by The Castlefield Collector (Watch for the Talleyman) (retail) (epub)
‘To the flicks?’ Evie gurgled with laughter. ‘You think I’m the sort of girl who’d be happy with a quick fumble on the back seat of the one and nines? I don’t think so. You were just a teeny-tiny part of my life, sweetie, and not of the least importance. Merely a tumble in the hay, as it were.’
‘Tumble in the hay?’ Sam was confused.
‘Metaphorically speaking, darling, as I’m trying to delicately explain that it was merely a little dalliance, and not even a full blown affair. We didn’t do anything, not properly. You were always too distracted, and ran away at the last moment, coward that you are.’
‘I’m not a coward,’ Sam burst out. He could feel himself growing hot with embarrassment, and angry in his desperation. He’d had enough of her teasing, could bear it no longer. ‘More often than not it was you what pulled back, a right little tease you were. Though it’s true I didn’t want to risk losing my job. And I was confused, about Aggie, and maybe because Dolly and me were having problems and she was still my wife. And yet—’
‘You still fancied me like mad.’
‘Aye, and I still do.’
‘Women are your weakness, sweetie, I can see that.’
‘But you’re different. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. Still can’t. I reckon you and me have something special, something serious.’
‘Serious?’ Evie put back her head and laughed out loud. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t walk out with a man of your sort in a serious way, not if you paid me. Well no, perhaps I might if you paid me.’ She laughed again, a trilling, musical sound as if she’d said something highly amusing. ‘Go home to your sweet little wife, Sam, and forget you ever knew me.’
A tide of scarlet rose from Sam’s neck and flushed right up his face. Evie Barker was making a fool of him and he didn’t much care for that, not one bit. He no longer seemed to be in control, not of his women who’d always been easy meat, nor of his own life. Sam felt as if he was shrinking beneath her scornful gaze. Why did she no longer want him? If only he could’ve loved Dolly as she deserved, and not be hankering after this fancy madam?
‘I dare say you think I’m a right daft lummock but Dolly and me were having a hard time of it, so I didn’t want to hurt her. I kept hoping it might work out between us. She’s pure gold is my Dolly.’
It was true, he thought. Had he thrown everything good in his life out the window by leaving her?
‘Your Dolly is she now? What a touching little speech, utterly heart-rending and loyal. Then why are you here, dearest heart? Because you’re still rampant for me, poor boy, simply panting for it. Can’t get me out of your mind, as you said yourself. Dear me, don’t look so downcast and disappointed, I really can’t bear it.’ She glanced at her watch and let out a resigned sigh. ‘You can have a quickie if you like, why not? I’ve got a few minutes to kill and it might be quite amusing.’
Sam went cold, his pride cut to ribbons. ‘No thanks! I’m not begging for it. I’ve changed me mind and I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole.’
‘Goodness, don’t say you’re refusing my offer?’
‘Aye, I am. I weren’t thinking straight. Happen your patronising, toffee-nosed attitude has cleared my head.’ He turned away, pleased with himself for holding on to his pride, even if he could feel himself still shaking from the fever that consumed him.
Evie did not care to be denied or ignored, and have someone turn his back upon her. Perversely she now became determined to have him and grabbing hold of his jacket, pulled him to her. ‘Do stop these petty sulks and come here, you silly boy. I can’t bear to see a man deprived.’
The smell of her perfume was intoxicating, filling his nostrils and, in an instant, the fire in him exploded. He thrust her back against the wall, kissing her long and hard, lifting her skirt, eager to take her.
The voice he knew came out of nowhere. ‘So, our Aggie was right that this woman is the real reason you left me, Sam Clayton, and nothing to do with the talleyman or debts at all.’
Sam whirled about as if he’d been struck. ‘Dolly, it’s not how it looks. I can explain.’
‘I’m sure you can but I don’t need any explanation. There’s nothing wrong with my eyesight, even if I have been a bit soft in the head for believing in you all this time. I was going to ask if we could try again, explain what I’m doing to try to set things right, but I won’t waste my time any more. Don’t ever come back home as I’m better off without you messing up my life, Sam Clayton.’
