Proud Mary

by Proud Mary (retail) (epub)

  Marian didn’t even blink at the implied reproof. ‘What a charming way you have of speaking, dear, so sweet and funny.’

  Bea tugged at Mali’s arm, leading her away from where Marian Thomas was sitting. ‘Don’t let the old harridan upset you with her snobbish airs and graces. It’s people like that who make my hackles rise – only an upstart grocer her father was, but she rides along on her husband’s coat-tails, for everyone likes old Bryn.’

  To Mali’s relief the door opened and the men entered the room talking loudly. One of them laughed and the air of tension in the room was suddenly dispelled. Sterling came straight towards Mali, taking her hands in his.

  ‘You look beautiful tonight,’ he whispered. ‘Motherhood suits you!’ As Mali reached up to touch her husband’s cheek in a brief gesture of affection, she felt Bea’s eyes resting on her. Quickly she sat in a chair and folded her hands in her lap, feeling as though she was rubbing salt into old wounds. Not that Bea would think any such thing, she was far too sensible a woman for that.

  ‘I’m quite pleased with myself.’ Sterling sat on the arm of Mali’s chair, looking down into her eyes. ‘I think I’ve found a buyer for the laundry.’

  Mali felt her heart contract. ‘So soon?’ she asked shakily. Sterling rested his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Not going to change your mind, are you?’ He spoke with a hint of reproof in his voice and Mali shook her head.

  ‘No, but I did ask for time to think it over. The laundry has been an important part of my life, you know that.’

  ‘I know, darling, but I just happened to mention that we were considering selling up and Dean made me a very good offer for the place.’

  Mali glanced over to where the American stood beside his father. The two men were very much alike, both big with large shoulders and leonine heads. The older Mr Sutton was still handsome, the lines of his face clear and firm. Dean caught her eye and smiled and Mali inclined her head, her thoughts racing.

  ‘I’ll bring him over to talk to you,’ Sterling said and before Mali could protest he was striding across the room, catching Dean’s arm and engaging in animated conversation with him.

  ‘So you’re selling your business.’ Dean stood above her looking down indulgently. She gestured to a chair and as he sat opposite her, his large hands resting on his knees, she could not help noticing the solid gold signet ring gleaming on his finger.

  ‘That’s right,’ Mali said and, feeling that she might have sounded a little ungracious, forced herself to smile. ‘Are you interested in buying, then?’

  ‘I sure am,’ Dean nodded his large head. ‘I like to have a finger in as many pies as possible.’

  Mali stared at him thoughtfully. While it was true that she did not personally like Dean Sutton, she could not fault him on his loyalty to his workers. He had stood up in court and defended Billy Gray with convincing enthusiasm, swearing that Billy had always been upright and honest during the years he had served as his groom.

  ‘There is one condition,’ Mali said, ‘but an easy one to fulfil. I want Mary Jenkins to keep her position as overseer at the laundry.’ She searched his face, trying to read his expression.

  ‘Mary’s been a very good friend to me and I’m sure you’ll find she’s a fine worker. She knows the laundry inside out and everyone respects Big Mary.’ Mali ended on a defensive note, knowing she was babbling nervously but there was something in Dean’s manner which made her uneasy. Then the moment was past and he was smiling warmly.

  ‘Anything you say, Mali. The young lady can stay on for just as long as she likes.’

  Mali relaxed against the soft cushions of her chair. She must be getting fanciful, she chided herself, but she could have sworn for a moment that the blue eyes twinkling at her now from under heavy brows had held an expression that she could only describe as lustful – he had seemed to light up at the mention of Big Mary.

  Sterling rested his hand on her chair in a caressing gesture. ‘No need for you to worry about any of the arrangements,’ he said, smiling down at her upturned face. ‘I’ll see to everything.’ He turned to Grenville who had strolled across the room to join them, including him in the conversation.

  ‘It’s a very poorly kept secret that my wife is expecting another child,’ he smiled, ‘and so I’m insisting that she takes things easy.’

