by Mary Wood
‘Hattie, you getting free wasn’t your main motive. It wasn’t! Aye, it were going to be one of the outcomes, but you were at trying to find the other little girl and stopping the terrible things as were happening to young ’uns off the poor streets. Oh, I know your life stood to get better if it went well, but don’t forget: if it hadn’t, you were certain to be killed.’
When Hattie looked up, Megan saw there was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, so she pressed on. ‘Hattie, you thought losing your life were worth it, if you saved young ’uns from the terrible things that man and his gang were doing. That’s a good thing to have done, not a bad thing. And Susan – well, poor Susan. You knew she wasn’t well afore; you knew she wasn’t going to make it, even if you found the other one alive. And little Sally . . . She’ll forget, she will, Hattie.’
‘I hope so. She’s young. I mean, she’s a lot younger than I were.’ Hattie hung her head, and the tears were silent no more: huge sobs shook her body.
Megan waited, letting Hattie reach a calm place, a place where she could cope. Her own mind had filled with horror. Poor, poor Sally! Oh God!
‘I were too late . . .’
Megan patted Hattie affectionately on the arm and looked over at Cissy. Her friend looked as though she were being held in a vice. Only her bottom lip trembled. Poor Ciss – she’d taken in information she’d had no idea of, and in such a short time. Megan had an urge to go to her, but she couldn’t move. Hattie needed her more. There was a silence, then in a stronger voice Hattie said, ‘Mind, Megan, it’s like you say. If there’s owt good to have come out of this, it’s that other young ’uns are now safe. And I’m for thinking Bobby Blackstaff’ll hang for Janey’s murder, and that’ll be the fate of Wally and Doug an’ all. But as for the rest, I hope they rot in jail – Doreen and Lord Marley included. In fact, Doreen more than most, because for a woman to help to get young ’uns, knowing what were going to happen to them, is vile beyond owt I can think on.’
The door opened and a quiet, refined voice asked, ‘Are you all right, Hattie, dear?’
Megan looked up. She swallowed hard. This was the moment she’d been dreading, and she hadn’t wanted it to come at a time when she wasn’t ready. Her heart went out to the man who stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on his crutches. Both of his eye sockets were pulled down, showing the blood-red of the insides. His nose was twisted to one side, and his skin was puckered with burn scars. On one side he had no ear, but when her eyes rested on his mouth and chin, these were untouched and perfectly formed, as were his teeth. These features told her he’d been a handsome man at one time.
The effect his presence had on Hattie was as if he’d taken away all her troubles. She straightened and dried her eyes. ‘Aye, I’m all right, Arthur. In fact, I’m a lot better now, as Megan’s helped me to look at things in a different way. This is Megan, me mate as I’m always telling you of, and this is Cissy. Cissy is Megan’s mate from where she works. Me and her have just become acquainted, but we’re liking each other already.’
Arthur smiled. ‘I’m so glad, my dear, and I am pleased, too, to meet your friends. In particular you, Megan, as I have heard a lot about you. You and Hattie were brought up together, I understand?’
Was he judging her? Was he thinking that she’d done all right for herself? Her mouth still felt dry. She could do no more than smile at him, and hoped he wouldn’t take her nerves for rudeness. Or, worse, think she was struck dumb at the sight of him.
‘I think it is wonderful how you never gave up on Hattie. Many would have done, given the circumstances. I think you are a true friend, Megan. One doesn’t come across friends of your kind very often.’
There was a sad note in his voice as he said this, and it was this that helped her find her own voice, more than what he’d said. ‘I’m pleased to be meeting you, too, Arth— Sir.’
‘Arthur. Call me Arthur.’
He’d moved further into the room and came over to her. She stood up and took his outstretched hand. That too was maimed – two of the fingers had gone and the skin was wrinkled, but all she could think of was that it was a funny world, her shaking hands with gentry as if she was an equal.
Arthur extended his hand to Cissy next. As she took it she said, ‘I can’t believe as I’m meeting someone who’s done such a lot to make sure as we are safe from that Kaiser bloke and been through such a lot an’ all. I mean—’
Hattie’s sharp intake of breath had stopped Cissy in her tracks. Megan bit her lip. She knew what Cissy had meant by what she’d said, but wondered if Hattie and Arthur did.
