He didn’t reply. Nor did he meet her pleading eyes.
‘I wouldn’t waste tha breath, missus,’ Mr Morris said scornfully. ‘You only have to look at him to see he couldn’t care less.’ He shook his head. ‘And you, a pitman’s daughter. I dunno how you can live with him, lass, I really—’
He didn’t get to the end of his sentence before James slammed the door in his face, so hard it shook in its frame.
Carrie stared at him, still struggling to take in what she had heard.
‘How could you?’ she whispered.
Ron Morris’ fist crashed against the other side of the door, making them both jump.
‘You might reckon you can shut the door on me, but you’ll have to face what you’ve done in the end, Shepherd!’ he shouted.
Upstairs, Henry started to wail. James headed for the stairs, Carrie at his heels.
‘You haven’t answered my question!’
‘I had no choice,’ he said, his footsteps heavy on the stairs ahead of her. ‘The cottages are for the miners and their families.’
‘But Mrs Horsfall is an old lady! And Susan Toller has five children. Where are they supposed to go?’
Once again, James was silent. Carrie stared at him. His face was so cold and implacable, she barely recognised him any more.
‘What happened to you, James?’ she murmured.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You never used to be like this. I remember when you used to have a heart.’
For a moment she thought she saw the slightest flicker of emotion in his eyes. Then it was gone.
‘I’m only carrying out Sir Edward’s orders.’
‘He pays you to manage his pit, not to put innocent families out on the street!’
‘Nevertheless, I – where are you going?’ he asked, as Carrie turned away from him, heading for the bedroom.
‘I’m getting dressed. Then I’m going down to the rows to see what’s going on.’
‘You can’t! You saw how Ron Morris was. I don’t want them turning on you like that.’
‘They won’t,’ Carrie said.
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I’m one of them.’
The words were out before she had time to think about them. She saw the flare of hurt in James’ eyes a second before he turned away from her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Susan Toller’s cottage was empty, the door locked and the shutters closed over the windows. An old iron bedstead stood on its end against the wall, next to a worn-out armchair, a table and settle, and a pair of stained horsehair mattresses. The rest of Susan’s belongings – odds and ends of china, pots and pans and a clock – were piled up by the door where they had been dumped by the bailiffs.
A lump rose in Carrie’s throat at the pathetic sight. She felt humiliated for poor Susan, having all her bits and pieces, everything she had carefully gathered together over ten years of marriage, strewn about for everyone to see.
‘Shameful, in’t it?’
Carrie turned to see Rob Chadwick standing behind her. He nodded towards the cottage, grim-faced. ‘They didn’t even give her time to pack. Just picked it all up and threw it in the street.’
‘You were here when it happened?’
He nodded. ‘We heard the commotion two rows away. Everyone came to see if they could help, but there was nowt to be done.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I would have taken a swing at those bailiffs mysen, but we all knew it weren’t their fault. They were just following the orders they’d been given.’
Carrie looked away sharply, heat rising in her face.
‘What about Mrs Horsfall? Have you heard anything about her?’
‘Luckily she’s gone off to stay with family in Leeds, so she weren’t at home when it happened. But all her furniture’s been turned out on the street, just like this.’
‘Thank the Lord she wasn’t there.’ Carrie couldn’t imagine how terrified the poor old lady would have been if she’d been woken up by strangers crashing in through her door. ‘What will happen to their furniture? It can’t stay here, surely?’
‘Old Mother Arkwright has said they can store it in one of her barns. I’ve just been down to Barratt’s Farm to borrow the cart so I can shift it.’ Rob jerked his head towards a cart waiting at the other end of the lane, the old carthorse nodding peacefully between the shafts.
‘That’s very good of you,’ Carrie said quietly.
‘I wish I could do more.’ A muscle flickered in his cheek. ‘If I could get hold of the swine who ordered this …’
Carrie looked away. She wanted to defend James, but the words wouldn’t come. ‘Where are Susan and the bairns?’
