A Grave Inheritance by Anne Renshaw

John had never bothered to replace it. He was glad he hadn’t. Making sure his children were occupied and not watching, John pulled out the broken piece of slate and shoved the small bundle into the crack. He replaced the broken slate and on top of it positioned the wooden box that he kept by the fire to hold his spills. John pushed back the fender surrounding the fire and stood back to check that all looked normal. Upstairs he changed out of his clothes, praying that Lillian and Harry hadn’t noticed the bloodstains.
    After freshening himself, John looked in on his wife and daughter. The cut across Ellen’s eyebrow and cheek oozed blood and her swollen skin was stretched beyond its limits. Ellen found it painful to move her face or speak, and seeing John’s glance she pulled her shawl up from her shoulders and over her head to try and hide her injuries. Her one good eye looked back at him.
    ‘I’m all right,’ Ellen whispered, trying to reassure him.
    Shocked by his wife’s battered face, John could only stare, his stomach churning. Repulsion, anger and fear paraded one after another and if Ellen had been able to focus for more than a moment on her husband’s face, she would have seen their progress reflected in his eyes. ‘You and Amy must go and stay with George and Anwen, at least until your face has healed and Amy’s recovered.’ John spoke quietly so he wouldn’t disturb Amy, who slept fitfully in their bed. ‘Looking like you do, you’d be best out of the way. Jim can take you and bring Belle and the cart back.’ John knew his wife needed him with her, but he couldn’t take them. This was the only solution.
    Ellen tried to envisage the subsequent scenario. Sir Edmund Deverell was bound to send for John, he always did when there was a problem, so John was right, he couldn’t take them. But if Jim their elder son drove the cart like John suggested, then he too would be missed, and suspicion could fall on Jim. Disturbed by the thought Ellen said, ‘Won’t it look funny if Jim’s not around?’
    ‘The only alternative is for you to drive the cart,’ John responded, knowing she was right about Jim. He held her hands in his as he spoke and lifted them gently to his lips. He wondered if Ellen’s injuries would leave permanent scars, feeling ashamed that it mattered.
    ‘What about the train? Jim could take us as far as the station,’ Ellen suggested hopefully.
    ‘The fewer people that see you and Amy, the better, and fewer questions will be asked.’
    ‘I’ll manage on my own then.’ Ellen made an effort to smile. ‘Can you do without the horse for a few days?’
    ‘I’ll manage.’ John answered quietly.
    ‘What about me, John, will you manage without me too?’ Ellen asked.
    ‘I’ll have to. It won’t be forever, so don’t worry about me,’ John replied.
    Ellen was worried. ‘What will everyone think of me, just leaving you to cope on your own?’
    ‘I’ll tell them your sister-in-law is ill, and you’ve gone to help her. I’ll say Amy’s to find work as a maid in one of the big houses in Wrexham. In fact, that wouldn’t be a bad idea, once she’s well enough.’ Even as John said the words he wondered at its likelihood. He picked up a wet cloth and gently patted away the blood oozing from the cuts on Ellen’s face.
    Ellen flinched at his touch and looked at her daughter Amy, who had survived her ordeal. Somehow Ellen had managed to carry Amy home, a journey Ellen hardly remembered now. Earlier, Lillian had brought up a jug of hot water and poured it into a large washbowl. She’d carried away her sister’s soiled and tattered clothes without a word and then come back and washed away the blood from Amy’s face and hands and cleaned her scratches. Lillian’s expression was full of questions, but she’d known better than to ask.
    ‘I want Amy in with me tonight, John,’ Ellen told him.
    It didn’t make any difference to John. He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep