The Castlefield Collector

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

  ‘How lovely for you, sweetie, but you might have said where you were! We were worried about you. Even your dear father has expressed concern about your whereabouts which is why he is so angry with you, although I refrained from telling him how often your bed hasn’t been slept in lately.’ And she gave a conspiratorial wink.

  Evie visibly relaxed, laughed out loud and kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Well done, Mumsie, I can always rely on you. He’s ranting and raving because he thinks I’m not pulling my weight at the mill, or some such nonsense. Why would I? Running a factory is a task best suited to the male of the species. I certainly have no intention of ‘learning the ropes’ as he calls it, despite my having once promised that I might. I have other plans.’

  ‘Oh, do tell, darling. Have you met someone utterly divine? Are you going to do something absolutely thrilling and exciting?’

  Evie was quite beside herself with laughter by this time. ‘One day, dearest Mumsie, when you are quite grown up and strong enough, I might tell you.’

  * * *

  Clara had gone happily away, perfectly satisfied with this fabricated tale, much to Evie’s amusement. Her father, however, was less easily fooled, and called her to his study straight after breakfast the next morning.

  ‘Well, madam, where have you been? What tricks have you been up to this time?’ he roared when she stood placidly before him.

  Evie nearly laughed out loud at his choice of words, but judged it wise to say nothing. Sadly, even her silence seemed to annoy him.

  ‘Speak, girl. If you’re up to some mischief or other, dragging my name in the mud, then I’ll turn you out of the house faster than you can say ninepence.’

  Evie smiled at him. ‘Do as you wish, Pops.’

  ‘Drat you madam, don’t you patronise me. I’ll not be disobeyed. You can start by not taking days off work whenever you’ve a mind to, or I’ll start docking your wages.’ Her father seemed to be preaching his favourite theme, rattling out the old clichés about how the whole caboodle would be hers one day, how she needed to ‘learn the ropes’ to ‘set a good example to the work force’ of which she was only a small cog in a very big wheel. ‘You need to remember, madam, that you’ll be in charge one day when I am gone. You should be the mistress of the mill. How will you cope if you don’t learn the trade?’

  Half stifling a yawn, she gave a smile. ‘I haven’t the first idea and think it would be best if I handed in my notice. I’m really rather bored with the mill and have better things to do with my time.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Nathan went quite red in the face. ‘What are you involved with? You can’t just hand in your notice.’

  ‘Yes, I can. I’ve just done so.’ She turned to leave.

  ‘But this is your heritage, and you must stay and work if I tell you to. It’s long past time you started to take life more seriously, girl. You’ll damn well behave yourself while you’re living in my house, under my roof.’

  ‘Oh, and that’s another thing, I’m leaving.’

  ‘Leaving?’

  ‘The fact of the matter is, dear Pops, that I don’t have to live under your roof. Nor do I want to inherit the mill. So why don’t you sell it, or disinherit me. I really don’t care. Do whatever you please. There are plenty of other ways I can make a living, and places I could stay.’ It flickered through her mind that it would serve him right for all his cruel treatment of her over the years, for ruining her wedding and keeping her short of money, especially now she was involved with Cabbage Lil and doing well financially. Not that she would tell him such truths!

  He was shouting now, wagging a furious finger in her face, his face a gargoyle of fury. ‘There would be no necessity for you to earn a living if you’d made an effort to find a husband. Since you can’t manage to do that simple task, you’ll stop at home like any decent unmarried daughter should, and earn your keep for as long as I damned!’

  ‘Like hell I will.’

  ‘Don’t you swear at me!’

  ‘Why not? You’ve ruined my life!’ Evie shouted back, beginning to lose control. ‘You stopped me from marrying Freddie, ordered me back home from my travels, which I was so enjoying, then deprived me of my allowance. Now I have no hope of a future that appeals to me.’

  ‘And whose fault is that? You were costing me a fortune and I’m not made of brass. Have you any idea what’s happening to my shares at this precise moment? Are you aware that there’s been a stock market crash in New York?’ His fury was escalating and he pounded on the desk with his fist, as if he’d like to be hammering the message into her skull.

  Evie leaned over the desk and calmly stated, ‘You’re so damned mean with your money, all you do is keep me working at the dratted mill, a virtual prisoner.’

  ‘That is necessary as you are a stupid, ignorant, selfish child.’

  Her pale blue eyes were like pebbles in ice cool water, and Evie furiously shook her head. ‘Oh, no, father dear, I am twenty-three, a grown woman who needs money and can do as I wish! I’ve found a good way to earn it. On my back!’

  The silence that followed this shouted declaration was long and deathly.

  Nathan’s voice, when it finally came, was a low snarl. ‘I hope you don’t mean what I imagine.’

  Evie flicked back her peek-a-boo bobbed hair, her amused gaze glittering with triumph. ‘Oh, I enjoy every minute of it. It’s such fun! I love it when strange men run their grubby little fingers over my creamy soft flesh, when they knead and paw at me. It makes me feel wanted.’

  Evie saw his hand lash out, and realised a slap was coming, almost as if it were taking place in slow motion. He knocked her backwards and she staggered, jarring her hip on the corner of the desk. She didn’t fall to the ground, nor did she sob or cry, although her head was drumming with pain, nearly blinding her.

  She spat her next words with cruel venom. ‘I hate you! At least the men I met in Italy and France, all handsome and rich, had compassion and warm feelings! I slept with most of them. God knows how many. And is it any wonder? You’ve constantly found fault with me, telling me how useless I am, never showing the slightest sign of approval or love for me. At least I was enjoying myself abroad, making a new life for myself until you stopped my money and ordered me home. So I thought, why not carry on doing what I’m good at? Why not get paid for having a good time? You can hardly complain about that now, since you instructed me to find useful, paid employment? I needed to find some way to live because you’re the worst father in the world!’

  She was screaming at him now, inches from his face, which was turning a desperate shade of scarlet and purple and then a strange blue. Nathan made an odd gurgling sound in his throat, clutched frantically at his chest, gasping for breath before sinking to his knees and falling face down on the floor.

  * * *

  Aggie knew that Harold was hoping for a rise soon, and lived in hope it would come sooner rather than later. Mr Nathan Barker was tight-fisted, rather grand and full of himself as all the nobs are, and bitter about the way things had turned out in the industry. Her husband thought he’d have it easy but was now having to work twice as hard to earn only half whatever his father did before him, or so he said.

  Harold had still not agreed to withdraw a single penny from his savings to pay for baby goods and Aggie was in despair. More often than not her purse was empty, her larder drained of its choicest items and she’d already missed one payment at the department store. Nor could she see any way of making up the missing sum, or even manage the full amount due for this week because she’d been forced to buy a new brassiere as her old one would no longer fasten over her burgeoning breasts. In addition, Harold had reminded her that she must stock up with a ton of coal at summer prices, before the price went up in the autumn.

  ‘We don’t want our baby to be cold, now do we, dear?’

  ‘Couldn’t you manage to take just a little out of your Post Office savings account, to help?’ she tentatively enquired.

  He looked shocked by t
he very suggestion. ‘Indeed not, it is earning good interest and is earmarked for other things. Haven’t you been saving up for the coal in the little tin box I gave you, dear?’

  ‘Um, yes, of course I have. Only with the baby due soon, I do need to buy one or two things like a cot and…’

  ‘I’ve already told you that we’ll buy second-hand when the time comes.’

  ‘I don’t want second-hand, Harold. I want all new.’

  ‘Now don’t be foolish. Nobody buys new. I’ve already been offered a fine black carriage, which I’m sure will do splendidly. Now don’t you worry your little head any more about the matter, but leave it to me. The baby and your health are all that matter at the moment, not the age of a cot or whether it has been used before or not.’ And he smiled condescendingly at her, as if the pregnancy prevented her from thinking too clearly.

  Aggie gazed back at him appalled. Should she tell him about the stuff she’d ordered and partly paid for? But she had no wish to mention the form she’d signed on his behalf, as he would be furious. On no account could she afford for the store to start sending reminders to their home address. Forging a husband’s signature might well prove to be illegal and then she would be arrested for fraud. Besides, they were a major customer of Barker’s Mill, so what would they think of an overlooker’s wife being in debt to them over a few baby items? It was unthinkable. She must find some other way to pay these last few instalments left, then she could pretend that she’d saved up for the equipment secretly and Harold never would discover the truth. But the question was, how could she achieve it?

  There seemed only one obvious answer. She needed to call on Nifty Jack and negotiate a temporary loan.

  * * *

  ‘Well, there’s a turn up for the book. Back in business with the Tomkins family, am I?’

  ‘My name is now Mrs Entwistle, and this is but a temporary arrangement until my baby is born. My husband, Harold, the overlooker at Barkers if you remember, has suffered a temporary setback at the mill but it will be rectified soon.’

  Nifty Jack chortled with glee. ‘Aye, had his wages cut like the rest of ’em. But it’s an ill wind. Done me a power of good, old Barker cutting back like that. They’ve been queuing up for loans. So, you need a bit of help too, do you?’ Smoothing his baldpate with the flat of his hand, he considered her carefully. ‘What is it you want exactly?’

  ‘Enough to pay off what I owe for baby equipment at Kendal Milne.’

  ‘And you prefer to owe me instead of them, is that it? I’m flattered.’

  Aggie could feel herself blushing but the last thing she wanted was for Nifty Jack to learn that Harold was unaware of the hire purchase agreement, or that she’d forged his signature in order to acquire the goods. Unfortunately, before she could devise some other excuse quickly enough, he guessed.

  ‘Ah, the lord and master is unaware of this little transaction? Now where have I heard that tale before? Common enough round here. I’m sure I can oblige, but I won’t have no falling behind with payments, you understand. T’ain’t allowed as you should know from past experience with your mam.’

  Aggie was perfectly certain that she could cope with Nifty Jack far better than her own mother ever had. Didn’t she have good wages coming in and Harold all those savings he was rather selfishly hanging on to.

  ‘It’s purely temporary, as I say. Once the baby is born then my husband will settle the loan in full. He has means.’

  ‘But not the will, eh? Right then, not for me to question why. How much do you want?’

  A sum was agreed and handed over, a rate interest fixed, which was meaningless to Aggie. Nevertheless, she gratefully took the bundle of notes and hurried straight round to Kendal Milne, graciously handing over the somewhat grubby notes to the shop assistant with the instruction that the store would be informed when they needed the equipment delivered. Having concluded this delicate bit of business, Aggie departed, perfectly satisfied. She even celebrated her small success by treating herself to a pot of tea and a cream cake in their café. Problem solved.

  * * *

  ‘Morning, Dolly!’ her mother said, popping in to see her one morning. ‘Cyril says it’s long past time for you and I to have a talk.’

  ‘Not now, Mam, I’ve enough on my plate at the moment. In any case, I can’t say I’m interested in raking up the past, not with Sam being difficult at the moment. The pair of us are hardly speaking.’ Dolly didn’t care about anything, not Aggie preening herself because she was pregnant and insufferably content in her comfortable life, nor her mother’s lies. Although a part of her still ached to know who her father might be, she certainly had no intention of asking her again. That was over and done with, best left buried. There was only work keeping Dolly sane. Deep down in the ball of pain where her heart used to be, she knew that all she really needed to make her happy was Matt.

  Maisie didn’t seem to be listening. ‘I can see you’re not happy and I’m cut up about that. There’s nothing I want more than to see my girl happy. You deserve that much at least. Cyril wants you to be happy, an’ all.’

  Dolly sighed. ‘I don’t I think I care what Cyril wants.’

  ‘I admit I gave you the impression we’d been lovers when I told you all that stuff about me running away, but it wasn’t strictly true. I admit I stretched the truth.’

  ‘You mean you lied. When did you ever do anything else, Mam?’ Dolly thought her mother had called in to offer warmth and comfort but found herself suffering yet another lecture so got briskly to her feet. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit busy right now. I’ve work to do,’ she said, hoping her mam would get the message that she wasn’t welcome and leave.