‘Thank you, Cissy. It is nice to know that what I have been through is appreciated.’
Hattie breathed a sigh of relief, but the moment was still tense and Megan wished Cissy hadn’t brought up the subject of Arthur’s injuries. She knew he was sensitive about how he looked, but there was no stopping her now. ‘It is, Arthur, very much so. And while I’m talking, I might as well say that there isn’t no one that’s been more of a friend to Hattie than you. Me mam’d say as you’re top-drawer, but without the tight knickers pulling your nose high.’
Arthur looked surprised for a moment, then put his head back and laughed out loud. They all joined in and the moment relaxed.
‘I’d like to meet this mother of yours, Cissy. She sounds a card! Well, Hattie, I will leave you and your friends to carry on your conversation. No, it’s all right, dear. I will see you later. Everything upstairs is fine – Elsie is seeing to that. Anyway, Susan was asleep when I looked in, so she’s not having to listen to Elsie preaching, which is a blessing.’
The sense of relief that was beginning to settle in Megan didn’t stop her from feeling surprised at someone of Arthur’s standing giving a small bow to her and Cissy, and at how he spoke. ‘Bye for now, ladies. It was very nice meeting you. In fact, it was a pleasure.’
The smile he gave them was sincere, and what he’d said sounded genuine. Suddenly she was able to see past his injuries, and the fact that he was a member of the gentry. She just saw a man – a handsome, young, kind man. And because of this, a peace settled in her. Hattie would be all right, Arthur and Harry would see to that.
After seeing Megan and Cissy off, Hattie climbed the stairs and opened the door to the bedroom where Susan lay. Elsie, Susan’s sister, rose from the chair next to the bed and put her finger to her mouth in a gesture that told Hattie to be quiet. The action, like everything Elsie did, had a stern edge to it.
It had been a surprise when Susan had said she had a sister living over on the other side of Leeds – just as it was to learn that this sister and her man had a corner grocery shop. But she’d gladly asked Arthur to contact them, even though it had set a fear stirring inside her as to Sally’s future. She’d been hoping that that future would be with herself, what with the love she held inside her for the child. When she’d seen how different Elsie was from Susan, her worry was compounded. Susan was gentle, fragile and loving, while this one walked like she had a plank stuck up her backside reaching up to her collarbone. Her hair was scraped back into a bun so tight that it pulled her face into a permanent expression of disapproval. But then that was exactly how she was: disapproving. Disapproving of everything she saw. That is, if she bothered to look, which she didn’t at Arthur. How she could be a guest in his house, taking everything as if it was her right, and yet openly and rudely reject him, beggared belief!
Part of her bristled as Elsie showed her the door. It was as much as she could do to keep her hands by her side and not knock the woman off her feet. In fact, even thinking of doing this made her feel better.
Once outside the bedroom, Elsie said, ‘It is clear to me, Hattie, that me sister isn’t long for this world.’ She sniffed and used her hanky to wipe her eyes. ‘And I am not surprised after what she’s been through!’ Her eyes held none of the emotion displayed by her actions as she sniffed again, more loudly. Then, holding her head high, she appeared to look down her nose as she continued. ‘I
don’t know how you are going to live with yourself after this, Hattie. I really don’t.’
‘Live with meself! I were willing to give me life to find Janey . . .’
‘And Sally’s! My God, I’m going to have sommat to say about all of this, if it’s the last thing as I do.’
‘Aye, and it might be the last thing you do, if you carry on. You know nothing – nothing! Do you hear me?’
‘Don’t you dare talk to me of knowing nothing! I know as me sister is lying in there dying, and me niece is hurting so badly on the inside that she’s scared even to talk. And me other niece lays cold on a slab. God alone knows what she went through afore she died, poor little mite. And as for you! You live here as . . . as his mistress!’ Her whole body shook with her disgust, but she’d hardly drawn breath before her rant gained pace. ‘My God! I know all I want to know, or ever thought I would know, about life as you lot live it. And for decent folk like me, who make an honest living, knowing that much is a mile too far.’
