She knows it will be the death of her but she has no choice – so Mary goes back to work in the mill. There is nothing else she can do. She doesn’t know how much longer her lungs can stand the dust and Mary worries every day - what will happen to the children.
October 1880
George is wolfing down his breakfast of porage oats and a mug of strong black tea. He must get the bottom field of wheat in today, or it will be too late he thinks to himself. All this rain was having an adverse effect on the harvest. But this morning the sun was out and he was sure he would manage to recover the crop, if he got it in today.
Suddenly there was a heavy pounding on the back door. “George it’s me. Tam Johnston.”
“Mary’s father, what can he want? Not wanting me to bail out another of his daughters I hope” George thought bitterly as he remembered the lies he and Mary had been told by this man and his wife.
“What is it, Tam?” he asked irritably. “I need to get out as soon as dawn breaks to get the crop in, otherwise me and Molly will be starving this winter.”
“George look at this! I saw it in yesterday’s paper. I didnae get around to reading the paper until past 10 o’clock last night and it was too late to rouse you then. But I’ve hurried here first thing to catch you before you left for the fields this morning.”
“To show me the newspaper Tam. Have ye lost yer mind.” George asked angrily. He was not in the mood for his father-in-law. They had barely spoken since Beth and his mother’s funeral when Mary had told him the truth.
Tam started to look uncertainly at George but still he shoved the newspaper into his hands.
“Look at the front page” Mary’s father insisted. It was report on the findings of the inquiry into the Tay Rail Bridge Disaster.
“Aye Tam, I know it was a sore tragedy that Rail Disaster, but what do you want from me?” he asked confused.
“Look George. Look at the list of victims – somewhere around the middle – John Canavan – that was Mary’s man”
George stared and stared “That’s their address too, isn’t it, Tam” he said quietly “ Kemback Street.”
“Aye, it surely is. Why did she no tell us? You know she’s never forgiven me and her Ma, God bless her soul, for trapping you into marrying our Beth” he said sorely.
George was no longer listening, he was making plans in his head. “Tam, you must take the little one with you. I’m away to Dundee to get Mary and bring her home where she belongs.”
“What about the crops George?” Tam countered.
“To hell with the crops” he shouted back.
George didn’t have time to think through what he was doing until he was in his seat on the train, hurtling towards Dundee. He stared out at the fields and the North Sea flying past, without seeing any of it.
“What if Mary has remarried“ he thought. “She’s a beautiful woman. Someone would surely have stepped in by now to ask Mary to marry them, just like before.” He began to doubt himself. It was 10 years since he had proposed to Mary. He was no longer in his prime of youth, he thought to himself. Perhaps she wouldn’t want him now. Perhaps she would never forgive him his part in marrying Beth. Self doubt kept playing round and round in his head.
At Dundee train station he almost bought another ticket and jumped back on the train to Aberdeen straight away.
“There’s no harm in going to see Mary and giving her my condolences now that I’m here.” he decided and headed out of the station.
George asked for directions and soon found Kemback Street, where Mary’s little flat was situated.
“What a dump”, George thought as he walked up the street wrinkling his nose at the offensive and disgusting smells which seemed to be emanating from everywhere.
After knocking for 5 minutes on Mary’s front door, her downstairs neighbour came up to tell George to pipe down. She informed him that Mary was at work along with her eldest, in the mill. The younger kids were both at school she said. She also confirmed that John had indeed died in the terrible Tay Rail Bridge Disaster. “My, my, what a tragedy” she said shaking her head.
George wandered back down the street towards the mill that she had pointed out. He thinks about what Mary’s father had said about Mary not forgiving them. “She probably just wants to be left alone to get on with her life” he mused.
As George reached the mill he looked up at the tall, imposing, but ugly building. It looked evil, belching out fire and disease. He watched the workers moving around in the courtyard. Pale and ill looking, and he remembered Mary at her mother’s funeral - thin as a rake with a grey pallor to her skin. This was not the Mary of their youth, when she had been vibrant, full of health and laughter and bouncing with vitality.
“No!” he bellowed out loud shaking his fist at the factory. “You will not rob me of Mary. I have waited ten years and I will not wait another minute. “And he marched into the courtyard and up to the office.
“I must see Mary Canavan” he said more firmly than he felt.
“The whistle blows at five” the girl behind the desk retorted. “You’ll see her then, when she leaves for the day with the rest of the workers, if she is employed here that is.”
“You don’t even know who your workers are – all these people who are giving their lives in this god forsaken mill” he shouted disbelievingly.
Behind her desk was a door in the wall and a large window that looked down onto the factory floor of the mill. George could see row upon row of machines and lines of women and children black with dust and grease busily working away.
“No! I’m not waiting a moment longer to see her” he countered, and ran behind the desk through the door in the wall and down a set of iron steps, which led directly onto the factory floor.
“Mary! Mary Canavan! “ he roared. But no-one could hear him above the deafening noise of the machines. When he reached the first row of machines he grabbed a woman by the shoulder. “ Mary Canavan!” he shouted. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her machine.
He carried on running and asking the same question over and over again “Do you know Mary Canavan.”
