Farewell to Lancashire

by Anna Jacobs

  Isabel went to find the woman she’d contacted before, a woman of the streets who’d do anything for money. She made sure no one was nearby who knew her before she entered the noisome narrow alley behind the main street.

  When the doorman let her into the house and took her up to his mistress, she asked to see the man she’d seen before.

  The woman frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  When the man was found, Isabel sent the woman away before she told him what she wanted doing.

  ‘It’ll cost you more than the other.’

  ‘I’m prepared to pay generously.’

  ‘Come back tomorrow with fifty pounds. I’ll make arrangements once I’ve seen the money.’

  Isabel was glad to leave that house, turning up her nose at the smell in the alley behind it. She hurried past lounging figures at corners and on doorsteps, her veil pulled down over the front of her bonnet.

  It was his fault she’d had to come here, but soon she would be free of him, free of them all.

  But it had to be done right. Not only did he need dealing with, but those nieces of his had to be punished, especially the oldest one, who was the most impudent and immoral of them all.

  She smiled. She’d just arranged a very fitting punishment.

  The four sisters went to inspect Brook Cottage and were delighted with it. There were only two small bedrooms, but there was also an attic, one of the old handloom weavers’ rooms, with a long row of small windows to front and rear to give more light for weaving. They decided Cassandra should have this for her bedroom and the twins would share the larger of the two bedrooms.

  Their uncle watched them exploring the house, a fond smile on his face. It made him look like their father, which both hurt and yet brought him closer.

  ‘When shall I send a cart to move your things?’ he asked.

  ‘As soon as you like,’ Cassandra said. ‘One of the families who’s renting a room from us is going to take over renting our house. They can manage if people move into our rooms.’ She looked at him sadly. ‘We’ve had to sell most of our furniture, so there’s not a lot to move.’

  ‘I’ll buy you more. I can’t have my nieces going short, can I?’

  It was as if he felt he must buy their affection, Cassandra thought. She must show him that wasn’t necessary.

  The next day two men arrived with a cart and two empty wooden tea chests containing straw. They carried out the battered furniture, the pitifully ragged bundles of bedding and clothes, while the sisters filled the tea chests with their remaining crockery and cooking ware, packed in straw.

  Within the hour they’d left the house they’d lived in all their lives.

  ‘It feels strange to have left,’ Maia said as they walked across town behind the cart.

  Pandora was almost dancing along, her face alight. ‘It’ll be wonderful living so close to the park! Isn’t our uncle a lovely man?’

  ‘Yes. But he always looks sad,’ Maia added.

  ‘Who wouldn’t look sad with a wife like that?’

  ‘You don’t think she’ll ... try to hurt us? She frightens me, she looks so fierce.’

  ‘What can she do? We don’t even go to the sewing classes at her church any more, and Mrs Rainey and the ladies from our own chapel know we’re not immoral.’

  Then there was no time for chatting as they began to set the new house to rights. It looked quite bare, but they didn’t let that upset them. They were making a new start here and knew their father would be happy to see it.

  Joseph got ready to go out at nine o’clock that evening, having closed the shop a little early. He was looking forward to a walk across town because it’d been a fine day and the late evening was still warm.

  As he put on his hat and coat, his wife came to bar his way.

  ‘I know where you’re going,’ she said. ‘To see those whores.’

  ‘My nieces are not whores.’

  ‘I’ve seen one of them with a man in the church- yard.’

  He didn’t even bother to answer, but tried to push past her.

  She clung to his arm. ‘I’m giving you one last chance. I’m your wife. You should stay with me, not go to them. I beg you, Joseph, don’t go.’

  He had to fight to get past her.

  Isabel stood there for a moment or two, panting, then straightened her clothing, muttering, ‘It’s his own fault.’ Before she went up to their living quarters, she told the maid to go to bed.

  Dot was so relieved to be given an early night, she didn’t question this, but nodded and began to bank the kitchen fire. ‘What about the master?’

