“How did it happen?”
Tom had lapsed into unconsciousness again and it seemed the obvious question to ask them, but they looked at each other strangely before the older one said,
“We don’t know. I don’t think nobody does. We think he slipped on the hurdle and lost his balance, but we can’t be sure. You’ll have to ask him yourself when he comes round.”
Glancing one last time at Tom, they hurried away.
The first thing I did after they’d gone was to go to Tom and try to undo his bandaged hand. But as soon as I touched it, his eyes opened and gave me a look the like of which I’d never seen before. He hissed,
“Don’t touch it.”
That’s all he said before shutting his eyes again and apparently going back to sleep. He’d startled me so much, I’d stepped back from the side of the bed, but now I didn’t know what to do for the best. We couldn’t afford a doctor and the one other person who could have helped me, my old friend Betsy, had been gone for over a year.
I decided there was little I could do except let him sleep and try again in the morning. But he tossed and turned so much I spent most of the night trying to sleep in a chair and by morning it was clear he had a fever – I just hoped it wasn’t because his hand was infected. I bathed his brow to try and cool him down and then as he started to wake told him he must let me look at his hand. At first he refused, told me it hurt too much, so I didn’t press him just carried on bathing his brow. I decided to leave it for a while but I knew I needed to see it.
Tom was still slipping in and out of consciousness, so to have any chance of saving his hand, maybe even his life, I had to get the bandage off.
For the rest of the morning, whilst I got on with my usual tasks, Tom lay on the bed unchanged and as he continued to toss and turn, I realised what I must do. Telling Tom I’d be back as soon as I could – I’m not sure he heard me, he was sliding back to sleep or unconsciousness – I hurried out and headed for the Boar’s Head. I knew I couldn’t expect a warm reception there, but I had little choice. I needed some gin and the town was twice as far.
I hadn’t been in the Boar’s Head Inn for many years, not since me and Tom were courting. But it might as well have been yesterday for the amount it had changed, even the old sign of a boar’s head that hung above the entrance was so weathered and faded that it could have been the head of just about any animal. Walking through the gloomy entrance, I turned right and entered the bar, but stopped almost immediately. Across the room, Adie was kneeling and facing away from me, relaying the fire and so I paused for a moment, but I knew there was nothing else I could do.
“Hello Adie.”
That was all I said, but she looked as if she’d been struck. She sprang to her feet and spun round all in one move, but before she spoke it was my turn to be startled when a familiar voice behind me said,
“Hello Elizabeth, can I help you?”
Jabez had entered the bar behind me and I could tell he wasn’t pleased to see me. So I said quickly,
“I’m not here to cause any trouble.”
To be honest, even though his greeting had sounded less than welcoming, I was glad he was there because I had no wish to talk to Adie.
“I just want to buy a quart of gin; I haven’t time to go into town.”
He looked curious but said nothing and Adie, when she heard why I was there, slipped into the kitchen. When Jabez gave me the gin and I attempted to pay him, he pushed my hand away and said,
“Keep your money. Just promise me we won’t see you again, at least not until you’re ready to apologise to Admonition and admit she told you the truth.”
I wanted to tell him what had happened to Tom, tell him that he was a good man, but I just thanked him for the gin and left. Adie must have gone out quietly by the kitchen door and she was waiting for me when I came through the front. I didn’t want any trouble. I just wanted to get back to Tom – I’d been away too long already. But I needn’t have worried because Jabez had followed me out and spoke to her.
“Adie, can you come inside? I need your help readying the bar. We open in about half an hour and there’s still so much to do – that fire you were setting needs lighting if we’re going to take the chill off before our first customers arrive.”
She didn’t move, but I had no time to waste. I had to get back to Tom. So looking straight ahead, I walked past her and heard her say quietly,
“You know he’s a liar.”
I knew I had to ignore her, so still looking straight ahead, I kept on towards home. She called after me,
“Think about what I’ve told you. You know I’ve never lied to you.”
I thought, ‘there’s always a first time, my girl,’ but I knew she was trying to provoke me, so I didn’t say anything, just kept walking in the direction of the village and home. Jabez spoke to her again. I didn’t hear what he said but I heard nothing more from Adie and as I turned the corner I finally glanced back; they’d both gone inside. I couldn’t dwell on what she’d said, I had more important things to worry about, so I pressed on home as fast as I could.
When I got home, Tom was conscious and a little more lucid, but he was fretting because he didn’t know where I was. I didn’t tell him where the gin came from, but I did tell him my plan. He wasn’t sure but I told him I had to have a look at that hand. So handing him his first mug of gin, I promised him that however drunk he got, I’d still be as gentle as I could. I knew I’d have to be patient and let him drink slowly – if I tried to make him go too fast, he’d bring it back up and I wanted him drunk not sick. So as the afternoon changed into evening, he slowly became more and more affected by the alcohol and finally, at about nine, I thought he was drunk enough for me to remove the bandage.
I thought he was out cold when I reached for his hand, but as soon I touched it, his eyes opened and he slurred,
“Don’t hurt me Lizzie.”