Eventually a small boy tugged on his sleeve. “Why are you looking for my Ma?” he asked.
George grabbed the boy to him in a bear-hug, and then sank down on his haunches so they were at the same eye level. “Hello son. Are you Patrick?” The boy nodded dumbly. He was so thin that his face looked almost like a skeleton with his cheekbones sticking out and he was covered head to foot in grease.
George was appalled at the sight of Patrick. “I’m a friend of your mother’s from Aberdeenshire. Can you show me where she is working?”
The boy shook his head. “I’m not allowed to leave this machine or they will hit me and throw me out.”
“Don’t you worry about that” said George. “You will not be stepping foot inside this factory again, believe me.”
He didn’t care if Mary had forgiven him or not, he was not letting this little boy go back to work in these disgraceful, life-threatening working conditions. He knew it was hard work in the fields but this was torture and child slavery.
He took the boy’s hand and Patrick led him to a line of machines against the back wall of the factory. There were around 20 woman sitting at the little card machines hard at work. They all looked the same from behind, dressed in filthy, drab grey aprons and caps. As he looked along the row of weary woman George spotted the glint of chestnut, which had escaped from one of the dull caps. As always, he smiled to himself, Mary couldn’t contain her wild, beautiful mane of hair. George walked over and stood behind her, still holding on tightly to Patrick’s hand.
“Mary, Sweetheart” he whispered.
Over the booming noise Mary felt his presence as much as heard him. She turned and stared. She couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. Confused she shook her head. Had she died and gone to heaven. No ,she couldn’t be in heaven as she was still in the hellhole of the mill.
“Mary, I’ve
come to take you home.” George pronounced and held out his arms for her.
She looked from George to Patrick, who both had huge smiles on their faces and started to stand up, but it was all too much and she fell into a faint.
George grabbed her before she fell to the floor and when she came round, her face was pressed into George’s powerful chest and he was carrying her out of the factory, with Patrick skipping alongside. “I’m already home” she murmured to herself as she nuzzled her face closer.
A little, officious man was shouting at George to get out of his factory or he would call the police.
“With pleasure” George responded.
March 1881
“Oh George, George. Please don’t stop” Mary screamed in passion as she climaxed again and then collapsed spent on top of George’s strong, manly chest.
“Oh my beautiful darling” George whispered in her ear. “How I love to see you writhing in ecstasy” he grinned.
Mary pushed him away laughing and grabbed at her clothes.
“Quickly, get dressed” she ordered. “The children will be home from school soon. “You are incorrigible, George Cassidy. Sneaking home early from the fields to have your wicked way with me” she jokingly reprimanded him.
He pulled her back down on to the bed again, and just as Mary started to sigh in pleasure they heard the kitchen door bang open and the children come tumbling in.
George gave his wife a brief but passionate kiss, and then jumped up pulling on his shirt and breeches and went out to see to the children. “Your Ma’s a bit tired and having a lie down” she heard him tell them.
Mary lay still for a minute, listening to them all chatting and joking together, the blended family of children and her gorgeous, loving husband. I’ve come a long hard road she thought to herself, but I’ve eventually made it to paradise.
~~~
Just as Bessie completed the dressing of Mrs Muir’s hair, she pushes Bessie’s hand away from her head. “Enough! Get away from me and leave me in peace” Mrs Muir growled, and Bessie quickly scarpered from the room.
Mrs Muir had been unbearable since she got the news of her son Edward’s death in Calcutta. She descends the sweeping staircase slowly for breakfast. She now likes to sit at the little table that is set at the window of the breakfast room, looking out into the garden. Lucy is already seated at the table when she enters the room. The sun is shining brightly through the large windows and Mrs Muir sips at the cup of tea that Giles has poured for her, but doesn’t touch any of the delicious food that is laid out.
As always her thoughts dwell on her beloved Edward. She didn’t even get to see her son and say a last farewell, as he was buried immediately in that far away land. Her “handsome, wonderful son” she thought “what a waste”. The end of the line for the Muir’s – she couldn’t believe it – no heir to take over and carry on the line. How could she bear it? She stifled a sob so the servants would not see her in distress. She must always keep her chin up in front of the servants and not show any sign of weakness.
She thought of how faithful Bessie was, “pathetic really” she laughed, without humour, to herself. They all were, all of her servants faithful and obedient. And suddenly out of the blue came a face. What was that wretched girl’s name again she thought. She could see the beautiful mane of chestnut hair and the smiling green eyes. Mary, that was it – the brazen hussy who had seduced her beautiful, innocent son. She tried to cast her mind back – hadn’t she heard a rumour that Mary had given birth to a son. Set up home with the filthy groomsman in some rat-infested tenement with the boy. The boy - Edward’s son – her grandson. A smile suddenly curled at her thin, wrinkled lips.
She quickly rang the bell for Giles.
“Get me Brownlow, the solicitor, immediately” she ordered.
Soon Mr Brownlow arrived and was whisked into the Drawing Room and exited twenty minutes later with Mrs Muir’s shrill voice following him into the hallway.
“I want that boy found and brought to me here!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Trapped In She Town : A Romantic Novella (The Jute Mills Series) Page 7