'You haven't seen anything of our Betty, have you, Ben?' she asked.
'Betty? No. No, Mrs Walton. Why? Is she lost?'
The woman looked around the yard as if she expected to see her daughter emerge from one of the doors or from behind a pile of rubbish. Then she
repeated, 'Lost? Oh, aye, she's lost. But himself said this would happen, because I was always washin' her bloody hair and keepin' her face scab-free, unlicing her an' the rest, instead of gettin' meself out to work.
He said it's my fault; but I did it for the best.' And now, her hand outstretched, and with a break in her voice, she appealed to Ben: 'Don't tell me she's been picked up. It's been the fear of me life, because she's so wayward. Scamperin' round the market whenever I let her out of my sight. And she was bonny. You know she was bonny.'
'Aye.' Ben nodded at her. 'Aye, she was bonny, Mrs Walton. How long has she been gone?'
'Since last night. Since last night. She wasn't outside the bar waitin' for him. He always' - again the hand was expressive - 'he always goes in on his way from the mill. He gets dry, you know ... the flax.
Feels choked at times. And anyway, if he knows she's there it brings him home. And now he's in a rage.
He never went in this mornin', and he's knocked on every door in Foley Street. But if they had her there, d'you think they would let him know? Now he keeps blamin' me for keepin' her clean. Being the first of the lasses, she was always his favourite; the lads didn't seem to matter. What am I gona do?'
'Have you been to the polis?'
'Oh, aye. Aye, I went to the polis. But what'll they do? Himself is right: half of them must be in the pay of the Foley Street mob. Well, it's funny, isn't it, that they never manage to find any missin' youngsters.
And it's funny an' all that the dirty buggers don't go for the ragged-arsed lot that's swarmin' the place.
No, they take their pick. Oh, my God! Ben, if she's gone it'll kill him. I tell you, it'll kill him. And then he'll go for one of those buggers, an' he'll do for 'em.
Then what'll it be? Swingin', or Australia. And we were just gettin' on our feet, three of the lads workin'
and himself bringin' it in, at least what's left after his Friday night dos. But, nevertheless, we managed. An' you know yourself, I've come every week here
and set them up in different bits and pieces.'
She turned from him now and looked towards the house door where Millie was standing. And she stared at the girl for a full minute, before turning to Ben again and with a helpless gesture saying, 'My God! It's a wonder that one's escaped.' Then she added, with a plea in her voice again, 'You get around, Ben. And your Annie, if all tales are true, she's got a relative that's no better than she should be an' livin' nicely on it. Perhaps you could find out somethin' through her.., would you, Ben?'
'Yes, certainly, Mrs Walton. I've got to go on an errand this mornin', but as soon as I get back, I'll
... well, I'll do the rounds and I'll come along an'
tell you. You're in Booth Court, aren't you?'
'Aye, number fifty-six. Three floors up. Ta. Thank you.' She turned now and glanced towards Millie again before hurrying from the yard. Instinctively, Millie made her way across to Ben, saying, 'Is she in trouble?' And he looked straight into her face as he answered, 'Aye, she's in trouble. Her little girl has gone missin'. You know her, Betty, the lively one; she was into everythin' in the yard here.'
Without saying anything further, Millie turned and went back into the house; and Ben followed her, there to see Aggie shambling into the room, and although her eyes looked full of sleep, their powers of discernment were indeed wide awake. 'What's up now?' she demanded.
'Little Betty Walton has gone missing,' Ben answered. He didn't say, 'He's at it again and he's getting nearer.' But after a moment's silence he said, as if casually, 'She's a scamper, that one; into every hole and corner, if I remember rightly, so she's likely stayed out late and is frightened to go home - if old man Walton had a load on she'd be introduced to the buckle end of his belt. He could be paralytic and she could bring him home, but... '
'Aye. Aye,' put in Aggie. 'But it's about time there was some breakfast on the table. And you've got a journey before you, you two, so let's get down to
the business of the day. And you, Ben Smith, Jones, or Robinson, spruce yourself up, because it's among the gentry you'll be goin'.'