It was a long time since he’d called me Lizzie and it felt nice. I smiled at him and told him I’d be as careful as I could. Then, supporting his arm at the elbow, I very carefully started to unwind the piece of cloth that had served as a bandage. Tom lay motionless as it unwound and I thought that everything was going to be fine, but as I started to remove the final layer, Tom screamed and wrenched his hand away. Luckily, as it turned out, I held on to the bandage as he pulled away, removing the last of it from his hand. Tom screamed again and looked at me. The pain had cleared away the gin and his eyes were full of resentment.
“You meant to do that. You ripped it away.”
I didn’t answer him, just stared at his hand. I could only see the back which was red raw and his fingers that were drawn up like a claw. Pus ran from holes that were all that remained of the blisters that came away with the bandage when he pulled back his hand. He wasn’t likely to let me touch it and even if he did, I didn’t know what I could do. However, the gin had taken full effect and Tom now seemed in a deep sleep.
But as I moved away, he stirred and I heard him mutter, ‘soap’.
I didn’t know what he meant and thought he might be dreaming. But then he suddenly seemed to come to and with a struggle sat up and said,
“You’ve got some soap, ain’t you Lizzie? Some soft soap, I mean, like you use for washing our clothes?”
Bemused, I told him that of course I did. What I didn’t understand was why he asked. He still had a fever so I thought he might be delirious.
He realised I still didn’t understand.
“I’ve just remembered. I’ve seen it done before in the pans. I want you to go into town and visit the apothecary and ask him to give you half a dram of Sal Tartar. When you get back, I want you to boil a quart of water with about six ounces of soap and make up the quart to a gallon with cold water and add the Sal Tartar. Then I’m going to put my hand in it for half an hour. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”
So that’s what we did, and while Tom sat gently moving his hand about, he told me what had happened
. Apparently, him and Josh, he’s the lad whose been helping him since Will left, had drained the brine and were just about to start drawing the salt from their latest make. Josh had picked up his rake and stood on the hurdle. Unfortunately as he reached forward to draw the salt, one of his feet slipped and he would have gone straight in if he hadn’t managed to jam the rake in the bottom of the pan. He was still unbalanced though, and would have gone in if Tom hadn’t caught him. Unfortunately, as he grabbed the boy, Tom slipped as well and put his hand straight in the hot salt.
“Nobody’s fault though, Lizzie. The boy just slipped but I think I might have saved his life. That’s got to be worth it for just a burnt hand, hasn’t it?”
He smiled weakly at me and I thought,
‘You’re a liar, Admonition Bostock. My husband is a good man, a hero even and next time I see you, I’ll be sure to let you know.’
Jabez
Manchester
Delivery of the barrels went as smoothly as I hoped and I saw no one when I delivered the rest of the first consignment. Harry and John did see a couple they knew from the village when returning the last barrel, but Harry said they’d passed each other with nothing more than a mutual ‘good afternoon’.
Sam had made sure at least one of his men was in the pub each evening checking on progress. Late in the evening, following the last of the first week’s deliveries, Sam himself walked in. When everyone else had left and while I locked up, Adie closed the blinds. Returning to the bar, I was surprised to find Sam still standing, drink in hand. When I invited him to sit with me, he shook his head and said,
“I can’t stay because I’ll be bringing tonight’s consignment myself. I’ll need you to be ready to receive it and then to take it straight to Manchester.”
“Manchester!”
I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“Yes Jabez, Manchester. I have a customer there who has already paid me for the cost of his order and he won’t be happy if I don’t deliver.”
Sam might have a good reason to send me to Manchester, but I knew it would take me two days to get there and back, so I asked him,
“Even if I’m able to walk all that way, what am I going to do about running this place? I can’t leave Adie to run it on her own for two days.”
Sam had already thought about this.
“You can ride a horse, can’t you?”
Mr Dodds had taught me to ride, but I hadn’t ridden since the old horse had died.
“It’s been a while, but yes, I can ride,” I told him.
"Well then, I’ll lend you a horse and you can lead the donkeys. If you travel out overnight, you should reach my customer by mid-morning and without any load, you should be back here about closing time. I’m sure Adie can run this place for one night and a couple of my lads will be in, just to make sure there’s no trouble.
Now, put these barrels in your stable and tonight, wait for me there. Make sure the beer is already in the barrels and I’ll help you transfer the salt."
So that was that. It was clear it would be pointless arguing with him because his mind was made up and moments later, after saying he’d be back in an hour, Sam left. As soon as he’d gone and with Adie’s help, I fetched the barrels from the cellar, filled and sealed one side with beer and rolled them all to the stable. We rolled the last two barrels in, then sat on bales of hay in complete silence and waited for Sam to reappear. Not for the first time I heard noises in the dark and also not for the first time, told myself it was just animals moving in the undergrowth.
We’d only been waiting about a quarter of an hour, though sitting silently in the dark it seemed much longer, when the stable door opened and we were joined by Sam, leading a mare and two heavily loaded mules.
“I don’t think I was followed, but I can’t be sure. We need to transfer the salt to the barrels, load your donkeys and then you need to get on your way. You can use the mare and I’ll ride one of my mules home, but it’s important we get the salt in the barrels and on its way.”
