by Polly Heron
Oh, heck.
Mum looked bemused. ‘Did you, Bel? No, I’d have remembered.’
‘I never got round to it.’ Belinda ignored a sharp look from Sarah.
‘Is there room for us?’ Jacob asked hopefully.
‘Nay, lad,’ said Grandma Beattie, ‘not even if you could sleep standing up. You can see how we’re fixed.’
‘We’ll go up before the Panel,’ said Mikey, ‘and they’ll send us to the workhouse.’
‘Then we have to provide a reasonable alternative, so they leave you alone.’ Miss Patience came to life. ‘There’s an orphanage on the corner of Church Road and High Lane in Chorlton. Do you know it? St Anthony’s. I suggest taking the boys there.’
‘St Anthony’s?’ cried Mum.
‘It’s better than being up before the Panel,’ Belinda pointed out.
‘But we’re not orphans,’ said Mikey.
‘Not all children in orphanages are orphans,’ said Miss Patience. She looked at the boys. ‘I wonder: smelling of smoke to show the urgency of the situation or having had a good wash to show what a clean family you are. Mrs Sloan, may we trouble you for some hot water?’
Belinda couldn’t help smiling as cleanliness won out over drama. ‘I’ll fetch a towel. Give yourselves a good rinse down, boys,’ she added before Miss Patience could ask for soap. The Sloan household had soap, of course, but not in such quantities that it could be squandered on boys who would be grubby again in five minutes.
The boys squeezed into the cold scullery to sort themselves out.
Belinda spoke quietly to Miss Patience. ‘I can’t tell you how much this means.’
‘It helps to share difficult decisions. I should know. I’ve always been able to rely on my sister.’
‘When were you going to tell me I could move in here?’ Sarah demanded.
A yell and a crash from the other side of the scullery door had Belinda leaping across the room to yank the door open, exposing Thad and Mikey, half-dressed and locked in a wrestling hold. Stuffed into a corner, a naked Jacob gave a howl and grabbed the towel.
‘I can’t trust you to behave, so this door stays open,’ Belinda flared. ‘Act your age – or do you want to be taken away by the Welfare?’
Fuming, she turned away from them, astonished to find that in a strange way she was relieved Thad and Mikey had got into a scuffle. After the horror of last night, it was their normal behaviour. Did other families have nice-normal? Disagreeable-normal seemed to be the way for the Layton family and had been for a long time.
‘I’ll accompany Mrs Layton to the orphanage with the boys,’ said Miss Patience, ‘and I suggest you go to the bookshop. If it’s still closed, perhaps you can find out which hospital Mr Linkworth was taken to last night. Is there something useful Sarah can do?’
‘Go to the sorting office and wait for George to come in off his round,’ said Belinda. ‘He needs to know what happened.’
Mum perked up at the mention of George’s name. No matter how much Belinda did to support her, it was always George she wanted.
‘With you girls living here, and the boys going to the orphanage, I can go and live with George in his lodgings and that will be all of us settled.’
Gabriel sat in Mr Sowerby’s office.
‘Are you certain you’re well enough to be here?’ that gentleman enquired.
‘Quite sure, thank you. Taking me to hospital was merely a precaution.’
‘And your memory is returning, you say? Extraordinary.’
‘I lost my memory after pulling my men one by one from a burning building, and the fire last night…’
‘Extraordinary,’ Sowerby repeated. ‘You may wish to know that Mr Richard Carson has an alibi for the time of the fire.’
Gabriel weighed that in his mind. It didn’t automatically mean Carson wasn’t responsible. Had he organised the fire that destroyed the cottage? It was such an extreme thing to do. Gabriel didn’t know him well enough to guess what he might be capable of.
‘Then there’s the question of his fraudulent attempt to acquire funds from you to repay his so-called expenditure on the cottage.’ Sowerby steepled his fingers. ‘Given that he didn’t succeed, and there is no reason to suppose he has made a career of committing fraud, the police won’t be interested. If you wish to pursue the matter—’
‘I couldn’t afford to – and I want to move on from it, anyway.’
