As Rhian settled into the routine of folding sheets once more, she wondered if she had been wise to speak of Mary’s affairs so openly. Sally Benson, for one, would make the most of such a titbit of gossip. Rhian shivered, for Mary could be frightening in her anger; she was a fair-minded woman, but her tongue could be sharp when the occasion called for it. She put the unpleasant thought out of her mind, remembering that she had persuaded Heath to meet her later. They would walk hand in hand beneath the trees, he would kiss her and tell her he loved her and she would be warm with happiness.
The afternoon passed quickly, for Rhian was busy with her thoughts. It was almost time to put on her coat and go home when suddenly the room bristled with anticipation.
‘Mr Sutton is on his way upstairs,’ Katie whispered and the long line of girls fell to working as though their very lives depended on it.
He was an imposing man, Rhian thought, as the boss of the laundry entered the packing room. He stood at least six feet tall, his broad shoulders straight in spite of his advanced age. His collar was white and stiff around his throat and a thin brightly coloured tie hung down to his waistcoat.
‘There have been complaints,’ he began, his voice echoing through the long room. ‘Some of the customers have been receiving laundry not up to the usual standard of cleanliness.’ His heavy American accent made it difficult to understand him and Rhian found herself straining to make sense of his words.
‘Other customers complain of having the wrong items of washing and of late deliveries.’ He paused for the effect of his words to sink in, his hands thrust into his pockets and his eyes scanning the room as though to winkle out the culprits. ‘It seems that there is a decline, ladies, in the entire laundry standards and this I shall not tolerate – do I make myself clear?’ He moved further into the room. ‘Now where’s the girl who’s in charge?’
Rhian watched as Sally Benson moved forward, her lip jutting out mutinously. ‘I am sir, but you can’t blame me. I’ve only taken over in the last few weeks, so whatever’s wrong it’s Big Mary’s fault.’
Mr Sutton eyed her in silence for a moment. ‘I don’t like to hear blame laid at another’s door, young woman, but in this case I’m inclined to accept what you say. All the same, if matters do not improve – and quickly – heads will roll, is that understood?’
He was all set to retreat and Rhian breathed a sigh of relief – for a moment she had worried about being late meeting Heath. Then Katie Murphy was on her feet.
‘Just a minute, Mr Sutton.’ The Irish girl was flushed, her eyes bright with anger. ‘You can’t blame Mary Jenkins for what’s going wrong here now. The laundry has to operate week by week, so if washing has got mislaid in the last few days, how can Mary be at fault when she’s not even been here?’
Mr Sutton paused in mid-stride and turned to look at Katie, his grey brows drawn together in a frown. ‘I’ve said my piece and I don’t want to hear another word on the matter,’ he said flatly. ‘What I want now is results, not excuses.’
He left the room and Rhian rose to her feet nervously. ‘Come on, we can’t do anything now, let’s all get off home, shall we?’ She moved to the window and stared into the sunlit street, straining her eyes to see if Heath was standing near the laundry gates.
‘Well, I think it’s rotten to put the blame on Mary, but that’s just like you, Sally Benson!’ Katie’s voice was raised. ‘You couldn’t run a wheel-barrow, let alone a laundry, and the boss is going to find that out sure enough.’
‘Hold your tongue, Katie Murphy,’ Sally retorted, ‘or I’ll tell the boss that it’s you who’s making the mistakes.’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ Katie rose angrily to her feet, her hands resting on her hips. ‘We all know who is making the mistakes, now don’t we, and as I just said, there’s no hiding such things. You might fool the boss for a little while, Sally Benson, but your sins will find you out, never fear.’
Rhian eased her way past the crush of girls and hurried down the steps into the fresh summer air. She stared up and down the street but there was no sign of Heath and she leaned against the laundry wall, biting her lip impatiently. She had wanted to show off Heath to the other girls, see their glances of envy, bask in their admiration at her cleverness in catching a man as handsome as he was.
Her heart lightened, her eyes grew wide as she saw him turn the corner and enter Canal Street. He was growing taller by the day and his hair was shining in the sunlight. She waited for him to come up to her and flushed with pleasure as he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her in full view of the girls streaming through the laundry gates.