  ‘Congratulations, both of you!’ Grenville took her hand in his with great care, almost as if she might break. ‘A woman’s place is at her own fireside with her little ones round her skirts, that’s what I say. Too many so-called ladies are calling like carrion crows for what they say are their rights, but ’taint proper and I’ve no time for such nonsense.’

  She hid her chagrin, telling herself she must make allowances for an old man’s fancies. Grenville was from a different age and from a background where women were reared to sit around and do nothing but stitch samplers all day. She wondered if Grenville knew of her past, of the stink and dirt of Copperman’s Row where she’d been born – she doubted it.

  Unconsciously she twisted her fingers together in her lap, thinking back to her life before she had married Sterling. She remembered vividly how her mam had gone to her grave in a pine box fashioned by her father’s unskilled hands, carried on a cart that stank of fish however hard Mali scrubbed it.

  ‘The matter is settled then?’ Dean’s smooth voice broke into the thoughts and Mali looked up at him swiftly. ‘I’ll get my lawyer to see to the papers as soon as possible,’ he continued.

  Mali felt a twinge of regret. Perhaps she could change her mind even now, she told herself. Then she became aware of Sterling’s hand still smoothing her hair, as though he was soothing a frightened animal, and she knew it was too late, much too late.

  ‘I’m delighted you’re being sensible about this, Mali,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll be much happier knowing you’re at home instead of down at the laundry wearing yourself out labouring over the books.’ His eyes were violet and Mali caught her breath, for she loved him so much she could deny him nothing. She clung to his hand as though seeking reassurance and his fingers curled in hers.

  She would never forget the time when she had thought him lost to her for ever. It was at the Kilvey Deep just after the explosion, when the dead were being laid out on the dusty earth. Victoria was bending over the still figure of James Cardigan, weeping as though her heart would break and Mali, searching for Sterling, had been dragged down with pain and fear. The moment he had emerged from the chaos of the flooded pit lived with her now and sometimes she was almost afraid to let him out of her sight.

  ‘I do declare you’re the finest pair of lovebirds I ever did see,’ Dean laughed as he rose to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you to yourselves now, but don’t forget to see to that business for me, Sterling.’ Then Dean rested his hand on his father’s shoulder and the two men moved away, apparently deep in conversation.

  ‘I hope I’m doing the right thing,’ Mali said softly and Sterling made a wry face at her.

  ‘Nothing has ever been proved against Dean,’ he reminded her. ‘In any case, this is business and his money is as good as anyone’s.’ His face softened. ‘He’ll be good to your friends down at the laundry, so don’t worry your head about them.’

  Mali relaxed in her chair. ‘You always did get right to the heart of what’s bothering me, Sterling. I swear sometimes that you can read my mind.’

  She bit her lip, thinking of Mary – she must let her know that the business was about to change hands. Mary had said more than once that Dean was a fair boss to Billy Gray, so she should not be too upset that he had bought the laundry.

  ‘Come on,’ Sterling said gently, ‘I think we should mingle with our guests, don’t you?’

  As Mali moved across the room on her husband’s arm she felt light, the white head of a dandelion blowing in the breeze. Her independence was an easy price to pay for all the joy she had as Sterling’s wife, she told herself… and yet a small, niggling doubt continued to irk her.


  Chapter Four

  The sun slanted across the roadway as Mary left the small neat house in Canal Street. A soft breeze lifted a strand of her hair and impatiently she tucked it into place behind her ears. She glanced back anxiously but the windows stared at her like blank eyes behind neat lace curtains.

  There was no sign of Heath, although she had thought he might have waved to her or at least watched her leaving. But then, at sixteen years of age her brother was no longer a child, even though to her the soft planes of his face and the fine fluff of hair on his young chin were endearingly childlike.

  She hurried smartly along the cobbled roadway, the heels of her shoes clicking as she walked. Outwardly, she knew she must appear composed but inside her there was a raging torrent of anger, for three times she had visited the prison and been turned unceremoniously away. Griffiths was bent on humiliating her, having his revenge because she had dared to speak her mind.

  And now she had a new worry to face. Heath was sick, his thin frame racked with bouts of coughing. Mary felt a burning disappointment that her brother would not give up his work in the tinplate but, as he pointed out, the only alternative was the pit.