  ‘Oh, he can let himself in. He has a key. I’m not waiting up for him. I’m exhausted.’

  Impatiently Isabel waited for the girl to go to bed. It seemed to take a long time for Dot to finish her tasks and yawn her way upstairs.

  Then Isabel sat down. She didn’t try to embroider or read, just sat and waited, feeling very peaceful.

  She’d tried to stop him. Whatever happened now was his own fault, not hers.

  As Joseph was passing the park, two men burst out of the bushes and attacked him with cudgels and knives. He yelled for help, then felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down to see a knife hilt protruding.

  ‘He’s done for,’ one of the men said and pulled the knife out.

  The pain was excruciating but Joseph couldn’t even cry out as he fell to the ground.

  ‘Easiest money I ever earned,’ the other man said as they walked away.

  Joseph lay there, unable to move. The pain had gone now and he felt as if he was floating. He was quite sure his wife had arranged this attack and suddenly it came to him that he’d been mortally wounded.

  His greatest regret was that he wouldn’t be there to help his nieces. But he’d still kept his promise to his brother, as Isabel would find out. He prayed she wouldn’t harm them. If there was a God up above, surely he’d look after those fine girls?

  Blood seeped out, feeling warm on the fingers Joseph had pressed instinctively to his chest. Slowly the night grew darker, much darker ...

  9

  When her husband hadn’t returned by midnight, Isabel knew it was done. Calmly she got undressed and went to bed. She slept soundly and woke early to a chorus of birdsong from the nearby park, smiling at what the day would bring. Freedom, that’s what. She’d be free to do anything she liked from now on.

  She rang for the maid and when Dot brought up the cup of tea and the ewer of hot water, Isabel sipped the warm sweet liquid in a leisurely way before getting dressed.

  When she went down to the kitchen, she asked casually, ‘Has my husband gone down to the shop already?’

  ‘No, ma’am. He hasn’t even rung for his tea and hot water yet.’

  Isabel looked at the clock. Time to start taking action. ‘That’s strange. He’s usually up by this time. Go up and peep into his room, make sure he’s all right.’

  ‘But he always locks the door.’

  ‘Then knock on it till he answers, you fool.’

  Dot clattered up the back stairs. She was down again within the minute, eyes wide with astonishment. ‘The door wasn’t locked, ma’am. The master isn’t there and his bed hasn’t been slept in.’

  ‘What?’

  Isabel hurried upstairs, not complaining when the young maid crept up after her. She walked into her husband’s bedroom and checked it. The bed was untouched. He’d definitely not returned.

  ‘Where can he be?’ She waited. What a stupid fool that girl was! Why didn’t she suggest sending for the police? Impatient to get it done, Isabel clapped one hand to her head and feigned a stagger. ‘I don’t know what to do. I feel faint.’

  ‘Let me help you into the parlour, ma’am.’

  When she was sitting there with the smelling salts and a handkerchief pressed to her face to hide the smile that would keep creeping back, Isabel said in a faint voice, ‘Go round to the police station. Tell them Mr Blake didn’t com
e home last night. Tell them I’m worried about him. Then call at the Vicar’s and ask if Mrs Saunders can come round to see me. Tell the Vicar why. Is that clear?’ She made the girl repeat her instructions to be sure.

  Only when the back door had slammed did Isabel allow the smile to settle on her face. Just for a few minutes. After all, it was her first day of freedom.

  Before the maid came back there was a knocking on the front door of the shop and she tiptoed to the window to peer out. The boy was there and the two young men who served in the shop. She couldn’t leave them waiting outside. It’d cause comment and stop customers coming in. She went down and drew back the bolts.

  They looked at her in surprise, so she said in a failing voice, ‘Mr Blake went out for a walk last night and didn’t come back. I’ve sent for the police. You’d better open the shop and carry on as usual.’

  They goggled at her but she didn’t stay, pretending to stumble on her way through to the house.

  ‘Do you need any help up the stairs, Mrs Blake?’

