She dressed quickly in a shirt and trousers, then with just a fleeting look that conveyed both longing and regret, she was gone from the room leaving Jack to his own confused thoughts.
The hot summer of 1920 ended early in Norfolk. In the first week of September, cold winds blew inland from the North Sea and rain squalls sprinted across the flat autumnal countryside.
For Alice, Flora and Jed, leisurely country walks were now a distant memory and the three of them took to meeting in Dan’s parlour after work. The parlour was a dark room lit by one small window. It was full of various trophies that Dan had collected through his life, including a Zulu warrior’s spear and the severed head of an African gazelle. The room was dominated by a huge open range which served as a means to cook food and boil water. Hanging from the grey stone mantle were an assortment of copper pans, ladles and cooking implements which provided all the hardware required by Dan and Jed to cook their simple meals.
It was early evening. Jed stoked the fire ready for Alice and Flora to join him. At precisely six thirty, the door opened and Alice came in, her head covered by a thick grey shawl which extended over her shoulders.
“Evening, Jed, let me close to that fire fast. There’s a fierce wind out there tonight.”
“You warm yourself, Alice, I’ll get you a mug of tea. Have you seen Flora today?”
“I saw her briefly at lunch time. She called into the bakers for bread. Must say, she seemed a bit odd, not her normal bright self.”
“Maybe she’s not well.”
“I’m not sure. She’d normally say if she was ill. It was more like she was embarrassed to see me.”
Alice and Jed were joined by Dan and the ritual of toasting muffins began. By seven o’clock there was still no sign of Flora.
“She’s never been this late before,” said Alice. “And she’d always say if she wasn’t going to come.”
“I wonder if anything’s happened to those parents of hers?” suggested Dan. “You know how she worries about them even though they treat her like a slave.”
“I’d better go to her lodgings and see if she’s there,” volunteered Jed. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later Jed was back, drenched through by the torrential rain.
“Come and get dry by the fire,” called Alice. Did you see her? What’s the matter with her?”
“I didn’t see her. She wasn’t there.”
“Did you find out where she’s gone?”
“I spoke to her landlady, old Mrs. Potts, and it seems two of them members of her church came to see her this afternoon. Mrs. Potts refused to let them in at first but when she called Flora she agreed to see them. They went into her sitting room and shut the door. Mrs. Potts says there was raised voices and she could hear Flora shouting out something about ‘sacrifice’ but she couldn’t make out the rest of it. When they came out she could see Flora had been crying. She told Mrs. Potts that she had to go because her parents needed her. Then one of them elders paid the outstanding rent from his own pocket and they went away.”
“It’s what I thought,” said Dan. “The parents is putting pressure on her. They’re making her feel bad about going away – making out they’re ill.”
“But Flora’s not stupid,” said Alice. “She’d soon see through that.”
“Maybe she’s got no choice,” replied Dan. “Why do you think they sent two people to fetch her? Sounds more like they kidnapped her.”
“We must find out,” demanded Jed. “I’m going to go to her parents’ place. I’ll get her back.”
“Supposing she don’t want to come back?” said Dan.
“Course she’ll want to come back.”
“Don’t go tonight, Jed” pleaded Alice. “It’s terrible out there and you’ll never find your way round in the dark. It’s a mass of unlit alleyways in that part of town.”
“Then if Dan don’t mind, I’m going first thing tomorrow morning,” replied Jed, slumping heavily into a fireside chair.
The next morning was grey but dry. Heavy clouds hung above Frampton, promising rain later in the day.
Jed set off from Dan’s workshop after breakfast. He passed through the square where a vegetable market was already in full swing. Then he took the road to the west of the town, a direction he seldom followed. He soon noticed that the buildings here were shabby and unkempt. Many occupants seemed to keep animals around their dwellings and there were numerous hens, goats and cows penned in behind makeshift barricades.
As he moved further towards the edge of the town, the buildings became less substantial. They were mostly constructed from wattle and daub. The roofs were made of rough thatch and most had smoke pouring from makeshift chimneys.
He stopped to ask an old man pulling a cart full of potatoes if he knew where the Fultons lived.
“Fulton? Can’t say I know that name,” he said removing a cloth cap and scratching his head.
“Flora Fulton. She lived here with her parents. I think they belong to some kind of religious sect.”
“Oh, it’s the Brotherhood you’ll be talkin’ about. I won’t be knowing anything about them. They keep themselves to themselves. But I knows where they live alright.”
“Could you tell me then?” pleaded Jed.
“You got to follow that path,” he said pointing to a muddy track that led off between two derelict shacks. “Follow that path till you gets to a square. They all live round there. Ask someone and they’ll be sure to know.”
Jed set off along the path, his feet squelching in the soft mud that lay underfoot. Either side of him were old workshops where smithies repaired broken farm machinery. The smoke from their braziers swirled around him and hindered his view. Eventually the path opened out onto a square surrounded by eight simple cottages. The square was empty and Jed searched in vain for someone to ask. Then he spied an old woman wearing a white peaked skull cap rounding the corner of a building carrying a bucket of water.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Flora Fulton. I think she lives here.”