We worked quickly to unload the mules and then carefully filled the barrels. Sam helped to load the donkeys and after introducing myself to the mare, I mounted and, leading the donkeys, got on my way. I wasn’t too worried about leaving Adie on her own. I knew Sam would make sure she had no problems, and she’d been more in danger while the salt was in the stable.
Resigned to not reaching my destination until several hours after daybreak, I didn’t push the animals and followed the main route into Manchester. The moving of the barrels between the Boar and the smithy in broad daylight had been such a success that it made me more confident. So whilst I travelled in the general direction of Manchester, I also moved towards the west and the London Road. I knew by daybreak the road would be full of carts carrying fresh produce to feed the hungry mouths of Manchester and I hoped to be lost in the crowd.
And that’s how things were, because even though I joined the road to London long before dawn, there were already a fair number of carts and mules on the road and by the time it was light, there was no reason why I should be noticed amongst the crowd of vehicles and animals, all moving in the same direction.
I began to smell the town about an hour before I could see it, and by the time we reached Great Ancoats Lane and fields began to be replaced by buildings, the air was full of smoke. All three animals had travelled without complaint, but when we turned into Oldham Street and the smoke became dense and acrid, the jenny began to bray loudly and tried to escape her tether and the jack soon followed her example. I managed to keep control of the mare and dismounted; I couldn’t blame the donkeys. No doubt like me, their eyes were sore, their noses caked with soot and their mouths full of the acrid taste of smoke, but I had to get them under control because we were so close to our destination. Though I untethered the donkeys from the mare, I struggled in vain with them and was just wondering if there was any other way I could get the barrels over the final mile, when a door opened and a woman carrying a bucket stepped out.
“You need to wash their faces down and give ’em a drink. They’re not use to the smoke, are they?”
She handed me the bucket and with difficulty, they were both still bucking, I washed the donkeys down, and then let each one have a drink. From somewhere the women produced a rag.
“Use this to dry ’em and make sure all the soot’s gone from their noses. Have you got far to go?”
I told her I hadn’t.
“They should be alright for a couple of miles, so if you’re coming back this way, knock on the door and I’ll give you another bucket-full.”
I let the mare finish the water then, thanking the women, handed her back the rag saying I was grateful to her but that I hoped to find a different way home.
Re-mounting the mare, I set off once again for my destination, congratulating myself that despite the crowd the donkeys had drawn, no one had shown any interest in what I was carrying.
Approaching the end of Oldham Street, I knew that when I turned into Lever Row, the building I was looking for would be only yards away. But before I turned the corner, a familiar face stepped out from a doorway.
“Jabez, wait.” The mare was more startled than me. “I’ve only got a minute, but I need to warn you.”
It was our local Excise man Richard Sweetman. We hardly ever saw him, but that was how we all liked it. For years, local people had used my pub to buy and sell a little salt. It wasn’t legal because no one paid any taxes, but the Excise didn’t trouble us because I was always paid a small amount for allowing the trade to go on and I always paid a share of that money to Sweetman. Sam Baker didn’t concern himself with what went on. The amounts involved were too small and I knew he had only accused me of undercutting his prices because he wanted to use me in his own operation. I had no doubt he would have found a way of embroiling me regardless.
When he spoke, Sweetman sounded agitated,
“You’ve got to turn round and go back. The Supervisor has been following you from the Boar an
d he knows, don’t ask me how, that you’re carrying salt. He knows all of Sam Baker’s customers. So once he could see you were heading into Manchester, he left me tracking you and went ahead to your customer’s where he’s hoping to catch you.”
Looking towards Piccadilly I could see, turning the corner from Lever Row, the Excise Supervisor with two men I didn’t recognise, but knew had to be the two he’d employed to assist him. Knowing the barrels were about to be tested, I said,
“I think he may have had a change of plan.”
Sat high on his stallion was a thick set man with a heavy curly beard and a wild head of hair. Though I’d never heard him speak before, I wasn’t surprised that when he did, his voice boomed.
“There you are, Mr Sweetman. I see you’re holding Mr Payne – that is what you’re doing, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be trying to warn him off, would you?”
Sweetman’s answer didn’t surprise me. This large man, with his matching voice sat on his great horse, was an intimidating sight and our local man sounded terrified.
“No, I was holding him alright. He spotted me following him and I was just taking him round to where I knew you were going to be.”
The Supervisor didn’t look like he believed him for a moment, but just then, I was far more concerned that the barrels did the job John had made them for and that the salt remained undiscovered.
Instructing me to dismount and follow him, he led us round the corner into Lever Row and on into Piccadilly. We hadn’t gone much further before we were passing the gates of the factory expecting my delivery. There was nobody at the gate and I carried on as if I had no knowledge of the place. I was almost past the gates when that loud booming voice rang out.
“Stop!”
I did as he said.
“Isn’t this your destination, Mr Payne?”
I feigned surprise.
“Yes, I think it is. Sorry, this is the first time I’ve been here. It’s the owner’s birthday and this year is his sixtieth and he’s giving his workers dinner. I’ve been asked to supply the beer.”
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