‘It weren’t like that!’ Joey jumped up and threw back his chair. ‘He explained things, things I’d never thought on before. We blame him for all that’s wrong because he’s rich, only he comes from poor stock way back, folk as dragged theirselves up same as what we’re trying to do now. And he thinks a right lot of you, our Janet, says you’re a gifted girl.’ He turned his attention to the women now. ‘And you two sit here either frightened to death or calling him! Why?’
Ma Maguire rose slowly to her feet. ‘If you employ a man in your shop, Joey, a man who misses work when his wife or mother dies – will you cast him from your door?’
‘No, but . . .’
‘He did. Or he let his managers do it, which is dirtier yet.’
‘They were following the old way, doing what Swainbank’s grandad would have done . . .’
‘Could you walk between mules, see a man with his arm ripped off and say “have him replaced”?’
‘He never! That were all before his time!’
Ma thrust her face closer to his, ‘Blood flows from one generation along to the next.’ She glanced at Molly’s stricken face, knowing that these words were cutting her daughter-in-law deeply, yet she continued, ‘The sins of the fathers, Joey. That’s in the Bible. Don’t be letting yourself get taken in by this man.’
Janet took up where Ma left off. ‘Gran saw things in the mills, heard how people were treated, so she feels strongly. And Mam doesn’t like him because she’s worked in his house, remembers how nasty his mother was. As for me – well, I don’t care either way – he can be good or bad, no difference to me. All I want is to be a master weaver. But what really upsets us is you, the way you change every time the wind blows. First you hated him because he was a boss, now you like him because you want to be as successful as him. It’s as if you’ve no mind of your own—’
‘No! I mean I have! I listen to folk, hear them out. I don’t make me mind up in a flash, then stick to it like glue no matter what!’
‘You do. Till somebody changes it for you. I saw how you looked at him before, listened to you ranting this afternoon over how I should be in the shop and not working for him, the slave-driver. Your mind was made up then. There was no shifting you. Till he came with his fancy car and his big posh house . . .’
‘You’re jealous! You’re jealous ’cos he never took you up to Briars Hall!’
‘I’m not!’
‘Oh yes you are!’
Molly slammed Joey’s dried-up dinner on to the table. ‘Shut up, both of you. It’s like having a couple of cats in the house. Eat it if you want – it’s well past its best.’
‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ he mumbled. ‘It was just dead interesting, all them books and pictures. I never thought people really lived in places like that—’
‘Well, they do!’ Molly turned and walked out to the scullery, slamming the door in her wake.
Ma viewed the twins, her heart almost breaking for the pair of them. Joey sat and played with his food while Janet, her face still pale with righteous anger, seated herself by the fire. Ma chose her words with care. ‘Keep a distance from him, both of you. These people are not our kind, we have no business with them.’
Joey threw down his fork. ‘Will you tell him that when he comes in the shop for a bike, or when he sends somebody for a few shirt buttons? Will you? At least he talks some bloody sense, summat to do with economics and . . . and trade! At least you know where you are with him! Here – it’s flaming mad, like a loony bin! Don’t go in a car, you’ll have the neighbours talking – I don’t give a tuppenny damn for the blinking neighbours!’ He stared mockingly at his grandmother. ‘And you? With your precious brooch and your old Granny Gallagher’s sight that you’re wishing on poor little Daisy – honest! If we listened to you, really listened for more than five minutes on the trot, we’d all be head cases!’
‘Don’t you dare talk to me in that tone . . .’
‘When will you let me grow up, Gran? That’s another thing – he talked to me like I was a man, a real person! I’m not a little lad for you to push and shove around, “Joey do this, Joey get that.” No! You expect me to be old enough to order me own stock, keep accounts, run a bike-mending shop – yet you want me young enough to boss about! Well, I can’t be both. I can’t be a man and a kid at the same time, so make up your mind what I’m supposed to be, will you? And when you’ve decided, happen you’ll let me know so I can pick me trousers, long or short!’ Pleased with the way he had finally expressed himself, Joey smiled tightly.