‘Come on, Heath.’ She took his hand. ‘Auntie will have our tea ready for us.’
Heath smiled down at her. ‘Who wants food when my girl is pretty enough to eat?’
‘There’s a tease you are, Heath Jenkins,’ Rhian said softly. ‘You know as well as I do that you’ll eat a plateful of Auntie’s tiesen lap.’
‘Aye, well, she’s a good cook isn’t she, and I hope she teaches you to make flat cake the way she does, otherwise I might start taking her out courting instead of you.’
Rhian became aware of footsteps hurrying behind her and turned to see Katie Murphy waving to her.
‘Wait a minute, you two, I want a word with Heath Jenkins if he can take his eyes off you for five minutes, Rhian Gray.’
Rhian clung to Heath’s hand, waiting for Katie to speak again. ‘Could you give Mary a message for me, Heath?’ Katie was breathless, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, her red-gold hair hanging down her shoulders as though she was a young girl, Rhian thought with a sudden stab of jealousy.
‘There’s a daft question.’ Health laughed, his smile charming and Katie rested her hand on his arm.
‘A man you are now, Heath Jenkins – nearly seventeen you’re sure to be, fine and handsome too, like your sister and if you have half her guts you’ll be all right.’
‘Come on, Katie,’ Heath said sheepishly. ‘Stop all this blarney and tell me what you want me to tell our Mary.’
‘Ask her if she’s coming with me to the fair tomorrow. I’m taking no excuses and so she’d better be ready, ’cos I’ll sit on her doorstep until she agrees.’
Heath rested his hand on Katie’s shoulder. ‘That’s good of you, mind,’ he said soberly. ‘It’s just what Mary needs, a day out, a little time to forget all the bad things that have been happening lately. I’ll try to persuade her to go with you, don’t worry.’
Rhian tugged at his arm impatiently. ‘Come on, Heath, Auntie will be mad with us if we’re late, you know how she is.’ She was not going to let Katie Murphy with her beautiful sad eyes take up too much of Heath’s time, she thought angrily. Older than Heath, Katie was, but anyone would jump at a catch like him.
‘I won’t keep you talkin’ any longer for sure.’ Katie’s eyes held amusement, but Rhian chose to look the other way. ‘Go on off to your auntie’s house then, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
Katie’s laughter echoed on the soft air and Rhian pressed her lips together, suppressing the hot words that longed to be spoken. However, she didn’t want Heath to think her ill-tempered or jealous and after a moment, she forced herself to smile.
‘I suppose Katie and your Mary are good friends, aren’t they?’ she said, continuing to speak without waiting for an answer. ‘They get on so well because they’re both so much older than we are.’ She glanced sideways and though Heath’s expression didn’t change, Rhian had the uncomfortable feeling that he was laughing at her.
* * *
Mary sat waiting for Katie in the sun-splashed front parlour of the house in Canal Street. She stared around at the high-ceilinged room decorated with heavy flock wall covering with despair eating at her heart. She couldn’t really believe that she would soon be leaving this all behind her and panic beat at her with dark wings as she wondered for the hundredth time where she would go. And yet deep within her, she knew the answer. It was plain and clear –
an unmistakeable landmark in her life. Mr Dean Sutton had offered her a position in his shop and she must accept on his terms.
She had no worries about Heath, for he could move in with Rhian Gray’s aunt any time he chose. The maiden household ached to have a man in residence and Rhian was determined enough to see that Heath filled the role.
Mary could not blame the girl, she only wished that her own life was as clear-cut and simple. Could she have gone after the man she loved with such obstinacy, she wondered.
Uncomfortably, the image of Brandon Sutton sprang to her mind. She felt the vitality of his presence, saw the handsome eyes so prone to laughing at her and felt the thrill of his mouth capturing hers. But that was not love.
Brandon was a man like any other, she told herself unhappily. At least Dean was forthright about his intentions, he didn’t attempt to veil his desires.