His mind was teeming with information, memories, images; yet it was like examining it all through a window. He felt separated from it. Dr Jennings would probably say it was his mind’s way of breaking him in gently.
‘Frankly,’ he said, ‘I have enough problems without taking my chances on a legal tussle with Richard Carson. I’ll be happy to forget him.’
Interesting turn of phrase. Inaccurate too, now that his memory had returned in full force.
‘There’s no doubt, however,’ Sowerby added, ‘that the fire was arson, not accidental. It was started outside the cottage, not inside. Turton has been in touch with the police and they are certain.’
‘So no one from Miss Layton’s family…’
‘Precisely.’
‘Good. I’ll ensure she knows.’
‘What was her family doing there anyway?’
‘I’ve no idea. I was never more astonished in my life than when I went into the cottage and she sprang up out of nowhere.’
How long had the Laytons occupied his cottage? Not long, obviously, as there hadn’t been the opportunity, but why were they there? Before this, he would have sworn he could trust Miss Layton with his life – and now it turned out she had moved her family into his property behind his back. He didn’t want to discuss it with Sowerby. He didn’t want to hear all the laws Belinda Layton had broken. He couldn’t rid himself of his belief in her honesty. Were his feelings for her clouding his judgement? No, Belinda Layton was a good person.
‘Actually,’ said Sowerby, ‘it would be better for you if one of them had set the place on fire by mistake. Your uncle insured the cottage against accidental fire, but not against arson, so you’ll receive no recompense.’
He absorbed this. ‘That’s a blow, I admit, but not such a great one as it would have been if my memory hadn’t returned. Other matters don’t seem as important as they would under normal circumstances. Something I’m determined to do is clear the land. I haven’t seen what remains of the cottage, but I assume there’s rubble and ruin left. I want it cleared.’
‘The cottage occupies the final spot in a run-down lane. The remains of a ruined building will be of no inconvenience to anybody.’
He sat up straighter. Wasn’t Sowerby listening? ‘I wish to pay for the land to be cleared.’
He had to do it, had to. In France, time and again he walked past that burnt-out ruin where he had come close to losing his life, where he had saved his men only for them to be executed by enemy soldiers. That ruined building had represented the great empty hole where his sense of self was supposed to be. He could never walk past it without wishing it could be flattened.
Now, he was going to make good the plot of land at the end of Limits Lane. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t. Now that he remembered the death and destruction he had witnessed in the war, he couldn’t be responsible for letting a ruined eyesore remain.
‘It would be a costly business,’ Sowerby cautioned him.
‘There is some money in the inheritance. I’ll put it towards that purpose.’
‘And what of the bookshop? I fail to see how you could afford the rent if you use all you have clearing the land.’
Gabriel waited, giving himself time to change his mind, but he remained resolute. That piece of land had to be cleared. He imagined the cleared land reverting to grass and wildflowers. That was how he wanted – needed – it to be.
‘The land will be cleared,’ he stated quietly.
‘For what it’s worth, Linkworth, you won’t receive a bill from Winterton, Sowerby and Jenks. After the
oversight on our part that, had you not uncovered the truth about Carson’s skulduggery, would have led to you struggling to pay him off, there’s no question of our submitting a bill to you.’
‘Thank you.’ Gabriel came to his feet. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the bookshop. I hope to find Miss Layton there.’
‘Ah yes, the mystery of the secret visitors.’
He felt a twist of annoyance. He owed Sowerby a great deal, but that didn’t give the old fellow the right to make sarky remarks about the girl he loved. Yes, loved. He loved Belinda Layton, but she was in thrall to that snake, Carson.
He left the building, popping into William Turton’s office for a few words of thanks and farewell, and headed for Chorlton, his heart taking him to the bookshop. Would she be there?
He opened the door. There was a flurry of movement as she rushed towards him. Delight coursed through him, but he had the presence of mind to step aside. She was only acting out of relief at seeing him on his feet. She stopped awkwardly, her face flushed. His arms ached with emptiness.
‘You’re all right,’ she exclaimed.
‘As you see.’
