The Child Left Behind

by Gracie Hart

  ‘She was no burden, she made me fight for our survival and made me strong. We would still be living on Pit Lane if it had not been for Victoria’s needs and the faith Grace Ellershaw had in me.’ Eliza watched as her sister opened the front door. ‘I’ll see you later, dear sister. Despite everything, I’m glad that you are home safe and sound.’

  Mary-Anne kissed her sister on her cheek and stepped out into the morning sunshine. ‘I love you, Eliza, and I will be seeing you shortly.’

  Eliza watched her sister walk down the cobbled street of Aireville Mansions. Her return had re-kindled old memories of bad times and their hatred for Edmund Ellershaw. Was Mary-Anne right? Was it was time he paid for what he had done? From what Grace had let slip, he was no longer the man he once was. She sensed Mary-Anne would not be steered away from her plans. The easiest thing to do would be to assist her, as long as Victoria and her happiness was not jeopardised. Whatever happened, Victoria had to be protected from the truth.

  Mary-Anne made her way down the canalside, wishing that she had borrowed a heavier shawl from Eliza as she shivered in the frosty late March morning. How she had missed this part of the world. She smiled as she remembered all the times Eliza and she had walked down this very towpath, chattering and hoping that Ma Fletcher had some good buys awaiting them, and sharing dreams. Those dreams had disappeared just like the frost on the delicate spiderwebs that adorned the canalside disappeared when the sun rose to its full height. Eliza had done well enough for herself, now it was her turn to make her fortune and repay her debt to her sister by setting a trap just like the hard-working spider.

  Chapter 10

  Mary-Anne made her way past the loading bays on the quay-side of the canal. Little had altered in the twelve years she had been away. Barges and Tom Puddings were being unloaded as the canal and dock workers went about their jobs. Prostitutes tried their luck for passing trade, giving cheek back when their advances were spurned by respectable men.

  She was grinning at one of the barge handlers who was staring at her as she made her way along the dockside, when she stopped in her tracks. Coming out of one of the whore-houses along the canal was a man that she had not wanted to see that morning. She knew instantly it was him. He had the same build and he still wore the same style of coat he had worn over twelve years ago, and the type of establishment he was vacating told her that her eyes did not deceive her. Twelve years of worry and hatred welled up inside of her as she watched him walking towards her. Edmund Ellershaw was still up to his old tricks! Mary-Anne felt sick. His head was down and he was looking at his pocket watch, so he had not seen her yet. Should she take flight or should she confront him? Instinct told her she should do the former, but she knew when he lifted his head up and spotted her that she was going to have to take courage and say what she had needed to say for over twelve years.

  ‘So, you recognise me, do you?’ Mary-Anne looked at the ageing mine owner. The years had not been kind to him.

  ‘No. Why? Should I?’ Edmund recognised Mary-Anne straight away – he would always remember her – but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he did.

  ‘You know damn well why you should! I’m Mary-Anne Wild,’ she said with quiet determination, ‘I’m the mother of your daughter, a daughter that has never seen a penny from you. Well, I will make it my job to ensure that some of the Ellershaw money will be hers.’ Mary-Anne felt her legs go weak as she watched Edmund Ellershaw’s face turn purple with rage.

  ‘Leave me be, you common whore. Take your tall tales back to the brothel where you belong! I don’t know you and I don’t owe you a penny.’ Edmund knocked her out of his way. ‘I’ll call the Peelers if you are not careful.’

  The dock workers were watching the argument between them, and a prostitute from the whorehouse shouted, ‘Give her some money you dirty old bastard. I bet you owe her it.’

  Mary-Anne looked at his back as he walked away from her. Now was not the time or place to tackle him further. He would call the police and she couldn’t afford for them to be involved. There was still a chance the crimes she committed in order to escape New York would catch up with her. ‘You will pay one way or another, I’ll make sure of that,’ she yelled as she watched him making his way out of the canal basin.

  Mary-Anne stood for a second to calm herself down and regain her dignity. If nothing else, it would have given him a shock to have seen her and for him to know that her business with him was not yet finished. She wasn’t about to let him get off his dirty deeds lightly. He’d be held accountable for his repulsive actions one way or another, she’d see to that.

