POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TEN (Part Two)

                                                       CHAPTER TEN (Part Two)

Something disturbed her sleep and she sat up in bed quickly to listen intently.

     There it was again! A dull thud from somewhere at the back.

     Rosalind rose from the bed and throwing a shawl around her shoulders went out onto the landing above the narrow staircase where a small window overlooked the rear of the cottage.

     Quietly she lifted the latch and opened the window a mere crack to hear stealthy movement right below her near the back door. She leaned out cautiously and almost cried out in fright at what she saw.

     Below her stood the figure of a man enveloped in what appeared to be a monk’s robe, the cowl completely covering his head. As she watched the figure threw his shoulder against the back door but the solid oak boards held. There was a muffled curse.

     Instinct warned her to remain quiet. She withdrew her head and silently closed the window, then crept down the narrow stair her heart in her mouth.

     Some roving vagabond was trying to gain admittance, possibly believing the cottage deserted. She must alert Mrs Phipps and light some lamps.

     The man on the sick bed was silent and still but loud snoring came from the direction of the couch. Lighting a spill thrust into the dying embers of the fire she lit a lamp. As the light from the lamp sprang to life Rosalind felt a brief moment of relief but it soon evaporated.

     ‘Mrs Phipps!’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Wake up! Someone is outside.’

     But the snoring persisted. Hesitating only a moment Rosalind carried the lamp towards the kitchen so that the prowler would see and know someone was up and about. Leaving the lamp on the table there she went back to the living-room and lit another.

     She held the lamp high over the couch. Mrs Phipps lay there spread-eagle, still wearing her grubby apron. Rosalind took her by a shoulder and shook her roughly.

     ‘Mrs Phipps, there’s an intruder trying to get in...’

     But there was no response. It was then Rosalind noticed the empty gin bottle lying beside the woman and realised she would get no help there. Nurse Phipps was dead drunk.

     Feeling alone and helpless, Rosalind waited for the intruder to make another attempt to break down the door, wondering what she could do should he enter. He might be someone desperate who would stop at nothing for food and shelter.

She waited but there was silence now except for the raucous snoring. Putting another log on the fire, Rosalind sat on the stool beside the fireplace. Going back to bed was out of the question. The lamps must burn for the rest of the night and she must sit and be watchful until the dawn.

‘Here! What’re you doing out of bed at this hour?’

     A hand was shaking her shoulder none too gently. Rosalind came to with a start and lifted her head from against the wall where it had rested.

     ‘The intruder!’ she exclaimed jumping stiffly to her feet.

     ‘What intruder?’ Mrs Phipps was staring at her with some impatience. ‘You’re dreaming girl. Have you sat here all night spying on me?’

     ‘There was a man trying to break in,’ Rosalind insisted. ‘I saw him. He was dressed as a monk.’

     Mrs Phipps gave a derisive chuckle. ‘You should cut down on the tipple if you can’t hold it.’