Mary had noticed a gas lamp burning through the living room window and alerted the others with a nudge. Staying off the gravel path, they quietly made their way to the back of the house, then entered by the back door. No one locked their doors in Wednesbury; there was no need, not many had anything worth stealing, and besides, Frank was probably too drunk to even consider it. Mary silently thanked God for that.
Making their way silently through the kitchen, their eyes already adjusted to the darkness, a few stone steps brought them up into the hallway. The light from the gas lamp filtered through the open living room door shedding an eerie glow over the body lying flat out on the hall floor.
Joyce heard Mary draw in a breath and clamped her hand over Mary’s mouth. She removed it when Mary nodded her head. There was no sound except the ticking of the hall clock.
Why was Frank Woolley lying prostrate on his hall floor? Was he already dead? If that proved to be the case, how had it happened?
Taking a step forward, Martha’s question was answered as the man let out a drunken snore. She mimicked drinking from a bottle to the others as they stood in the shadows. Nods confirmed their understanding. Fate could not have been kinder to them. Here was Frank Woolley right where they needed him, obviously too drunk to get himself to bed, he had passed out on the hall floor.
Martha unwound the rope from her waist, taking it up the sweeping staircase. On reaching the top, she tied one end securely to the hefty bannister rail. Mary stood beneath and caught the noose end as Martha let it go from the top. Mary brought the noose over as Joyce gently lifted Frank’s head. Drunken murmurings sounded from his throat as Mary put the noose around his neck and tightened the knot. Lowering his head to the floor once more, Joyce jerked a thumb.
Following her lead, they joined Martha, who had taken up the slack of the long rope, at the top of the stairs. Loosening the knot around the bannister rail, each grabbed the rope and pulled, dragging Frank backwards a short way before he began to leave the ground. Working quickly, they heaved on the rope and, with his airway cut off, Frank roused and began to fight the rope now choking him. The three women pulled until his feet were clear of the ground. They struggled to hold onto the rope as Frank’s weight bounced and jerked at the other end. With great effort, they managed to retie the rope in place and walking down the stairs they stood in a circle facing each other as Frank frantically tried to free himself from the rope strangling the life out of him. With eyes closed, unable to watch the final struggle, they held hands tightly and listened to the bannister creak. Each woman winced at the quiet gurgling coming from the man’s throat, and prayed silently for the Lord to forgive them. Then all was quiet.
Held breath was released as eyes opened. Frank’s legs had stopped jerking and his body stilled. Frank Woolley’s life had ended.
Martha nodded then walked into the living room and picked up a foot stool. The others stared at the floor, unable to look at the dead man. Martha placed the stool on its side a few feet away from Frank’s lifeless body, setting the scene of what was to be Frank Woolley’s suicide.
Without looking back, they crept out the way they came in, leaving the crapulous Frank Woolley hanging from the balustrade.
No words were spoken as they made their way home. The shivering taking over their bodies was not all down to the cold weather. They were all feeling the same – wretched – and were trying to come to terms with what they’d done. But even the picture of Primrose’s battered body in their minds didn’t help.
The meeting took place at Kath’s house the following day. Kath and Violet had kept Joshua and Spencer out of the way and now were hearing what had taken place. Martha related the details as they sat at the kitchen table.
‘Oh my God!’ Violet gasped.
‘It was terrible, Violet, hearing him gasping for breath,’ Joyce said. Having finished work early, she had joined them.
‘Serves him bloody well right!’ Mary snapped. ‘That aside though, wenches, I don’t ever want to do anything like that again.’ She shivered as she cast her eyes around at the others who nodded their agreement.
‘God willing we won’t have to,’ Kath said. ‘If we are to continue with our “club”, we will have to find other solutions to the problems brought to us.’
‘Definitely,’ Martha said sternly. ‘I can’t sleep as it is.’
‘This will hang over us for the rest of our lives,’ Mary muttered. Seeing the others staring at her for her poor choice of words, she whispered, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out that way.’ There were no smiles at Mary’s slip of the tongue this time, all were feeling too dreadful.
