by The Castlefield Collector (Watch for the Talleyman) (retail) (epub)
* * *
Dolly found Cabbage Lil without any difficulty at all, and her one-time friend was delighted, yet surprised to see her. She gave Dolly a hug and a kiss, her one good eye all bright and merry, then insisted on buying her an Italian ice cream from Luigi’s stand. They sat on a wall by the market, each with a licking dish, enjoying this treat in the late summer sunshine.
‘So what you doing in this neck of the woods? You should be with that lovely husband of yours. I assume you did manage to drag him down the aisle?’
‘Oh yes, though he didn’t take much persuading.’
Her face became suddenly quite serious. ‘You didn’t tell him then, about – you know? Me and my girls?’
Dolly shook her head, but she wasn’t smiling either. ‘No, I didn’t tell him but I almost wish that I had. It doesn’t seem right to keep secrets from him.’
‘Like I said, some secrets are best not told. You keep mum, girl. Mark my words, honesty is not always the best policy. You shouldn’t even be here. Wouldn’t do for anyone to spot us together.’
Dolly glanced about, but there was no one around that she recognised. An old woman haggling over the price of some wool, a woman with a child in a pram and a young, smartly dressed girl fingering some lace handkerchiefs on another stall. She shrugged and pulled a small packet from her bag. ‘I wanted to return this.’
Cabbage Lil stared at the brown envelope, recognising at once what it was. ‘But those are your wages.’
‘I worked only to earn my keep, for which I was truly grateful.’
‘You did much more than that, chuck.’
‘I can’t take this money.’
‘Why, because they’re wages of sin?’ Lil’s tone was bitter and Dolly felt a sting of shame, as if she were throwing her one-time friend’s goodness back in her face.
‘No, that’s not it at all, at least, not entirely. What I mean is, there’s far too much, and how can I accept this money if I can’t tell Sam where it came from? He’ll never believe I earned this amount of cash honestly. It’s too much.’
‘It’s what you deserve. You were good to my girls and came to be like a daughter to me. No, you keep it lass. Don’t tell Sam and use it to some good purpose, like getting that nasty talleyman off your back.’
‘Sadly, it’s not quite enough for that. He keeps adding interest faster than I can ever repay it.’
‘I could get you more. I like a lass with guts and stamina, and you have both in plenty.’
‘No! For heaven’s sake Lil, that’s not why I came. I want to give you the money back. It’ll create too many problems as it is, and I can manage quite well without it.’
‘I don’t think you can, love, and no I won’t take it back. I want you to use this money to set yourself up in something worthwhile, a little business of your own happen. When you’ve done that, and been married to that bloke of yours for twenty-five years, with a gaggle of kids at your knee, then you can tell him where it came from, and all about me and my girls. Right? Is that a deal?’
Tears were sliding from the corners of her eyes, stealing down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Lil, what can I say?’ And then Lil put her arms about her and hugged her like a mother, enveloping Dolly in cheap scent and sweat, not necessarily of the honest sort.
‘Now no crying, or you’ll set me off too. Just see that you do something good with yer life. That’s all I ask. It’d be grand for me to know that. Now get off home and start looking forward, not back. And don’t ever come round here again, or I’ll give you what for.’
* * *
When Dolly had gone, after more hugs and kisses and with effusive thanks and protestations of undying gratitude, Cabbage Lil stayed sitting on the wall, drew a great big handkerchief from her skirt pocket and blew her nose hard. She was growing soft in her old age but it felt good to help, particularly someone as lovely and kind as Dolly. She wished her well and the money offset her own sense of guilt for very nearly drawing that innocent little lass into a trade which would have done her no good at all.
‘Excuse me, I believe you’re Cabbage Lil, and I’m told that you offer accommodation to homeless girls.’
Lil glanced up, startled out of her reverie, quickly swiped the last of the tears from her eyes then narrowed her gaze to study this stranger more closely. ‘Who says so?’
‘I don’t mean to intrude on your private thoughts, but I asked the stallholder over there. I need a bed for the night. Can you offer me one?’
