by Mary Wood
‘Are you ready, darling? Can I come in? Oh, you look lovely. No, don’t look like that, you do. I think Charlotte and Derek are going to be pleasantly surprised. They’ve been very worried about you.’
‘Is that the truth as to why they’ve come all this way? Oh, don’t bother denying it, Daphne. You’ve been scheming, I can see that. You and Charlotte are as bad as each other. I don’t know why I love you both so much – well, her anyway. I suppose I’ve got to love you.’
‘Come on, we’re not up to anything, I promise.’
‘No? I’ll believe that when I see it. If this isn’t a dummy run for something bigger, then I don’t know you two as well as I think I do.’
The evening had gone well and they’d retired and left the men to their port when the ‘not up to anything’ surfaced.
‘You know, darling, you look really lovely. I think it suits you – being thinner, I mean. It shows your lovely bone structure to its best advantage.’
‘Come off it, Charlotte, you know I look awful.’
‘You don’t, darling, really! You should socialize more. We all miss you, and there are one or two interesting men on the scene at the moment.’
‘Uh-oh, here it comes!’
‘No, really, darling – it’s nothing we’ve planned. But it won’t hurt to enjoy yourself and have a look at what’s around. It must be lonely on your own.’
‘Yes, it is, but I’ve no time, and I’m not up to doing the rounds at the moment. Anyway, I shouldn’t think there’s anything interesting going on until the winter season, and I couldn’t stand the intimacy of a dinner party. Not with strangers there. All that polite conversation! No. Count me out.’
‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You remember Lord Fennington died – oh, about two years ago now? Well, his eldest, John, didn’t outlive him by many months, and so the younger one, David, has come back from France. He married a French aristocrat. Anyway, it appears he is a widower with one son and is now the new lord. He’s about your age, handsome and well set up, and they say he has started to accept invitations. Jocelyn Withers has taken it on herself to introduce him to everyone. She’s giving a late-summer ball in about three weeks’ time.’
‘No. No. And it’s no use you two ganging up on me, either, as I’m not fit enough yet to think of attending a ball. And you’re not going to matchmake me with this Lord David Fennington, or anyone else for that matter! I knew you had something up your sleeve. You’re incorrigible, both of you.’
‘Oh, I see, so you’re fit enough for business, but not for pleasure?’
‘Daphne, that’s below the belt, and you know it. Besides, I’ve nothing to wear; nothing fits me, and I’m not going in one of Theresa’s coming-out gowns. Everyone will recognize it. And you can pretend all you want to. I know that nothing will look good on me. I’m too thin.’
‘Ah, but I have an answer to that. You’ll never believe it, but I’ve found myself a new dressmaker! No, not an expensive London one – it’s a new place just opened in Leeds. And wait for this: the woman who is designing for me used to work for Madame Marie! Anyway, her designs are exquisite, and her materials are out of this world. And the best bit is: they are not expensive. In fact I’ve ordered a whole new winter outfit . . . What’s the matter, darling? Are you all right? Laura?’
‘I – I’m all right. I’m just tired. I’ll go up now, Daphne, if you don’t mind. It’s early days for me yet. But I will go to Jocelyn’s ball, Charlotte, and I will treat myself to a new outfit from . . . What did you say this woman’s name was?’
‘Oh, I can’t remember. Wait a minute: I wrote it down. Megan – Megan of Frampton’s. That’s it. I don’t know if she’s the only designer they have, but as she is so good, I made a note of her name. Yes, here it is. I’ll tell you what: I’ll telephone you in a couple of days and arrange to pick you up and bring you over to mine. I’ll arrange for her to come over as well and bring some swatches and designs and things. We’ll have a lovely day picking and choosing something for you. How’s that, darling?’
‘That would be wonderful, thanks, Charlotte. Megan, you say? May I see? Hm, Coppery Street, Bramley? Well, I never! Frampton’s of Bramley. Quite a posh name for – I mean, well . . .’
‘I know, and this Megan is part-owner of it. Though it’s hard to imagine where she got her money from, as she’s very low-class. It would be interesting to find out. In fact Madame Marie must have had her work cut out, getting the woman to such a high standard. Why she took her on is a mystery. I thought she only took on middleclass girls who at least had an education.’