This was the second time Ma’s authority had been questioned of late. Her rein on this family had been tight – necessarily so. But now Molly and Joey were both champing at the bit, she out of fear and frustration, he because of his haste to break free. She held tight to the brooch, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, tears she would not allow to fall. ‘Remember, Joey, that I stood by you in your trouble. Always remember that. And above all, I am your grandmother. Whether I am right or wrong, I ask for respect at all times.’ She left the room as quickly as the dragging foot would allow.
There followed a long silence, then Janet looked up at her brother. ‘What’s going on at all?’ she asked, almost of herself.
Joey fixed his eyes on the fire. ‘I don’t know. But we’ll not get to the bottom of anything till she thinks it’s time.’ He pointed towards Ma’s room. ‘Thing as bothers me is Mam being so upset. What is it about this Swainbank chap that gets everybody’s backs up, Jan?’
‘I don’t know. Shall I ask him next time I see him?’
‘And get an answer? From any of them? Nay, we’re fifteen, still in nappies according to some folk. Don’t bother asking. It’ll come to us in time.’
Chapter 14
‘I don’t like cars!’
Charles gritted his teeth and bit back a ready answer. If he told her to get out and walk, then she probably would, even while the car was doing twenty-five miles an hour. She’d never been easy and age had done little to improve or soften her attitudes.
‘Stupid great beasts with no personality, nothing to get to grips with. And the speed of everything. Did you have to go round that bend on two wheels? Watch out for the man crossing the street! See? You’ll have us all dead! There’s nothing can touch a good horse—’
‘My brother died on horseback, Miss Leason, just as my sons were killed in one of these things. It’s a matter of handling.’
‘Is it now? Bloody high-handed, fetching me out of hospital in this . . . this coalcart, telling me where I’m going to live, how I’m going to live. It’s me you’re handling, isn’t it? Me!’
‘They wouldn’t let you go back to your house. You know damned well it was either me or the asylum. So shut up and enjoy the ride even if it kills you.’
‘Bloody men!’
‘Pardon?’ He grinned, having heard her plainly enough. ‘Did you say something?’
‘Why can’t I go home? I’ve got my own place, don’t need your charity.’
‘You can’t go home because you live like a tramp. Eccentricity’s one thing, infestation’s another matter altogether. You need watching. I’ve had to stick my neck right out to get you released after all the trouble you caused.’
‘Trouble? I caused no trouble.’
He coughed to cover a laugh as he remembered the vivid picture Matron had painted. ‘You were not supposed to get them all out of their beds for a hunger march—’
‘It wasn’t a hunger march, it was a bid for freedom.’
‘In their nightgowns? Halfway down Chorley New Road without a coat between them?’
‘It’s the principle of the matter, Charles. They’re old, they’re useless and yet they still refuse to do what society requires, which is to die gracefully, quietly and with as little mess as possible. I showed them the sun, the wind and the rain—’
‘And gave them arthritis, sore feet and pneumonia!’
‘I gave them a day out!’
‘Ten minutes at the most. Sarah, yo
u are a bloody nuisance. They won’t have you back. No matter how ill you become, you’re blacklisted, banned, persona non grata.’
‘Good.’
‘They were going to put you away as crackers.’
‘The word is senile, Charles. My mind is supposedly gone. That brain chap tried to explain it to me, but he was a remarkably stupid and odd character. Said the brain is rather like a loaf and that mine is down to the last slice.’
‘To which you replied . . . ?’
‘I suggested that his own grey matter seemed somewhat unleavened, as if it had never risen in the first place. This observation of mine was not well received – I was assessed insane right away. He’d no sense of humour, you see – and there’s the first sign of insanity. Isn’t it amazing that the queerest doctors are interested in the queerest medicine? Had a dreadful speech impediment, poor man. I gave him some written diphthongs to practise on, but he failed to appreciate my good intentions.’