*
It was a week or so before the police found the body of Frank Woolley. The newspaper reported complaints of a very bad smell coming from the house which had alerted them. A messy business, by all accounts, the decomposing body having been cut down and carted away. The death was ruled as ‘suicide’ by the coroner; the police having no argument with that, after all, they had found him hanging from the balustrade with an upturned stool at his feet. It was obvious to everyone that Frank Woolley had taken his own life after his business had failed leaving him with nothing. The news of her husband’s death was brought to Primrose’s bedside by one of the constables. He was not surprised, seeing her still in bed from her injuries, when Primrose simply nodded at the news he imparted.
Primrose agreed to stay with Annie and Charlie until she was fully recovered, at which time she would try to find work. Having been left penniless by her brute of a husband all she had left was the house. If push came to shove she could sell it, but for now the prospect of finding work kept her mind focused while she continued to regain her health. She was however, very relieved Frank was no longer around to cause her, or any other woman, any more hurt.
None of the ‘Wives’ attended the funeral of Frank Woolley when he was buried in a pauper’s grave outside of the lychgate along the far wall of St. Bartholomew’s Church. ‘Suicides’ were forbidden to be laid to rest on consecrated ground. People passing by were not surprised to see only the vicar preside over the grave and the grave digger waiting quietly for his cue to begin filling in the hole.
*
A week later, a ‘Yoohoo’ sounded at Kath’s kitchen door and in walked Annie, trailed by Primrose.
‘Oh it’s so nice to see you both!’ Kath exclaimed as hugs were given and tea was made.
Kath poured the freshly made tea as they sat at the scrubbed wooden table. The difference a few weeks of tender care had made to Primrose was astounding. She had filled out nicely thanks to Annie’s good wholesome cooking and with head held high the sparkle was back in her eyes. All outward signs of injuries more or less gone; Kath knew it would take more than these short weeks to heal her mental wounds.
‘I came to give you my heartfelt thanks, Kath,’ Primrose said, ‘we’ve been to see Mary and Martha, and I’ll be seeing Violet and Joyce at some point too.’
The thin, frightened Primrose had disappeared, replaced by a healthy, confident young woman.
‘What will you do now, wench?’ Kath asked.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘Annie’s been teaching me how to bake, so I thought I might have a market stall selling my baking, you know pies and cakes…’
‘Good idea,’ Kath said enthusiastically, then tentatively asked, ‘will you go back to the house?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded, no fear showing on her face, ‘the house is mine now and it has a big kitchen, ideal to get a little business started. It was never the house I was afraid of, Kath.’
Casting a quick glance at Annie, Kath saw her nod, but she also caught the quick flick of regret that Primrose would be leaving. She suspected Annie had come to look on the girl as the daughter she’d never had.
When a knock sounded on the back door, fear froze the three of them. Kath opened the door and a sonorous voice said, ‘Hello Kath, I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
Leading Joshua Gittins into the kitchen, Kath saw the qui
ck exchange between the other two women, her frown an answer to their puzzled looks.
‘Arrrternoon ladies,’ Joshua said jovially. The women greeted him before he went on, ‘Nice to see you up and about again, Mrs Woolley.’
‘Miss Berry,’ Primrose replied confidently.
‘Yes, of course, my apologies.’ Joshua looked stung.
Primrose had reverted to her previous name, as Kath had, wanting in no way to be reminded of her hateful husband and miserable marriage. As the women stood to leave, Kath gave them a ‘please don’t go’ look, but they left regardless, leaving her alone with Joshua Gittins who was tucking into a thick slice of home-made bread and jam she had placed before him.
‘Good bread Kath,’ he said, brushing crumbs from his mouth.
‘Thank you… now what can I do for you … and on a weekday too?’
‘Always the lady you are, Kath,’ he answered, looking her in the eye.
If only you knew, she thought.
Finishing his tea, he eyed her over his teacup. ‘Shame about Frank Woolley,’ he said finally pushing his plate away and nodding at the door through which Annie and Primrose had left.