They had left The Courts, passed the countless rows of back-to-back houses, no cleaner, no more sanitary than the half-mile of buildings behind them. They had crossed the market, the shopping centre, passed the churches, chapels, religious meeting rooms, fighting to outdo each other and against the countless bars; even hoping through the wave of religious revival, and the example set by the Queen herself, that they would eventually withdraw sinners from the flames of hell-fire and place them in the arms of the Lord.
And then there were the mills. Everywhere you looked there were the mills: cotton mills, textile mills, grim forbidding buildings, all of them, many cheek by jowl with the slums they had created.
Then, as if a dividing line had been drawn across the outskirts of the town, the scene changed: Ben was now driving the cart past terraced houses with lace curtains at the windows, and the bath-bricked steps leading to painted front doors, with here and there a little maid scrubbing the steps, or sluicing the pavement outside the small railed gardens.
These were the homes of the upper working class, the artisans, clerical workers, shopwalkers.
They now reached what appeared to be open country, but which soon became large areas of garden, each surrounding a single house approached from the roadway through magnificent iron gates.
'Be prepared to bend your knee, and keep your mouth shut. And yes, bite your tongue.' He grinned at her.
'Well, I just might have to, mightn't I? But would you ever do it?'
'Me?' He pushed out his chest. 'Never! What you call a free soul, that's me; free as the wind.'
'Except for Mrs Aggie and the yard.'
'Don't be pert with me, miss. But aye, you're right, except for Mrs Aggie and the yard. We must never forget, mind, either you or me, if it hadn't been for Mrs Aggie and her yard, God knows where we would have been at this minute. She could easily have given me the push after her dad died, and taken on somebody.., well, more presentable, like.'
'You're very presentable, Ben, very.' She looked him up and down now, and yes, he was very presentable. She had never seen him dressed as he was this morning. He was wearing the suit belonging to that old man who had died. Chinese Charlie had altered the lot to fit him, and he had pressed it, too, and it had made such a difference to Ben. He looked ... well, she couldn't put a name to how he looked.
She discarded handsome, yet he had such a nice face and plenty of brown hair and his upper body was so fine. It was only his legs. What a pity about his legs.
If they'd only been a few inches longer; or perhaps if his upper body wasn't so big then his legs wouldn't be so noticeable. And he had a nice voice. He didn't always speak correctly, but still he had a nice voice.
Everything about him was nice. She liked Ben. Yes, she liked Ben. Impulsively now, she put her hand out and laid it on his, saying quietly, 'I'm going to miss you all over again, Ben, that's if I take this place.'
He drew the pony to a stop, looked down at her hand still lying on his and said, 'You're not the only one, Millie. That place is like a dead house when you're out of it. But no matter' - his voice rose now
- 'you've got to go there for a time, anyway. And you understand, don't you?'
'Yes. Yes, Ben, I understand. But at the same time I keep asking, Why? Why?'
'You know as well as I do.'
He had almost bawled at her; in fact, so loud was his voice that he turned instinctively, feeling he must have been overheard, and looked towards the two gates which had 'The Grange' easily discernible as part of the wrought iron. And just
as instinctively lowering his voice, he said again,
>
'You know as well as I do. There's no need to go into it.'
'But there is.' She was hissing at him now.
He stared at her while drawing in a deep breath, which expanded his broad chest further; then he said, 'Well, if you want to know, you shouldn't look as you do; you attract the wrong kind. That's the answer, and I'm sayin' no more. So come, get down.
This is the place.' He pointed to the gate.
When, a minute later, he pulled on the handle of the iron bell and it clanged loudly, the door of a small house lust beyond the gates opened and a man appeared and stood looking at them for a moment before speaking. 'Well, what's your business?' he asked quietly.
'She ... Miss Forester here is expected. She's to meet a Mrs Quinton.'
'Oh.' The man now moved his head slightly and looked at Millie; then, pointing with his forefinger, he said, 'Further along the road there's another gate. You'll come across the house half-way up the drive.' He looked beyond them to the pony and cart, then added not unkindly, 'You could get that up the drive.'