* * *
Dolly strode swiftly along Liverpool Road, her boots ringing on the pavement, echoing the fury of her temper. Nothing had quite turned out as she’d hoped. How could she have been so naïve as to trust Sam Clayton? Why had she ever loved him, ever been daft enough as to marry him? What an utter and complete fool she’d been and all the time he’d been knocking off Evie Barker, probably since before they were wed.
How dare he accuse her of being cheap, of doing unspeakable things and going with men for money, when he was no innocent. How dare he? By the time she reached Potato Wharf the anger had dissipated and she was stumbling along, half blinded by tears and wretched in her misery. She might well have fallen, had not Aggie suddenly appeared out of nowhere and hooked on to her arm.
‘Hey, what’s this? Not been on the booze, have you Dolly, lass?’
‘Oh, Aggie, I’m that glad to see you. It’s all so awful.’ And the tears began to flow as if a tap had been opened. Aggie helped her sister the length of the wharf, up through Tully Court and in their front door. Thankfully, the house was empty, Maisie nowhere in sight, probably collecting or returning either children or washing.
Once the tears had been dried and the usual healing cuppa had been put into Dolly’s hands, Aggie folded her arms across her plump breasts and demanded to know what was going on. Dolly told her what she had just witnessed, making no bones about her discovery that Sam had left her not because of the debt, but because he was indeed having an affair with Evie Barker, the gaffer’s daughter. Once again the tears flowed so that Aggie had to rescue the mug and find a clean handkerchief for Dolly to blow her nose.
‘Well, it’s no surprise to me.’
Were Dolly willing to credit her sister with such nastiness, she’d have thought the expression on her face was one of pure satisfaction that she found herself in this dreadful situation. But surely even Aggie couldn’t be so unkind as to take pleasure in her own sister’s misery?
Aggie was secretly delighted that Dolly’s marriage with Sam appeared to be failing, if irritated over the reason. She had no more liking to see him carrying on with Evie Barker than had Dolly. Men were so weak, so bloody useless. But there was some satisfaction in seeing her sister brought low, and quite a struggle not to show it.
‘I wouldn’t trust that little madam as far as our back yard gate. She’s a right nasty piece of work. And didn’t I warn you that Sam Clayton would be a lousy husband? You should’ve listened to me in the first place. And if you’d confessed to Sam what you got up to with that Cabbage Lil person, then he might never have turned against you. That’s always been your trouble, Dolly, you never will take advice.’
‘But I did, I told him in the end, like you said, and look what happened. He left me.’
‘Too late! You told him far too late. You can’t expect me to pull you out of these holes you get yourself into. I can’t keep on slipping you the odd shilling, or pair of boots. We’re saving for a new house, so you’ll have to find every penny yourself from now on. I’m sorry, Dolly, but there it is.’
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and couldn’t remember a time when Aggie had actually got her out of a hole, let alone slip her a shilling. And her worn out boots she could well do without. She rather hoped her sister didn’t try offering her cast-off hats as well. The one she had on today was a sickly green colour that just about cleared her eyebrows and had a great bow on the side.
‘I’ll get by, don’t you worry about me. I have my little r
ound of clients who pay me regular as clockwork every week, plus a bit of interest.’
‘And what sort of clients might they be?’ Aggie smirked.
‘I’m a moneylender. I told you, and an honest one at that.’
Aggie looked as if she’d been slapped in the face. She’d quite forgotten about this little show of enterprise on Dolly’s behalf, had put it firmly out of her mind, not liking to see her younger sister, or rather half-sister, so independent and successful. She looked at her now with loathing in her heart, seeing the pretty elfin face, the ebony curls and feeling the familiar twist of jealousy. ‘Moneylender? Don’t talk daft. You surely can’t depend upon that for a living? I never took that nonsense seriously.’
‘Aye, you did. You were jealous as hell, and I’m doing very nicely thank you.’