‘I need to apologise for putting my family in your cottage.’ Her fingers twisted together. ‘My father walked out on them and they had to do a moonlight flit before the bailiffs came. I didn’t know what else to do – but it was only going to be for a day or so, I promise.’
Bailiffs? A moonlight flit? She must have been beside herself. ‘You could have sought my help.’ But she couldn’t, could she? The girl who was in love with Richard Carson wasn’t going to turn to Gabriel Linkworth when she was in a tight spot.
Colour crept across her cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry. It was nasty to go behind your back like that, but I was at my wits’ end.’
‘You took a liberty, but you were desperate. I understand that. I’m not going to hold it against you.’
She caught her breath. ‘Oh, thank you. I’ve been so…’ She tried to mask a tiny sniff as she collected herself. ‘I swear I don’t know how the fire started. My brothers—’
‘It was arson. Someone set fire to the cottage from the outside.’
She paled. ‘If you hadn’t come along, we’d have – we were all so tired—’
‘You’re safe, that’s what matters.’
‘Thanks to you.’
The look she gave him melted his heart. Her eyes sparkled with tears. He wanted to wipe them away and hold her. Clearing his throat, he made a show of looking round the shop, all business-like.
‘I shan’t keep this place.’
‘I thought you wanted to be a bookseller.’
‘I do, but at present I can’t afford the rent. What funds I have will be used to clear the remains of the cottage. I don’t want that land defaced by a ruin.’
‘And what about you?’
Oh, what a girl. Anyone else would worry about themselves, but her first thought was for him.
‘If you’re feeling sorry for me for losing the shop, don’t. My memory started coming back last night. One thing I now know about myself is I’m not the sort who wants everything to be handed to him on a plate. I’ve been given so much because of my lost memory: a home and a job in France by the family who took me in; then I was taken on by the army and seen by a specialist doctor; then I inherited this shop and the cottage. But now I’ve got my life back and I don’t need to settle for what I’m given. I want to go out and earn it for myself.’
She stood straighter, looking him in the eye. Was she proud of him?
‘All these books are still mine. And there will be another bookshop one day, I promise you.’
One day. Yes. He was sure of it.
Shortly before five o’clock, George entered the shop. In his collar-attached shirt and well-worn jacket, he wasn’t as well dressed as Gabriel, but he was smart and handsome in his sister’s eyes. He went straight to Gabriel, hand outstretched.
‘Mr Linkworth? George Layton. You saved my family’s lives last night and I’m grateful.’
Gabriel accepted the warm pumping of his hand and asked, ‘Have you come to escort Miss Layton home?’ He glanced at her. ‘I don’t mind if you leave early.’
Did he want to get rid of her? She couldn’t blame him. After that first conversation, he hadn’t referred to the liberty she had taken, but she had looked for hidden criticism in everything he said.
‘If you don’t mind,’ George told Gabriel, ‘it would help if Bel could come now. Our mother has an appointment with Mrs Rostron at the orphanage. She wants me to go with her and I think Bel should come too.’
She fetched her things. Mum was waiting outside, wearing the linen dress, lightweight coat and felt hat that Belinda had found at the second-hand stall that morning. Her skin was colourless, her eyes bruised with tiredness and shock. Belinda squeezed her arm, but it was George Mum attached herself to. They walked to the corner and turned into Church Road, passing the long line of low brick walls and tall terraced houses with netted windows. At the far end, behind walls smothered in thick ivy, was St Anthony’s, a sprawling building that looked more like a school than a home. Parts of it had those horribly high-up windows that classrooms had, which you’d have to be a giant to see out of.
‘This way,’ said Mum.
They went through the gates, across the playground and up some stone steps to haul on an old-fashioned bell-pull. A maid in a dark blue dress beneath a long white apron let them in, not into a pleasant hallway, but onto a short corridor. She led them round a corner and up a flight of stairs. Everything smelled of wood and disinfectant. The babble of voices suggested the children were cooped up together close by. Teatime, presumably.