  It was one of the two young men who worked in the shop. Prebble was quite short, a sharp-faced fellow, and she was never quite sure whether his respectful attitude was genuine, but he’d been working there long enough to know how things were run. If he behaved himself, she’d appoint him manager. The other senior assistant was so tall he towered over her and she didn’t like that. Besides, she’d seen Carr being polite to those girls. He would pay for that.

  ‘Thank you. I do feel rather faint. I’m so worried about my husband.’ She allowed Prebble to help her up the stairs, then sent him down to the shop again, with instructions to behave normally and not say a word to the customers about what had happened.

  Feeling very peaceful, she sat waiting for the police to come.

  Cassandra and her sisters went to their sewing classes the morning after they’d moved into the cottage, because they didn’t want to be more of a burden than was necessary on their uncle. They’d not only continue to earn money by coming here but it would help fill the time. Maia hadn’t been to the classes since their father fell ill, but was warmly welcomed back by the Methodist Minister’s wife. Mrs Rainey was a wonderful woman, kind to all, well liked by her husband’s congregation.

  Towards the end of the morning a young man came into the room and went to whisper to the ladies running the class that day. From their shocked faces, it was bad news.

  By now, everyone in the room had stopped work.

  Mrs Rainey walked along the aisle to where the four sisters were sitting. ‘Could you please come outside? I have some bad news for you, I’m afraid.’

  They looked at one another in surprise and followed her quietly out.

  ‘Your uncle was attacked and killed near the park last night. His body was found this morning under some bushes.’

  Maia burst into tears, the others stood stiff with shock, then Cassandra managed to ask, ‘You mean – he was murdered?’

  ‘So the messenger said. Do you want to go to your aunt?’

  Cassandra shook her head. ‘She’d not want to see us. I don’t quite know what to do, Mrs Rainey.’

  ‘Why don’t you get something to eat now and go home? It’s nearly the end of the class, after all. She may send a message to you there.’

  They did as she suggested, walking silently back through the streets, not stopping to talk to anyone, not even speaking to one another.

  Inside the house, Pandora began weeping. ‘Poor uncle. Just as we were getting to know him.’

  ‘We’ve no time to weep,’ Cassandra said sharply. ‘She’ll throw us out of here. I’m quite sure of that.’

  They all gaped at her.

  ‘I think we’d better pack our things and be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘But where would we go?’ Xanthe asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I think we should ask Mr Rainey for his advice.’

  ‘I’m not going into the poorhouse,’ Xanthe said at once.

  ‘We may be able to find a room to rent.’

  When Cassandra went up to her bedroom to sort out her few remaining possessions, she looked round regretfully. It was such a lovely bright room. Was nothing ever to go right for them? Her thoughts kept going back to her uncle. He hadn’t deserved such a death and she still couldn’t understand why anyone would want to kill a kind man like him.

  She hoped the police would find the murderer before he attacked anyone else.

  She hesitated about whether to pull her money and locket out of its hiding place, but decided to leave them there. They’d be safer than in her pocket, she was sure.

  For the rest of the day they waited for a message from their aunt, but it didn’t arrive until after nightfall.

  A lad knocked on the door and said, ‘Mrs Blake wants to see Cassandra. She doesn’t want to see the others.’

  ‘Did she give you a note?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘When does she want to see me?’

  ‘Right now. She’s waiting for you at the shop.’ He turned and ran off into the darkness.

  Cassandra took her shawl off the hook in the hall.

  ‘You can’t go out on your own,’ Xanthe said. ‘Not after what happened to our uncle.’

  ‘I must follow her instructions in case there’s a chance— No, I’m sure she’s going to tell us to leave the cottage.’

  ‘Why does she want to see only you?’

  ‘I think she hates me most of all, though I can’t understand why.’

  ‘We’re coming with you anyway,’ Pandora insisted. ‘We can wait round the corner from the shop and she’ll not see us. But we’re not risking you getting murdered like our uncle.’