  She smiled at the prostitute who’d wished her luck before walking along The Calls. The newly built Corn Exchange with its round domed top stood proud and glistening white in the spring sunshine. So, she thought, it had finally been built for all the grain traders, they would welcome somewhere grand for them to do business. She decided to forget her run-in with Edmund Ellershaw and enjoy her day in Leeds, a town that she had missed so much.

  She made her way along Lower Briggate, smiling as she watched pedlars and stall holders going about their trade. She had missed the banter and the Yorkshire accents that she had known all her life. She stood for a minute in the place where Ma Fletcher once had her stall. Where the old woman had once traded was an organ grinder and his monkey, the monkey making people laugh with its trick. It was dressed in a little natty jacket and clapping its hands as people placed coins in the cap that it had been trained to carry around the admiring crowds. It chattered as the old man played his tunes, putting its cap back on its head and going to sit back on its owner’s shoulder once he had finished. It was a novelty, something to brighten a cold winter’s day; a monkey was a rarity on the streets of Leeds, unlike along the docksides of Liverpool where sailors often had them on their shoulders as companions and pets on their long sea-faring journeys.

  The smell of roasting chestnuts filled the air as she passed a brassier, red with glowing embers and made her mouth water, even though Eliza had fed her well at breakfast time. At the top of Briggate, she dodged past workmen as they toiled on the new shopping arcade. Thornton’s Arcade, the posters on the hoardings proclaimed, named after the hostelry owner at the White Swan and theatre. She smiled, remembering lying to the salesman about her acting and singing abilities. The poor devil had been so easy to deceive. The hoardings promised lots of individual small shops along the glass-covered arcade connecting Briggate and Lands Lane. No doubt that it would attract the more genteel shopper – a stroll under glass without getting wet would be of great appeal to the more refined. No care had been given to the families that had once inhabited the rat run of squalid housing that the arcade was replacing and Mary-Anne couldn’t help but wonder where they were now. Leeds was definitely thriving, but the poor would be brushed to one side, forgotten about by the great and the mighty.

  She turned along The Headrow, quickly making her way out to the quieter part of Leeds, past the grassland known as Woodhouse Moor which hid the reservoir. Then she turned onto Hyde Park Road, where the middle class of Leeds lived, and where, just as in London, people of Leeds were allowed to gather and voice their concerns, whether it be with the government or just life itself.

  Mary-Anne found the house where Ma Fletcher lived, according to Eliza. It was a double-fronted terraced house built in Yorkshire stone with iron railings enclosing the small piece of garden in front of it. She had been impressed with Eliza’s new home but this was something else entirely, although it had clearly seen better days. The lintel above the door read 1769, and the windows were made of small panes of glass that looked in need of cleaning. Behind them, the curtains were pulled.

  Mary-Anne walked up the stone-slabbed path and knocked hard on the claret-coloured door that was cracked and peeling. She waited, and when nobody came to open the door to her, she knocked again. Recalling that Eliza had told her Ma Fletcher was infirm, she opened the door slightly and let light into the dismal room.<
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  From behind a high back chair, a voice yelled, ‘Piss off. I’ll let my dog on you. He’s a vicious devil, likes to bite shins, so he does,’ Ma Fletcher shouted. ‘And I’ve got a cudgel and I’m not afraid of using it.’

  ‘Mrs Fletcher, it’s me, Mary-Anne Wild. I’ve come to see you.’ Mary-Anne stood in the doorway and let her eyes get used to the gloom that filled the darkened room. There was a strange smell too.

  ‘Nay, it can’t be. She buggered off to America with an Irishman. You don’t sound owt like her. Now bugger off.’

  ‘It is, it is me, I’m back. I’ve come home and am staying with Eliza.’ Mary-Anne walked gingerly over to the chair where she knew Ma Fletcher was sat, expecting a vicious dog to be set on her at any moment. She stood at the side of the old woman with a cat curled up on her knee and smiled. ‘It’s all right. You can call that wild dog on your knee to heel, he’ll not be needed today.’

  ‘Aye, lass, it is you, I thought it was them buggers from out of Woodhouse Street. They come in and plague me for entertainment, knowing there is nowt I can do to stop them. Aye, you are a sight for sore eyes, Mary-Anne. I thought I’d never see you again, lass.’

