‘What?’ Mystified, Percy glanced from one to the other.
‘Louisa asked Meg to be her matron of honour.’
‘Oh, Meg,’ Percy was reproachful. ‘Why ever did you refuse? That was a great favour Miss Daley was bestowing upon you.’
Meg thought quickly and then she put her hands to her face, her eyes wide with surprise above them. ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t believe him.’ She turned from one to the other. ‘I thought Jake was teasing. You know what a tease he can be. Well, perhaps you don’t. But – but Miss Daley – Louisa – didn’t come herself. Nor even you, Philip, and I never thought for a moment it was true. Oh, how dreadful! What must she think of me?’
Tears filled her eyes and she covered the whole of her face with her hands, peeping between her fingers to gauge their reaction.
Philip put his arm about her awkwardly and she pretended to sob against his shoulder. ‘Please, don’t distress yourself. There’s obviously been a misunderstanding. I see it now. We should have come ourselves. Not sent messages. Don’t think about it any more. Tell you what,’ he said, brightly, ‘you must both come and have dinner with us one evening. After the shop has closed. There, what do you say?’
Meg pulled back a little and smiled tremulously, looking up into his face. ‘You’re so kind to me. I don’t deserve it.’
His gaze was on her face. Seeing the tears shimmering in her eyes, her soft mouth trembling, the just-married young doctor was appalled to find that at that moment he wanted nothing more than to kiss that mouth. To gather this young girl into his arms and hold her close.
With a leap backwards, he snatched his arm away, as if the touch of her ignited something in him that made him tremble with fear and longing. ‘That’s fine, then. I’ll – I’ll speak to Louisa about it. And – and we’ll arrange something.’
But the invitation to dine with the doctor and his bride never arrived. Percy was disappointed and, though he never voiced it, Meg felt he blamed her. More than once she caught him looking at her, reproach in his eyes.
Thirty-Six
‘So, what do you think, missis? Will she do?’
Betsy had been at Middleditch Farm for over a month now and Jake was eager to know if the mistress planned to keep her. Already the thin, wan child was blossoming into a healthy young girl, with a bloom on her smooth cheeks and new roundness to her body. And all day long Betsy had a sparkle in her eyes, the sparkle of real happiness. Jake couldn’t know – wasn’t conceited enough for the thought ever to cross his mind – that Betsy’s happiness had as much to do with his nearness as with her new life.
Mrs Smallwood, her back to him as she kneaded bread dough on the kitchen table, took a moment to answer, whilst Jake’s heart began to drop. ‘Aye,’ she said at last. ‘She’ll do.’
‘Aw, missis, thanks.’ Jake put his arms around the woman’s waist and rested his head against her back. ‘You don’t know what it’ll mean to Betsy.’
‘Oh, go on with you, you daft ha’porth.’ She waved him away, wafting flour into the air. ‘I just hope I’m not bringing trouble on myself having you two under the same roof.’ Her voice dropped as she muttered, ‘As if I haven’t had enough in my time already.’
Jake stepped back, hurt by her insinuation. He moved round the table to face Mabel. ‘I’d never do anything to hurt Betsy. She’s like a little sister to me. Always has been.’
Mabel eyed him wryly. ‘Really. Well, I don’t think that’s how she sees you. As a brother, I mean.’
Jake blinked. ‘Eh?’
With fond impatience, Mabel said, ‘She’s besotted with you, lad. She idolizes you.’ Pointedly, she added, ‘And I wouldn’t want to see you taking advantage of the lass.’
Gaping at her, still unable to believe what he was hearing, Jake shook his head. Hoarsely, he said, ‘I wouldn’t, missis. I promise you I wouldn’t.’
‘Mm,’ Mabel’s tone still held doubt. ‘Mm, well, let’s hope so.’
Recovering a little, Jake asked, ‘So you’re going to keep her on?’
Mabel nodded. ‘If she carries on as she is now and – she behaves herself – then yes, I’m keeping her on.’
‘Can I – can I tell her?’
Now Mabel smiled one of her rare smiles. ‘Aye, all right then.’
‘Just one thing—’
‘What is it now? More favours?’
