by Anna Jacobs
Emily flinched away from him, her face going red.
Tom swung round to his sister. “She hides it under the stairs, Annie. Takes a nip now an’ then to keep the cold out. Thinks I don’t know about it. Dad doesn’t, but he will if she causes any more trouble for me!” He pushed his plate away, grinned at the shock on Annie’s face and swaggered out of the house. “Don’t bother to wait up for me!” he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll be late. An’ you think over what I said, our Annie! You could earn yourself a mint of money once you’ve had the little bugger. But don’t think for too long. There might even be time still to get rid of it, if you want. I’ve got friends who’d help.”
“Good riddance!” said Lizzie as the door slammed behind him. “He’s in with a rough crowd, our Tom is. He’ll get hisself into trouble one of these days.” She looked at Emily. “Where’s our Annie goin’ t’sleep, Mam? Me an’ May think she should sleep in t’kitchen. We don’t want her in our room. We’ve got Becky already an’ we’re not havin’ her in our bed as well! An’ there’s only room for the boys’ bed as well as ours.”
Her fat white face became faintly pink from the vehemence of her feelings, then resumed its customary pallor. She’d been unlovely as a child, but she was positively ugly now she was twelve, her features heavy, her gingerish hair unflattering and her eyes filled with slyness and malice. Contrary to Annie’s fears, Lizzie had coped well with working in the mill. She wasn’t sluggish where her own safety and welfare were concerned, just about doing things for other people. She and May were as close as real sisters and presented a solid front of hostility to Annie every time she came round.
It was only a few hours since Annie had returned to Number Three, but she was already wondering how she would stand the crowded conditions and lack of privacy in the tiny house. It was a relief to close the door behind her and walk along to the Peters’ house, even though she wasn’t looking forward to the interview.
Sam Peters opened the door. “Annie! I didn’t expect to see you, lass!” He seemed embarrassed. “I was sorry to hear about your trouble with Mrs Lewis.”
“Yes. Thank you. Is Matt in?”
“Er, yes, but …”
“I know he won’t want to see me, but I have to speak to him.”
“Are you sure that’s wise, love?”
“I have to speak to him,” she repeated.
“Aye, well, you’d better come in, then.” He held the door open and she stepped past him, head held high.
“Good evening, Mrs Peters, Matt,” she said quietly.
“Annie!” Elizabeth flushed and looked at her son, who, after a first horrified glance at Annie, stared pointedly into the fire.
“I want a word with Matt. No, don’t go away! I’d like you and Mr Peters to hear what I have to say. But I think it’d be better if the children went into the back room, perhaps. That’s up to you, though.”
“Go into the kitchen, you kids,” Sam said quietly. “An’ no listenin’ at the door, or I’ll tan your backsides.”
“It’s no use, Annie,” Matt blurted out, “I haven’t changed my mind.”
She ignored him completely until the children had filed into the kitchen and Sam had shut the door between the two rooms. Three-year-old Jonas was asleep in front of the fire and they left him there, his thumb in his mouth, his rosy, peaceful face bearing a strong resemblance to his elder brother. The thought that this was what Matt’s sons would look like brought a lump to Annie’s throat, but she swallowed it resolutely. She’d get nowhere if she weakened. Life had been hard on her and she was just about to give her first demonstration of the lessons she’d learned in the past few weeks.
“The word seems to have got round that I’m expecting a baby,” she began, “so I thought you’d better hear the truth about how I got it.”
“There’s no need,” said Elizabeth, seeing that Matt didn’t intend to speak. “That’s your business.”
“Oh, no! I insist!” said Annie, in the clear unaccented English she had learned at Park House. She might have to live in Salem Street, but she had no intention of sliding back into slack speech and dirty ways. Her whole bearing and voice had a dignity of which she was unaware, but which made a strong impression on the others, as she recounted the sordid events of that night in January.
“If you don’t believe me,” she finished, “you can ask Dr Lewis, who will be glad to bear out what I have said.”
