‘How you could bear to work in that stink beats me,’ she said as she flounced up the stairs, the hem of her white petticoat peeping from beneath her flannel skirt. Rhian was small-boned with dainty hands and feet and for a moment Mary found herself envying the younger girl. She sighed and followed Rhian to the packing room; if Mr Sutton wanted her, then he must come and find her.
‘In the name of the Blessed Virgin, ’tis you, Mary!’ Katie Murphy looked up smiling and flung back her silky hair. ‘Good to see you back where you belong, so it is.’
Sheets that had been left neatly stacked at the weekend were ready for packing and Mary set to with a will, finding a sense of comfort in the familiar tasks.
‘Have you heard about Mali?’ Katie leaned forward confidentially. ‘She’s havin’ another little one, let’s hope ’tis a girl this time.’
Mary smiled. ‘Yes, I did know, I had a letter a few days ago.’ She stared at Katie pensively. ‘She comes often to visit you in Market Street, doesn’t she?’
Katie smiled. ‘Oh, yes, not one to forget her old friends! Brought a basket of shirts and trews for the boys last time she came. My mammy is right proud to dress her sons in the clothes of the gentry, even though they be cast-offs.’
A hum of activity filled the packing room as the girls fell into the rhythm of the work. Mary finished packing the bundle of sheets and then strolled through the long room, chastening any one who fell below her own high standards. Her job was to oversee all aspects of the laundry business and that included starching and pressing as well as checking lists of parcels sent out to customers. She became so immersed in her work that it was a surprise when Mr Sutton sent for her.
As she descended the rickety stairs, Mary’s heart was hammering inside her breast. What had she done wrong now, she wondered anxiously. She entered the office with her expression bland and Mr Sutton stared up at her with cold eyes as though he had never seen her before.
‘I guess you’re not aware that you should knock at the door before entering this office.’ His voice was harsh and Mary knew with a sinking of her heart that there was no hope of forgiveness, not from this man.
‘I’m sorry,’ she spoke as calmly as she could. ‘I’m so used to just walking in here that it’s become a habit.’ The old man sifted through a sheaf of papers on his desk as though he had not heard her and Mary stood still, trying not to fidget and waiting for him to continue. Impatience was like an itch within her, he had her at his mercy and the old autocrat knew it. All the ideas she had had about humbling herself before him vanished like mists before the sun.
‘What is it you want of me, Mr Sutton?’ she asked quickly. ‘I know you don’t like me personally and in all truth I can’t blame you, but I do my job properly and that’s something you can’t deny.’
He took a long time to look up at her and his brows were drawn downwards into a frown. ‘I don’t think you’re as competent as you say, miss,’ he spoke softly. ‘Indeed, I can think of plenty who would do your job as well if not better than you.’
Anger was red-hot now, searing a course through Mary’s veins so that her hands trembled. She thought she must step forward at any moment and cry out her rage into the man’s hostile face, but controlled herself with difficulty. ‘Name me one,’ she said evenly.
His smile was fixed and his eyes held no light of humour. ‘What about Sally Benson?’ he asked, his voice hard.
‘You must be crazed by the sun!’ Mary said in disbelief. ‘Sally Benson couldn’t hold down a sheet flapping in the breeze, she would let everything go to pot in no time at all.’
‘Ah!’ His voice was softer now as though he knew he’d touched her on the raw. ‘I was told there was no love lost between you two.’
Mary drew in her breath sharply. ‘You’re sacking me then, giving me the order of the boot, is that it?’ she demanded, caution thrown to the winds. He rose and moved to the window, staring out into the yard, his hands folded behind his back.
‘Oh, not me, Miss Jenkins. I gave my word to my son Dean that I would keep you on – for as long as you wanted to stay.’ He did not look at her as he continued speaking. ‘Some changes will have to be made, for with Sally Benson as overseer you would be working permanently in the boiler house.’ He glanced towards her, his eyes alight with triumph. ‘Of course, Doris would have to leave us. You see, Miss Jenkins, that I’m keeping my word to the letter.’
