Well I continue to work on my new WIP Hilda. Her story hasn’t
been progressing as quickly as it did last week, but that is because I have had
to pause for a little research.
So here is the third scene of Hilda
1910
The pig
sties across the back lane way were a noisy place. At least they were noisy
every time the pigs saw Hilda or her dad coming. Her dad usually fed them of a
morning before he left for work, and usually it was Hilda who carried the heavy
swill buckets across to them in the afternoon. They would all squeal loudly
demanding to be the first to be fed. Once she had emptied out the buckets into
their troughs they usually settled down to a contented grunting as they saw
what she had brought them.
Then as
they ate she would take a shovel into each sty and scrape the pig mess out of
the corner they had done it. Then a bucket or two of water to wash each floor
down and another of fresh in their water trough and she was done for the
evening.
Hilda
loved pigs, she never understood why people called them “dirty”. Yes they liked
to roll in mud in the hotter weather, if they were given the chance, but well
looked after animals were clean and very personable.
If she
had time she would spend a moment with each of the older animals scratching
backs and behind ears. The pigs loved it and so did she. She did not spend much
time with the younger animals, just enough to keep them familiar with her. No
more than that, one of those animals would end up as the hams and bacon in
their larder and the rest would go to market to meet a similar fate elsewhere.
No it didn’t do to get sentimental about the younger animals.
On this
particular evening Dolly had come across to help. Dolly wanted Hilda to come
down along the river. Dolly had her mind set on blackberry pie and wanted to
see if the berries in the brambles down near the river were far off ripening
and their mum wouldn’t let her go down near the river on her own.
The pigs
finished, Hilda set the buckets where they could collect them on the way back.
Hilda
followed her lanky sister over a stile and into the field beyond. A short walk
along the public footpath would bring them to the river. Dolly slowed taking
Hilda’s hand, ‘Was Dad cross with you too?’
‘No, he
told me I should like it or lump it.’
Dolly
screeched, ‘I shan’t go in to service whatever they want!’
‘What
would you do?’
A moment
of doubt on her sister’s ten year old face, ‘Work in a shop.’
‘There’s
only one shop in the village and Ginnie works there. They won’t need another
girl.’
‘Stratford,
I shall work in Stratford.’ A smile of triumph, her solution found, but then a
tear, ‘It’s not fair Hilda. You want to go to high school. You could be a
teacher not a poxy servant!’
‘Dolly!’
‘I’m
sorry, it’s just, it’s just,’, her sister struggled for the words, ‘not fair!’
Hilda held back the tears this time, it did feel so unfair, but what
could she do? Reaching out for her sister’s hand she said, ‘Let’s have a look
for these berries.’
Now a piccie of the day
4 comments:
I've always wanted pigs too. Great piece.
Love the pic. It's soooo.... cool!
Love the third scene! I find that when I'm researching, I'm slower too. Good luck with the writing this week!
Aww, I feel for Hilda. It seems like she has very little choice in the matter and her sister's only making her feel worse about it.
Jai
You've really gone a different direction with this one. I can see how you can keep two going at once - different moods probably move you to write things.
Love, love the tunnel picture!
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