‘No, I recommended a girl from my estate. She took her on and did very well, by all accounts. Now you’ll have to excuse me, darling. Say goodnight to Derek and Charles for me.’
‘I’ll see you up, darling. Oh dear, you’re trembling. Here, take my arm.’
‘Thanks, Daphne. I do feel shaky.’
It took a while to convince Daphne that she would be all right, but eventually Laura found herself on her own. To her amazement, tears began to stream down her face as soon as the door was closed. So she’d done it – it must be her! It was too much of a coincidence, the name Megan. And having worked at Madame Marie’s! Oh God, that woman was all set up now and away from Bert Armitage – just what Jack had wanted to happen. She’d surely lose him now. How could she keep him? If she sacked him, he’d have somewhere to go, and he’d soon find work in Leeds. All her planning had been to no avail. But wait a minute. What about Armitage? Surely he wouldn’t take all this lying down? Not from what she’d heard of him, he wouldn’t. What if she was to make sure he found out where his wife was?
The tears dried, and Laura rubbed a weary hand over her face. Her head ached and her chest felt tight. No, she mustn’t be ill again. There was so much to do. So much . . .
Once home, Laura found that most of what had seemed like a huge burden during her illness turned out to be simple to achieve. Her manager had already done most of it. He’d found there were a large number of very skilled men on the market, so the hiring had been easy. Dealing with the union, though, had proved to be a hard task, and costly, as she’d had to agree to meet the cost of relocating the men she’d sacked. And then there was Jack.
She’d decided she would ignore his presence while she sorted herself out. She needed a scheme. She needed him to need her – to rely on her totally, as he was used to doing – as that way he’d do as she bid. But whilst he had that slut waiting to give him a home, what chance did she stand?
It had been planned that her manager was to pay off the men who were to leave, but she decided she’d have to be there. It was the perfect opportunity, and the only one she was going to get. She’d give out the payments herself and speak to each one. She’d have to get the proceedings to take place in her own office at Hensal Grange, as not only did she not feel well enough to venture out to the office, but that would have meant Jack driving her, and she definitely wasn’t ready for that.
The day of the payments had arrived and Laura didn’t feel so confident. Her stomach twisted with nerves. Could she pull it off, without anyone knowing she was doing it deliberately? But then it wasn’t just Armitage – it was the whole thing. These men had been working loyally for many years for the company. Many had started in her father-in-law’s day. Suddenly it seemed like a betrayal, and she wished she was anywhere but in this room waiting to face them.
Thank goodness she had been able to put Charlotte off for a couple of weeks. Seeing Megan Armitage would have made her task a little too personal. By the time the appointed day came round again, everything would hopefully be sorted, one way or the other. If not . . . No, there was no if. Her plan would succeed.
Five men had been in front of her when she heard Bert Armitage’s name. It was turning out to be more of an ordeal than she’d anticipated, and one she could have saved herself from, if it wasn’t for this bloody business of getting rid of that woman.
Bert Armitage was in front of her, and h
e looked nothing like she expected. He was a strong-looking individual and had a power about him, an evil power. She shuddered and took a deep breath.
‘Well, now, I’m here for two purposes, Armitage. One is to express my regret at how progress at Hensal Grange Colliery has unfortunately meant some of you lost your jobs. And the other is to give you a resettlement payment, which I think you will find very generous and should tide you over for a while. Have you found another position?’ She knew he hadn’t.
‘No, Ma’am.’
‘You have somewhere to go, I take it?’
His look darkened. Her nerves enhanced to fear.
‘Only on the road, and I’ll not stand here talking to you so that you can pretend as you bloody care! I’ll take me pittance and be off.’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her manager move. She put her hand up to stay him.
‘But surely you will be going to your wife? I hear she has a nice little place in Coppery Street, in Leeds. I was quite surprised and pleased to hear that one of my tenants had done so well, and that it had come at such a time, when you most needed it. I imagined that it was all planned that way. I—’
The sound of a sharp intake of breath from behind interrupted her and she turned and looked at her manager. She feigned a worried expression. ‘Have I said something wrong?’