  Nevertheless the job was a gruelling one and Heath returned home at night pale and exhausted, the fumes clinging to his clothing. The sweat on his shirt turned to rust so that the material became hard and unyielding.

  Mary wished she could find him something else to do, but anything was better than the coal pits where the miners spent their lives digging in the ground like moles, never seeing sunshine or rain or feeling the softness of the sea breeze.

  It seemed strange to be turning into the gates of the Canal Street Laundry knowing that Mali would no longer be seated at her desk, for she had written to say the business had been sold to Dean Sutton. Mary felt he would be fine as a boss, but no one could ever replace Mali.

  In the packing room the air was hot but sweet with the scent of clean linen and Mary breathed in the familiar atmosphere with a feeling of satisfaction.

  ‘Guess what’s happened while you’ve been away, Mary?’ Sally Benson was staring up from her job of packing sheets with eager eyes. ‘The laundry has been sold, there’s a shock it was to us all!’

  Mary’s expression remained bland. ‘Mali has told me all about it and she has her reasons.’ She was not prepared to explain that Mali was expecting another child.

  Sally licked her lips as though savouring the moment. ‘Well, you don’t know everything, you’ll see, Mary Jenkins.’

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ Mary said flatly and Sally sank back into her seat, her lips pressed firmly together although nothing could hide the gleam of spite in her eyes.

  There was a sudden silence in the packing room as the door opened. Mary glanced up and it was as though she had been suddenly doused in cold water, for Grenville Sutton was coming towards her, his eyes like chips of ice.

  ‘Miss Jenkins,’ he said, looking at her with implacable gaze. ‘I think you are a little late arriving, especially as this is your first morning back in harness as it were. The job of overseer carries a great deal of responsibility, you know.’

  If it had been Mali standing there Mary would have explained at once that her brother was poorly, that Heath had spent the night coughing his young lungs away, but in the face of the old man’s hostility she could say nothing.

  ‘No excuses, hah? Well, I sure don’t feel I can rely on you to run this laundry properly.’ He paused and Mary stared at him bemused, unable to collect her thoughts.

  ‘I thought Mr Dean Sutton was going to be boss.’ She spoke woodenly, struggling against the quiver in her lips for she would not let Grenville Sutton see that she was upset.

  ‘Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?’ He paused. ‘Tell me, what would you say is the most lowly job in the laundry?’

  Mary blinked rapidly, surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. ‘Duw, stoking the boilers, I suppose, that’s the place where most girls start here.’

  ‘That’s it then – as a disciplinary measure you will be required to stoke the boilers for one week, Miss Jenkins.’

  She felt anger begin to flower within her. ‘Mr Sutton, you’re being unfair to me. I was only a few minutes late and I have my reasons.’

  ‘I’m not interested in reasons,’ he said as he turned away impatiently. ‘Either you stoke the boilers or you return to your home – sure I can’t put it more plainly than that.’

  Mary stood for a long moment trying to regain her composure, conscious of Sally Benson’s wide eyes taking in her every move. Then she turned and walked, head high, towards the boiler house. She hurried down the rickety staircase with her heart thumping, anger at the injustice meted out to her like a roaring, rushing tide inside her head.

  ‘Lordy be and what are you doin’ here, Mary?’ Sarah looked down from her short flight of steps and stopped poking the washing back into the steaming water.

  ‘I’m to stoke the fires,’ Mary said evenly. ‘That’s what the new boss wants me to do and so I’m doing it.’ Sarah snapped shut the lid of the boiler and stared at Mary aghast. ‘But you’re the overseer, for God’s sake. You’re not exactly dressed proper for carrying coal, are you?’

  ‘Tell Mr Sutton that,’ Mary said slowly, aware that her colour was high and that despair was beating like a bird in her chest struggling to be free.

  ‘Well I never!’ Sarah gaped like a fish in a bowl. ‘Tell him to stick his job, I would, stoking is no job for the likes of you, Mary Jenkins.’

  Mary sighed. She was calmer now, thinking of Heath back at home gasping for breath was enough to chase all her anger away. ‘I’ve done it before, I can do it again,’ she spoke fiercely. ‘I’ll show Mr Sutton that I’m made of sterner stuff than he thinks.’