Jake grinned. ‘I suppose so, yes. It’s Betsy’s birthday next week – on the fifteenth of September. She’s fourteen. Would you make her a cake? I don’t reckon she’s ever had a birthday cake in her life.’ He didn’t add that he hadn’t either. ‘They didn’t do that sort of thing in the workhouse.’
Mabel stared at him. Into her mind flashed the pictures of her own daughter. Alice at five, six, seven and then – jumping the years – at fourteen, blowing out the candles on her cake, surrounded by her friends. First little girls from school and then bigger, older girls as they all grew up together, filling the farmhouse with their chatter and laughter.
‘Aye.’ Mabel’s voice was husky. ‘I’ll make her a cake. It’s on a Sunday, so we’ll have a surprise party for her. Don’t you go telling her, though.’
His eyes shining, Jake shook his head at the wonder of it all. Just how had workhouse brats like him and Betsy fallen on their feet like they had? ‘You’re a good ’un, missis.’
‘So get your thinking cap on and decide who you’re going to invite. Kids from the workhouse, I suppose.’
Jake wrinkled his forehead. ‘Maybe one or two, but I reckon she’d like Miss Daley, I mean Mrs Collins, to come. And the matron. Miss Pendleton was always kind to her.’
‘Aye well, invite who you like lad.’ She looked up sharply. ‘As long as it’s not her. I won’t have that girl in my house.’
Jake’s heart was heavy. Without her name being mentioned, he knew she was referring to Meg. ‘No,’ he said sadly. ‘She wouldn’t come anyway.’
‘Good job an’ all,’ Mabel muttered, as she pounded the dough almost as if she wished it was Meg’s head beneath her strong hands.
Jake didn’t hurry out of the kitchen in search of Betsy. He walked slowly, deep in thought. Was it really true what the missis had said? Did little Betsy really like him? A smile began at the corners of his mouth and spread slowly into a broad grin. He squared his shoulders and felt as if he had grown an inch as he went in search of her.
‘Now, you’ve got to blow out all the candles at once and make a wish. That’s what my mam used to tell me to do when I was a little girl.’
Letitia was enjoying herself. Her round face was red from the heat in the farmhouse kitchen and with pleasure in the day. She was sitting between Jake and little Betsy – her two favourite children from the workhouse. Though Betsy wasn’t so little any more. She’d filled out and looked so happy and contented that it brought tears to the matron’s eyes. And as for her beloved Jake – it was taking her all her time not to keep putting an arm around him and hugging him to her – he was growing into such a handsome young man. A son that any mother would be proud of.
I haven’t done such a bad job with these two, she thought. Though a workhouse was not the ideal place for children to grow up in, she’d always done her best for all the little ones. Tried to be the mother to them that they’d lost. Tried to take their mother’s place. Especially with Jake . . . And now look at their happy, healthy, smiling faces. The sight brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes, but she dashed them away impatiently and said again, ‘Come on, Betsy, all at one blow.’
Pink with excitement and happiness, Betsy took a deep breath and blew and everyone around the table clapped: Philip and Louisa Collins, two younger girls from the workhouse, the matron, Ron with his wife and their children, Mr and Mrs Smallwood and, most important of all to Betsy, Jake. They had each given her a little gift: a hair ribbon, a lace handkerchief, and a brush-and-comb set. The two younger girls had picked bunches of wild flowers on their way to the farm. Jake had given her a prayer book
to carry on Sunday mornings now that they were both expected to attend church with the Smallwoods. She would treasure that most of all because it came from him. But the best gift of all was this party.
‘Put your bridesmaid’s dress on for your tea,’ Jake had urged her earlier in the day.
‘Oh, I couldn’t. It’s far too grand. I’d get it messed up helping the missis get the tea ready.’
‘I’ll help her today. It’s your birthday. You can just sit and look pretty in your posh dress and watch.’
‘But what will the missis think? What will she say?’
‘Oh, I’ll make it right with her,’ Jake said vaguely, knowing already that it was fine with Mrs Smallwood. They had planned it together.
‘How are we going to get her to dress up in her finery?’ Mabel had asked and it had been Jake’s idea that he should make out he would help with the tea whilst Betsy had a little time off on her special day.
Now, as she cut the cake with Mabel’s help, Betsy was thinking: I’ll never have another party better than this. Not as long as I live, I won’t. She glanced up and caught Jake watching her. The fact that he was there, that they were living and working together, made her life perfect.
