Meg nodded.
‘Right. You wait in my little room here and I’ll go and find one of the young ’uns to tek a message to yer mam.’
The old man limped away and Meg sat down in his lodge to wait. Peering out through the open door a few moments later, she saw a little girl skip across the yard towards the main building and old Albert returning.
‘There, that’s done. You can have this place to yerselves for a nice little chat. I’ll make mysel’ scarce.’
He brewed tea, hot and strong, and then said, ‘She’ll be along in a minute so I’ll go and have a chinwag with one or two of the fellers in the orchard. Little walk’ll do me good and I can still keep me eye out for folk coming up the path.’
After Albert had gone, Meg waited, her nervous fingers twisting her gloves. She rehearsed the words she intended to say to her mother. If you come with me now, we’ll say no more about you and him. Folks’ll forget in time and living with Percy and me . . .
A shadow appeared in the doorway and Meg looked up. It was not her mother who stood there, but Ursula Waters.
‘So,’ she said, stepping into the tiny room, ‘you want to see your mother, do you? Well, I’m very sorry, but your mother does not want to see you.’
Meg rose slowly to face her. She tried to tell herself that no one in the workhouse had any power over her now, but still she found she was trembling. Then anger strengthened her resolve and swept away her fear. ‘I’ve come to take her away from here. She’s coming to live with me.’
‘To live with you and your new husband, you mean. Oh, I think not. The master . . . wants her. He won’t let her go.’
Meg raised her eyebrows. ‘I’d’ve thought you’d have been only too pleased to be rid of her.’ She paused and then added, with deliberate cruelty, ‘There might be room in his bed again for you, then.’
Ursula’s face worked as she struggled to control her emotions. She clenched and unclenched her hands. ‘I want . . .’ she gasped, ‘him to be happy. That’s all I want out of life now. Him to be happy. And if she – if she makes him happy – then—’
‘And what happens when he tires of her? When a younger, prettier woman comes into the workhouse and he casts her aside? Just like he did to you?’
Even as the words left her lips, Meg knew she had said too much. The woman flew at her with flailing fists, catching her a glancing blow on the side of the head. But the young girl was much stronger and fitter. She caught and held the hysterical woman’s wrists and, though Ursula writhed and twisted in Meg’s grasp, she could not break free.
‘Now, listen to me. You just go and tell my mother I want to see her.’
‘No,’ Ursula screamed at her. ‘He won’t want her to see you. She doesn’t want to see you. She told me.’
For the first time, Meg was unsure. ‘Is – is that true?’
‘Of course it’s true.’ Ursula was calming down a little now, though Meg still kept tight hold of her.
‘Is he going to marry her?’
‘Marry her?’ Ursula sneered. ‘He’ll not marry her – or anyone. Besides, she’s not free. She’s still married to your father, isn’t she?’
‘But if she wasn’t, would he marry her then?’
Slowly, Ursula shook her head. ‘He can’t.’
‘Can’t? Why can’t he?’
‘Because . . . because,’ the woman blurted out, ‘he’s still married.’
‘Still married? But – but I thought his wife died.’
‘No. She ran off. Couldn’t stand it in the workhouse. She was the matron before – before Miss Pendleton came – but she hated it. She ran off with one of the fellers that was in here. That was when . . . that was when the master turned to me. I looked after him. I cared for him. I would never have left him.’
Meg stared at her. ‘Do you know, Waters,’ she said slowly, as she released her grasp, ‘I feel sorry for you, I—’
Ursula’s face was ugly again. ‘Don’t you feel sorry for me,’ she spat. ‘I could have left this place years ago – if I’d wanted. He’d have set me up in the town, but I couldn’t bear to leave him. Just to be near him. That’s all I ask and to see that no one – no one – ever hurts him again.’ She thrust her face close to Meg’s. ‘I won’t let them. Do you hear?’
‘Yes,’ Meg answered quietly, ‘I hear.’
