The barn door creaked again and Sophia ducked her head in. “Mam says you’re to come inside.”
Not wanting to go a second round with Nan and fearing that I’d likely be given my marching orders so that she would be able to ask for her job back, I shook my head at the young girl. “I’ll come in a little bit later,” I said, and she scooted off back to the house.
I’d barely had time to open my mouth to respond to Gwyn when the door flung open again and Sophia reappeared. “Mam says that if you make her come out here to get you herself then you’re going to get a clip round the earhole.” She seemed to find this particularly amusing and struggled to recount her mother’s words without breaking out into a grin.
“I think it would be wise not to test that,” Gwyn said and I feared he was probably right.
When we entered the kitchen, the room was silent and everybody looked miserable. Mrs Hopkin sat on the far side of the table nearest the stove with Nellie and Nan on either side of her, both with their eyes down. Mair sat alone opposite them, arms crossed, chin up and ready for battle. Whatever was about to go down, I hoped that she was on my side.
“Sit down, Tom,” Mrs Hopkin said and I perched myself on the chair next to Mair and leaned forward over the table. A pot of tea sat at its centre, Mrs Hopkin’s cure-all, but everyone's cups remained untouched. “Nan has something to say.”
She kept her head down so I couldn’t see her face and let out a huff. “Sorry,” she mumbled, only just loud enough for me to hear.
Mrs Wilkes slammed her palm down on the table and Nellie bolted back in her seat. “So help me, Hannah…” she said, leaving her threat hanging in the air.
Nan shuffled forward, straightening herself in her seat and finally met my gaze. She looked just as pissed off as before, but it seemed that the likely cause this time was being forced to apologise to me. I didn’t want it. I didn’t even particularly feel like I deserved it, and sitting there in silence waiting for it made me feel even more awkward because I didn’t want any of them to think that I expected it.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” she said again, this time with a little more gusto. I offered her the beginnings of a grin hoping to convey to her that it was ok. I didn’t love being smacked in the face but at least I could say I was used to it since I’d arrived in the village.
“I understand,” I said. “You really don’t need to apologise.”
“She does,” Mair piped up and Nan cast another snarly glance at her.
Mrs Hopkin rolled her eyes in Mair’s direction but conceded. “She’s right. You had no right to hit Thomas.”
“But-”
“No buts,” her mother interrupted firmly. “You weren’t brought up like that.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said, and Mair swung around in her chair casting her unimpressed gaze over me.
“What have you got to be sorry for?” She said, poking me in the arm. “It’s Arthur that wants to be sorry. Throwing his weight around again.”
“But if I wasn’t here…”
“If you weren’t here he’d find someone else to pick on,” Mrs Hopkin interjected. “He’s never had a kind word for this family. It’s a wonder she got a position there in the first place.”
“My mother is right,” Nellie spoke up. “Ever since that business with Jack and Elinor, he’s been looking for trouble. His feud with you is just another way to take aim at this house.”
I felt a little reassured by their words but Nan remained indignant. “And what am I to do now?” she said, throwing her arms in the air in a somewhat overly dramatic fashion.
“We’ll just have to see what tomorrow brings,” Mrs Hopkin replied. “Things are always better in the morning.”
It was more than an hour later when Mr Hopkin returned to the house. Mair and Gwyn had already left to go home and Nellie had disappeared into the sitting room with her nose buried in one of her medical books. I’d remained at the table, where I spent most of my time if I wasn’t sleeping in the barn or helping Mr Hopkin in the field, and racked my brain for things to talk about.
Mrs Hopkin was deep into the preparation of that evening’s dinner and Nan had remained with us in the kitchen boring holes into me with her stare. She had refrained from any more outbursts but the tension between us remained frosty so my attempts to speak with her went mostly ignored.
I was about to give it another try when the kitchen door slammed open and Mr Hopkin barged in, closely followed by Gethin. He tore the cap from his head and launched it at the hook on the wall, missing it, then went immediately for the cupboard where he kept his whiskey.
“That swine,” he shouted, slamming the bottle down on the counter. “I’d like to wipe the smile right off his face.”
“What happened?” Mrs Hopkin asked. She kept her distance and stayed near the pantry while she spoke and Nan moved over to the next seat as he approached the table.
“He had some unsavoury words to say about Jack,” Gethin said, taking a seat beside me. “Most of it was quite unrepeatable.”
“How dare he.” Mrs Hopkin stood tall and pushed out her chest, furious at the idea of Jack receiving criticism. “My Jack is worth ten of that man.”
Mr Hopkin knocked back the contents of his glass and poured himself another. “Is he? Running off the way he has, making you worry. That’s not much of a man.”