Lil frowned as she regarded the pretty blue costume and neat ankle boots, the navy cloche hat with a flirty feather. ‘You don’t look the sort to be in desperate need of the kind of bed I can offer. If Stan told you my name, I dare say he made no bones about what I do.’
Evie raised her carefully plucked brows in a parody of shocked surprise. ‘Actually, he didn’t say a word.’ She was deeply intrigued that Dolly should have got herself embroiled with a madam, which was clearly Cabbage Lil’s trade. What absolutely spiffing fun! She was almost tempted to join the little harem and try it out for herself. But no, she had other fish to fry, for the moment anyway. Still, it was worth keeping in mind for the future. Evie struggled to sound all contrite and sincere. ‘Oh dear, perhaps I’ve made a mistake. I didn’t realise. Thanks anyway. Sorry to have troubled you.’ And turning on her well-shod heels, she hunched up her shoulders as if dreadfully upset, and started to walk away.
Lil watched her go with a troubled frown. Something didn’t smell right. Why would this woman suddenly appear just as Dolly had departed? Had she made a big mistake in letting on about what she did? No, Stan would have told her anyway, made no bones about the matter. The girl knew right enough. But then why pretend she didn’t know, and what did she intend to do with the information? If she meant to hurt Dolly… Unfortunately, Cabbage Lil had no real idea where Dolly lived, or how to contact her. So the poor girl would have to deal with this little problem on her own.
* * *
Evie was tempted to rush to Sam and tell him what she’d discovered. Wasn’t that the perfect solution? He’d fall into her arms once he knew his wife was on the game, which would certainly liven up her rather dull life. He hadn’t been near her since their last little fumble in the car, and she was already regretting allowing him to escape so easily. Perhaps she’d teased him for long enough and it was time to reap her reward. She missed him, well, not Sam Clayton himself, exactly, but she was certainly missing the thrill of the chase, the sensual excitement of having a man rampant for her. And sex, of course. Evie couldn’t remember the last time she’d shared her bed with a man. It must be months. Life was too boring for words!
But really she needed to be sure of her facts before she told him. Sam Clayton wasn’t proving quite so easy to hook as Evie had hoped. He was playing hard to get, perhaps overawed by her status, or else stubbornly loyal to his little Dolly, and she’d no wish to look a fool. What if the woman, this Cabbage Lil, were an aunt or cousin, or some such; what if there was some good reason why Dolly was talking to her. Who knew what sort of riff-raff she was related to, the dregs of society, no doubt. She needed to check that out first.
The next time the threads broke on her frame and she called upon Aggie, who was always ready to fix them for her, which saved her the bother, Evie took the opportunity to have a quick word.
‘I saw your Dolly when I was out shopping yesterday afternoon,’ she mildly commented.
‘Oh, where was that then? Down the market, lazing about?’
‘As a matter of fact she was talking to a very odd looking woman. I asked a stallholder about her, and she’s apparently called Cabbage Lil. Do you know anything about her? Not a relative, is she?’
The expression on Aggie’s face was enough. She went deathly pale and then uncharacteristically snapped at Evie. ‘Of course she isn’t. The very idea. Anyroad, it’s none of your business who our Dolly talks to. She can surely chat to folk if she wants to. There you are, the thread is mended. Time you learned to do this job yourself.�
� And she stalked off, chin high.
Well, well, well, so the stallholder was right, Evie thought. Aggie’s prickly attitude said everything. She was, quite plainly, worried about gossip. But then who’d want a sister for a tart? These people had no idea how to conduct themselves. Class was everything.
* * *
Aggie was feeling somewhat disillusioned. Her marriage hadn’t turned out quite as she’d expected. Harold’s spirit of generosity had begun to wane. It all started when she’d ordered new furniture for the second bedroom, secretly tired of waiting to move to the suburbs and hoping to at least be starting a family soon. She’d bought a single bed, wash stand and a pretty flowered rug for the floor. Aggie would have bought a cot but decided that might be tempting fate. She hadn’t paid for any of it, of course but when she’d asked Harold to go round to the Co-op and sign the necessary papers so that it could be delivered in the plain van the company used for hire purchase goods, he completely lost his temper.