‘Save your pity for yourself. You’re going to need it if you marry Percy Rodwell. You’re stealing another woman’s man, with your green eyes and flaming hair. Seducing him with the promise of your young body.’ Ursula glanced Meg up and down and her mouth twisted with jealousy. ‘You mark my words.’ She stood back, a smug expression on her face. ‘You’ll live to regret the day you marry Percy Rodwell.’
Twenty-Nine
Jake hovered at the door into the dairy, waiting for Mabel Smallwood to glance up and see him. He’d finished helping Ron with the evening milking and should, at this moment, have been making his way back to the little cottage for his evening meal with Ron’s family. But there was something more important on his mind than eating. In fact, his thoughts were tearing him apart and robbing him of his appetite.
Meg was getting married tomorrow and he had to try and prevent it. She wouldn’t listen to him, but she might listen to her mother. If only he could persuade Sarah to make the first move, to go and see her daughter in the shop, then maybe . . .
‘Hello, lad, what’re you after?’
‘Sorry to bother you, missis, but I need to go into town. Urgent, like. And the mester’s not about to ask.’
Mabel sniffed. ‘Ain’t that just like him. Never about when you want him. What’s so urgent then?’
‘I – er – have to see someone.’
Mabel glanced at him sharply. ‘You seem to be needing to “see someone” a lot just lately. Got a girl, have yer?’
Jake shook his head, but he felt the colour creeping up his face. ‘I want to see someone at the workhouse.’
Mabel sniffed her disapproval once more. ‘Should’ve thought you’d’ve been pleased to shake the dust of that place off yer feet. Can’t understand why you still want to keep going back.’
‘I don’t really, missis. It’s just . . .’ He sighed. ‘Well, there’s just something I have to do and if I don’t do it today, it’ll be too late . . .’ His voice trailed away as if already he was anticipating failure.
Again, Mabel’s glance seemed to bore into his soul and read his mind. ‘Ah, I know. It’s that wretched girl, isn’t it? You’re seeing that Meg creature.’
‘She’s not a creature,’ he flashed back, unable to stop himself.
‘Oho, so that’s it, is it? You’ve got yer eye on her yourself, ’ave yer?’ Suddenly her face softened. ‘Look, Jake, you’re a good lad. Me and the mester have taken to you, but don’t get yourself mixed up with that family, if you’ll take my advice. They’re trouble. The lot of ’em. There’s bad blood there. It’s in the breed.’ She paused, glanced away and then, coming closer, said in a low voice, ‘You’ll get hurt by them, lad. Same as me and the mester have been hurt. I don’t often talk about it and I’ll skelp the lugs off yer if I hear you’ve breathed a word about it to anyone, but it near broke our hearts when that bugger seduced our daughter. Oh, she could be a bit flighty, our Alice, I know that, but she wasn’t a bad girl. But ’im.’ She cupped her hands, thumbs touching as if encircling someone’s neck. ‘If I ever see him again, I’ll swing for him.’ She took a deep breath, calming herself. Then she turned away, shrugging her shoulders. ‘But, it’s up to you, lad. I’ll not stop you going. Do what you have to do, but I’m warning you, it’ll bring you heartache being involved with that family.’
‘Thanks, missis. I’ll be as quick as I can . . .’
Before she could say any more, he turned and ran across the yard and into the road towards the town and the workhouse. He ran most of the way, stopping only to catch his breath when he could run no more. At last he was hurrying through the gate, pausing only to greet Albert briefly, t
hen across the yard and in through the back entrance. He halted near the clerk’s office door, cocking his head on one side, listening intently. He didn’t want to run into the master: he wanted to catch Sarah alone. There was no sound coming from inside the clerk’s office, no murmur of voices. No doubt the clerk was in there busily writing in all the numerous ledgers, keeping all the official records of the workhouse up to date. The door of the master’s office was directly in front of Jake as he stood hesitating, whilst to his right the stairs led to the first floor. He put his foot on the bottom step, debating where the most likely place to find Sarah was. He bit his lip. During the daytime, she would probably be downstairs in the office, but there was also more likelihood of Isaac being there too. He took a step up the stairs and as he did so something – a movement perhaps – made him glance up.