The old women froze in her tracks and stared intently at the cobbles in front of her.
“Flora Fulton, does she live here?”
Still the woman made no move. Jed felt anger rising.
“What’s the matter with you, woman? Can’t you speak? Where does Flora Fulton live?”
The woman turned her head towards Jed. She was pale with gaunt skin and eyes that receded deep into their sockets. With the merest inclination of her head, she appeared to indicate a house to Jed’s right. As he turned to look at it she shuffled quickly away.
The house was a simple single story building with two small windows positioned either side of a door covered in peeling grey paint. Jed made his way to the door and hammered with his fist. There was no sound from within so he hammered on the door again and then stepped back to watch for signs of life. A thin wisp of grey smoke was escaping from a chimney perched on the ancient thatch. The windows were covered on the inside by greying fabric which hung limply from sagging cords.
Suddenly, Jed heard the sounds of a lock being turned. He went to the door again and waited in anticipation. A second lock was slowly drawn back. Then to the accompanying noise of groaning hinges, the door was hauled open.
Standing in the gloom of the unlit interior was an elderly man. He was tall and immensely thin. White strands of hair framed a haggard face and his pallid complexion gave him a ghostly appearance. He wore an old fashioned dark waistcoat and breeches which were tucked into battered boots.
“Who are you and what do you want?”
“My name’s Jed Carter. I’m a friend of Flora’s.”
“Flora don’t have friends. Now go away.”
Angered by this response, Jed moved closer and placed his shoulder by the door post, preventing the door from being closed.
“I said I’m Flora’s friend. I want to see her.”
“The Lord says, ‘Remove the wicked person from amongst yourselves’, C
orinthians chapter five, verse thirteen.”
“I don’t care about that. I’m interested in Flora and how she is. She should have been with us last night but she didn’t turn up. Is anything wrong with her?”
“‘The Lord knoweth them that are his. And let everyone that nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquity’. The book of Timothy, chapter two, verse nineteen.”
“Will you stop all that and just answer my question?” said Jed, feeling the anger well up inside him again. “Is Flora alright?”
“Flora has broken the rules of our church and brought great sadness and shame upon us. She should never have gone to visit that place of entertainment with you.”
“What are you on about? Do you mean Wroxham?” exclaimed Jed incredulously. “It’s a pretty little place on the broads where people go to enjoy a day out by the river.”
“Our church doesn’t allow frivolous outings. Everything we need is provided by the church. We don’t need outsiders and we don’t mix with those who seek idle amusement. ‘If any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolator, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such a one, no, not to eat’, Corinthians five, verse eleven.”
“Look, we just had a day out. Flora needed to get way from all this mumbo jumbo. She’d already decided to leave your church and if you’ve taken her back by force then you’ve got me to deal with.”
Jed wedged his body closer into the doorway.
“Flora has been made to see the error of her ways. She is going to repent and will be accepted back into the blessed church and once again be clean in the eyes of God.”
“What have you done to her?” asked Jed anxiously, his voice rising now.
“We have given her guidance and helped her to see the truth which is based on the teachings of the true Christians. On the next Sabbath, our congregation will gather and Flora will make a full confession. If the elders believe her confession to be complete and heartfelt, she will be welcomed back into the arms of the congregation.”
“Let me see her, I need to see her,” shouted Jed, his anger now spilling over. He lunged at the old man and tried to push him away from the door. Momentarily, he resisted but his wasted body was no match for Jed’s power. Jed pushed by him and into the darkened room. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. As the old man ranted behind him, he took in the scene. There was a single wooden table in the centre of the room with three chairs placed around it. A small range glowed dimly at one end. On the wall opposite the door was a large wooden crucifix with a roughly carved figure of Christ. Other than that the room was bare.
“Where’s Flora? I need to see her,” he yelled at the old man. He saw a door at the far end of the room and made to open it. The old man screamed at him.
“Sinner, sinner, you’ll be damned for this!”
Jed pushed the door with one hand, fending the old man off with his other. What he saw brought him to a sudden halt. There was a large bed in the middle of the room and to one side was a small wooden cot. Kneeling by this and clutching a bible was Flora. Her dress had been torn from her back and red weals across her exposed flesh showed that she’d been recently beaten. Her wrists were bound and she was tied to the frame of the bed.
“You bastard, you bastard!” screamed Jed as he flung himself to the floor beside her.
“Don’t worry, Flora. Come with me and leave all of this.”
“You don’t understand,” sobbed Flora, “I can’t leave. They own me. Without the church we have nothing. We gave everything to the church. I have to come back. I have no choice. Please go away. Just forget me.”
“I can’t do that, Flora,” cried Jed as he tried to take hold of her and pull her away from the cot.
“We’re your friends. We won’t let you go.”
“You must, Jed, it’s my decision. You have no right to do this. Go now!”
There was a commotion at the door and three young men appeared, led by Flora’s father.
“There he is, a sinner, a viper, an evil doer. God damn his soul! Throw him out of my house.”