‘Mrs Morris has taken them in for now.’
‘Does she know what she’s going to do?’
‘You’d best ask Susan that, not me.’
‘I’ll go and see her.’
‘I in’t sure she’ll want to see you.’
‘Why not?’
‘You have to ask that?’ Rob nodded towards the shuttered cottage. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, your mester’s the reason she’s been put out on the streets.’
Carrie didn’t even try to deny it. ‘That’s nowt to do with me. She’s still my friend.’
‘If you say so.’ He shrugged. ‘But don’t blame me if she don’t fall into your arms,’ he called out as Carrie walked away.
Carrie didn’t look back until she had reached the end of the row, where the cart stood. She paused for a moment to pat the horse’s broad, velvety muzzle, and glanced back towards Susan Toller’s cottage. Rob was trudging up the cobbled lane towards her, his head down, the wooden settle slung easily across his broad shoulders.
Carrie hurried away before he could look up and see her watching him.
Susan Toller’s children were playing outside the Morrises’ cottage. Thankfully they seemed none the worse for their ordeal, judging by the way they chased each other up and down the row, shrieking with laughter.
But their mother was a different story. Susan Toller looked like a wraith, drained of life, as she sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped tightly around an untouched cup of tea. She was wearing one of the blouses Carrie had left on her doorstep. It hung from her thin shoulders.
Mrs Morris sat across the table from her. She barely glanced at Carrie as she let herself in through the back door, her attention fixed on poor Susan.
‘Are you sure you won’t eat summat, ducks?’ she coaxed. ‘You need to keep your strength up.’
‘Nay, I couldn’t.’ Susan looked up and saw Carrie, and her manner changed. ‘What are you doing here? Come to gloat, have you? Or has your mester sent you to make sure I’ve gone?’ Anger flashed in her eyes.
‘No, I just came to see how you are.’
‘How do you think I am? Me and my bairns are homeless, thanks to your husband. I hope he’s pleased with himself!’
Carrie opened her mouth to defend herself, then closed it again. She couldn’t blame Susan for wanting to vent her rage on someone. The poor woman was humiliated and scared, terrified of what the future might hold for her and her children.
And Carrie had no right to defend herself. All she could do was brace herself against the torrent of anger.
‘Nay, lass, don’t be too hard on her. It in’t her fault.’ Mrs Morris spoke up for Carrie. ‘Sit thysen down, lass,’ she told her. There’s tea in’t pot, if you want one? It’ll be stewed, but it’s warm and wet.’
‘Nay, thank you.’ Carrie lowered herself on to the settle beside Susan, who promptly burst into tears. Carrie and Mrs Morris both stared at her, shocked. Women in Bowden didn’t cry, not in front of each other at any rate.
‘I’m sorry,’ she faltered. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m beside mysen, I really am.’
‘You’ve every right to be upset.’ Carrie reached for Susan’s hand. It was thin and cold as ice in spite of the warm day. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry. If only there was
summat I could do …’ She paused, feeling helpless. ‘Have you thought about where you might go?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Susan shook her head. ‘This has all happened so sudden, I in’t had a chance to think.’
‘You know I’d have you all, but we’re already bursting at the seams, what with Nancy and Archie stopping here.’ Mrs Morris looked apologetic.
Susan managed a watery smile. ‘I know, love. And I’m very grateful. But I wouldn’t want to impose on you.’
‘Have you got any family?’ Carrie asked her.
‘Only an aunt in Barnsley – my mother’s sister. She might have us.’
‘It’s such a long way to go though, in’t it?’ Mrs Morris said.
‘That’s true,’ Susan agreed with a sigh. ‘It’ll be hard for the bairns, leaving Bowden. They’ve lived here all their lives, they don’t know any different. And after everything they’ve been through lately, what with their dad being put away …’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, there’s no use moping about it. We’ve just got to make the best of things. It won’t be too long before Matthew’s out, and then we’ll be able to get back on our feet.’