Ursula was standing at the top of the stairs. ‘What do you want here? You’ve no business here now.’
She descended the stairs until she was standing three steps above Jake, effectively barring his way. ‘I expect it’s matron you’ve come to see, is it? Can’t keep away, can you?’
‘None of your business,’ he retorted boldly. As an inmate, he would not have dared to speak to Waters in such a way. She still had influence over the master and she was a tittle-tattle, if ever there was one. ‘I’ve come to see Mrs Kirkland.’
There was a sudden malicious gleam in the woman’s eyes. ‘About that trollop of a daughter of hers, is it? Well, I can save you the trouble. Mrs Kirkland wants no more to do with her daughter. And the master agrees with her. The wretched girl has made her bed. She can lie in it.’
The picture Ursula drew was in Jake’s mind too – Meg in Percy Rodwell’s bed, lying beside him, him turning to her . . . Jake shuddered.
Ursula’s keen eyes were boring into his thoughts. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Not a pretty thought, is it? Specially not for you. Sweet on her, aren’t you? I saw you together when you were here. Sneaking around at night, meeting in the dead room—’
‘Please, just let me see Mrs Kirkland. We might still be able to stop her—’
Ursula took two more steps down and grasped Jake’s coat. ‘Be off with you, else I’ll call the master. She doesn’t want to see her daughter – or you.’
‘I don’t believe you—’
Jake never finished his plea for, with a violent push that caught him off balance, Ursula sent him flying off the step to land sprawling on the floor. ‘Be off with you and don’t come back here again, or you’ll find yourself in the punishment room . . .’
At that instant, a figure appeared in the entrance door: a figure who gave a cry of alarm and bent over Jake at once.
‘Waters! What are you doing?’ Letitia cradled Jake in her fat arms. ‘There, there. Are you hurt, my precious boy?’
‘He’s trying to make trouble. I was telling him to let well alone, but he slipped and fell off the step. He’d do best to stay away from here, wouldn’t he, Matron, or he might hear things he didn’t ought to.’
‘Hold your tongue, woman.’ For once Letitia was in command. ‘Or it’ll be me telling the master.’
Ursula sniffed and pushed her way past the pair of them. ‘Suit yourself, but just remember – I’ve been here a long time. A very long time . . .’
As the woman walked away, the matron muttered beneath her breath, ‘Too long,’ but then her attention came back to Jake. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt?’ Letitia’s face crumpled, tears filled her eyes and ran down her plump cheeks and she held on to Jake even more tightly as if she would never let him go . . .
A little later Jake walked away from the workhouse, his thoughts in tumult. He had failed in his attempt to see Meg’s mother, yet he could not believe that it was Sarah who’d said she did not want to see her daughter. On the occasions he had spoken to her, she had been desperate for news of Meg and longing for the rift between them to be healed. Jake sighed heavily as he trudged along. There was one last thing he could do, though he didn’t hold out much hope of success.
He would go and see Meg one more time and plead with her not to marry Percy.
Jake held his breath as he knocked on the door of Percy’s cottage. Meg might be at home now preparing their evening meal whilst Percy was still at the shop. Suddenly the door opened and she was standing before him.
‘Jake!’
He couldn’t tell from her expression if she was pleased to see him.
‘Meg – I must talk to you.’
She frowned. ‘If you’ve come to try to persuade me to change my mind, you’re wasting your time.’
‘Look, let me come in. We can’t talk here on the doorstep.’
Meg glanced up and down the street. ‘No, I don’t want the nosy beggars round here gossiping about me.’
‘Huh,’ Jake muttered wryly. ‘I should think there’s plenty of that going on already. A bit more won’t make a ha’porth of difference.’
‘Oh well, if you’re going to be like that.’ Meg glared at him and Jake sighed. ‘I’m not. Oh, Meggie, please – please let me in. There’s something I must say to you.’
‘If it’s about Percy—’
‘Just let me in, will you?’
‘All right,’ she said grudgingly and held the door a little wider for him to step inside.