Mary clenched her hands together – he was putting her in an impossible situation and he knew it. She wondered for a brief moment if she could call his bluff and stay on, but something in the set of his jaw told her that he meant every word he said.
‘Very well, I’ll resign. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Mr Sutton?’ she demanded. ‘But you don’t know the laundry business as I do; everything needs careful checking if it’s not to fall into a muddle. Sally, whatever you choose to think, doesn’t have the necessary experience for the job.’
Mr Sutton returned to his chair and pushed a clean sheet of paper towards her. ‘You will of course express your wish to resign in writing,’ he said coolly.
Mary scribbled furiously, her thoughts whirling. What was she going to do now? How could she begin to hope to meet her commitments without a regular wage coming in? But she gave no hint of her feelings as she signed the letter with a flourish.
‘I hope you’re satisfied, Mr Sutton,’ she said coldly.
He looked over the paper carefully and as Mary turned to the door he spoke again. ‘Collect your belongings at once, Miss Jenkins,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’m sure it will be best for all concerned if you quit my premises as soon as possible.’
Mary was blind with rage as she mounted the stairs to the packing room. The familiar scent of hot linen was like a blow; she would never again experience the satisfaction of doing her job well, she thought dismally.
‘What’s wrong with you, Mary?’ Katie was staring up at her wide-eyed. ‘You look as if you’d seen a ghost.’
‘I’m leaving,’ Mary said flatly. She moved towards the cupboard and took out her coat and a spare apron and folded them over her arm. Suddenly the girls were all around her, voices shrill as they questioned her anxiously.
‘Has the pig given you the sack?’ Rhian asked angrily. ‘Let’s go down there, girls, and give him an earful.’
Mary felt tears burn her eyes at the chorus of assent from the other women. She held up her hand for silence, swallowing hard, hoping that her voice would not reveal her emotion.
‘I’ve not been sacked, I’ve resigned,’ she said loudly. Silence fell for a moment and then Katie came to her side.
‘You’d never give up the job of your own free will, Mary,’ she said. ‘Tell us the truth now, what’s happened?’
Mary shrugged her shoulders. ‘If I stay, Sally Benson takes over my job and I work the boilers. That means Doris would be sent packing after all these years.’ She could not keep the bitterness of such an injustice from her voice.
‘Mary, Jesus and Joseph, we can’t let anyone do such a thing!’ Katie said indignantly. ‘We’ll go on strike, like the men do – we’ll show Mr Sutton that he can’t treat us like dirt.’
‘No,’ Mary said positively, ‘I told you I’ve resigned, there’s nothing any of you can do.’ Her tone softened. ‘Look, you’d only make it worse for yourselves and how could I work here now, after this – you must see it’s impossible.’
In frustrated anger, Mary turned to look at Sally Benson. ‘It seems you are the new boss and the girls will be relying on you.’ She paused. ‘Now, you’re not to let things slide, mind. Keep up with the deliveries or we’ll lose customers, and see that the boilers are cleaned out regularly; don’t want any accidents, do we?’
The girl was truculent, aware of the rising tide of feeling against her. ‘Why did he pick on me?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want to be boss girl, I’ll tell him so to his face an’ all.’
Mary moved towards the door. ‘I shouldn’t if I were you, otherwise you might
find yourself out of the gates too. Look to the more experienced girls for help, then you should make out all right.’
There was silence heavy and brooding in the long room as Mary walked its length, feeling as though she was cutting away part of herself. She knew the laundry inside out, had worked here ever since she was a child. She had made it her life, her career, had even taken on a fine big house feeling that her position was secure. Now it all lay in dust around her feet.
She descended the rickety staircase for the last time and paused under the swaying trees, wondering if she should say goodbye to the women in the boiler house. But the thought of their surprise and the effort of explaining the situation all over again deterred her. Slowly she made her way past the office without even glancing in through the window.
As she walked through the gates and stepped out on to the cobbled street, Mary felt as though there was a dam inside her, longing to burst. Her throat ached with unshed tears and her eyes were misted so that she did not see the tall figure loom up in front of her until it was too late.
