The Castlefield Collector

by The Castlefield Collector (Watch for the Talleyman) (retail) (epub)

  Days later Harold received a letter from his bank manager concerning payments on the hire purchase loan they’d taken out for the spare room furniture some time ago. So when he issued a further lecture on the value of money and the necessity for prudence and no more buying, as he had instructed her, Aggie found it was not appropriate to mention the latest hire purchase she’d made. Not yet! But all done and dusted, Harold would have to stop being selfish with his savings and dig deeper into his pockets to provide for her precious son or daughter.

  Later, when he’d gone off to bed early, claiming to be exhausted, she signed it herself using his name. Who would know?

  It proved to be perfectly correct in that the cashier at the department store did not blink an eye when she handed it over the next day, merely wished Aggie well with her coming confinement and said they were happy to be of assistance. So, there we are, Aggie thought happily. All settled and arranged, and Harold will simply have to stop being so selfish with his savings and dig deeper into his pockets to provide for our precious son or daughter. As for Sam Clayton, Dolly was welcome to him. Aggie fully intended to take the first opportunity to tell her so.

  * * *

  When Sam called, asking for an appointment or an invitation, Evie almost laughed out loud but did at least agree to see him. She even instructed her little maid to bring them tea, which they took in her private boudoir. ‘Was it something in particular you wished to say to me?’

  Sam was looking about him with interest, noting the fancy décor, the gilt, the pastel colours. He’d heard the rumours and been eager to check them out for himself. Since he had personal acquaintance with the owner of this fine establishment, he was quite certain he’d be able to procure special rates. ‘You seem to be doing very well for yourself, lass.’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ she sweetly corrected him. ‘Earl Grey or Indian?’

  Sam glanced at her, bemused by the question until he saw her holding the teapot. ‘As it comes.’

  ‘If you were considering requesting my services, I don’t think you can afford me,’ she told him, handing him a china cup of the finest Earl Grey.

  Sam sniffed it and set it down with a grimace of distaste. ‘I’ll have a drop of milk, if you can spare it. And how would you know what I could afford? Anyroad, you can’t pick and choose, can you, not in your line of business.’ He smirked, giving her a big wink.

  ‘Oh, I most certainly can. Unlike your poor wife, I don’t have to put up with you.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I heard you’d moved back in with your silly girl. Why ever did she agree? No doubt you spun her a load of lies, promising to be faithful. Did she welcome you with open arms?’

  Contrary to his optimistic belief, Dolly had not succumbed to his charms within the week. Over a month later he was still in the back bedroom and not enjoying it one little bit. Of course, he had his usual compensations, although Myra had got herself a new chap and was no longer available. Even so, he missed Dolly, and since she was near at hand it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity. Unfortunately, she was proving to be remarkably obstinate. No matter how much he argued that they were still man and wife and he was entitled to her, she absolutely refused to allow him to move back into her bed. ‘Dolly and me are having a trial reunion,’ he admitted. ‘To see if it’ll work.’

  ‘Oh dear! I must say, Sam darling, you are feeling rather neglected but were quite fun once. I’ve moved on to richer, more exciting fish. You’re just a little tiddler in a big pond, and of no account at all. Didn’t you realise?’

  Still hankering after Evie Barker, and ready to get her, Sam could feel his face start to burn, almost cracking the fragile cup and saucer as he slammed it down. He was on his feet in a second. ‘I’ve not come here to be insulted. I just thought it might be interesting to—’

  ‘Give me a good seeing for old time’s sake?’ She laughed, and put back her head chortled with delight. ‘I don’t think so, sweetie. You never were the stud you imagined yourself to be, so I hardly think you can be now. Close the door on your way out, there’s a dear.’

  * * *

  Dolly had never been more miserable in all her life. She felt utterly wretched. It had been a terrible mistake letting Sam move back in. She’d come so close to real happiness with Matt yet somehow it had all unravelled and gone sour. She avoided going anywhere near the timber yard now, unable to bear the thought of running into him by pure chance.

