Lovers and Liars

by Josephine Cox

  Having now reached the pub on the corner, he threw open the door and propelled Archie inside. ‘I’ve found you a bed for a night or two. Just until we get you settled elsewhere.’

  Archie was intrigued. ‘But what’s brought you back all of a sudden? What’s happened to your wedding plans and the little woman, eh? Tell me that.’ The old sailor had a feeling that John’s homecoming had not gone well, and his heart sank. ‘Has it all gone wrong, son?’ he asked sorrowfully. ‘Did it not turn out the way you planned, is that it?’

  ‘You might say that,’ John conceded. ‘But look, I’ll tell you all about it in a minute.’

  Once they were seated, each with a jug of ale, John explained what had happened between himself and Emily. ‘So there you have it, Archie,’ he finished quietly. ‘Everything we planned – marriage, a family of our own … it’s all gone.’ Even now he found it so hard to comprehend.

  Archie knew how badly his young friend had taken it, and he gave his best advice. ‘The way I see it, son, is this,’ he said. ‘Your woman has found what she wants and it doesn’t appear to be you. Now there’s one or two things you can do. You can go back to her now and plead with her to leave the husband she’s taken in your place. If she agrees to that, you have to ask yourself if you could ever trust her again. Moreover, you’ll be taking on another man’s child, and all the aggravation that goes with it, because I dare say he won’t take it lying down.’

  John had already considered all that. ‘If I thought Emily could still love me, I’d take on the world if she asked,’ he confessed. ‘Only I saw her there, with him and the child.’ It was like a moving picture in his mind; the mature Emily, so beautiful, so happy with her family. ‘She was like someone I never knew before.’

  ‘Ah, that’s it, y’see, son.’ Archie had known many women in his time. ‘Women are changeable creatures. It’s in their nature – they can’t help it. And it’s not surprising how, in the space of time you’ve been away, your Emily has grown from a girl to a woman.’

  ‘You’re right.’ John had been astonished at the change in Emily. ‘She’s more beautiful than I remembered, especially when she took the child into her arms. It was a lovely thing to see.’

  Cutting through John’s bitter-sweet smile when he spoke of her, Archie reminded him, ‘The truth is, she’s chosen another man over you, and that’s hard to accept. It’s your pride, son. A man’s pride is easily dented.’

  John gave a wistful smile. ‘Pride has nothing to do with it,’ he murmured. ‘You can’t know how it was between us; nobody can. Emily may have turned from me to another, but I still love and want her. I always will.’

  ‘Then I pity you.’ Archie had never seen a man so devoted.

  Taking a gulp of his ale, John asked, ‘Go on then, Archie. What was the other thing?’

  After half a jug of ale, Archie’s memory was not what it used to be. ‘What other thing?’

  ‘You said there were two things I could do.’

  Archie’s brain limped into action. ‘Oh yes. Well, it’s simple enough, I should have thought.’

  Urging him on, John asked, ‘In what way?’

  ‘Your woman chose another man over you; they got wed and now she has a family she loves, and from what you told me, she seemed more than happy enough with her lot. Is that correct?’

  John confirmed it was so.

  ‘So now, you’re within your rights to do the same.’

  ‘And what exactly would you have me do then, Archie?’

  ‘Cut loose, man! Why! You could choose any woman that took your fancy. Lord knows, you’re a good catch for any of ’em. You’re a fine figure of a man – fit and strong – and you’ve money in your pocket.’

  John laughed, but it was a sound without mirth. ‘I’ve no mind to do any such thing.’

  ‘Then you’re a fool!’

  ‘Aye, and I’ll stay a fool.’ The idea of any other woman taking Emily’s place was unthinkable.

  ‘Then listen to me and listen good, son.’ Leaning forward, Archie spoke in a stern voice and with the merest scowl on his face. ‘No man should martyr himself for a woman who turns her back on him. If she has a husband and child, then there’s no going back that I can see. She’s made her bed and you’ll do well to let her get on with it. You’ve a life to live, and every minute spent brooding over her is a minute wasted. If you can’t see that now, you soon will.’