‘Haven’t you bought enough new furniture? When are you ever going to be satisfied? You think I’m made of brass?’ And much more in the same vein. Harold, Aggie discovered, was turning out to have a mean streak, to be over-cautious and nurture a strong desire to remain close to home and vegetate. She was beginning to fear that Dolly’s description of him as an old stick-in-the-mud might be chillingly accurate.
Now that the novelty had worn off, Aggie had discovered that his efforts at love making were nearly always rather clumsy affairs, and quickly over. Before she’d even got warmed up, he’d be spent and lying back on the bed exhausted, like a beached whale. He was certainly nowhere near as exciting as the much-lamented Sam, the man she’d turned down. And where were the promised compensations for her sacrifice? Even the planned move to the suburb had been put off yet again.
‘You keep saying we mustn’t touch our savings because of the move. When are we moving then? Give me a date to look forward to.’
‘How can I move out to the suburbs when my work is here in Castlefield? It doesn’t make sense. Be patient, dear. In a few years time it will all be different. We’ll be able to afford to take the risk.’
There was a lump of bitter disappointment lodged in her throat. What had she condemned herself to by marrying this man? ‘You mean when I’m old and grey. Oh, Harold, don’t be such a spoilsport.’ She kissed his round, flushed cheek, rubbed herself against him like a cat. ‘Clever chap like you could always change his job.’
A bit of wheedling and flattery had generally done the trick in the past, certainly before they were married. Unfortunately, her charms didn’t seem to have quite the same appeal now he could enjoy them any night of the week. On this occasion he did take her up to bed where they spent a most satisfactory hour, well, more like half an hour perhaps and Harold got very excited, almost like old times. Even so, he held out for a long time against allowing her to take delivery of the goods.
‘Our house is beautifully furnished as it is, the best in the street, so we don’t need another thing. We never use the second bedroom anyway.’
‘But we might, if it looked decent. We could have guests to stay.’
‘I don’t want to have strangers staying in my house, Aggie.’
Aggie wriggled closer against him, licking the curl of his ear. ‘We might have someone come to stay who isn’t a little stranger. Someone permanent.’
‘If you mean a baby, I’ve told you it’s too soon. Not yet, Aggie.’ And then a moment of panic. ‘I hope you are wearing your device, as you should.’ It troubled him that he wasn’t in control of this aspect of their lives.
‘Of course I am, Harold, what do you take me for? Aren’t I a good wife to you? Don’t I work hard and deserve a few treats now and then? I mean, I’d love an electric washing machine, Harold, and a vacuum cleaner. Doing the housework would be so much easier then, and I wouldn’t get too tired for – other things. Wouldn’t that be nice? And you know, deep down, that we need a better house, Harold. Come on, love, give us another kiss. Or shall I kiss your little soldier?’
He was shaking with need by the time she was done with him. ‘All right, my love, on this occasion I’ll go round to the Co-op and sign the papers, let you have what you want. But it’s got to stop. Do you understand? We can’t go on like this.’
She’d won, this time, but it was getting so much more difficult.
* * *
Evie decided to wait for Sam at the mill gates and the moment she saw him, fell into step beside him. Armed with this new information, she felt in a strong position, yet still something held her back, an uncertainty about his likely reaction. One minute he had looked as if he was panting for her then backed off remembering his wife. Evie decided that she must judge that possibility with care. And despite Aggie’s reaction, did she have sufficient proof about Dolly’s connection with this Cabbage Lil woman? Sam Clayton was unlikely to be impressed by the tales of Stan the stallholder, so would it be enough that she’d seen his wife talking to this woman? Evie decided that she must judge her moment with care.
She tucked her arm into his. ‘Long time no see. Anyone would think you’d been avoiding me.’