But there was sadness behind her brave smile. They all knew it was unlikely the Tollers would ever return to Bowden. Just like all the other families who had been driven from the village by this wretched lockout. Carrie could feel life changing around her, her past and everything she had known slipping away from her.
Unless …
She looked from Susan to Mrs Morris and back again. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said.
The clock on the wall chimed five times, and James Shepherd leaned back in his chair, massaging the stiff, knotted muscles in his neck.
It had been a long, hard day. The business with the Tollers and Mrs Horsfall had blackened the men’s mood and shortened their tempers. They roared at the pit gates all day, chanting James’ name, cursing him for what he had done. He had closed the window to shut out the sound, but their words still echoed in his head as he tried to go about his work.
Then, as the shift was changing at two, some of the blacklegs started provoking the Bowden men and a scuffle broke out. Insults were hurled, fists flew, and three local men had been taken away by the specials.
James had told the constable in charge to give them time to cool down in the cells, then release them. He only hoped Sir Edward didn’t get to hear of it. He would expect them to go straight before the magistrates. He wouldn’t be satisfied until they were behind bars, their cottages seized and their families turned out on to the street.
James’ gaze strayed up to the portrait of his father on the wall. Henry Shepherd dominated the room, looking down on his son, just as he had when he was alive.
His father had done his best to make a man of James. He taught him to fight, pitting him against the hefty local boys like dogs in a ring, berating his son for his weakness when he emerged battered and bruised, with black eyes and a swollen lip.
Once he had even ended up in hospital after one of the bigger lads set about him while he lay on the ground, kicking him and cracking two of his ribs. But all his father said was, ‘Perhaps this will teach you to hit first, and hit hard. You’re too soft, that’s your trouble. You need to toughen up, boy.’
When he was eight years old, Henry Shepherd had sent him down the mine. James still remembered his terror as his father shoved him into the cage alone, the metallic clang of the gate shutting, followed by the rush of cold air on his face as it plummeted downwards.
He could also recall his shame as he stumbled out of the cage at the pit bottom and was sick with fear, emptying his guts in the hot, noisy darkness, while the men laughed at him.
But his father hadn’t laughed when James returned to the surface, his clothes stained and stinking of vomit. He had taken his riding crop to him, furious at being humiliated.
‘I want you to make me proud!’ he had roared as the crop snapped painfully against James’ thin legs.
And James had done his best. But every day he was painfully aware of how badly he failed.
He was even more aware of it now, with the lockout heading into its third month and no sign of surrender on either side. He had no doubt his father would have had the Bowden miners back to work by now. He would have crushed them into submission without mercy, just as he had during the last strike five years ago.
Henry Shepherd had earned the Haverstocks’ admiration then, and now Sir Edward expected James to do the same. A couple of pits down in Nottingham had already gone back to work, and Sir Edward could not understand why Bowden had not given in too.
‘You need to get tougher, Shepherd,’ he warned James. ‘Do what needs to be done.’
You need to toughen up, boy.
James looked up at the portrait. Everyone who saw it commented on the resemblance between them. But James knew he was only a pale imitation of his father.
Henry would have relished this battle. He certainly wouldn’t have balked over evicting families from their homes. He would not have needed to wait for orders from Sir Edward, either. He would have been down there on the rows that morning, watching the bailiffs throwing women and children out on to the street and enjoying every moment.
Instead, James had stayed at home like a coward, trying to pretend none of it was happening, unable to look his own wife in the eye.
He felt wretched when he remembered the look of reproach on her face that morning. He longed to tell her that he cared, more than he could allow himself to let on. But then she would think he was a failure for not standing up to Sir Edward. Either way, he couldn’t win.
He returned home, weary and steeling himself for another fight. He only hoped that Carrie had had time to calm down, but he knew she would not get over this easily, and he didn’t blame her.