Mary forced herself to see sense. Thinking about Brandon did her no good at all; he wanted to bed her just as his brother did and a quick tumble was all she could ever be to him. Well, if to be a whore was her fate then she would be a good one, selling herself to the highest bidder. Dean Sutton at least offered her security and a place to live. In return, she would make sure that the Sutton draper’s shop flourished under her care. She had gone without a decent house and food to put in her belly as a child and she didn’t intend to ever be in that position again.
The clock on the wall seemed to tick loudly as she looked up at the long pointed hands and rose impatiently from her chair. Soon Katie would arrive and together they would walk to the recreation ground where they would enjoy the warmth of the sun, be part of the noise and bustle of the fair. Mary would throw hoops, eat candyfloss and swing on the boats that hung from steel rods and lifted the riders high in the air so that the beach looked like a nail paring and the sea a blue glistening surface. They would enjoy the sunshine while it lasted, for summer was dying and autumn preparing to take up its mantle of reds and russets and falling leaves.
‘Hey, are you in there, have you gone deaf or somethin’?’ The voice of Katie Murphy startled Mary from her reverie. She took up her light knitted shawl and made for the door, unconsciously squaring her shoulders. She would forget all her worries just for today, she promised herself.
‘So there you are!’ Katie said. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, ye must have got a lover in there, you’re as hard to prise loose as a snail from its shell.’
Mary smiled and allowed Katie to link arms with her. The two girls had always been friends, but never close until Mali Llewellyn had left the laundry and then they had discovered in each other a kindred spirit.
‘You look very smart, mind.’ Mary looked down at the Irish girl, who was wearing a white crisp cotton skirt and a blouse pleated and tucked and decorated with soft baby-blue bows. Katie’s smile was warm. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself for an old girl!’
Mary glanced down at her finely woven flannel skirt and the plain dark blouse. ‘I’m not very festive, I’ll admit, but there’s no need to make me sound like somebody’s grannie.’
‘Here, bend down, let me tie a bow in your hair.’ Katie smiled. ‘Now I won’t have any refusals, this is a day out at the fair. We are going to have fun and I’m determined we’re going to catch ourselves a man.
‘I’m tired of being on me own, Mary, and that’s God’s truth. I don’t know if Mark is serious about me or not, got no faith in myself any more.’ Suddenly she brightened. ‘Come on now, let me loosen that lovely dark hair of yours, that’s right. Jesus, Mary and Joseph but you’re tall. There!’ She stood back: ‘You don’t look so much as if you’re goin’ to a wake now!’
Mary suddenly felt light-hearted. The sun was shining as though to prove it still had some strength and the breeze was soft and salt with the tang and tar to give it bite. ‘I’m going to enjoy myself if it kills me, mind,’ Mary said ruefully and Katie laughed softly.
‘Tell me, Mary, have you ever had a roll in the hay with a man? Now don’t go sayin’ me it’s none of my business, for today is a special day when we can all do what we wish, right?’
Mary paused for a moment before replying, ‘All right then and the answer is no, I haven’t had a roll in the hay with any man. Why, have you?’
Katie smiled softly. ‘To be sure I have! There was my William, sweet as a flower yet strong as an ox but since he…’ Her words trailed away and Mary broke the silence quickly.
‘Well, there’s a lot of men here for us to take our pick from, Katie. See, over there, sailors – must be a boat in the docks from Sweden by the look of those golden curls.’
‘Let’s go and talk to them!’ Katie said at once, ‘and find out how much English they speak.’ She laughed. ‘Their attempts can’t be any worse than yours, Mary Jenkins, ’cos you murder the language so you do.’
Mary smiled. ‘Look who’s talking!’ She followed Katie across the drying patchy grass and paused, unwilling to admit to her shyness as Katie with wide-eyed innocence asked one of the sailors for change of a shilling. ‘I want to try roll the penny,’ she said, ‘but I can’t until I’ve got some pennies to roll.’
Both girls were immediately surrounded and Mary felt her colour rising as she was jostled between two amazingly tall Swedish sailors.
‘Mother of God, this is awful!’ Katie gasped. ‘They’re like hungry wolves, poor men. I talked about a roll in the hay, but I’m being made into a human sandwich here!’
Laughing, Katie pushed her way through the crowd of men and Mary followed her quickly, brushing the hair from her face as she saw the Irish girl begin to run towards the coconut shys.