Here we go! Joshua Gittins was going to spend time fishing for information.
‘Indeed.’ Short, sharp answers; he’d get nothing from her.
‘Hmmm,’ he went on, ‘nice to see Primrose looking so well again…’
Kath nodded in confirmation.
‘…I was wonderin’…’
Violet had told her mother about Joshua’s ‘wonderings’ at one of the meetings previously and she was prepared for it. Setting the kettle to boil once more, Kath felt his eyes on her, and as she sat down opposite him, she said, ‘Stop wonderin’, Joshua Gittins, and spit it out. What is it you came here for?’
Taken by surprise, he became flustered before saying outright, ‘I want to court you!’
Looking at her hands laid on the table, Kath shook her head, ‘Thank you, Joshua, but the answer is no.’
‘No? Why?’ he said incredulously.
Raising her eyes to look into his, she said, ‘I’m not ready for another man in my life; I’m not sure I ever will be.’
‘I see,’ he said, looking dejected, ‘in that case…’ Standing to leave, he kissed the back of her hand and strode from her kitchen, leaving Kath with mixed feelings; pleasure at being asked out by Joshua, but disappointment knowing she couldn’t. Her life was her own now and she wanted to keep it that way. With a sigh, Kath thought it would have been nice to have a man around the place again, but as her mind slipped back to John Sligo, she shuddered. No, she had made the right decision to refuse Joshua’s offer, and with another sigh, Kath stood to boil the kettle yet again.
Twenty-Four
Sitting in his office at the nails works, Joshua felt again the flush of embarrassment that accompanied his thoughts of Kath Clancy. She’d refused his offer to walk out with him and become his social partner, politely… but it was still a refusal.
Casting a glance around, he turned his mind instead to how well the business was going. Orders for nails were flying in from all over the country now, so much so that Spencer’s works had picked up the overload and both factories were working flat out. Following the thread of his thoughts led him to Frank Woolley and his hanging himself from the banister in his home. Poor bugger, Joshua thought. It had not yet come to light exactly what had gone wrong at the factory. The women who had once worked at Woolley’s Nails were now employed by Gittins’ Nails, and they were turning out batch after batch of perfectly good nails. It was a mystery.
Crossing to the window overlooking the shop floor, Joshua gazed down at the women below as they worked the nails and chatted amongst themselves. Not one of them had spoken of Woolley’s inferior nails, which he found strange to say the least. The women of Wednesbury, as in any other town, loved to gossip and yet…
Sitting again at his desk, his thoughts continued to wander. Something didn’t sit right with him about all this, but he was damned if he knew what it was!
Unable to concentrate on work Joshua strode through the door; maybe Spencer could shed some light on the matter.
As he jumped down from his horse at Spencer’s factory, a man nearby took the rein. Doffing his cap, he said, ‘Arrrternoon gaffer, I’ll take him for you.’
Making his way through the factory, Joshua was greeted by the workers with smiles and waves, each seemed happy enough, he thought, as he knocked on his son’s office door before entering.
Spencer’s face lit up as he saw his father and he leaned back in his seat. ‘Father! Come in, have a seat.’
‘Hello lad,’ Joshua said, slumping into a nearby chair.
Another knock to the door followed almost immediately and a young woman brought in two cups of tea on a tray.
Thanking her, Joshua turned to Spencer, ‘By God, son, you’ve got them well trained here!’
Laughing, he said, ‘They don’t miss much, Dad, be sure of it. They saw you coming in.’
‘Ar well…’ Joshua let the sentence hang.
‘What’s up dad?’ Spencer asked.
‘Aye? Oh nothing, lad…’
‘Come on,’ Spencer went on, ‘two heads are better than one, isn’t that what you always told me?’
‘Ar lad, it is… well I went to visit Kath Clancy the other day and…’ He began to feel foolish all over again and was not even sure why he was bringing it up now. He had come to ask about the nails, but had blurted out about his visit to Kath. Joshua felt he needed to talk to someone about it, and hoped his son would not stand in judgement of him regarding his feelings for Kath.