  Something about the old sailor’s manner, a kind of rage, made John think he must have suffered a similar experience. ‘Is that what you did, Archie?’ he asked curiously. ‘Did the same thing happen to you that happened to me?’

  For a long moment Archie stared into his ale. ‘It might have,’ he admitted. But he would not be drawn further on the subject. ‘All I’m saying is, if you brood after one woman for the rest of your life, you might as well not have a life.’

  The two of them drank in silence, their thoughts going back to their own lives and recalling how it was before, and each of them knowing it would never be like that again. It was a sobering thought, and the more they thought the more they drank.

  Yet they had their wits about them, and even now, though he wished it was any other way, John was musing over a plan that would take them forward. ‘What was your real trade?’ he asked of Archie. ‘Before you went as a cook on the ships?’

  With a mischievous little smile, Archie held high his jug of ale. ‘Delivering this on a horse and cart,’ he revealed. ‘Thirty years and more, I drove for Thwaites’s Brewery … delivered all over the North, from when I was little more than a lad, right up to the day before I signed my name to be a sailor.’

  Quietly pleased with Archie’s answer, John had more questions. ‘So you know how to handle a horse and cart?’

  Archie stuck out his little chest. ‘I was the lead driver – that should tell you how good I was.’ He chuckled. ‘All done up in my breeches and red jacket, there wasn’t a finer sight to be seen.’ Giving a wink, he revealed, ‘I had my fair share of women then, I can tell you.’

  John could well believe it. ‘So, you know the North well, do you?’

  ‘I do, son, yes – better than any man.’

  ‘And who made the wagons?’

  Archie had to think hard on that one, but by and by he had the answer. ‘A family firm by the name of Armitage,’ he said. ‘The father owned a sawmill and the two sons made the wagons in a yard alongside. As I recall, each was run as a separate business.’ He cocked his head as he told John, ‘I were told the father passed on some years back, and the sons took over the timber business. But they can’t still be going, ’cause they’d be as old as I am now. Unless o’ course they too had sons and the tradition got carried on.’

  John could see everything falling into place. ‘Where was it situated, this timber business?’

  ‘About four miles away, more in the countryside. The business lies alongside the Leeds and Liverpool canal – it’s easier y’see, for transporting and delivering the timber on the barges.’ Now it was Archie’s turn to be curious. ‘You’re asking a lot o’ questions. What’s all this about?’

  John had not wanted to reveal his idea until he had made some more enquiries and could be sure what he was getting into, but now that Archie was asking, he decided to outline his plans for the two of them.

  ‘You recall I told you how I earned my living by repairing and building wagons, hay-carts and such … not in a big way, mind you, but I know a wheel from an axle and I had sufficient customers to bring in a fair enough wage.’ His voice fell to a whisper. ‘It was more than enough, until Emily and I got serious about the future.’

  ‘I see.’ Turning the idea over in his mind, Archie swallowed the dregs of his ale. ‘And how do you mean to go about starting such a business?’ he asked. ‘It won’t be easy. And I’m only saying that because I know there are enough well-established firms who supply all the wagons around these parts. What makes you think you can find an opening? And if you do find it, how could you sec
ure enough customers to keep you going?’

  John had already thought about that. ‘Back home there were some who said I was the best. Any cart or wagon I made or repaired, outlasted all the ones brought in from the big towns. I took a pride in what I did, Archie. I built and repaired everything the way I’d want it myself … strong and lasting, with the stamp of quality.’

  ‘Ah yes, but folks don’t want to pay for that.’ Archie had been around long enough to know the score. ‘Build it fast and sell it cheap, never mind quality.’

  ‘But that’s false economy,’ John argued. ‘There must be sharp-minded folks who’d rather pay a few guineas more for something that will last twice as long. My thinking is this – if there’s nobody building strong, quality wagons, the customers hereabouts might be glad of somebody like myself.’

  He looked at Archie, his face determined. ‘I can tell there’s a place for me here,’ he declared. ‘Soonever I’ve introduced you to Harriet, I want you to take me to this yard you were talking about. I’d like to see how the land lies … get my bearings, so to speak.’

  Archie’s eyes lit up at the mention of a woman’s name. ‘Who’s this Harriet then?’