  To be fair, Sam was doing his best and behaving himself in his way, being polite and considerate, rarely going out and not trying anything on. But relations between them could best be described as awkward. He did ask once or twice if he might move out of the back bedroom. She’d said no, and he seemed to accept that. But they really had nothing left to say to each other and were more like strangers than man and wife. Whatever spark there’d once been between them was now dead.

  Dolly made his tea, did his washing, ironed his shirts, carried out all those wifely duties in addition to her normal routine of house calls to her clients, collecting their weekly payments and trying to find a few more customers. At least Nifty Jack seemed to be keeping his distance, which was a huge relief.

  Each evening the pair of them would sit at either side of the hearth, not speaking or even looking at each other, and keeping up the façade of a happy marriage while Dolly darned his socks.

  Sam would keep sighing, pretend to listen to the wireless and glance at his pocket watch every five minutes. ‘Have you not done yet? And what about supper?’ he’d complain.

  ‘You’ve had your supper. I made hotpot. What more do you want?’

  ‘I meant a snack before I go to bed. A sandwich or something.’

  ‘Make one for yourself, if you’re still hungry.’

  ‘You’re my wife, you should make it.’

  In the end, she could stand it no longer. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, I’ve fed you well, so go to the pub, why don’t you? I can’t bear to see you sitting there with a face as long as a wet fortnight. Get from under my feet then I can have a bit of peace.’

  He was out of the door like a shot from a gun, which was such a relief. When he’d gone, she kicked off her shoes, tucked her feet under her and thought of Matt.

  When Sam returned later that night very much to worse for drink, Dolly heard him come stumbling up the stairs. He rapped on her bedroom door and called her name. But she’d wedged a chair under the door handle so paid no attention, blotting out his pleading by stuffing her fingers in her ears. Turning over in her lonely bed she wondered how she could live like this for the rest of her life, hating her husband, nor wanting him to touch her. She could hardly bear to have him in the same house, let alone her bed. Her last thought as she wept silent tears into her pillow, was for Matt. If only he wasn’t avoiding her, like everyone else in her life.

  * * *

  It took no time at all for Aggie to get into financial difficulties. In a frighteningly short space of time she discovered that her housekeeping money did not stretch to the normal weekly payments for all the items she had ordered, let alone pay off any extra. She tried wheedling a little extra out of Harold, but he was stubbornly resistant to her pleas, constantly reminding her how generous her allowance was already, which was true. Normally she’d had plenty left over from her housekeeping after food had been bought and paid for, and he’d sometimes given her a bit extra for treats or the odd frock she’d a fancy to buy. All that had stopped when his wages had been cut. It was most vexing.

  ‘You don’t seem to understand that I need new clothes, since my old ones no longer fit,’ she tried to explain.

  ‘I bought you a larger overall for work, and a smock to wear at home with that special sort of skirt with the drop down apron front. What more do you need? It’s not as if we can afford to go out much these days, so no one sees you but me, and I think you look lovely whatever you wear, love.’

  His soft words, even his teasing kisses didn’t waken the usual r
esponse in her and she’d flounced off to bed in a huff, leaving Harold even more worried and concerned about her condition.

  Later, he brought her up a cup of hot cocoa and gently suggested that if she was feeling below par, perhaps it was time, after all, for her to give up work. Fear shot through her like liquid fire. The last thing Aggie wanted was to lose her wages. How would she manage then?

  ‘No, I’m fine, really I am. Just a bit tired. I can do another month at least.’ Hopefully, by then she’d have coaxed some of those blasted savings out of him.

  She tried cutting down on grocery and butcher bills by giving him meat less frequently, and trying cheaper cuts. But Harold had a healthy appetite, loved his meat and two veg and considered that he worked hard enough to deserve it. He also enjoyed home-made cakes and puddings and so economies on that front did not go down well either.

  ‘Complain to the fishmonger next time you go, dear. This piece of cod is dreadful.’