‘Careful!’ She felt a steadying hand on her arm and shook her head dumbly, trying her best to disengage herself before the tears came. Blinking rapidly, she saw turquoise eyes looking into hers. She tried to pull away but she was held fast.
‘Let me go,’ she said raggedly. ‘The last thing I want now is anything to do with you Suttons.’
Brandon ignored her words, leading her quickly away from the laundry gates and past the canal.
‘Hush, you can tell me all about it later.’ He led her along the winding road, past the shops and down towards the docks.
Mary was slumped against his broadness, uncaring that the wind was disarranging her neatly coiled hair. She felt bowed, as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.
He guided her towards the glade where the sun slanted green through the trees. ‘Sit down,’ he said firmly. ‘Let’s talk.’
She sank onto the trunk of a fallen tree and lifting the hem of her skirt, dabbed at her eyes with the frill of her pristine petticoat.
‘My father has upset you in some way, how?’ Brandon said crisply. Such was her misery that Mary did not even attempt to make a denial.
‘I’ve had to leave my job,’ she said at last. ‘Your father has taken such a dislike to me that he made it impossible for me to stay.’
‘I was going to see him anyway,’ Brandon said thoughtfully. ‘And when I do, I’ll have this matter sorted out, don’t worry. He’s blaming you for the argument at my brother’s house.’ He paused. ‘Well, you’re not going to let him beat you, surely? You seem to me to be a girl who can fight her own battles. Come on, stop crying and see this for what it really is, just a setback in your career.’
Mary gave a hollow laugh. ‘A setback? You don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s the ruination of everything I planned.’
Brandon’s eyes were unreadable. ‘So you were going to be an overseer at the laundry all your life, is that what you’re saying?’
Mary was bewildered. ‘I don’t know.’ She shook back her hair. ‘Perhaps.’
Coming out of her misery, she was suddenly aware of his hands warm on her shoulders. She rose abruptly to her feet, conscious of the sight she must look with her face blotched by tears.
Suddenly she was angry. ‘Anyway, who are you to say what I should do with my life? There’s a nerve, when it’s you and yours who’ve put me in such a position.’ She rubbed her fingers across her eyes and watched as Brandon moved away from her thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. He was very handsome with the sun bringing redness to the dark of his hair; he stood tall and straight and a pang of something she couldn’t quite understand shot through her.
‘I see you are determined to blame me for what happened at the laundry as well as for Billy’s imprisonment.’ He spoke in a tight, hard voice and Mary stared at him, fighting a longing to cling to him and cry out her hurt and misery on his broad shoulders.
‘Well then, who should I blame?’ She found the words springing from her lips of their own accord, though it was not what she wanted to say at all. He gave her a quick look.
‘Billy is guilty, get that into your head, he belongs behind bars.’
Wearily, Mary sank back onto the fallen tree and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to think any more, my world has turned topsy-turvy; it’s running out of control and I don’t seem to be able to stop it.’
He sat beside her but without touching her. ‘Mary, you can find another job, you have a good reputation – and more, you have friends who can help you. There’s no need to look so despairing.’
Mary stared at him. Here he was, owner of the Beaufort Steel and Tinplate Works, talking about other people offering her help but making sure that he did not help her himself.
‘What have I done to you Suttons?’ she asked bitterly. ‘My life was smooth enough ’till you and your father came on the scene. He’s a spiteful, petty man.’
Brandon gripped her shoulders tightly. ‘My father is human, he makes mistakes like the rest of us.’ Brandon’s mouth set into lines of anger as he stopped speaking and Mary felt as though she would like to slap his self-assured face.
‘You seem a great family for making mistakes.’ Sarcasm rang in her voice and she saw Brandon stiffen with anger. The next minute he was drawing her close, his hand pressed into the small of her back, imprisoning her. His mouth crushed hers in ruthless anger and Mary struggled helplessly against him, her senses reeling.