  ‘She’s the landlady at my lodgings.’

  ‘Bit of all right, is she?’ Archie said eagerly, though whether that was the prospect of meeting Harriet, or the effects of too much ale, John couldn’t tell. ‘And she’s agreed to put me up, has she?’

  John confirmed it. ‘You’ll have a camp-bed in my room, and it’ll be for no more than three nights, that’s the deal.’

  ‘Hmh! That’s not much help, if you don’t mind me saying. When the three nights are up, where am I supposed to go from there?’

  Now, when John stood up, Archie followed suit. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ he answered. ‘First, let’s get you settled, then we’ll head off to the timberyard. It won’t be dark for a few hours yet.’

  ‘And what will you do when we get there?’

  John hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said lamely. ‘Mebbe I’ll offer my skills and a deal of money to buy in as a partner.’

  Archie laughed at his bare-faced cheek. ‘What if they don’t want a partner?’

  ‘Then I’ll set up on my own.’

  Archie was impressed. ‘You’ve got big ideas, I’ll say that for you.’

  Taking him by the elbow, John chided, ‘Seems to me, you’re slightly tipsy.’ He observed how Archie was gently swaying from side to side. ‘I can tell you now, Harriet won’t like that.’

  ‘Then she’s not my sort o’ woman and that’s a fact!’

  ‘Mebbe, but I reckon a bite to eat is in order before we see her.’ He led Archie to the door. ‘There’s a little tearoom round the corner,’ he said. ‘We’ll spend a few minutes in there before we make for the lodgings.’

  Moaning and complaining, Archie followed him. ‘If your landlady is one o’ them miserable types that doesn’t like a man to be merry, I’m not sure I want to lodge there at all!’

  John laughed. ‘I can’t deny she has a forceful side to her, but she’s agreed to let you stay, and that’s good enough for me. So, get a move on, and stop complaining, or I might decide to leave you where I found you.’

  The threat didn’t worry Archie, for he knew that was the last thing John would ever contemplate.

  An hour later, with Archie more sober and milder of mood, John presented him to Harriet. ‘This is my old shipmate Archie,’ he said. ‘A more amiable man you’ll never meet.’

  While Archie took stock of this big, awkward woman with her straight face and large, unattractive hands, Harriet also observed Archie, who nervously glanced away under her scrutiny.

  She walked round him a few times, sniffing at him like a dog might sniff at a bone. And when she was done, she stood before him, hands on hips and her eyes boring into his. ‘You stink!’

  ‘I do not!’ Archie glared back. ‘I’m a particular man and always have been.’

  ‘Hmh! Not particular enough, from where I stand.’ She took another sniff at him and wrinkled her nose. ‘If you ask me, you’ve been keeping company with the dogs on the street, or women of a certain reputation. Either way you stink to high heaven and I’ll have no argument on the matter.’

  When John gave Archie a warning glance, the old man took the hint. ‘All right, so mebbe I do pong a bit. It’s hardly surprising, is it, when I’ve been forced to sleep rough. But you’ve shown a kind heart to a poor old fellow, and I’m ever so grateful for that.’ He congratulated himself on being able to charm the birds from the trees. The trouble was, he hadn’t come across a woman like Harriet before; more was the pity.

  ‘Three nights!’ she declared. ‘But first, you go into the bathroom and strip off your clothes. You throw the clothes outside the door, and while you’re scrubbing the dirt off yourself, I’ll get the dirt off your clothes. I usually send everything to the laundry, but this is an emergency!’

  Archie treated the idea with utter contempt. ‘If you think I’m handing my clothes over to you, you’ve got another think coming, missus! Moreover, if you’re expecting me to climb into a bath, you can keep your lodgings, ’cause I’m not interested.’

  Harriet took him at his word. ‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘You can leave the same way you came in. I can’t say it was a pleasure meeting you.’

  Smartly turning, she was about to go out of the door when John called her back. ‘He’ll do as you say,’ he promised, and looking at Archie with a warning glare, he instructed, ‘You’ll hand over your clothes and you’ll take a bath, even if I have to scrub your worthless back myself. Isn’t that so, Archie?’