Charles burst into loud laughter. ‘God Almighty! You emasculate men as accurately as the vet dealt with your cats!’
‘What? You’ve had my cats tampered with? And who gave you permission for that?’
‘Don’t need permission – cats are vermin. And there are too many of them, so the fewer reproductive organs, the better. We’ve given most of them away to good homes – names and addresses on file if required. You have to learn to live a more normal life, Sarah.’
‘How dare you?’
He stopped the car abruptly. ‘Right. Shall we turn round and go back to the hospital, let them transfer you to the mad-house? Because those are your two choices – me or the loonies. Well?’
‘Frankly, I don’t know which is worse.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Make your mind up – I’ve a business to run.’
She went through the motion of considering the options. ‘I suppose it will do no harm for me to look at the lodge—’
‘Very kind of you, I’m sure. So. In case you do decide to live among us – grace us by your presence, as it were – these are the house rules. You’ll make your own breakfast and lunch, then an evening meal will be brought to you each day. Catfood will come from the farm, also from the fishmarket every Tuesday. Don’t get it mixed up with your own.’
‘I’m not daft!’ The small head jerked upward. ‘Why do you talk to me as if I were a few pennies light of the shilling, eh? Because I’m not, not at all!’
He moved the car forward slowly. ‘You’ve always been odd. If you start acting too reasonable, perhaps people will believe you have finally hit the floor. But moderate your tendencies, for heaven’s sake. I can’t watch you all the time and I don’t want to come to visit you in the rubber room, do I? Padded cell, arms tied behind your back, terrible screams—’
‘You’re enjoying this! Trying to frighten a poor old woman!’
‘Poor old woman? I’d have a better chance with a rogue elephant! Nobody scares you, Sarah Leason. No man, anyway. Faced with a wild animal, you might show some slight respect, but humanity holds little threat for you. I don’t know why I’m bothering with you, really I don’t. My staff spent days cleaning out the gatehouse for you – Perkins even went to the trouble of making five scratching posts, one for each cat! And all you do is moan about interference. I’ve gone so far as to arrange for your friends to visit this afternoon – a nice cosy tea-party for you and Ma Maguire.’
And that had taken some manipulating, mostly through Janet at the mill.
‘Is Joey coming?’
‘I believe so. Why?’
‘None of your business. What about my house?’
‘Sell it.’
‘Bloody men!’ she cursed again. ‘While we’re up here, you might as well run me past The Hollies, haven’t seen the old place in a while. I’ve a horse or two there—’
‘Oh – another thing. I’ve put a goat and some chickens down at the lodge for you. Keep the cats out of the hen-run.’ Something for her to look after, think about, care for. Yes, he was managing her, that was true enough. And compared to Miss Sarah Leason, the three mills including workforce were easy meat.
They drove slowly past Sarah’s old home, the place where she had been born and raised, where her family had lived for three generations. Sun-streaked and mellowed by age, The Hollies sat smug and cared for by its present owners, barns rebuilt, stables painted and re-roofed, the house itself splendidly tended. ‘Any regrets?’ asked Charles.
‘None. The house deserved life – children – a future. I gave nothing to it, just let it rot. My way of paying back the old man, I suppose. He was grim, Charles. The day he died, I felt like a creature in my own right for the very first time. Parents can be a dreadful trial. But no matter – I won. I wasn’t having him dictate whom I should marry. Never forgave me for being a girl, never forgave Mother for producing no more live ones. Seven times he put her through childbirth – rather like a horse being driven at a fence which got higher and higher. But she outlived the old devil, got five years to herself. It was from her I learned that I must never be manipulated by the merely male, though she said not a word. She didn’t need to, Charles. I just looked at her and saw—’
‘Yes.’ He reached across and patted a tiny hand. ‘Had enough, old girl? Shall we go home?’
She nodded. ‘Did I . . . did I do it all wrong?’ This was the first time she’d admitted uncertainty – as far as he knew, at least. ‘All gone. No pits, no house, no child . . .’