  A few of the other women had gathered round, staring at Mary as if she had grown two heads.

  ‘What would Mali Richardson say?’ One of the older women pushed the cap back from her hair and wiped the sweat from her brow with the corner of her apron.

  Mary shrugged. ‘She wouldn’t be pleased.’ That was an understatement, for Mali would be furious and Mary felt certain that she had known nothing about Grenville Sutton taking over the reins of the business.

  Quickly Mary grasped the handle of the coal scuttle, staring around edgily. ‘I should get on with your work if I were you, girls. We don’t want Mr Sutton coming down heavy on anyone else, do we?’

  The job itself was no effort for Mary, since she had worked the boiler-house fires as a young girl and as for lifting the buckets full of coal, she had strength enough to go on doing it all day. It was the injustice that got her, the inner knowledge that old Mr Sutton had a grudge against her and was paying her back for her angry words spoken in the heat of the moment. She had ignited a bitter scene between Dean and Brandon and Mr Sutton did not intend to forget or forgive her for causing the two brothers to quarrel.

  At grub-break, Mary sat dispiritedly on an upturned box and rubbed the coal dust from her fingers with a handful of straw.

  ‘Mother of the Blessed Virgin, I heard you were down here but I didn’t believe it.’ The soft Irish voice was unmistakeable and Mary turned with a smile.

  ‘And what are you doing in the boiler house, Katie Murphy? You’ll be getting yourself the sack if you don’t look out.’

  ‘That old tyrant, he’s only been here five minutes and he’s treating you like dirt – well, we won’t have it.’

  Mary shook her head reprovingly. ‘Now don’t do anything silly, Katie, you all need your jobs and can’t afford to be uppity with the new boss.’

  ‘Uppity, is it? We’ll all stop work if he doesn’t bring you back up to the packing room and he can put that in his pipe and smoke it!’

  Katie sat beside Mary, her long red hair swinging over her shoulders like spun copper in the sunlight. She was no longer the exuberant girl she had been when Mary first met her; Katie had known suffering and had lost the man she loved and that had changed her. And
yet there was a new serenity in her eyes now, a way of holding her slim shoulders that spoke of self-confidence.

  ‘Now look, merchi, I don’t want any fuss, right?’ Mary said positively. ‘A week the boss man said and a week I’ll do – then we’ll take it from there, see?’

  Katie sighed. ‘I’m not happy about it, Mary, not happy at all. Sure an’ won’t we all be asked to work the boilers next? If he can do it to you, Mary, he can do it to any of us.’

  Mary frowned. ‘No, this is a personal thing between me and him and I don’t want anyone else interfering.’

  Katie pushed back her hair and stared at Mary soberly. ‘But it was you who always said we must stick up for our rights,’ she said softly. ‘You told us that we as workers must never be put upon, that we must fight tooth and nail against any injustice from the bosses, am I right?’

  ‘Yes, of course you’re right,’ Mary conceded, ‘but for this once, just leave it be, as a favour to me, will you, girl?’

  Katie sighed. ‘All right, do your week’s penance for whatever it is Mr Sutton thinks you’ve done, but after that there will be a fuss, believe me.’

  She paused and bit her lip. ‘Anything to do with Billy, is it, Mary? Now I’m not prying, but if you’re being victimised because you have a man who is behind bars, then it’s nothing to do with the new boss and I’ll be the first to tell him so.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ Mary said evenly. ‘It’s just something between Mr Sutton and me and we must work it out ourselves. Now go back to the packing room before you get covered in dirt. Oh, and Katie, keep an eye on Rhian, will you? I didn’t have a chance to see her when I first came in to work. Shaping up all right, is she?’

  Katie paused for a fraction of a second. ‘Aye, she’ll do fine once she gets used to it; don’t worry your head about her, think of yourself for a change.’

  As the afternoon shift began, Mary lifted the scuttle and made for the coalhouse where the mounds of fuel stood like eggs laid by black hens. She felt warmed inside, proud of the support offered by her workmates. But she could not allow them to take any action that might rebound on them.