“Nay, we believe you, lass,” said Sam, when neither of the other two spoke. “We’ve known you since you were a child. We know you don’t flirt and lead men on. And I’d’ve been glad to have had you as a daughter, Annie. Still would be.”
Matt avoided looking at Annie, staring into the fire as if his life depended on it. He knew that his father thought less of him for abandoning Annie. He knew it was cowardly and he thought less of himself, but he couldn’t ruin his life by marrying her now. Mr Hallam was speaking of a course of training, trips to other mills, a bright future. All right for a single man, but not for one with a wife and child to support. And besides, he couldn’t – no, he just could not touch Annie now. There she stood, as lovely as ever, the baby not even showing in her body, but to him she was dirtied, defiled. He was sorry that he’d betrayed her, though. They were right when they told you not to drink; he’d never touch the stuff again as long as he lived. He regretted most bitterly what he’d done and wished there were some way to atone – but even that regret was not enough to make him marry her.
“Thank you, Mr Peters,” Annie was saying to his father.
What did she want, Matt wondered? Why had she come? He looked at his mother for support and she nodded encouragingly at him.
“It was you who told people about me, wasn’t it, Matt?” Annie said suddenly, moving round so that he had to face her.
He raised his head and looked her in the eyes for the first time. “Yes. I was drunk. I don’t really remember what I said. It’s no excuse, but I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, because I lost my job this morning as a result of your loose tongue.”
The scorn in her voice! He winced and dropped his eyes again.
“I’ll try to get another job,” she said, “but times aren’t easy and all I know is being in service. I’d have been able to work for another three months but for you, Matt, so I think you owe me some compensation for what you did. I still have to live, you see. Three months is two pounds ten shillings in wages. I know you don’t want to marry me now, but I do think that morally you owe me that money.”
Three people were staring at her in shock. This was the last thing any of them had expected.
“Nay, lass, that’s a bit thick!” exclaimed Sam.
“You cheap hussy!” cried Elizabeth.
Matt realised with a lift of his heart that here lay his way of atonement. “All right,” he said.
“You’ll not do it, Matthew Peters!” shouted his mother. “Annie Gibson, I never thought I’d see the day …”
Annie cut her short. “I never thought I’d see the day either, Mrs Peters,” she said, with her new-found hardness. “I didn’t think I’d get raped – did Matt tell you that it was partly in revenge for something he’d done? No, I thought not! – and I didn’t think Matt would let me down. Do you know, my own brother suggested today that I become a whore? I didn’t expect that, either. And I’m not going on the streets!”
They gasped in unison at this blunt speech, but she continued to speak calmly and slowly, as she had planned. “I don’t intend to become a whore, but I don’t intend to starve, either. And there’ll be the baby to think about, too. So I’m going to need as much money as I can get, aren’t I? It’s letting you off cheaply, really, Matt, isn’t it? I can see the relief in your face. Your conscience will be clear now, because you’ll have paid your debt to me. You can wash your hands of me, just like Pontius Pilate.”
He ignored that gibe and stood up, anxious not to prolong the interview. “Give her two pounds ten out of the sav
ings, Mam.”
“I’ll not!”
“It’s my money. If you don’t get it, I will.” Their eyes locked for a long minute, two pairs of bright blue eyes in two pink, well-scrubbed faces. After a moment, Elizabeth’s eyes dropped and she went into the back room.
“Here!” she said, and flung the money at Annie’s feet. Annie sighed and stooped to pick it up. Sam moved across to help her and pressed her hand as he put some coins into it. “Thank you,” she said, near to breaking down. “I shan’t bother you again.”
Once outside she leaned against the wall, because she suddenly felt too weak to stand up without support. She was shaking uncontrollably. “Oh, Matt!” she whispered. “Matt, Matt, Matt!”
After a few moments, she moved slowly back along the dark street. She’d not let herself care, she told herself, that she’d blackmailed the money out of Matt. She wouldn’t let herself care, either, what the Peters family thought of her. All she would let herself care about from now on was money. If she managed to scrape enough of it together to see her through till the baby was born, she’d not have to sell her body to live. She didn’t think she could bear to do that under any circumstances. And afterwards, after the child was born, she’d find something to do, something away from Salem Street, away from Bilsden, too, if she could manage it.