Dolly was smiling but the casual way she dismissed Aggie’s opinion on the subject, made her want to gag. So much so that she found difficulty speaking in a normal voice, probably because her teeth were clenched together so hard her jaw hurt. It was quite an effort to release them.
‘It’s perfectly obvious to me how you earned the money on your back, to set yourself up in business. And you’d probably earn more if you’d stayed in that position.’
‘You nasty minded cow! Every penny I earned was honest and above board, as I’ve explained more than once.’
Aggie snorted her derision. ‘Go on, tell the truth that it was for services rendered.’ She hated to think that this little cuckoo in the nest who Mam thought the sun shone out of, might be making money when Aggie herself seemed to be increasingly hard up. It really wasn’t fair. Maybe her flaming sister would be the one to move out to a posh new house in the suburbs. Serve her right if she had lost Sam, at least she wouldn’t be starting a family. Aggie couldn’t be more delighted.
Life wasn’t going according to plan for her either. She was not enjoying her work at all, not one little bit. The atmosphere at the mill had changed since she married and she hated it. The other girls didn’t seem to care for working with the overlooker’s wife and she felt increasingly isolated, alone and without friends.
She’d once been quite friendly with Lizzie Bramley and Myra Johnson, now they both turned their noses up at her. So desperate did she feel at times that she’d looked back with fond nostalgia upon the times she and Dolly had squabbled over who was to take their dinner break first. Nowadays, Aggie felt fortunate to get a break at all. No one was willing to watch her frame while she ate, so she was forced to stop her machine altogether, which meant she was losing money she really couldn’t afford to lose.
What was worse, Harold had come home from his shift the other night looking thoroughly shaken. Nathan Barker had informed him that his wages were to be cut. And when he’d objected to this kind of cavalier treatment, citing his years of loyalty to the firm, he’d been curtly informed that times were hard and he was fortunate to have a job at all.
Aggie had listened to his tale in stark horror, fear cutting into her like a cold knife. ‘But what about our dream of moving to the suburbs?’
Asking Harold this innocent question, he’d turned on her, eyes blazing. ‘Never mind the suburbs, how are we going to make all the payments on all this bloody new furniture?’
Never, in all their time together had she heard Harold swear. It was this, rather than the way he’d stomped off to bed in a foul mood, which had convinced her that matters were dire indeed. So she had little patience with her stupid sister’s troubles.
Dolly was dabbing at her eyes, reaching for a brush to drag through her tousled hair, and still defending herself.
‘As I told you before, I earned that money fair and square. For cooking and cleaning, but nothing more. I didn’t peel off any stockings or undo a single button to earn it, so don’t imply that I did. Though I wonder sometimes if that would be any worse than what you do with your Harold. Don’t tell me you married him for his good looks or his charm. You wed Harold Entwistle for the size of his bank balance and a house in the suburbs. And much good may it do for you. As for me, I’m doing nicely on me own now, ta very much. I’ll cope with or without Sam Clayton, you can bet your sweet life on that. Now I have work to do, so you can see yourself out.’
The conversation between the two sisters ended as usual with the banging of the door, only this time it was Dolly who grabbed her coat, picked up her money bag and left. Aggie remained exactly where she was, seething with fury.
She was still sitting there, head in hands, feeling sorry for herself when the door opened and Sam staggered in, very much the worse for drink. He peered at Aggie, bleary-eyed.
‘Where’s Dolly? I need to speak to her.’
‘She’s not here. By heck lad, you’ve had a skinful.’
‘It’s not my fault Aggie. I never meant this to happen.’
‘Course you didn’t, love.’ She could see that he’d turned maudlin in his drunken state and her heart went out to him. Oh, how she wanted him. This was the man who should be warming her bed at night. If only he’d had a bit more go about him they might have made a pair, then everything could have been so different. Dolly wouldn’t now be feeling betrayed, and she wouldn’t be endlessly waiting for Harold to deliver on his promises.