‘That wasn’t a very good idea, was it?’ Mary said when she had recovered her breath. ‘I think I’ll forget about finding a man and just concentrate on having a good time on the shows.’
‘Don’t give up so easily,’ Katie said. ‘I’ve got the divil in me today and I’m not content with my humdrum life any more. Change is what I want and sure as shamrocks come from Ireland I’m going to make things happen.’
Mary laughed, infected by Katie’s high spirits. The merry-go-round was blaring out a distorted tune, the brightly painted horses rising and falling, great wooden monsters with frozen leers on gaudy faces.
‘Let’s have a ride.’ Katie took Mary’s arm and as the music and movement stopped, hurried Mary up the wooden steps.
The soft breeze lifted Mary’s hair, tugging it free from the ribbons. She felt young, perhaps younger than she’d ever been. She glanced at Katie and saw that the Irish girl was talking animatedly to a young man at her side. He took her hand just as the wooden mount rose higher, carved hooves appearing to paw the air. Katie smiled up at him and her eyes were bright with merriment.
Dishevelled, Mary climbed unsteadily down from the wooden platform and glanced behind her. Katie was brushing back her hair, laughing happily, the young man at her heels.
‘This is Mark,’ Katie said. ‘He’s manager for Mr Brandon Sutton at the steel and tin works.’
Mary shook hands formally and inwardly chastised herself for the way her hands trembled at the mention of Brandon’s name.
‘Mark’s going to bring us a drink of cordial.’ Katie moved towards the edge of the fair where the grass was deeper and softer and flung herself down, leaning against the rough bark of a tree.
‘Did you know that Mark was going to be here?’ Mary asked with mock severity and Katie blushed rosily.
‘Saints be praised, there’s a suspicious mind you have, Mary Jenkins!’ But Katie couldn’t keep a smile from turning up the corners of her mouth. ‘He’s a fine young man, had my eye on him for some time now but it don’t do to be too eager.’ She gave Mary a hard look. ‘Now don’t you go lettin’ on that I like him, for he’s got a head the size of Burrows Rock with all the girls in work chasin’ after him.’
‘A blabbermouth I’ve never been, mind,’ Mary said quickly and put her finger to her lips as Mark came across the grass towards them.
It was clear th
at Mark admired Katie more than a little. His eyes drank in every detail of her face and once he reached out and brushed back a strand of red-gold hair that had blown across her forehead. Mary envied them both, for they were falling in love and it was beautiful to see.
As though aware that Mary was becoming excluded from the conversation, Katie turned to her. ‘The Canal Street Laundry is goin’ to the dogs, sure it is,’ she said. ‘That Sally Benson can’t do the job of overseer like you, Mary. Lettin’ everything slide, she is, and old Mr Sutton is going to find her out one of these fine days.’
Mary shrugged, pretending indifference, though it troubled her to think of the high standards she had set falling by the wayside.
‘It’s none of my business now,’ she replied quietly. ‘Mr Sutton wanted me out as quickly as possible and so he must take the consequences.’
‘Mr Sutton?’ Mark spoke questioningly. ‘That’s Grenville Sutton isn’t it? He’s my boss’s father.’
Katie nodded. ‘That’s right, and I don’t know about your boss but ours is a hard-nosed old man who won’t listen to reason. Pity he had to take over the place at all; I know Mali thought it would be run by Dean Sutton, otherwise I doubt she’d have sold the laundry at all.’
Mark shook his head. ‘Well, Brandon Sutton is one of the best, I admire him. You know he’s written a book, trying to get fairer wages for the men? All the local bigwigs are against him, including his own brother, but nothing will stop Mr Sutton from getting what he wants. I’d back him any time.’ Mark laughed suddenly. ‘Sorry, you’ve got me at preaching now and we’re all here to have a bit of fun. Come on, ladies, let’s enjoy the fair, shall we?’
Mary found herself longing to speak to Mark about Brandon’s plans. She was like a bird, she thought ruefully, pecking at crumbs – yet anything to do with Brandon Sutton immediately caught her interest. She opened her mouth to question Mark but he was bending over Katie, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.
Proud Mary Page 16