  ‘I’m surprised you can see me in this gloom. Do you not want the curtains opened? It’s not a bad day out there.’ Mary-Anne was shaken to see the frail old lady. Age had clearly caught up with the robust woman that once stood in the market on Briggate.

  ‘Aye, you can do that, seeing you are visiting. I don’t bother pulling them much, it’s such an effort to stand on these old legs of mine and folk only gawp in when they are drawn, thinking nobody lives here. I’m in a bit of state, lass; the cold and rain over the years have given me pain in these old limbs of mine, it’s nowt getting old.’ Ma Fletcher screwed her eyes tight as light filled the room, and dust from the heavy velvet curtains danced in the beams of light.

  Mary-Anne pulled up a chair next to the old woman. ‘You’ve not even got your fire lit. You must be frozen.’ Mary-Anne reached for the old woman’s hand and felt the cold in her bones as the cat on her knee spat at her, protecting its mistress.

  ‘Mr Tibbs here keeps me warm and I’ve plenty of blankets and shawls.’ Ma Fletcher stroked the bad-tempered cat on her knee, which looked in as sorry a state as its mistress. ‘Now, what brings you back to us? Had enough of wandering? I could have told you that there’s only land, sea and sky wherever you go and that no matter how far you travel, your demons will always be there with you, reminding you why you are running from the past.’ Mary-Anne was still a beautiful woman, Ma Fletcher thought. Age had only benefited her, and although by the looks of the clothes on her back she was doing well, she didn’t miss her rough chapped hands that told the real tale.

  ‘Things didn’t work out, so I decided to come home. America isn’t all it is cracked up to be.’ Mary-Anne bent down and raked the cinders in the hearth, setting the fire with kindling from a nearby basket and gently adding coal lump by lump as the light from the match that she struck took hold of the kindling, bringing instant warmth and light to the room.

  ‘And your man, did he wed you? Was he all you thought he’d be? You must have loved him to leave that bairn behind, or was it that you were running from?’ Ma Fletcher scrutinised Mary-Anne’s face as she stood up and looked down at her. ‘I hear she’s growing into a pretty little thing, and that Eliza has made sure she wants for nothing. You have a lot to thank her for. Not many sisters would have done such a good job.’

  ‘We lived as a married couple but we never got around to getting wed. I’m known now as Mary-Anne Vasey, I’m so used to using his name. I do still wear his ring, look.’ Mary-Anne showed Ma Fletcher the thin band of gold that John had once lovingly given her on Liverpool docks. She knew that if it had been worth anything, John would have pawned it. ‘I did love him, Ma, but he wasn’t a worker. Too busy looking after other folk and fighting their corner, as well as me when he’d had a few drinks. As for Victoria, Eliza puts me to shame, she’s been more of a mother to Eliza than I could ever be. Plus she’s done well for herself.’

  ‘And you’ve come home with nowt, despite the fancy clothes that you are dressed in.’ Ma Fletcher could see through the glamour. ‘Back to square one and, to make matters worse, your sister is in business with that Ellershaw lass. Now that will cause you hurt, if what I heard is true.’ Ma Fletcher held her wizened hands out for Mary-Anne to hold.

  ‘You hear too much, old woman.’ Mary-Anne regarded the woman that had known her since she had taken her very first steps. She took the wrinkled hands in hers and noticed the kindness that shone in Ma Fletcher’s eyes. ‘I’ve just met Edmund Ellershaw down by the canal, but though I tried to confront him, I thought twice about causing a scene with him. How I long for him to recognise Victoria as his daughter.’

  ‘Aye, I always thought that child of yours is Edmund Ellershaw’s. He always was a bastard. He came from nowt and he is nowt. If he hadn’t married that snooty wife of his he’d still be in the gutter, where he belongs. He ought to pay for his wanton ways.’ Ma Fletcher pulled a face, dropped Mary-Anne’s hands and pushed her cat from off her knee. ‘So what are you going to do about it? It’s time folk knew what he is truly like, him and his eldest son too, because he’s not much better. He has a mistress, from what I hear, and treats his wife like an idiot.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot for someone who is housebound. I hoped that William would not follow in his father’s footsteps but it sounds like the hope was false. Poor Priscilla. She always was empty-headed and I knew he only married her for her position in society. I doubt he ever loved her. He once tried to take advantage of me, just after he’d announced his marriage plans. Like father, like son. That marriage was doomed to failure from the start.’