His key was in the door when he heard the crash of china coming from inside the house, followed by a clamour of women’s voices.
He let himself in, and found the maid on her hands and knees, picking up fragments of what had been a Wedgwood vase, a fine piece that had been in the family for generations. An anxious-looking woman stood over her, holding firmly on to a child with each hand.
‘It was an accident, I swear.’ He didn’t recognise Susan Toller until he heard her voice. He was shocked by her changed appearance. She used to be an attractive woman, but worry had turned her face gaunt, stretching the skin over the bones.
James looked from one to the other of them. ‘What’s going on here?’
The maid sent him a look that spoke volumes. ‘It’s Mrs Shepherd, sir. She—’
Just at that moment Carrie came down the stairs, smoothing her hands over her skirt. ‘Right, I’ve been through the cupboards and there is more than enough linen,’ she addressed herself to the maid. ‘So perhaps now you will make up the beds as I asked you?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The girl shot James a quick, resentful look then hurried off, carrying the broken pieces of china in the ash pan.
James looked from Carrie to Susan Toller and back again. Since the moment he had stepped into his home, he had felt as if he was caught up in the strangest of dreams.
‘Would someone mind telling me what’s happening?’ he said.
‘I’ve invited Mrs Toller and her children to stay with us.’
James stared at his wife. ‘You did what?’
Carrie lifted her chin. ‘I’ve invited them to stay,’ she repeated. ‘They had nowhere else to go since they’ve been turned out of their cottage.’
He read the unspoken challenge in her eyes. She expected him to yield, to give in to her plans. She expected him to be as weak as everyone knew him to be.
You need to toughen up, boy.
He turned to Susan. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a mistake,’ he said bluntly. ‘You can’t stay here.’
Carrie gasped. Susan Toller looked panic-stricken. ‘But Carrie … Mrs Shepherd said …’
‘Yes, well, she shouldn’t have made any promises without consulting m
e first.’ James shot Carrie a quick glance. She was staring back at him as if she had been slapped. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Toller, but it’s quite out of the question for you to stay here.’
He walked away before Carrie had a chance to say anything. As he closed the door to his study, he could hear Susan Toller sobbing quietly.
He sat down behind his desk and buried his face in his hands, only to spring up again when the door flew open and Carrie stood there, her eyes blazing.
‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why can’t they stay?’
‘Because I don’t want them here. If Sir Edward were to find out—’
Carrie gave a contemptuous laugh. ‘I might have known he’d be the reason! Mustn’t do anything to upset your precious Haverstocks, must we? Never mind that there’s a woman and her children out on the streets tonight because of him!’ Her chest rose and fell as she drew in deep, angry breaths. ‘Well, unlike you I don’t care what Sir Edward thinks. I wanted to help out someone in need, and I had hoped you’d want to help them, too.’
He read the appeal in her eyes and felt himself weaken. He had almost opened his mouth to say they could stay when he heard his father mocking him.
You’re too soft. That’s your trouble.
‘They’re not our problem, Carrie,’ he repeated firmly.
‘But they’re my friends.’
‘And I’m your husband! Doesn’t that count for anything?’
Carrie took a step back, her eyes widening. Before she had a chance to reply, Susan Toller crept up behind her.
‘It’s all right, Carrie love. We can go to Barnsley. I’m sure my aunt won’t turn me away.’
‘You see?’ James said to Carrie. ‘I’m sure you’ll be much happier there, Mrs Toller. And if I can help you with expenses …’ He started to take out his wallet, but Susan Toller shook her head.
‘Thank you, Mr Shepherd, but I don’t want anything from you,’ she said, stiff with dignity.
‘Are you sure? If it would help you …’
‘You heard her. She doesn’t want your help.’ Carrie turned away. ‘Come on, Susan. I’ll get you something to eat before you go.’ She ushered her out of the door, shooting James a look of pure disgust as she closed it behind her.
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