Armitage’s raised voice brought her attention back to him.
‘What does you mean – a place? What bloody place? And how come as you knows of it?’
She let her voice falter. ‘I – I’m . . . well, I didn’t realize. Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken of it. I . . .’
He leaned forward, his hands on the desk in front of her. He stared straight at her, his blackened, evil soul exposed in the depth of his eyes. Her body trembled with the knowledge of her own devious self – the self, deep in her own soul, that had prompted her to do what she’d just done. Oh God, what if he killed Megan? She hadn’t thought about the consequences. She’d thought he’d perhaps knock her back into line, but now she wasn’t sure. Her legs would hold her no longer. She sank back into her seat.
‘I asked you a question, Miss High-and-Bloody-Mighty. What place?’
‘That’s enough, Armitage. Get out of here. You’ve got your money.’ The manager stepped forward and faced him squarely.
‘I’m not going until she tells me what she knows of me wife and her doings.’
Once more Laura found herself looking into those evil black eyes. But she’d composed herself. She might as well tell him, if only to get rid of him. She stood up. ‘It’s a ladies’ fashion shop on Coppery Street. It’s called Frampton’s, or something like that. Now leave this office at once or we’ll call the police.’
Bert glared at her for a few seconds. His body trembled. His mouth opened and then closed again, and then he turned and slammed out of the office.
Her manager looked at her with concern. She sat down, happy in the knowledge that her distress looked as real as it had seemed a few minutes ago.
‘Well, what was all that about? How come he didn’t know his wife had set up a shop in Leeds?’
‘She’d left him, Ma’am. No one knew where she was. Mind, I’m surprised to hear as she’s set herself up like you say. How’s she managed that, I wonder? Well, well! Anyroad, I’m glad for her, but God knows as to what’ll happen now Armitage knows of her whereabouts. As thou knows, Ma’am, he gave her a pitiful life afore, but now as she’s dared to leave him . . .’
Laura looked at him, feigning ignorance.
‘You asked specifically for him to be one of the men to go, as you’d heard of his cruelty to his wife.’
‘Ah, yes, I remember. So that was him? And now I’ve told him where his wife is. Oh, dear! I never dreamed he didn’t know. After all, she told a friend of mine that she’d achieved her success by making clothes here, and saving the money. How could she have managed that, without her husband knowing?’ Jack will rue the day he gave me this knowledge. Well, at least he’s learned a valuable lesson, and he’ll never, ever cross me again.
‘She must have managed it without anyone knowing, because it’s first as I’ve heard of it, and there’s not much as goes on that I don’t get to hear of. Well, I never!’
‘Oh, well, what’s done is done. She’ll probably take him back – they always do. Shall we continue? Who’s next?’
A banging on the door startled Issy out of her nap. ‘What? Who is it?’ Before she could rise from her chair the door opened.
‘It’s me, Issy. Oh, love, I’ve bad news for you!’ Gertie could hardly catch her breath.
‘What is it? What’s happened? Sarah? Jack?’
‘No, love – it isn’t none of them. It’s Megan. He knows. Bert Armitage. He knows where Megan’s at. Mrs Harvey told him, when she gave resettlement money out. Oh, I’ll have to sit down.’ She pulled one of the chairs out from under the table. ‘It all beggars belief! Megan’s in Leeds, and it’s said as she has a shop! How did she manage that?’
‘Never mind that now. Oh, Megan! Poor Megan. Has Bert gone? Does Jack know?’
‘Yes, talk is as Bert went straight to station. When I were told, I went over to see Henry and asked him what he knew. He told me as he were stood talking to Jack in the garage, when the manager of the mine came out of the house and told them what’d happened. Henry said Jack took off in Mrs Harvey’s car like the world were on fire.’
‘Oh, dear God! What am I to do, Gert?’
‘Happen as you’re best leaving it to Jack. He’ll get there about same time as Bert, and hopefully sooner. He’ll not let Bert hurt her, I’m sure of that.’