'Ta,' said Ben. 'Thanks,' said Millie. They had spoken together, then turned away, smiling.
Ben now said, 'You walk along; you might have to open the gates... He was quite a civil bloke, wasn't he?'
'Yes, a nice man.'
'Well, as it says in the books, it could augur good.'
Millie burst out laughing, and as Ben pulled himself up on to the cart, she said, 'You know, you are funny, the things you say.'
He looked down at her. 'Well, you're not the only one who reads books, you know. I could beat you along that line if I liked. And I will an' all; we'll have a competition some day when you start readin' the grown-up stuff.' And he slapped the reins along the pony's back.
She was walking at its head when she turned and said, 'Why don't you go to school, Ben?'
'What! What you sayin'? Go to school? Me? a man!'
'Lots of grown-up people go to school at night, some of them after work. I know Father Dolan has a night class.'
'What! Join the Catholics? Are you askin' for him an' all to be stabbed with a pair of scissors?... Oh, I'm sorry, lass. I'm sorry.'
'Oh, you needn't be.' She pulled the pony to a stop opposite this second set of gates. They were open, and, nodding up to Ben, she said, 'I've never felt any guilt or regret over that. She was a horrible woman, cruel. And not only to me. But there are other people taking night classes, Ben; like Parson King. He's Protestant.'
'They're all holy Joes. But get out of the way and let me turn him in if you're not goin' to lead him.'
They were now proceeding up a driveway bordered on each side by shrubs: and then quite suddenly they emerged into an open area. It was like a small field, only the grass had been cut; and there to the side
stood a house. In comparison with those they had passed along the way, it could be considered small.
It looked as if it had only two storeys, but suggested an attic under the fanlight in the roof.
Ben had hardly put his feet on the ground when, from the side of the house, there emerged what appeared to be a mob of children coming at them in a rush and then skidding to a halt about three yards distant. There were five of them: the biggest, a girl, looking not much younger than Millie herself.
There were three girls and two boys. And it was the taller of the two boys who looked at the others before explaining, 'He's got little legs.' Then they scattered, yelling, as Ben gave a jump towards them, shouting on a laugh, 'Yes! but they can run.'
There now appeared at the door of the house a young woman, and she called in a high voice,
'Children! Betty! Paddy! you, Daisy, come. Come this minute.' As if the children hadn't heard her or were not aware of her presence, they all ran back towards the side of the house, and there they stood as a group, staring at the man with the short legs and
the girl with hair that looked almost white, walking towards their mother.
'Oh, you're here. Good morning. Well, you had better come in.'
Millie took in at once that Mrs Quinton was a nervous lady and that she wasn't very old; in fact, she looked young. And her hair was untidy and she was wearing an apron. She didn't appear to be at all like the kind of lady who would be engaging a maid. Not a bit like Annabel's mother.
'Come into the kitchen,' she said, and led the way across a small hall and into quite a large kitchen, dominated, Millie noticed, by an oblong table under which were a number of stools. And she also noticed straightaway that the open fire feeding an oven to one side and a water boiler to the other was very like the one Sister Cecilia had introduced her to.
'Sit down. Oh, dear me, dear me.' Mrs Rose Quinton now pulled out two stools from under the table and indicated that both Millie and Ben should be seated, and when they were, she stood before them looking slightly helpless but smiling now as she said, 'You have, unfortunately, already been introduced to my family; at least, all except the baby. They are, what you would term, a handful, but they are not really naughty children, only impetuous, you know.'
Millie smiled at her, and she smiled back, saying,
'I ... I must be frank with you. They ... need a firm hand. Well, I mean they need to be managed.
And again I must be frank in telling you, because if I don't tell you this, one of the maids of the house will likely inform you very shortly, that I've had two helpers already this year. You see, I don't want you to come on the ... well, shall we say' - her smile widened - 'on false pretences. You understand?'
'Yes. Yes, ma'am, I understand; and I have worked with children before.., well, when I was at the hum'
school, it was part of the older pupils' duty to be in charge of two or three of the younger ones to see
they washed properly and.., well, things like that, and just before I left I was doing this.'