She would make that her future goal and would concern herself now only with earning money. She wouldn’t ever be able to marry anyone decent, after what had happened, and anyway, she didn’t want a man to touch her body again, not as long as she lived. Fred Coxton had spoiled her for that. Perhaps she could move away and pretend she was a widow. Dr Lewis had said he would give her a reference. And whatever she did, she’d stay respectable. She would, if it killed her! Other people could think what they liked about her, but she could live with herself despite all that had happened if only she stayed respectable.
13
April to May 1838
The next day, after an almost sleepless night on the kitchen floor, lying on a makeshift bed of old sacks and covered with her cloak, Annie let her stepmother persuade her into going to see the minister, Mr Hinchcliffe. Emily was most insistent that they do this. She seemed to have complete faith in his ability to solve the problem. Annie could not see what good it would do, but she was willing to try anything.
Mr Hinchcliffe lived in the end house of a new terrace belonging to Mr Hallam. The houses in Durham Road were bigger than average, designed for the new generation of skilled workers and supervisors. It was just outside the Rows, near the chapel.
Emily and Annie found Saul Hinchcliffe at home and were at once invited in and offered a seat in his front room. Annie, who had never been inside his house before, looked around curiously. It was amazing what a difference a bit of good furniture and a carpet made. Even living in Salem Street would not be too bad if you could surround yourself with a few comforts like these.
Sighing, Annie leaned back against the leather upholstery of the armchair, enjoying the comfort and listening to Emily mouthing a few polite phrases about the Sunday service. What Annie most envied the minister, after his furniture, was his books. He had several shelves full of them. She’d have given a lot to be able to read all those books sitting here in this cheerful room. How lucky some people were! No one would ever tip Mr Hinchcliffe out of his cosy little nest. She sighed again and tried to keep her attention on what Emily was saying.
“It’s Annie we’ve come about, Mr Hinchcliffe. She’s in a bit of trouble, lost her place, you see. An’ it’s not her fault. She’s done nothin’ wrong. So I – we – we wondered if you could ’elp us. She needs to find work for a few months. There’s not room for her in our house an’ we haven’t the money to keep her, anyway, let alone the child.”
Emily was most worried of all about the money side of things. She could never seem to make ends meet. Annie obviously had a bit saved, but how much? And how could she be made to give it to them? She had refused point-blank to do so, or even to tell Emily how much she had, and that wasn’t right. Children should give all their earnings straight to their parents. It was only fair, a return for bringing them up. Besides, it was needed. Few men earned enough to feed and clothe a growing family and every extra penny helped. But Annie had said no, and John had backed her up, as long as she paid for her keep. She was to give them three shillings a week and help Emily in the house, and the rest was her own business.
A hasty search through Annie’s bundle when she was out at Sally’s had revealed nothing and the big tin box was locked. Somehow Emily had not dared to break the flimsy lock, for fear of what John would say. But it was a crying shame if Annie, who had so much, didn’t even share the clothes she’d brought with her from Park House with her sisters and her stepmother, who had so little.
Emily prayed with all her heart that the minister would be able to help them. She didn’t want Annie living with them, cleaning things up and cooking fancy meals, till you hardly knew your own house. And the girl took all John’s attention, as well as spoiling Becky, making a pet of her!
Annie sat in stony-faced silence while Emily told Mr Hinchcliffe the story of Fred Coxton’s brutal attack and its consequences. She was tired of going over it again and again. She just wanted to forget it as best she could.
