The Rope Carrier by Theresa Tomlinson

of trees which grew out sideways – impossibly, it seemed – from the rocky walls. Red campions and bluebells would be in flower, clinging to the lower slopes, and the calls of rooks and magpies would be echoing across the gap.
    Late one Friday afternoon, though she ached to the bones with the to-ing and fro-ing, Minnie persuaded the Dame to let her walk up to The Bird in Hand inn, for she knew that Chapman Barber would be fetching in his pack-horse train there. She took Marianne, who was wild for every fresh scrap of information she could glean about Rope Dolly’s cave. They stole a fine fresh carrot from beneath the snout of Elsie Duckett’s porker to take as a treat for Chalky.
    Though Minnie was cheered by the sight of Chapman’s familiar face which linked this hard city with her home, it was a sad exchange of information that took place. Minnie related all that had happened with Josh, while Chapman had to tell how Sally’s baby had been born too soon and never lived, and how it was only Annie’s determined skill and care that was slowly bringing Sally back to life.

Chapter Fourteen
    ONE HOT SUNDAY morning, when Minnie returned to the cottage from fetching water, she heard slow uneven tapping coming from the workshed. She frowned, for it was unlike Jack to be trying to work on the one day that he was free and the Dame had gone off early to the Methodist Chapel. It was the one thing that took her from home, and she never missed.
    The children had ceased their playing and stood round-eyed and quiet in the yard. Minnie stepped into the kitchen to find that Josh’s father had pulled himself up from his pillow, distressed and shaking his head, though she could not understand the words he tried to speak. He pointed to the workshed and shook his head. The tapping stopped and a low moan followed. Minnie dumped the water down quick and hurried out to the shed. Jack was there, white-faced and scared, but it was not him at the cutting stocks. It was Netty, a hammer and chisel in her hands.
    â€œI tried to stop ’er, honest I did. I said it weren’t right.”
    â€œWhat is it?” Minnie ran to her. “What have you done?” She looked for blood on Netty’s hands but could see none.
    Netty’s face was screwed up tight. Her hands gripped the tools rigidly.
    Minnie hugged her, trying to give some comfort. “What is it, Netty? Has’t hurt thee’sen? There’s no blood that I can see, love.”
    â€œAah,” Netty let out her breath and her face relaxed, leaving her pale and sweating. “I fear I’ve set the little ’un off.”
    â€œWhat? The baby?”
    â€œAye. Set it off coming far too early and not even a cradle to put it in now.”
    Minnie stared hopeless and horrified.
    â€œI’m feared I’ve harmed it to swing this damned hammer so,” said Netty. “’Twill not live, like our Sally’s.” She gripped Minnie’s shoulders tight, her body suddenly taut again.
    â€œSh-shall I run for t’old woman?” Jack stammered.
    Minnie nodded frantically at him.
    â€œI’ll fetch her . . . now.” Jack backed away from them, towards the cottage, but much to Minnie’s relief the Dame herself then appeared in the doorway, still in her Sunday clothes, aware that something was wrong.
    â€œOff to bed, my girl,” she said, firmly taking charge. She told Jack to sit downstairs with her husband and mind the children who just stared, distressed to see their mother bundled up the stairs, stiff with pain.
    Between them, the Dame and Minnie managed to manoeuvre Netty onto the bed.
    â€œâ€™Tis all wrong,” Netty sobbed. “’Tis not like the others. I’ve set little ’un off wrong, and it’s coming too fast.”
    The Dame knelt down beside the bed, leaning right over towards Netty so that her face, too, was on the pillow. Minnie didn’t know whether to giggle or