‘That shed is draughty.’

She’s not too hungry to argue with me, Hornbeam thought sourly.

Poole said: ‘What work do you do?’

‘Anything I can get. But they don’t need help on the farm in the winter, and the mills are short of orders because of the war, and I used to be a shop girl but the shops in Kingsbridge aren’t hiring—’

Hornbeam interrupted her. He did not need an explanation of unemployment in Kingsbridge. ‘Where is your husband?’

He expected her to say that she did not have one, but he was wrong. ‘He was took by the press gang, may they all burn in hell.’

That was borderline seditious, and Poole said: ‘Steady on.’

She did not appear to hear his warning. ‘I was never poor before. When me and Jim came here from Hangerwold he got work on the barges and we didn’t have much but I never got into debt, not for one single penny.’ She looked directly at Hornbeam. ‘Then your prime minister sent thugs to tie Jim up and throw him on board a ship and make him go to sea for God knows how long and leave me on my own. I don’t want poor relief, I want my husband, but you people stole him away!’ She began to cry.

Poole said: ‘It won’t help you to abuse us, you know.’

Her sobs stopped abruptly. ‘Abuse? Have I said anything untrue?’

The woman was impudent, Hornbeam thought with irritation. Most applicants at least had the common sense to be deferential. This one deserved to go hungry as a punishment for her cheek. He said: ‘You say you’re from Hangerwold?’

‘Yes, me and Jim. It’s in Gloucestershire. Jim had an aunt here in Kingsbridge. She’s dead now, though.’

‘Surely you know that poor relief is available only in the parish where you were born?’

‘How can I go to Gloucestershire? I’ve got no coat and my boy has no shoes, and I’ve got no home there and no money for rent.’

Poole spoke to Hornbeam in a low voice. ‘We generally pay out in circumstances such as these. She’s obviously done everything she can.’

Hornbeam was disinclined to bend the rules for this insubordinate woman, who seemed to think she was his equal. ‘You say your husband was press-ganged?’

‘So I believe.’

‘But you’re not sure.’

‘They don’t inform the poor wives. But he went to Combe on a barge, and that evening the press gang raided the town, and my Jim never came home, so we know what happened, don’t we?’

‘He may simply have run off.’

‘Some men might, but not Jim.’

Poole lowered his voice again. ‘This is a quibble, Mr Hornbeam.’

‘I disagree. The husband may be dead. She must return to her birthplace.’

Anger flashed in the vicar’s eyes. ‘She’ll probably die on the way.’

‘We can’t change the rules.’

Poole spoke forcefully. ‘Hornbeam, this woman is quite clearly the innocent victim of a government that allows the navy to kidnap men such as her husband! The press gang may perhaps be a regrettable necessity, especially in time of war, but we can at least do something for the families of victims, so that the children don’t starve.’