  Maisie put out a hand and made her sit down again. ‘Just hear me out.’

  The door banged open and Aggie came running in, her face beetroot red with exertion. Maisie looked up, startled. ‘Here, what’s up with you? You shouldn’t be running in your condition.’

  ‘Have you heard the news? Mr Barker has had a heart attack. They’ve rushed him to hospital in an ambulance and say he might not live.’

  Maisie was on her feet in a second, her face ashen. ‘Oh, my God! Nat? Oh, no!’ And she fainted clean away.

  * * *

  ‘Are you going to tell me your problem now? It’s about time.’ Dolly was sitting by her bed in which her mother lay. Maisie had finally come round, dazed and weeping, aided by a hefty dose of smelling salts, and she and Aggie had helped her upstairs. Now she was lying between the sheets with a hot water bottle and a comforting mug of tea. Some colour had returned to her cheeks but her hands, Dolly noticed, were trembling and making the tea spill over the rim. Once she’d drunk a little, Aggie took the mug from her and set it on the bedside table.

  ‘Will you promise to go to the hospital and ask how Nat is?’ Maisie implored, looking from one to the other of her daughters.

  Aggie and Dolly exchanged glances. Dolly said, ‘I think you’d best carry on with what you were telling me before our Aggie came in. Though I reckon I can guess what it is now.’

  Maisie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief then braced herself for the confession. ‘The chap what got me into trouble, your proper dad, wasn’t Cyril Duckett but another man.’

  Aggie let out a sigh of impatience. ‘We’ve gathered that, Mam. Get on with it, will you?’

  ‘How can I if you keep interrupting me, girl. If you remember, Dolly, it was you who suggested that it might be Cyril, so I let you go on thinking that way to stop you finding out the truth. But I never meant for it to cause such friction between us, love. Many is the time I’ve tried to find the right words to pluck up the courage to say something but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, because I knew you’d ask questions and might get hurt.’

  ‘And why shouldn’t I when I need to know who my father is? I deserve that, surely?’

  ‘Course you do, but I’d promised not to say anything about our little dalliance, no matter what the consequences. However, Cyril objects to my reputation b
eing sullied as he calls it. He’s insisted that I must face the devil and brave the world. Is that what you would say, Aggie?’

  ‘Oh for pity’s sake, Mam, why don’t you—’

  Maisie put up a hand to silence her elder daughter. ‘Cyril insists that I make it clear once and for all, that I haven’t been spreading my favours around half of Castlefield. I’m innocent as charged and so is he. We want to put things on a proper footing, now that we’re wed. The fact is him and me were never intimate in the past, despite my staying in his house. Not till we were legally married.’ Maisie was smiling as if at the memory of this happy time. ‘So Cyril can’t be your father. He feels you should know that.’

  A tiny pulse was beating hard in Dolly’s throat. ‘Then who is?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve worked that out yourself by this time. All I will say in my own defence is that Nathan Barker was the love of my life and being told how a scandal could ruin him I had to keep quiet about our affair, telling no one. I pretended the baby was Cyril’s because I knew Calvin would have made a lot of bother if he’d learned the truth. He might have got himself sacked and all our boys with him. We’d have been penniless, packed off to the workhouse. Cyril never objected to being held responsible, only to spare my reputation and be fair to you. It all worked out in the end and Calvin agreed to have me back. You had a father, albeit not a perfect one.’

  Dolly gave a short laugh. ‘That’s putting it mildly. Calvin hated the sight of me.’

  ‘Life can be difficult, eh? But I couldn’t regret that I had you, my love. You were safe and well, so what did anything else matter?’

  Aggie said, ‘Oh, now I’ve heard everything.’

  But Dolly’s eyes were awash with tears, quite moved by this story. ‘Oh Mam, I love you too. Why have we been so at odds with each other? I’m so sorry, can you ever forgive me for accusing you of sleeping with half of Castlefield?’