Saul Hinchcliffe looked at the young woman sitting in front of him. So far she’d hardly said a word. She was very pretty, and neatly dressed, but she looked pale and tired. He remembered having her in one of his Sunday School classes when he’d first come to Bilsden. She’d been a bright little thing, eager to learn. A pity she’d not been a boy, with a brain like hers. Her brother was a surly lad, sharp enough when he bothered, but only willing to exert himself in his own interests. What a shame that this terrible thing had happened to her! He would check it all out with Dr Lewis, of course, but he was inclined to believe the tale. The Lord’s will was very hard to fathom sometimes and even harder to accept.
“I thought – aren’t you going to marry young Matt Peters?” he asked in puzzlement when Emily had finished. “Surely …”
“I was going to marry him. Not any longer,” said Annie. “He doesn’t want me now.”
She spoke calmly, but he could see the pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “Shall I have a word with him?” A true Christian would not have abandoned the girl like that. The lad put too much emphasis on material advancement. He’d admitted as much a while ago. Of course, you couldn’t blame him in one sense. Taking on someone else’s bastard would be a hard thing. Still, it was a shame. It would have been the easiest way of solving Annie’s problems.
“No, thank you,” she replied quietly. “It’d do no good.”
“Do you know of anyone as wants some extra help in their house, Mr Hinchcliffe?” pressed Emily. “It’s not goin’ to be easy for us if Annie can’t put away a bit now to tide ’erself over. And we haven’t room for ’er. She has to sleep on t’kitchen floor an’ Tom sleeps in the front room. What we’ll do when t’babby comes, I don’t know, I just don’t know!” She mopped her eyes with a corner of her shawl.
“I can’t promise anything, Mrs Gibson, but I may be able to help you. Leave the problem with me and I’ll ask – er – someone I know who may be able to help. Could you come round at, say, three o’clock tomorrow afternoon, Annie? Alone might be best, I think. I may have some news for you by then, and if not, we could pray together.”
“Yes, sir,” said Annie, but without much real hope. She might as well give him a chance. And if it cost her a few hours of praying to a God she no longer believed in, well, this was a nice warm house and it would be a relief to be out of Number Three.
When Annie went back to Durham Road the next afternoon, she found Mr Hinchcliffe entertaining a pale, thin-faced lady, who had called at the Lewis’s once or twice. He was behaving with a degree of deference amazing in one who preached that all people were brothers and sisters in Christ. Annie couldn’t remember the lady’s name, because she wasn’t one of Mr
s Lewis’s close friends or even, she thought, searching her memory, one of her former mistress’s regular acquaintances. The lady was quite old, thirty at least, and plainly, but expensively dressed, with her sandy hair pulled back into an unflattering knot, rather like Emily’s. Someone should teach her how to make the most of herself, thought Annie, remembering the care and effort that had gone into the adornment of Mrs Lewis’s person. But it probably wouldn’t have done much good, because this lady had a certain look on her face which said she wasn’t particularly interested in attracting the attention of the opposite sex, a sort of no-nonsense, I’m-doing-very-well-thank-you, look.
“Come in, Annie,” said Mr Hinchcliffe encouragingly, mistaking her hesitation for nervousness. “This is Miss Collett, who may be able to help you.”
That’s it, thought Annie, Collett! How could I have forgotten? The richest family in the district, old money, Mrs Lewis had said once, landowners, but with business interests, too. Mrs Lewis had been piqued when Miss Collett refused her overtures of closer friendship.
Mr Hinchcliffe was speaking again. “Miss Collett lives outside town, Annie, at Netherden. She has a large house there. She has recently become a member of our congregation.”
Annie knew what was expected of her and dropped a curtsey. “Good afternoon, miss.”
“Good afternoon, Annie.” The woman’s voice was cold and devoid of any warmth or real interest in Annie and her problems.
She didn’t seem the type who would go in for charity work, thought Annie cynically. You could usually spot them a mile off. And what was she doing joining the Methodists? She didn’t seem the type for that, either. Landed gentry usually attended St Mark’s.
This time no one asked Annie to sit down. It would never have occurred to Pauline Collett to allow a servant to sit in her presence, unless it was necessary for some task or other. And at her request, Saul Hinchcliffe was leaving this interview entirely to his visitor, of whom he was slightly in awe.