‘And?’ Spencer prompted.
‘An’ I asked her would she go out with me?’
‘You sly dog!’ Spencer laughed, clapping his hands together.
‘Ar well, she refused me,’ Joshua managed quietly.
‘Why?’ his son asked.
‘She said she wasn’t ready for another man in her life.’ There he’d said it!
‘Oh, I see,’ Spencer replied gently as he saw the hurt in his father’s eyes.
‘Damn it all son!’ Joshua spat, feeling embarrassment, anger and disappointment fuse. ‘I’m not that bad, am I? I mean to say, we’ve got the business, so I’m not short of a penny or two…’
‘Dad, it’s not about money,’ Spencer said, trying his best to console his distressed father, ‘it’s about John Sligo.’
Looking at his son, Joshua asked, ‘What about John Sligo?’ He saw Spencer suddenly look very uncomfortable as he shifted in his chair. What was it he knew that Joshua didn’t?
Spencer said without looking up, ‘John Sligo was Kath’s second husband and he…’
‘He what?’ Joshua asked, impatience getting the better of him.
Spencer fidgeted in his seat again before saying, ‘He was a wrong one, Dad.’
In utter exasperation, Joshua said, ‘I know he liked his drink, son, but that doesn’t make a man a wrong one, does it?’
‘No Dad.’ Spencer was looking in more discomfort by the minute.
There was more to this and Joshua was determined to find out what it was. ‘Look, lad, whatever you are hiding will come out sooner or later so…’
‘I can’t tell you, Dad!’ Spencer snapped, ‘I’m sworn to secrecy… so please… don’t ask me again!’
‘Oh I see! Can’t even trust your old dad eh?’ Joshua stood to leave and Spencer waved a hand for Joshua to sit down again.
‘Dad, listen to me…’ He steepled his fingers over his mouth as if trying to prevent any words leaving his lips. Drawing in a deep breath, he continued, ‘Kath found out something terrible about John Sligo…’
Keeping his mouth shut, Joshua watched his son’s face as the emotional battle raged in the boy’s mind. Joshua wondered who had sworn him to secrecy – then it dawned on him. Kath! She had made him promise never to divulge whatever it was he was now hiding. Taking a deep breath himself, Joshua said, ‘Son, don’t tell me. Hold
your tongue and keep your word to Kath.’
Letting out a big sigh, Spencer said, ‘Thank you Dad. I’m sure if Kath wants you to know, she’ll tell you herself.’
‘Ar, maybe one day eh?’ Standing and clapping Spencer on the back as he left the office, Joshua said over his shoulder, ‘To work, lad, to work!’
Joshua trotted his horse down Hydes Lane in the cold winds. He began to shiver and he thought how quickly the seasons appeared to be passing. In the great scheme of things, life was very short.
Joshua looked out at the great expanse of heathland spanning either side of the road, and its long abandoned coal shafts. Bringing the horse to a walk he passed beneath the aqueduct bridge built over the Tame Valley Canal, before turning into Hall Green Road. Kicking the horse gently to a trot once more, he headed back to his factory in Stone Cross. Joshua’s mind went over what had been said between him and his son. What had Kath discovered about John Sligo? Whatever had he done that was so terrible? Who else would know?
Suddenly another thought struck him. Joyce Clews was a gossip – she might possibly know. After all, she was the one who had known Woolley’s nails were inferior and the contract with his buyer was up for grabs. Mrs Clews appeared to know an awful lot about what went on in Wednesbury; perhaps she’d know the secret surrounding John Sligo, particularly as she lodged with Kath. Joshua made up his mind: he would make sure to have a little chat with Joyce Clews.
Twenty-Five
Spencer arrived home late and he and Violet said little as they ate their meal. Sitting before the fire later, she asked, ‘What is it, Spencer? Is there trouble at the factory?’
Shaking his head, he said, ‘No, sweetheart…’
The Wives’ Revenge Page 13