  Cassandra and Pandora were walking ahead of the other two when suddenly, a man called out, ‘Get the tallest one.’

  Men pounced on them and tried to drag Cassandra away. She and Pandora fought their attackers and the twins came running to their help, screaming at the tops of their voices.

  In the mêlée, Maia was knocked unconscious, Pandora was sent flying and Xanthe was punched viciously in the stomach, collapsing on the pavement, fighting for breath. The men quickly dragged Cassandra away, one of them thumping Pandora when she ran back and tried to cling to her sister.

  By the time Pandora had stood up and Xanthe had caught her breath, there was no sign of the men ... or of their sister.

  It had happened so quickly, Pandora thought as she stared at the surrounding darkness. She couldn’t think what to do, was still shocked by the speed of the attack. The men had clearly been after Cassandra from the start and only one other person had known her sister was going out tonight: their aunt. Had Isabel Blake arranged this? Why?

  She heard footsteps and for a moment fear held her motionless. Then she realised that this wasn’t more attackers, but people coming to their aid. Soon they were surrounded, explaining what had happened, seeing the shock on their rescuers’ faces.

  A man immediately offered them shelter in his nearby house. Maia was still unconscious, so had to be carried there.

  No one even tried to pursue the attackers, though Pandora begged them to. The men kept assuring her that the police would soon find them, or else the men would let their captive go when they found she had no money.

  But Pandora had heard someone say ‘Get the tallest one’. She knew this wasn’t a random attack, only she couldn’t think why they wanted Cassandra.

  Maia recovered consciousness but seemed dazed, and all three of them were terrified for their sister.

  When the policemen came, they questioned each sister in turn, but dismissed Pandora’s idea that the men had set out to capture Cassandra.

  ‘You must be mistaken. Why should anyone want to hurt your sister? No, they saw you and seized their chance,’ the sergeant said. ‘It’s never safe for decent young women to walk out at night, or men either. I’ll send my men to search the slum streets. You’d better stay here till we’ve done it, if that’s all right?’ He looked at the hou
seholder, who nodded.

  But the two policemen on night duty didn’t find any sign of Cassandra, nor could they find anyone who had seen the men carrying her away.

  After that even the sergeant couldn’t pretend the missing woman would come back safely.

  Isabel sat in her parlour after the shop had closed for the night, rang for the maid and asked for a tea tray. When it came she poured herself a cup she didn’t really want, realised some time later that it had gone cold. She tipped it into the pot in which a plant was struggling to grow. She hated having plants in the house, but one of her friends had given this one to her, so she’d let it stay there for a while. It’d soon die. Plants always died when you didn’t look after them.

  At half-past nine she rang for Dot to take away the tea tray and went to stand by the window. A short time later a lad walked along the street, picked up a stone and shied it at a lamppost. That was the signal they’d agreed on.

  Smiling, Isabel sat down again. The men had done it, captured her eldest niece, the one who was the most immoral of them all. Now they’d be punishing her as she deserved.

  The Bible said that the wages of sin was death, but that was too easy. Isabel wanted Cassandra to suffer for a long time to come, suffer as she herself had done, for years and years, married to a soft-hearted fool, with no children, no future.

  If the other girls did as she wished, she’d not have them punished in the same way. She’d have to force them to leave, of course, but they’d do anything to help their sister, she was sure.

  It was wonderful what money could buy. And she’d be in charge of all the money from now on. She’d not have to scrimp and save her pin money to gather enough to pay for the services she needed.

  For a moment her thoughts went to Joseph, lying dead at the undertaker’s because she’d refused to have his body at home, saying the customers wouldn’t like it to lie above the shop.

  She kept thinking she saw him, standing in the corner, looking at her in that sad, reproachful way he had. There he was again.

  ‘It’s your own fault you’re dead!’ she told him. ‘Go away!’ When he didn’t, she screamed, ‘Go away!’ Still, he didn’t move from the corner.