He pushed her arm away, glancing nervously about. ‘Behave yourself, Evie. Someone might see.’
‘Do you care?’
‘Aye, I care. They might tell Dolly, or worse, your dad. Let’s just be a bit more discreet, shall we?’
Evie screwed up her delightful nose and giggled. ‘Discreet isn’t a word I recognise in my vocabulary. Besides, nothing has happened between us yet. Unfortunately! Aren’t we simply good friends? Anyway, what makes you imagine I’d go with a chap like you? Maybe you think too highly of yourself, Sam Clayton.’ And casting him a withering glance, she swivelled on her heel and walked away. She’d win him round in the end, if she teased and tempted him for long enough. Had she ever failed with a man yet? Never! And even Sam Clayton would be easy meat when he wanted her enough.
Sam stood and watched her go, feeling furious with himself for messing it up yet again, and oddly bereft and wounded. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more. He’d be sorry to upset Dolly but she wasn’t his main concern. If he touched her, and Nathan Barker found out, what then? Was he prepared to risk everything to get her, even his own livelihood?
Instead, he headed down Rice Street and knocked on Myra’s door. She was out with her fella, her mother explained with a coy glance. This wasn’t his day. He treated himself to a consoling pint at the Crown and soon caught the attention of the barmaid. In no time at all they were having it off in the back yard, among the beer barrels. There was always compensation to be found somewhere.
* * *
Dolly couldn’t get Cabbage Lil’s suggestion out of her head. Could she do something with this money? Did she have the confidence to set up a business of her own, and what sort would it be? She still hadn’t worked out how she would explain the money to Sam but the idea persisted, growing in her mind into all manner of crazy notions. Perhaps it would be best to make some decisions first, get things underway and deal with explanations later. By then Sam might be in a more amenable mood to listen, but what sort of business? If only she could decide what to do for the best.
The very next time she spotted Matt on the quay, she asked him what he thought about her setting herself up in a business of some sort. ‘Do you reckon I have the confidence and capability to do something on my own, Matt?’ She looked up into those soft brown eyes, patiently waiting for his comments, knowing that she trusted his opinion implicitly.
‘Of course you can. No question. I’ve told you before, Dolly, you can do anything you put your mind to.’ He cleared his throat. ‘What does Sam think?’
She glanced away, hiding her face beneath the swing of her dark hair. ‘Sam doesn’t know yet.’
I see.’ A short pause, and then, ‘Do you mind my asking you something, Dolly?’
Half fearfully she cast him a sideways glance. ‘Depends what it is.’
‘Why would you w
ant my opinion? Why ask me?’
‘Why shouldn’t I ask you? You’re one of my oldest friends, aren’t you?’
‘I hope I always will be your friend. But by rights Sam’s the one you should be talking to about setting up in business, not me. I’m not your husband, more’s the pity.’ Matt gave his self-deprecating smile, not quite so shy as it had once been but every bit as beguiling. Dolly took the full impact of it and felt a strange sort of lurch somewhere deep inside as if a part of her had shifted. She had a sudden urge to reach out and touch him, to lean her head against his shoulder and have him wrap his arms tight about her. The experience shook her, entirely robbing her of speech.
‘You are happy with Sam, aren’t you, Dolly? I mean, he is good to you, isn’t he? I’d be really cut up, if he wasn’t.’
‘He’s wonderful.’ Her response was sharp, her eyes filling with a rush of tears so that again she had to turn away to avoid him seeing her distress and confusion.
Matt said, ‘I always felt I lost my chance with you by being so awkward and slow. I must have been a bit backward at coming forward when I was a scrap of a lad but you always seemed out of my league. Far too gorgeous to look my way.’
She was flustered now, startled by what he was saying and by her response to it, but then why shouldn’t she feel some sort of attraction towards Matt Thornton? He was an attractive man, he had changed and matured quite a lot over the years. But Sam was the man she loved and always would be. She must never forget that. She’d made her bed, as her mam would say, and she must lie in it.