'You were at the nuns' school? Oh, yes. Oh yes.'
Mrs Quinton closed her eyes for a moment as if recalling her cousin relating this girl's history, which had not included the scissors' business with Sister
Mary as being the reason for her leaving because that might have put any caring mother off from engaging such a virago.
'My cousin did tell you the terms?'
Millie paused a moment, then said, 'Yes.'
'And they're suitable?'
'Yes. Yes, thank you.'
'Well now, when can you start your duties?'
Millie now turned to Ben, and he shrugged his shoulders, saying, 'It's up to you; but I could bring you back tomorrow, if you would like that?'
'Yes. Yes, I would like that,' she said, and looked straight back at Mrs Quinton, saying, 'I will start tomorrow.'
'Would ... would you like to meet the children now? Well, I know you have seen them already, but if I could call them and... '
Millie rose from the stool and, looking at her prospective and harassed mistress, she said, 'Oh, it's all right. We'll get to know each other tomorrow, I'm sure, and very quickly.'
'Yes. Yes, perhaps that'll be best. But oh, by the way, you do know there are other duties? I... I have a person who comes in for two hours every morning, but ... but she does just the very rough work. I sometimes need help in the kitchen and...'
'Oh, I'd be pleased to help wherever I can.'
'She's a splendid cook,' Ben said.
Rose Quinton looked at the extraordinary man and thought as many another had: what a pity! He
could have been a handsome man. She said, 'She is?'
And he nodded his head firmly, saying, 'She is. You take it from me, ma'am. I like my food, and she's the best I've come across.'
Mrs Quinton was again smiling down on Millie.
'Oh, that would be a great asset. Well, you will come in the morning about.., at about the same time?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
Millie's new mistress paused as if uncertain what to do next; then turning quickly about, she led them
from the kitchen into the hall and to the open front door again, and looked to where her c
hildren were all standing round the pony and cart. In fact, her son Patrick was actually in the cart.
'Oh, dear me! Dear me! That boy! I'm sorry,'
she muttered.
'Nothing to be sorry for, missis, I mean, ma'am.
It's a good sign when children like animals and are playful with them. Good day to you.'
'Good day.'
Standing before her future mistress, Millie did not know whether or not to dip her knee. She decided
against it, and so set a pattern which was soon to become questionable. What she said now was, 'Good morning, ma'am,' and Rose Quinton answered in a similar tone, 'Good morning;' then added hastily,
'your name is?'
'Millie, ma'am.'
'Oh. Millie? Well, good morning, Millie.'
Again Millie said, 'Good morning, ma'am,' then turned and followed Ben to the cart, from which there was now a great scattering away of children, before once more they formed a group as if into a combined force. But when Millie, from her seat, liked her arm and waved to them, they looked at each other, giggled, then all waved back, which Millie took as a good omen and Rose Quinton took as a sign of comparative peace. 'It was as if,'
she said later to her husband, William, when in bed that night, 'I felt as if the house had suddenly been blessed. Strange, wasn't it?' to which he answered,
'Yes, indeed. Well, I'm looking forward to seeing this blessing. Indeed; indeed I am.'
SIX
Millie had been living with the Quintons, in what was called Little Manor, for six months now, and she couldn't recall a happier period in her life. She still looked forward to her half-day with Aggie and Ben, as she did her whole day once a month; but she was always glad to get back into the Quinton household, where she felt so at home she could never imagine ever wanting to leave them. But looking back, she always recalled her first week as a very testing time.
Mr and Mrs Quinton had their meals served in the little dining-room, whereas she had to take hers with the children at the kitchen table. And when nine-year old Daisy took a spoonful of hot soup and threw it in her face, and there was a giggle from the others, Millie, rising and going to a side table and deliberately choosing a larger spoon, returned to her seat, filled the spoon with the soup, and levelled it at her opponent, causing a scream from Daisy but silent gasps from her supporters. And when the astonished child screamed, 'I'll tell Mama!' Millie said, 'Go on then, tell her.' But when the child went to scramble from her stool, she was checked by Paddy, her younger brother, with the advice,
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