  ‘He might be like his father, but he’s got more brass than him, lass. If he’s had eyes for you in the past, he most definitely will now. You’ve grown into a bonnier woman than you ever were. If you want to claim back something that Edmund Ellershaw owes you, make yourself known to William again. The father’s pissed away his fortune – you’ll get nowt there but more heartache. William might be the key. He’d have to be blind not to take notice of you, lass, and as Mary-Anne Vasey, he doesn’t have to acknowledge you as the timid young Mary-Anne Wild that once tempted him before marriage. Tell him you’ve come back from the Americas wealthy, he doesn’t need to know the truth until you wed him.’

  ‘I don’t think I could put up with his hands on me. I’d only think of his father doing the same and I ran away from all that.’ It seemed that the cunning old woman hated the Ellershaws as much as her.

  ‘Think of his brass, lass. Now, where are you living at? With Eliza, I suppose? You’ll need a roof of your own over your head if you are to carry out your plan. Why don’t you come and live with me? All I ask is that you tend to my few needs. You can come and go as you please, I’ve enough brass to feed us both. It’ll be better than being dependent on Eliza. I know you deserve a bit of luck in your life, so let me offer you my home to stay in for now. It’s not a bad place – I know it looks like a hovel but it was grand once, just needs a good clean and a bit of care. Plenty of nice china and glass around the place, I love my pots. Now, what do you think to my idea? He’s not a bad-looking man, that William. He owns half of Leeds these days. Did you know that his grandfather left most of his mills to him? Seems to me that’s the way to go, my lass. Don’t aim your bow and arrow at the father, aim it at his son, and make this old woman happy at the same time.’

  Mary-Anne looked around the large neglected house. It was crammed with good china and glass all of which were in need of washing, dusting and putting tidy. Could she manage to look after her? Did she really want to be bound to the old woman, despite her generous offer?

  ‘The Guild Ball will be held at the Guild Hall. You need to get yourself invited, make yourself known to William. Dress up and flaunt your beauty – that’s what he likes. You have more brains than he will have ever known in his wife, he�
��ll like that. Go on, lass, let’s take him for what he’s worth.’ Ma Fletcher grinned, showing her rotten teeth to Mary-Anne.

  ‘I couldn’t. I aim to get even with his father, not William, and I couldn’t take advantage of your generosity. Why would you offer me your home to live in? It’s of no consequence to you what I do with my life.’

  ‘I have my own reasons to want to see Edmund Ellershaw suffer. One day, perhaps, I’ll tell you. But for now don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Mary-Anne, because that’s what I am, a gift! Besides, you and me we go way back, and you’re down on your luck and could do with a helping hand.’

  Mary-Anne sighed and looked around her. ‘We will always be at the bottom of life’s pile. There’s not a lot we can do about it.’

  ‘That’s where you are wrong, lass. Look at me in this old place – bet you never thought I had two pennies to rub together. And look at your Eliza, she’s crawling her way up life’s ladder. But you can do just the same and I’ll back you, just to get some satisfaction in my last years of life. People still tell me things – I can find out what you need to know to get revenge on the Ellershaws. This is the best chance you will ever get. Come and live with me, make eyes at his son, and cause that bastard Edmund some heartache for a change. Go on, go and have a look around the house, choose a bedroom to sleep in. I know it’s a bit of a state but you will soon have it back to its past glory. I won’t ask a lot of you, just a bit of company on a long evening and something to eat when we are both hungry. I’ll not ask where you are going and who you are seeing, just as long as that Ellershaw family pay for the hurt they have caused us both. That’ll be payment enough.’ Ma Fletcher closed her eyes and pulled her shawl around her, only to open her eyes again and give Mary-Anne her first orders. ‘Go on, have a look around and then take that brass on the dresser and go to the Packhorse Inn on Woodhouse Lane. Benjamin Jubb, the landlord there, usually sends his lad with a bowl of broth for my dinner. Well, we will need two today, and you might as well get to know old Jubb, there isn’t much he doesn’t know about what folk are up to around here. He’s been a good help since my old man passed away but only because he thinks he will have first dibs on my house after I’ve gone. He doesn’t do owt for nowt, that one.’