Modest, unassuming little Betsy dared not hope for any greater happiness.
After tea they played party games in the parlour. Blindfolding Betsy, Jake spun her round and she moved carefully around the room, arms outstretched, trying to find Jake and have an excuse to put her arms around him.
They almost didn’t hear the knock at the back door for their noisy laughter.
‘I’ll go,’ Mr Smallwood said, heaving his bulky frame out of the easy chair.
Philip grimaced. ‘It’ll be for me, I expect.’ So it was no surprise that George’s glance went directly to the doctor when he came back into the room.
‘It’s old Albert from the workhouse.’ He glanced at his wife before saying. ‘He ses Sarah Kirkland’s very ill.’
‘Did you know about this?’ Philip asked the matron at once.
Letitia shook her head. ‘No. I had no idea. Isaac’s never said . . .’ She glanced around, her eyes fearful that they were somehow blaming her for Sarah’s illness. Then she added more briskly, ‘I’ll come with you, Doctor, if I may.’
‘Of course. Come along, my pony and trap are in the yard.’ He glanced at the others, all turned to stone by the news. ‘Does anyone else want a ride back to the workhouse? You’ll have to be quick.’
The two young girls scurried to get their shawls and Letitia bustled after them to find her own as Philip turned to his wife. ‘My dear—’ he began but Louisa interrupted, laying her hand on his arm. ‘I can see myself home. You must go at once with Albert.’
Jake moved stiffly as if coming back to life after the shock. ‘I’ll – I’ll see Miss – Mrs Collins home, Doctor.’
‘No, really—’ Louisa began, but Jake interrupted. ‘It’s all right. I’ll have to go into the town anyway. I’ll have to tell Meg.’
No one spoke and the happiness fell away from Betsy’s face.
Thirty-Seven
‘I don’t believe you. It’s all a tale to get me to come and see her.’
Jake eyed Meg with disgust. ‘Do you really think I’d joke – play a game – with your mother’s life? She’s ill, I tell you. Old Albert came to the farm to fetch the doctor.’
‘What was the doctor doing there?’
Jake sighed. ‘If you must know, we were all there. At a party. Betsy’s fourteen today.’
‘Oh, very nice,’ Meg said sarcastically, her eyes flashing. ‘Very cosy.’
Jake’s mouth hardened but he couldn’t hide the hurt in his dark brown eyes. ‘Well,’ he said sharply. ‘Are you coming?’
‘I can’t. Percy’s going to Nottingham tomorrow to order stock. I’ve things to do.’
‘I’ll wait for you.’
‘No need. I’m quite capable of walking up to the workhouse by myself.’
‘But I want to make sure you go.’ Jake was belligerent.
‘Don’t you trust me?’ Her tone was skittish, but Jake’s was blunt. ‘No, I don’t.’
Her face darkened. ‘Well, you’re right. I’m not going. I’ve Percy’s meal to prepare and his suitcase to pack. He’s staying overnight.’
Jake stepped forward and gripped her arm roughly. ‘You’re just making excuses. Percy Rodwell’s not the sort of man to make a fuss when he knows your mam’s ill. You can’t fool me, Meg. You don’t want to go. That’s the truth of it, isn’t it?’
She thrust her face close to his, spitting the words out. ‘Yes, yes, yes. That’s the truth. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to see her and I’m not going to see her.’
‘And what,’ he asked her quietly, ‘happens if she dies? How will you feel then?’
There was silence between them as, close together, they glared into each other’s eyes. Then she shook off his grip and turned away. ‘Then I’ll have to deal with it, won’t I?’
There was nothing more he could do, nothing more he could say to persuade her. Jake turned away from her, sick at heart. He did not go home to the farm but trudged towards the looming shape of the workhouse, the place he had once called ‘home’. He marvelled at how different his life was now and wondered how he had stuck it in that place for so long. But then, he reminded himself, he had known no different. He still might not have done, if it hadn’t been for Meg.
He groaned and tried to close his mind to her. He didn’t want to think of Meg now.
Albert was back in his lodge and he opened the gate to Jake. ‘I’ve come to see how Mrs Kirkland is.’