‘No, I’ve got to do sommat. Look, Gert, I’m going to Dr Cragshaw, and I’m going to ask him to take me over there. I’ll beg him, if I have to. Emotions are running too high for Jack. He’s in love with Megan.’
‘What? Jack? And Megan? No!’
‘I know, I know. It isn’t right, but it is how it is. Neither of them planned it, and they’d not do owt as’d bring me and young ’uns into shame. But now Bert will know, and it was bad enough thinking on what he’d do to her, just on her leaving him. But when he realizes there’s someone else for her, and who that someone else is, it don’t bear thinking on.’
‘Well, I never dreamed! And you know where Megan’s at?’
‘Never mind that now. Will you help me, Gert? Will you see to Sarah when she comes in?’ Gert was nodding. ‘Mind, don’t tell her owt – nor no one else, for that matter.’
‘I wouldn’t. I . . .’
‘Now then, Gert. No offence, but like me, you likes a snippet. “An exclusive”, as papers call it. But I also knows as you don’t use owt you know in malice. So think on. Thou knows what this’ll do to Sarah. I want no shame bringing down on her. Right?’
‘I’ll not say nowt, I promise, Issy. Now go on, and go as fast as you can! Oh God, I hope as doctor’ll take you and you get there in time. I dread to think what’ll happen if Bert realizes what you’ve just told me.’
44
Fatal Revenge
‘Mam! Mam . . . Mam! Maaaam!’
‘What? What is it, Billy? Have you hurt yourself? Have you been stung? Calm down, love. Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘I – I’ve just seen me dad. He’s coming, Mam. He’s coming up street!’
Terror gripped Megan. It tightened her throat and threatened to strangle the life from her. Her legs gave way. She sank back on the chair she’d just risen from.
‘Mam? Mam! I – I’m scared.’
Billy’s fear wrenched her from the depths of her own.
‘Sally, close the door. Quick, lass! Lock it and put all bolts in place. Billy . . . Billy.’ She stood up and took him by the shoulders. ‘Run upstairs, get some money out of me purse and get yourself out of the back door. Take the key and lock it from outside and get yourself over to Hattie’s. Go on, lad. Hurry! Hu—’
‘Get out of me fucking way! I’m here to see me so-called wife.’
Megan tu
rned and saw Sally being shoved to the floor by Bert. But before she could react, a piercing scream of terror filled the room. She froze. It was as though she was in a cold cocoon, wherein the only knowledge she had was the fear of her own imminent death.
‘Stop that fucking racket, you bloody little wimp!’
The vicious push that Bert had given Billy sent him reeling backwards. His arm was raised above the cowering boy, his belt coiled around his fist. The glint of the buckle caused Megan to slip out of the fear that had held her.
‘No!’ She sprang forward, placing herself between Bert and Billy. A tearing pain ripped through her, and her cry of agony was joined by Bert’s cry of pain. Sally had sunk her teeth into his leg.
‘You fucking bitch!’ His movement was swift. His body twisted and the buckle whipped through the air. Sally moved, but she wasn’t quick enough. The buckle caught her, and a raw, gaping gash appeared on her head. Her body crumpled to the floor.
Releasing the breath that the stinging pain had caused her to hold within her, Megan lunged forward. Bert’s boot lifted and was aimed at Sally’s head. He didn’t find his mark. Instead his body fell heavily, unbalanced by the force of the hold Megan managed to get on his raised leg.
In a flash she was sitting on him, beating his vile, hated face with her fists. ‘You bastard! You bloody bastard!’ The spittle ran down her chin. Years of pain oozed from her. She grabbed his hair and banged his head on the floor. ‘No more. Do you hear me? No more!’
In one swift movement he twisted his body and unseated her. Before she could right herself, he was up and standing over her. The arm she put up to protect herself was ripped open as it caught the full thrust of the lashing. ‘No . . . Nooooo!’
‘I’ll give you fucking NO! You scum! You fucking whore!’
She tried to crawl away. The buckle stung her buttocks. The stinging, unbearable pain took the breath from her. The smarting of her back as another blow caught her drew that breath back, only to be released with an agonized cry as more crushing blows bore down on her. ‘Oh God! Oh God, help me! HELP MEEEEEE!’