Hattie hung her head. The momentary comfort Megan had provided her with left her, allowing the guilt she’d borne throughout it all a chance to weigh down her shoulders once more.
‘Elsie, you may think you know everything. But all you know is what you want to know, which is just enough to salve the guilt you bear for how little you have cared for your sister and her children’s welfare since her husband was killed. And all you see is what you want to see, and how you want to see it.’
Both Hattie and Elsie turned in surprise at this outburst from Arthur. To Hattie, it seemed that a different person stood before her: not a being who was apologetic for even existing, but a man – forceful and, well . . . manly.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I mean, Elsie, that Hattie is not responsible for what happened. She didn’t have to listen to your sister when she approached her about Janey. She didn’t have to try to find Janey, or put herself in extreme danger to help the police catch the perpetrators of these heinous crimes. And she isn’t responsible for what happened to Sally.’
Hattie stood in awe of Arthur. He stood squarely in front of Elsie, his body hardly supported by his crutches, forcing Elsie to look at him. His voice, though quiet, was commanding, and his stature grew as he went on to talk about how Hattie had had nothing to do with the way things turned out. That she had been betrayed by the police, who were the ones who had sacrificed Sally for the ultimate prize of nabbing the gang they’d been after for so long.
But Elsie wasn’t daunted. ‘Well, say what you might, but she’s one of them – and, well, things here are not what they should be!’
‘That, may I remind you, is none of your business. And while it’s necessary for you to remain under my roof, you will kindly refrain from giving your opinions on anything that is my business, and my business alone.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll not be under your roof a moment longer than I have to be, and nor will Sally, because when I leave after my poor sister departs this world, Sally will come with me and live as one of me own. She’ll be brought up with decent folk who behave in a Christian manner, and she’ll not be having to look on you every day. Injured through no fault of their own or not, folk like you should be locked away some place where they can’t be seen and can’t carry on like you do, because not only do you look like the devil, you behave like him!’
Hattie saw that these last words had cut deep into Arthur. His skin paled and his stature shrank, and he leaned heavily on his crutches, as he was used to doing. But her own agony was such that she couldn’t help him or fight Elsie for him. She just stood next to him and watched as the triumphant Elsie turned and went back into the bedroom. As the door closed, a desolate sigh escaped her, bringing Arthur’s immediate concern back to her.
‘Don’t worry, my dear, we’ll be all right. We don’t have to face such people very often. Do you know, Hattie? What she fails to realize is that I am locked away. Wherever I am, I am locked away.’
‘Oh, Arthur.’
But then her mind and heart were agonized by a different thought: Sally. How was she to say goodbye to her? And to think she was to be brought up by that woman! She could do nothing about it; Elsie was kin, so she had a right and a duty to take Sally. If only she would be taking her as a right and not a duty, because all too often duty can become a burden.
16
Love Strikes
‘He’s there!’ Cissy cried.
‘Who?’
‘Bert Armitage. I just caught sight of him. He’s standing on the corner of The Row, and it pouring down, an’ all. He must’ve asked me mam what train we were coming on.’
‘Don’t be daft! He’s most likely just having a smoke. Old Stan, as he lives with, has a bad time with his breathing. Bert says as the poor man’s lungs are near gone, so he has to smoke outside for fear of choking him. Anyroad, how come you sound so pleased? I thought you didn’t want me to take up with him, because of his surly nature!’
‘I know, but you said yourself he isn’t unattractive, and you thought he’d get less surly if he had a good wife to look after him.’
‘It is possible. It can’t be much fun being a bloke on your own with no family. I always think it’s worse for men, somehow.’
‘You could be right. Anyroad, with situation how it is, if someone takes a shine, then we’ve to grab them with both hands and take our chances. And I reckon as Bert’s definitely took a shine to you!’
‘Aye, he does seem to have. Oh, I don’t know. Anyroad, get your bag down and pass me mine. Train’s pulling into station.’
Megan looked out of the window. She couldn’t see much through the rain-spattered pane and the cloud of smoke that the slowing train belched out. She just made out the sign ‘Breckton’, and felt the usual flip of her belly as the excitement at being home gripped her.