The three men seized Jed from behind and in spite of his struggles, dragged him from the house and out into the square. They threw him roughly onto the cobbled ground and stood barring his way back into the house.
Jed picked himself up from the ground and brushed the dirt from his clothes.
“You’re freaks, all of you,” he screamed at them. “Call yourselves godly? You ain’t got a caring thought between you. We’ll get Flora out. I’ll be back, you’ll see.”
The four brethren stood implacably, arms folded across their chests as Jed ranted at them. Eventually, he was forced to leave the house and make his way back into the town.
Later that evening, Jed met with Alice and Dan in the parlour to discuss what they should do.
“We can’t just leave her there,” demanded Jed. “They’d beaten her, I know they had. They’re holding her captive.”
“But from what you told us, Flora said it was her wish to stay,” argued Dan. “Even if she don’t mean it you can’t go takin’ a person away from their family without their consent. You got to leave some things to run their natural course.”
“But there must be someone we can tell. How about Constable Barker?”
“Like Dan said, unless Flora’s willing to come there’s nothing the police can do,” added Alice. “And remember what people are like round here. What goes on in the home behind closed doors is nobody else’s business. It’s a family matter and you got to let Flora sort it out.”
“But she’s only doing it for her parents. She told me they’ve given everything to their church. They don’t own anything. The church owns them.”
“They sounds like desperate people to me then, Jed,” said Dan. “And you can’t reason with desperate people. You got to trust Flora to see sense and leave when she’s ready. She knows she’s got friends and we’ll be waiting for her.”
Sleep eluded Jed as he lay in bed that night. He couldn’t put the image of Flora out of his mind, lying crumpled by the bed with her dress ripped. Should he have been stronger? Should he have tried harder to take her away? Was Dan right that some things couldn’t be changed – you had to let fate take its course? His mind drifted back to an earlier conversation with Dan – something about ‘follow your dream’ or ‘follow your star’. It seemed to Jed that you needed more than a dream. You needed ambition. You needed a plan. Perhaps you had to be ruthless. If you left it to fate, you’d get blown about like a leaf in a storm – like poor Flora, battered and damaged. It was becoming clearer to him now. He needed to take control of his destiny. But just as he was filled with enthusiasm and excitement by this idea, it was replaced by an empty realisation that he had very little in the way of skills or ability. He was not bright. He could just read. He didn’t communicate well. But he could work hard. No one ever disputed that. He could work till he dropped. What he didn’t have was money or knowledge. He fell into a troubled sleep.
The Guest Who Stayed: Chapter 7 – Late 1920
The loss of Flora cast a shadow across the days that followed. Without her infectious laughter and her incessant questions, meetings in Dan’s parlour became less enjoyable. Alice seemed to be taking a greater interest in Jed’s future and would frequently goad him about his lack of ambition.
“You can’t always just be Dan’s assistant, you know,” said Alice as they sat alone by the fire in Dan’s parlour one evening. “What about starting your own business and being your own boss? People know you well enough round these parts now and you’ve got a reputation for working hard.”
“Are you asking me to go against Dan?” said Jed indignantly. “After all he’s done for me, taking me in when I arrived here from the farm and giving me work. He’s become like a father to me, like my own father should have been. He talks to me, hears me out when I got something troubling me, tells me about his life and how it’s led him to see things in a certain way. You can’t
put a price on that sort of friendship so there’s no way I’m walking out on him. Besides, he’s beginning to need me more now. He can’t do nearly as much as he did when I first arrived, so we make a good pair. He’s got the knowhow and I’ve got the muscle.”
“I’m not saying you should be disloyal, just that you got to look after yourself because there’s nobody else going to do it for you. It’s because Dan needs you that you got to make sure he pays what you’re worth. Don’t forget he’s your boss and you’ve got rights, you know.”
“Don’t go fillin’ your head up with all that modern political talk. This ain’t Russia. I’m not planning to start a revolution.”
“You may scoff, Jed, but you’ve got to be sharp these days. It’s no good just carrying on doing things the way we always have – just being the victim. You’ve got to ask questions, stand up for yourself, recognise what you’re worth. Times are changing. You just got to look around to see that; women have the vote now, more cars on the roads, fancy clothes in the shops, people building themselves modern houses to live in with bathrooms and all that.”
“But that’s only a few people, Alice. For the likes of us life don’t change very much.”
“That’s the point, Jed, it is only for the few but you got to make sure you’re one of them. There’s opportunities out there for those who’s prepared to take them.”
There was a pause whilst Jed digested Alice’s words. Staring into the spitting embers, both of them had a sense that they were ill equipped to break free from the servitude that life had assigned to them.
“I’m not sure I’ve got the strength to do what you’re saying, Alice. I never thought of myself as being different. All I really wanted to do was fit in.”
“Let me help you then, Jed, you know, be your friend. I can see you’ve got talents and sometimes it takes a woman to bring them out in a man. Let me be a special friend.”
“How do you mean?”
“You and me want the same things, Jed, to improve ourselves and make a better life. Sometimes it’s easier if two of you do it together. That’s all I mean, being close and helping one another out.”
The Guest Who Stayed Page 7