  ‘Yes dear, I will.’ It wasn’t cod at all but some unknown species Aggie had never heard of but the fishmonger had assured her, when she’d pointed out that she must be a little more economical with the baby coming along, that her husband would never notice the difference. Clearly he didn’t know Harold.

  It gave her some satisfaction that life seemed to be no easier for Dolly. ‘Sam behaving himself, is he?’ she would blithely enquire, whenever she decided to pop round and do a bit of nosing.

  Dolly generally said little, merely asking if she was having an easy pregnancy, but Aggie could tell that things weren’t going well between them. ‘I’m fine and dandy, thank you. So, is Sam still seeing Evie Barker? She never comes into work now. Rumour has it she’s set up as a madam.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘With Cabbage Lil, that friend of yours! Don’t pretend you know nowt about it. You probably introduced them.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ Dolly said, appalled. This was news to her and surely couldn’t be a coincidence. ‘How on earth did they meet?’

  Aggie stood up and began to button on her gloves. ‘Don’t play the innocent. It’s you what moves in those sort of circles, not me. But I doubt Mr Barker will be too chuffed to hear how you brought his precious daughter into contact with that nasty piece of merchandise, so yet again you’ve brought shame on our family, Dolly. What Harold will say when he hears, I cannot imagine.’

  * * *

  On his way to bed a night or two later, Nathan tapped on Evie’s door. There was no reply. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen her around for a day or two. She was frequently absent from the mill, constantly sneaking days off, and he’d been forced to take her to task on the matter on more than one occasion recently. He’d made it clear that anyone else would have got the sack. What was the little madam up to? He couldn’t even recall if she’d been at her frame any day this last week, but he certainly hadn’t noticed her car parked in the yard. At least, it hadn’t been there today when that big delivery of cotton bales had been made. He would have noticed.

  ‘Evie, are you here?’ No answer. ‘If you’re not asleep please open the door. I want to talk to you.’ Still receiving no response, he gave up and went to bed, deciding that perhaps she was asleep, and decided to ask Clara about her in the morning.

  But at breakfast he became once more absorbed in the falling value of his shares, a far more serious matter than a troublesome daughter. They would need to get into profit soon or he’d be in deep trouble.

  ‘You haven’t eaten your toast, darling,’ Clara gently reminded him. ‘It’s gone quite cold. Shall I ring for some fresh?’

  Nathan crumpled up his newspaper. ‘No, dammit, I’m not hungry. Even toast will soon become a luxury in this house and that stupid maid will have to go,’ he said, speaking his thoughts out loud.

  ‘Dear me! Whatever has poor Mabel done?’

  ‘Nothing at all, except cost me a small fortune in bed and board, as is the case with all the women in this household. And where is Evie, dammit? What’s the girl up to? She never seems to come down to breakfast these days.’

  ‘Ah, she’s not at her best early morning, dear, that’s all it is. She’ll be down later I expect, dashing off to the mill at the last minute as usual.’ Clara was sweetly evasive, neatly avoiding his gaze as she spread marmalade on her toast. She was well aware that Evie had not slept in her bed for at least a week and she hoped to avoid bringing this information to her husband’s attention, at least until she’d discovered what her darling child was up to. Asking questions never seemed to bear fruit. She’d tried once or twice already only to be stonewalled. But then interrogation had never worked with her husband either. The only way she’d ever learned what was going on in Nathan’s life was to unearth the information in an underhand way, such as by reading his post. She still possessed the letter that revealed the presence of one of his fancy women. Though it wasn’t clear who the letter had come from, as it hadn’t been signed but judging by the bad scribble it must be some uneducated mill girl. Clara had decided not to confront him on the issue, for the present at least. Where was the point? His taste with women was truly diabolical.

  As was Evie’s taste in men. Clara secretly hoped she might have found a lovely new man who would solve all her problems and theirs too, if he had sufficient funds. Though no doubt that was wishful thinking on her part. What the girl was doing with her life she really didn’t care to think of.