‘Meg, please don’t do it,’ he began at once. ‘Work for him, live with him if you must.’ His agony at the very thought was plain on his face, yet he pressed on. ‘But please – don’t marry him.’
‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.’ Facing him in the tiny hallway, Meg ticked off her own reasons on her fingers. ‘He loves me, he’s kind to me, he’s got a nice little home and a good business. What more could I –’ her face twisted with bitterness – ‘a girl from the workhouse, hope for?’
Jake’s face was white. ‘But you don’t love him, do you?’
‘Love?’ She was scathing. ‘What do you know about love?’
‘I know I love you,’ he said simply and she gaped at him. He caught hold of her hands and held them fast. ‘Don’t do it, Meg. Don’t marry him. Marry me.’
‘You?’
‘Yes, me. Is that such an awful thought?’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘It’s not an awful thought at all. It’s just that I – I hadn’t realized.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she squeezed his hands in return. ‘Oh, Jake, I can’t.’
‘You mean you don’t love me,’ Jake said harshly.
‘I – I – oh, Jake, you shouldn’t ask me that. You really shouldn’t – not now.’
‘Come away with me. Come now. Ron and his missis’ll take you in . . .’
Meg was shaking her head and laughing, a little hysterically, through her tears. ‘If they did, they’d soon find themselves homeless when the missis found out. We’d all end up back in the workhouse, Jake. She’d see to that.’
‘So – it’s no, is it? You’re really going to marry him.’
Meg bit her lower lip so hard that she drew blood, but she nodded, tears splashing down her cheeks as she did so.
‘Then it’s goodbye, Meg, ’cos I shan’t see you again if you marry him.’
‘Oh, Jake,’ she cried, ‘don’t say that. Please – I thought you were my friend.’
‘I am your friend. More than you will ever know.’
‘Then don’t desert me. Please, Jake.’
Slowly, he shook his head. ‘I can’t stand to see you marry him,’ he said huskily. ‘And I don’t like the way you’re treating your mother.’
‘But I went to see her. I did. Honestly. I waited for her in Albert’s lodge. But Waters came and told me that Mam didn’t want to see me. That she never wanted to see me again.’
Jake’s face softened a little. ‘You went to see her? You really went?’
‘Percy said I should.’
Jake’s expression hardened again. He snatched his hands away. ‘Oh, so it wasn’t because of what I said, because I asked you to go and see her? Only because Percy
–’ he spat out the name – ‘asked you.’
‘Oh, Jake, don’t – please don’t be like this. I can’t bear it.’
He pushed past her and opened the door, almost falling out into the dusk of evening in his haste to get away.
‘Jake, Jake, please don’t go. Not like this.’
But he did not answer her, did not even look back as he stumbled away, tears blinding him.
He had never been so hurt. Nothing in his life in the workhouse, not even the master’s beatings, had hurt this much. Meg’s arrival had brought him such hope, made him see that he could escape from the shame of his birth. It had been she who’d encouraged him to seek a life outside the workhouse. But for her, he would still be locked away behind the high walls with no kind of future. Her will, her determination, had given him courage, had given him hope and, yes, had given him someone to love, someone with whom he had dreamed of sharing the rest of his life.
And now, by some reasoning of her own that he would never understand, Meg was tying herself to a man old enough to be her father. Jake’s mouth twisted. He was sure that the only reason she was marrying Percy Rodwell was for security. A security that he, Jake Bosley, a lowly paid farm labourer, born and raised in the workhouse, could never give her.
No one came to their wedding early the following morning. There was no best man, no bridesmaid, and the verger and a churchwarden were obliged to act as witnesses. As Percy and Meg made their vows, their voices echoed eerily in the cavernous surroundings of the vast church. But Percy smiled down happily at his young bride, oblivious to the absence of relatives or friends. Only, as they walked down the pathway after the ceremony, did Meg fancy she saw the figure of a woman hovering beneath the shadow of some trees and wondered – for a fleeting moment – if it was her mother.
‘Percy . . .’ she began, turning to him to catch his attention, but when she looked back the figure – if it had ever been there – had disappeared.
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