‘There’s no right and wrong, love.’ His voice was gruff. ‘You followed your own star. Even if no-one else could see your particular light, you bloody well stuck to it and to hell with all questions. It’s not a matter of doing it this way or that – we just cope the only way we can. Anyway, it’s a bit late for you to fret now, isn’t it?’
‘It is indeed.’
He turned the car round and made for Briars Hall, pulling in at the right of the main gate. This, the smaller of the two gatehouses, was indeed tiny, a pretty dwelling made of warm stone in a dusky pink shade except for all four corners where large blocks of sterner stuff supported the whole building. Mullions were also of this yellower fabric, while the windows they contained were stained and leaded, their patterns copied from various Tudor discoveries made in this part of Lancashire, finds thought by many to be the only genuine coloured glass from such early times.
Charles opened the solid oak door and sighed loudly as the ancient timber swung away from him. ‘It’s all disappearing, all the grace and elegance. Look at Smithills. Did you ever see a finer house than that, eh? It’s to be sold to Bolton Corporation, Sarah. Nobody can afford to keep these old places going, ceilings as high as church spires, roofs falling to bits, money needed every day just to make them habitable. No matter that you might have a Tudor sovereign’s arms in your window-lights, or Thomas Cranmer’s crest over the dining table – it’s all got to go. Still. No doubt Smithills will become a museum or a place for the public to go and poke round. Thank God Briars is not so important.’
‘It is to you – obviously.’
‘It’s my home. And now this is yours.’
‘How much a week?’
‘For God’s sake, Sarah . . . ?’
‘How much?’
‘A pound.’
‘Fair enough. It’s not the amount, you see – it’s the—’
‘Principle of the thing,’ he finished for her. ‘I know. I’ve heard that song before. Right. This is the living room – no hall to worry about. The kitchen’s through that door with a staircase leading out next to the pantry. Upstairs there’s a bedroom and a bathroom. Three sheds outside for cats and other company, nice big garden for you to run riot in. All right?’
She swallowed. ‘I know I’m a bloody old woman, more prickles than an injured hedgehog – but I can’t tell you what this means to me. Never did settle down there, you see.’ She waved a hand towards the road, the other arm coming up to wipe a little tear from her eye. ‘I’m country. This is what I mean, Charl
es. It’s fine to have principles, but look what mine cost! There’s only one word for where the townspeople live – and that’s hell. I was lucky in Bolton, bit of a garden at the front, an extra room, a bath. But what did I leave behind up here, what did I sacrifice in selling off the mines? That beautiful house, my horses, my freedom . . .’
‘Given your attitude to mining, there was no alternative! Good grief, woman, Paddy Maguire saved your life by forcing you to come to a decision when you got too old for the place. Why didn’t you call on me then, eh? I’d have given you a lodge! I know there aren’t many rooms, but there’s plenty of land and the big house nearby if you need help. Too proud, you are! Too proud for your own good!’
She grinned widely at this. ‘Where’s all my stuff?’ she demanded.
‘The Maguires brought it round. Perkins shelved the bedroom – all your books are in there – just. Don’t buy any more! Borrow mine if you want to read. Dishes and so on will be in the kitchen cupboards. Items of value – those Chippendale chairs, the good china, the Stubbs paintings – they’re stored up at the Hall.’
‘Hmm. So now I have to learn to live properly.’
‘Your cleaning will be done twice a week. Come to terms with it, Sarah. The days of splendid isolation are past. And you’ll get more privacy here than you did at the hospital. You’ll stay?’
‘Of course I’ll stay! I’m just not very good at being grateful!’
‘None of us is, especially we who have been privileged. It’s hard to accept help when none’s been needed, hard to take after giving charitably as you have done. But this is your turn. Grab it and be damned.’
‘I will.’
‘Bet you never thought you’d say those words to a man!’
‘Charles Swainbank! Do you have a priest hidden in a cupboard?’
He gazed about the room. ‘There are some priest holes around here somewhere . . .’
With Love From Ma Maguire Page 46