Then his attitude changed subtly and he held her more gently, his hand caressing her spine, his mouth moving over hers and pushing her lips apart, his tongue probing. Flames seared Mary’s body, every nerve seemed to come alive. She clung to him, her hands touching his face, his hair. The moment seemed to stretch on with infinite pleasure as Mary allowed the tide of emotion to carry her away. She did not think, all she could do was feel and the strange sensations seemed to govern her mercilessly.
Brandon moved away from her, standing tall and staring down at her, his hair tangled, his eyes bright like those of a wild animal. The silence was broken only by the shrill calling of a bird and the swish of the leaves on the branches overhead.
He pushed back his hair with rough fingers and turned away from Mary as though he could not bear the sight of her. ‘I thought you were Billy Gray’s girl,’ he said harshly. ‘So this is how far your loyalty goes!’
Mary felt suddenly lost. She pushed her skirts around her ankles with shaking hands, as though erasing the creases from the coarse flannel was the most important task in the world. Humiliation swamped her as the meaning of his words sank into her dazed mind. He had been playing with her, demonstrating that she too was fallible. How she hated him in that moment and yet, as she glanced up at him, there was the pain of loss and rejection that was almost impossible to bear.
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ Unbelievably, her voice was cool. ‘Trying to pass your own guilt onto my shoulders – how I despise you!’
She turned and ran away from him lifting her skirts, leaping over fallen branches, unaware that her hair was streaming behind her like a mane. All she wanted to do was to put as much distance between Brandon Sutton and herself as possible. Tears constricted her throat as she found herself out on the main street, where she paused and pushed back her hair. It would not do to let the citizens of Sweyn’s Eye see her in such a state.
As she hurried along Canal Street, her one thought was to lock herself in her bedroom and cry out all her bewilderment and anger. Since Brandon Sutton and his father had come to the town, they had caused her nothing but trouble, she thought tremulously.
It was cool inside the house and the scent of the freshly-cut flowers permeated the kitchen. Mary leaned against the door breathing heavily; she had escaped from Brandon’s presence, but there was no escaping her own thoughts.
In her room she sank on to the patchwork quilt and kicked off her shoes. She lay back closing her eyes and
once again could feel the power of Brandon’s presence, the thrill of his mouth probing hers and the warmth of his hand pressing into her back and holding her close to him. Why, she wondered, had she never felt like this with Billy? Her response to him had been one of affection and warmth but without the passion of a lover.
‘Damn Brandon Sutton to hell!’ she said, muffling her tears in the coarse linen of the pillow cover. She would put him out of her mind, he was nothing to her, nothing at all. She must concentrate on her future and in that respect at least, Brandon had spoken sense; she would not wilt away, she would find herself another job. But as what? she thought dismally.
A strange languor seemed to have taken possession of her body as she stretched voluptuously and for the first time in her life knew the pain of desire that could not be assuaged. She wanted Brandon Sutton as she had never wanted any man, but that did not mean she was in love, she told herself fiercely. Lust was a sin of the flesh, or so the good book said. But surely giving yourself to a man in the marriage bed if you did not care for him was more of a sin?
Mary rose after a time and sponged her body in cool refreshing water. She was a grown woman, and though slow to reach her prime, the moment had come now when she felt the need for a mate. She was achingly aware of her own desires and it had been Brandon who had awakened her dormant senses. But she was a woman of strong mind and will, she would not give in to her needs; she would throw herself into a job of work, occupy herself with other matters.
She dressed in fresh clothes and stood at the window staring down at the water of the canal. The second of the shrill sirens from the works rent the air and soon the street was ringing with the stamp of clogs against the cobbles. Mary leaned on the sill and waved to Heath who winked at her as he moved across the road to let himself into the house. Guiltily she hurried downstairs, for she had given no thought to preparing a meal for her brother. He would be starving after a day’s work at the tin mill.
‘What are you doing home before me?’ Heath threw down his sweat rag and, drawing his shirt over his head, moved towards the sink. Mary’s heart swelled with pride; her brother was turning into a fine handsome man, his muscles hardening, his jaw growing lean and strong.
Proud Mary Page 10