As they turned into one of the streets known as the miners’ rows – a maze of back-to-back, two-up, two-downs that housed the miners and their families – Bert stepped forward and came alongside her. ‘Hello. You got here, then?’
‘Why, were you expecting me?’
‘No. Well, I’ve been after asking Issy when you were coming. I’ve sommat to ask you.’
The rain was running off his flat cap, and Bert’s voice and expression were those of a man unhappy with his situation. Megan asking whether he’d been expecting her seemed to have put him out some, but she wasn’t for letting him off the hook.
‘I think as you should get on with asking then, because I’m getting soaked and so are you.’
‘It don’t matter none. I’ll see thee later.’
And with that he threw his nub-end onto the ground, turned, and walked away from her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bert cross the road and hurry into the pub that stood just before the turn into the lane where Cissy lived. ‘Well! What d’yer make of that, Ciss?’
‘It’s you as beggars belief, Megan! You know what he’s like, then you taunt him, then you find as he can’t take it, which is what you knew in the first place! Anyroad, never mind him. He’ll stew or he won’t, but isn’t this grand, Megan? Just sniff the air. I love the rain. It dampens smell of the pit and freshens everything. Come on.’ She skipped ahead, not stopping to adjust her scarf as it fell from her head, allowing the rain to plaster her hair to her face in tight curls. Her laughter and joy rang out.
Megan shrugged and decided to put Bert out of her mind. She’d not join in with the skipping, though, at least not until she’d passed the pub. She couldn’t help noticing as she did so that Bert was at the window watching her. She pulled up her collar and quickened her step. As she turned into the lane, Cissy called out, ‘Come on, slowcoach. Does you remember song as were sung to us when we were young ’uns? Well, it were to me, but I bet as you’ve heard it.’ With this Cissy put her arms in the air and twirled round and round, singing at the top of her voice:
‘It’s raining, it’s pouring,
The old man is snoring,
He
bumped his head . . .
On the bottom of the bed
And couldn’t get up in the morning!’
Even though the rain and her encounter with Bert had dampened her spirits and excitement some, Megan couldn’t help but feel lifted by Cissy’s joy, and laughed at her antics.
Cissy didn’t see the tall, handsome young man turn into the lane from the ginnal, but Megan did, and as she looked at him it was if a bolt of lightning had struck her. She couldn’t call out to Ciss to tell her that she had an audience, as she couldn’t find enough spittle to wet her mouth to help her form the words. It was as if her heart had been ripped from the inside of her and given to him. She stared at him, taking in every detail, and as she did so, feelings she’d never known before assailed her.
His hair lay in flat, wet strands over his forehead, and rain droplets dripped from his nose, but he had the most perfect face she’d ever seen. Even though his body was huddled against the rain, she knew that it, too, would be perfect. His smile was broad, and his teeth white and even.
When his eyes shifted briefly from Cissy to glance in Megan’s direction, she saw that they were a deep blue. They didn’t linger on her, but then she thought, compared to Cissy, the attractive bits she was blessed with wouldn’t catch a man’s eye at first glance, even if she wasn’t looking like a dog coming out of the beck! A pang of jealousy entered her and she wished with all her heart she’d one ounce of Cissy’s beauty.
Cissy became aware that she was being watched and stopped dancing. She stared at the young man, and then embarrassment took her. She bent double in a fit of giggles, before taking hold of Megan’s hand and running with her the last few yards to the cottage. The run didn’t break the spell for Megan, or stop the feelings burning inside of her.
‘That must’ve been him! Oh, Megan, he’s so handsome.’ They were shaking their wet overclothes in the back porch. Cissy hadn’t noticed any change in her and chatted on. ‘D’yer think as he’ll like me? Oh, what’ll he think of me dancing around like that?’ The sound of the latch clicking told them he’d come in. Cissy looked at Megan, her eyes wide and more beautiful than she’d ever seen them. Her damp curls framed her lovely face like a halo. ‘He’ll think I’m an idiot, Megan. I’m reet embarrassed. You go in first and get him talking. Give me time to get meself together . . .’