  Her own life had certainly taken a turn for the better recently. Her old school chum, darling Jeffrey, her beau as she privately called him, had brought joy back to her life. How marvellous they’d met up again after all these years. One might go so far as to say that he’d actually saved her sanity. Yet somehow, as a result, she’d rather less patience with Nathan’s sulks and felt less inclined to tolerate his neglect. Jeffrey was urging her to abandon ship and move in with him, insisting that Nathan did not appreciate her. Quite an interesting notion!

  ‘Hadn’t you better be going, dear? Don’t want you to be late.’ She guessed there was a problem at the mill with finance but Nathan refused to discuss this with her, claiming she wouldn’t understand. She’d stopped asking as why should she care? Hadn’t he wasted a small fortune on his women over the years? Was she prepared to continue to play the role of the obedient, compliant little wife, or was it time for the worm to turn?

  Clara went to fetch Nathan’s hat and gloves from the hall. ‘I shall be going out this afternoon with my old school chum, and might be late back this evening. You don’t mind dining at eight instead of seven for once, do you dear?’

  Nathan mumbled something to the effect that he really couldn’t care less what time she got back from seeing Dorothy or Daisy or whoever her old school chum was, so long as he got his dinner at some point during the evening.

  Clara smilingly agreed, content as she saw him off to the mill, handing him his hat and gloves and giving him a little peck on the cheek. After he’d gone, instead of hurrying upstairs to the sanctuary of her studio as she usually did, she put on her coat and hat, picked up her handbag, and went out.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When Nathan arrived home from the mill looking even more tired and strained than usual, he demanded to know if Evie had returned home. ‘What if she’s taken it into her head to do something silly, like that time during the strike.’

  Clara was forced to confess that she had, in fact, spent hours searching, and visiting all of Evie’s friends, trying to discover the whereabouts of her darling daughter. Even dear Jeffrey had helped, not that she wished to mention him. The day had seemed endless, and their personal plans completely ruined. In the end she’d been forced to admit defeat and return home. But what if her precious girl had been involved in an accident? Clara felt swamped in utter misery and consumed by guilt. If she hadn’t been so engrossed with herself these last weeks, in discovering this new love in her life, she might have paid more attention to what her daughter was up to. Clara said none of this to Nathan, who appeared largely unmoved, exce
pt for the muscles of his jaw drawing ever tighter.

  ‘Don’t worry your head about her. The girl is a survivor and utterly selfish into the bargain, with not the slightest consideration for anyone but herself.’

  Evie sauntered in just as they were about to sit down to dinner and Clara went weak with relief. So grateful was she to see her daughter fit and well that she made no comment about her strange apparel: a gold and crimson velvet jacket and skirt with matching hat, far too loud for Clara’s taste. Not to mention the sparkling embroidery on the piping, probably of Nabob origin, really rather too exotic for words.

  Nathan demanded that Evie be at the mill first thing in the morning, ordering her to present herself at his office with a suitable explanation about her conduct. A visit to the bank manager had not improved his temper today and his patience was running dangerously thin. He privately hoped that by morning he might have better control of things, once the bank had put his demands into effect. Right now, he insisted she sit down and dine with them in a civilised fashion, not even allowing her time to freshen up or change.

  Following a dinner in which neither the food nor the atmosphere got above chilled, Clara paid a visit to Evie’s room. She was already tucked up in bed reading a magazine, her fair hair neatly pinned into tight little waves so they wouldn’t be too disturbed in sleep. Sitting on the side of her bed, she adopted a suitably cross expression and demanded to know where it was she went on these regular absences of hers, only to be blandly informed that she’d been staying with a friend. No names were offered and Clara baulked at asking. The poor girl would probably be made to suffer enough from Nathan’s irascible temper so she decided against probing further. Besides, any interference on her part may well spoil a blossoming romance, for Clara suspected she may be staying with a man.