  The old chap remained sullen.

  John gave him a shove. ‘I said isn’t that so, Archie?’

  With great reluctance, he nodded.

  Harriet tutted and John urged his old mate, ‘So, tell the lady, Archie.’

  Snorting with disgust, Archie glared back at John, and in the meekest of voices told Harriet, ‘All right, missus. I’ll do as you say.’ His voice hardened. ‘But I want you to know, I’m not happy about it.’

  Harriet allowed herself a wry little smile. ‘I’m not concerned about you being happy,’ she replied. ‘I’m only concerned to be rid of the stink you’ve brought in with you.’

  When she was gone from the room, Archie gave John a piece of his mind. ‘If I’d known what a tyrant she was, I’d have thought twice about coming here. Wanting the shirt off my back; demanding I get a bath. What next, that’s what I’d like to know!’

  Amused by the confrontation between Archie and the landlady, John told him it was no use his moaning. ‘Think of it this way,’ he suggested mischievously. ‘Once she catches sight of your manly figure, why, she’ll be like putty in your hands.’

  Archie chuckled at that. ‘I’m not so sure I like that idea,’ he said. ‘I mean, yon Harriet’s not the best-looking woman I’ve ever seen, I can tell you that for nothing.’

  Half an hour later, Archie was shoved into the bathroom. ‘Throw your clothes out,’ Harriet told him. ‘I’ll be here waiting.’

  Under protest, Archie did as he was told. ‘Mind you take care of them,’ he warned. ‘They cost money.’

  Hiding behind the door he stripped off his clothes and slung them out. ‘And don’t put no sweet-smelling stuff on them neither. I don’t fancy walking about stinking like a ponce!’

  ‘It’s better than walking about stinking like a polecat!’ Grabbing the clothes with a pair of tongs before he could snatch them back, Harriet placed them in a straw basket held at arm’s length. ‘Make sure you use the carbolic and the razor,’ she reminded him. ‘And don’t come out of there pretending to have had a bath, because I’ll soon know. I’ve been about too long to be taken in.’

  Archie slammed shut the door. ‘You’re right about that,’ he grumbled to himself. ‘Old battle-axe!’

  Tiptoeing across the cold floor, he kept on grumbling. ‘You’re some kind o’ witch, that’
s what you are!’ Stubbing his toe on an uneven slabstone, he swore under his breath. ‘Stealing my clothes, dumping me in a tub of water and ordering me about. It’s not as if I even know her. God help me, I only ever clapped eyes on the woman five minutes since!’

  He dipped his toe in the warm water, shivered and took it out again. Stooping over, he gingerly ran his fingers through the water and straightening up, gave a little smile. ‘It’s not bad,’ he said. ‘Not bad at all,’ and he climbed inside and lay back blissfully. In fact, it had been so long, he’d forgotten the pleasant, silky feel of warm water against his skin.

  In the washroom, Harriet took Archie’s clothes out of the tub. They were so clean and colourful, where before they were dark and grubby, she could hardly believe they were the same ones she’d put in there. Tutting and complaining, she fed them through the mangle, before hanging them on the line in front of the fireplace. Tugging the shirt into place, she shook her head. ‘Blue,’ she declared with astonishment. ‘And I’d have sworn it were grey.’

  Next stop was the big chest at the back of the room. From here, she took out armfuls of clean, neatly pressed clothes. When she’d finished matching them for size with Archie’s, she tucked them under her arm and made her way to the kitchen. ‘It’s a good job I keep a few spares,’ she told John. ‘Sometimes I have to confiscate the clothes in lieu of payment.’

  John was seated at the table, busy making notes and drawings. ‘Sorry, Harriet?’ He looked up. ‘I didn’t hear what you said.’

  ‘That’s because you’re deep in what you’re up to.’ Reaching her gaze forward she tried to get a glimpse of his work.

  ‘What was it you said before?’

  Harriet held up the garments. ‘I’ve found your friend some clean clothes.’ She showed him the selection. ‘These should carry him over until his own clothes dry out.’ There was a burgundy-coloured shirt, a pair of long-johns and a singlet, together with a jacket and trousers of similar colour to Archie’s own.