The maid knocked at a door and stood aside for them to crowd into an office. A woman sat behind a desk. She looked up as they came in, but didn’t rise to greet them. She didn’t smile either. She was middle-aged with a serious face and keen eyes. Her dark hair was long and worn in a loose bun that looked like it might shake free at any moment, though Belinda rather thought it wouldn’t dare.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Layton. Thank you for coming back.’ Mrs Rostron’s gaze flicked from George to Belinda. ‘And you are?’
‘George and Belinda Layton,’ said George, removing his cap. ‘Mrs Layton’s eldest.’
‘I see. I have two chairs for visitors. You don’t mind standing, Mr Layton?’ Mrs Rostron’s tone suggested it wouldn’t matter if he did mind. ‘I have this afternoon received the school reports and references for your boys, Mrs Layton. I see that Michael and Thaddeus are due for another year at school after this year, and Jacob another two years. Let’s start with Michael. Very good reports: I’m happy to accept him. I see he has a half-time job on Beech Road and I’ve been made aware as to why he had to travel so far afield to get it.’ Her gaze ran over the three of them, cool and assessing. Blaming them for Thad’s behaviour? ‘Now then: Jacob. A silly boy, easily led and, in the process, I understand, of being led severely astray. I’ll accept him too, but I’ll have words with him – and I suggest you do the same – to the effect that he must make a choice. Either he pulls his socks up or he goes to the bad: his choice, and whether he remains here will depend upon what he elects to do.’
Mum stirred, but didn’t get a chance to speak.
‘Which brings me to Thaddeus. A trouble-maker, according to this.’ Mrs Rostron indicated the papers in front of her. ‘And a trouble-maker according to my staff, I might add. He has already provoked a fight as well as taking more than his fair share of the midday meal. I’m not prepared to accept him. I’ll make arrangements for him to be sent to the reformatory, where they’ll keep him until he’s fourteen, at which time, if he has reformed, he’ll be found an apprenticeship. Otherwise, he’ll be put in the army. Don’t look so shocked. It could be the making of him.’
‘A reformatory?’ breathed George.
Mrs Rostron glanced at her papers. ‘Fighting, bullying, lying, insolence, cheating, theft… Need I continue? I cannot ha
ve behaviour like that in my establishment. Do you accept my recommendations for your boys, Mrs Layton?’
‘Well, for Jacob and Mikey, yes, but—’
‘You may not pick and choose. If you don’t send Jacob and Michael here, my assessment of their needs will be put before the Panel; and the Panel will look at the entire family, not just them.’
‘But – a reformatory…’
Mrs Rostron sighed. ‘Your slack parenting enabled Thaddeus to run wild and now you must bear the consequences. Michael, on the other hand, is a credit to you. I suggest you take what comfort you can from that.’
Belinda felt winded as she, George and Mum stumbled off the premises. She wanted to dislike Mrs Rostron, but her assessment of the three boys had been spot on; and maybe the reformatory would turn Thad round. They would have to cling to that hope.
‘I must call on the Miss Heskeths,’ Mum said wearily. ‘The one who came this morning said they would try to help me.’
‘I’ll take you there,’ said Belinda.
‘Will you come an’ all, George?’ Mum asked.
‘No. My landlady will have my tea on the table shortly.’
‘Does she have an empty room?’ Mum asked.
‘Let’s see what the Miss Heskeths say first,’ said Belinda. ‘You cut along, George.’
‘I were only asking.’ Mum sounded plaintive.
Belinda hurried her to Wilton Close and Miss Patience let them in.
‘My sister is home from the office and I’ve explained the situation to her.’
Mum was all eyes as they entered the sitting room. Invited to sit down, she smoothed the skirt of her dress and straightened her shoulders. She looked like she was in her element.
‘A bad business,’ said Miss Hesketh. ‘I’m glad you’re all safe and well. We must be grateful that Mr Linkworth appeared when he did.’
‘Yes, miss,’ Mum agreed.
‘As I understand it, the rest of the family is taken care of, so there’s just you to be placed, Mrs Layton.’
‘I keep saying: I can live with our George. He’s my eldest. He’s a postman.’