Aggie had been reasonably content with her marriage to begin with, Harold fulfilling her needs in many ways even though he didn’t quite have Sam’s charm or good looks. Now he always seemed to be tired, concerned about money, constantly checking his accounts and complaining about how much things cost. He was turning into a right old skinflint. Aggie could see nothing but years of hard work ahead of her. She might just as well have married Sam Clayton.
She looked with an expression of bitter regret. ‘Our Dolly doesn’t deserve you. She’s the one to blame, fussing over that debt, as if paying the talleyman is all that matters in life.’
‘You’re right there, lass. It’s all Dolly’s fault.’ He gave a loud hiccup, seemed about to keel over, and Aggie put her shoulder under his arm, grabbing him round the waist.
‘Come on lad, we’d best get you upstairs to bed.’ She started to push him up the stairs, which took all her strength leaving her exhausted and breathless by the time they reached the top. Sam was clearly on his last legs. She just managed to reach the bed before he collapsed. Within seconds he was snoring his head off.
Aggie shook him. ‘Sam, don’t you dare go to sleep on me. What were you doing with that Evie Barker?’
‘Nothing. Toffee-nosed bitch.’
Aggie smiled to herself. So his advances had been refused. She gazed down at him spread-eagled on the bed, his long legs with those powerful muscled thighs, the tantalising bulge in his trousers. He was quite a man. She unpinned her hair, shook out the chestnut curls then began to unbutton her blouse.
‘So what are you going to do about our Dolly? She spends half her time with that Nifty Jack. God knows what she gets up to while she’s supposedly cleaning his house.’ Aggie peeled off her blouse, stepped out of her skirt. Sam’s gaze wasn’t entirely focused but he was interested, she could tell. ‘And she undoubtedly made that money she lends out by lying on her back for some chap or other. Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘Course it bloody bothers me. Oh, Aggie, why didn’t I wed you?’
She quickly rolled off her stockings, followed by her petticoat and slid into bed beside him. ‘That doesn’t mean we can’t have a bit of fun like we used to, does it?’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nathan Barker was a worried man. He sat at the breakfast table, reading The Times, feeling as if his blood was turning to ice in his veins. This terrible business in America with the Wall Street Crash seemed to be going from bad to worse. The market was plummeting and starting to badly affect his investments.
‘A car in every garage, a chicken in every pot,’ had been the cry. The Americans had played the stock market as if it were a casino for years, believing prices would continue to rise. Spend, spend, spend, had been their creed but then the c
lever investors had bailed out and left the rest floundering. The crash had happened back in October ’29, when the bottom had dropped out of the market. At first it was assumed that there would be a recovery yet now, only a few months into the new year, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. People were actually committing suicide, taking their own lives, jumping out of skyscraper windows. Even banks were going bust, for God’s sake.
This morning’s paper claimed that Britain too could also be affected. So far as Nathan was concerned, it was affecting him now. He’d speculated in the American market to help get him out of a hole, and to keep the business competitive. His losses were great. How he would recover from this latest blow he hadn’t the first idea. Should he close the mill right away and have done with it, throwing a hundred or so workers out on to the scrapheap, or hang on till the bitter end? His head ached he felt so tired, couldn’t even think clearly, and he hadn’t slept well.
Nothing had quite gone right for him in a long while, what with that dreadful accident at the mill, the cancelled wedding and Evie failing to find herself a husband. Not to mention wasting a fortune idling her way around Europe. Nathan would have considered it money well spent if she’d come home with a rich son-in-law eager to invest in the business. But whatever opportunities she’d had, she’d ruined them by her profligate selfishness and greed. There wasn’t going to be a good marriage. The foolish child had missed the boat and would continue to be a burden to him, probably for the rest of his life.
Nathan had to admit that he too had missed many chances of happiness in life, all too frequently making the wrong decisions. His marriage to feeble Clara, what a let down she had been. Even to quarrel with his oh-so-agreeable wife was well nigh impossible, as it felt like batting against a soft, squashy pillow. He could walk all over her and she would never even notice.