The old man shook his head. ‘She’s badly. They’ve moved her across to the infirmary. Matron’s with her, but they reckon—’ He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glanced at Jake and then looked down at the ground. ‘See, lad, I didn’t like to say back there – at the farm – but it seems she tried to take her own life. Slashed her wrists, they say. There’s blood everywhere – up in his room.’
‘Oh no,’ Jake breathed and stood just inside the gate, uncertain what to do next. He glanced up at the windows of the master’s rooms. ‘Is he here?’
‘Nah. Been away all day.’ He gestured with his head. ‘She knew when to pick her time to do it. Thought with him out all day and the matron off to the party, then she wouldn’t be disturbed. It’s lucky one of the women took her up a cup of tea and found her.’
‘Is she – is she going to be all right?’
Old Albert shook his head sadly. ‘It’s touch and go, I reckon.’
Jake glanced beyond the old man, across the yard towards the door leading to the stairs up to the infirmary. As if reading his mind, Albert said, ‘I wouldn’t go up there, lad. The doc’s still with her and the matron. Leave ’em to it, lad. Leave ’em to it. They’ll do their best . . .’
It seemed that the combined efforts of the doctor and the matron were still not enough. Before Isaac had returned, red-faced from merrymaking and looking forward to a night of passion with his woman, Sarah had slipped away, sinking into a peaceful oblivion, released at last from all the heartache and sorrow her short life had brought her. Jake, sitting with Albert, heard the news from Ursula Waters.
She stood in the doorway. ‘Well, he’s got rid of his latest paramour, then.’ Her tone was almost gleeful. Jake felt sickened. ‘She thought he was going to cast her off. That’s why she did it. There’s a younger woman just come in here. He’s been eyeing her up. I can tell. Kirkland must have thought she was going to be cast aside, so she saved him the trouble. She couldn’t bear it. Sooner slash her wrists than live without him.’ She nodded knowingly, her eyes bright, a satisfied smile on her thin lips. ‘That’s how it would be. Oh, I know that’s how it would be.’
Jake stared at her. ‘Do you mean – she’s gone? She – she’s died?’
Ursula nodded.
Behind him, Albert sighed deeply and murmured, ‘What a waste! A nice little woman. What a shame!’
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Suddenly Jake launched himself at Ursula, knocking her backwards against the wall. ‘You bitch. You’re glad, aren’t you? Glad she’s out the way. You reckon you’ve still got a chance with him. You dried-up old hag! As if—’
With surprising strength, Albert grasped Jake around the waist and pulled him away. Ursula was gasping in fear, her eyes wide and frightened.
‘Nay, lad, that’s not the way,’ Albert said, holding him firmly. ‘It won’t bring her back, more’s the pity. And you –’ His eyes were hard as he glared at the woman holding her hand to her flat chest – ‘you can get out of my lodge.’
‘You . . . you . . .’ she gasped, ‘have no right to speak to me like that. You’re only the porter.’
‘Oh, aye? And what great authority have you in the place, eh? Oh, get out, woman, else I might be tempted to let this lad have a go at yer.’
Ursula scuttled out, but before he relaxed his hold Albert asked softly, ‘All right now, lad?’
Jake gave a muffled sob and nodded. With his arm still about him, Albert gently guided Jake to a chair and pushed him into it. ‘Now then, what we need is a strong cup of tea with a drop of summat in it.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘But don’t you go letting on to him that I’ve got a bottle of the hard stuff here, will yer. Else I’ll end up in the punishment room.’
Jake said nothing, but dropped his head into his hands and groaned. ‘Fancy her doing that. Poor, poor woman. She must have been heartbroken. Just wait till I see Meg. Wait till I get me hands on Meg.’
Jake’s loud banging on the door of Percy Rodwell’s cottage was enough to waken the street.
‘Your mother’s dead.’ When Meg opened the door, the words came out far more bluntly than he had intended. ‘She took her own life.’
Meg gasped and stared at him, the colour draining from her face. She stood rigidly as if turned to stone. She held her breath, waiting for the news to hit her. And then it came. Realization flooded through her like a tidal wave. ‘Oh – oh – oh!’ she gasped like a person drowning. She wrapped her arms around herself, bending over, doubled up as if in terrible pain.
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