Pauper's Gold

by Margaret Dickinson

  Listening to the conversation, Ethel put in, ‘I ’spect they thought it’d be like admitting guilt if they did.’

  Arthur glanced at his wife and nodded. ‘You’ve a point there. Aye, I see what you mean.’

  There was silence for a moment before Hannah said softly, but in a tone that was like a vow, ‘Well, he won’t be forgotten about. Not by me.’

  ‘No,’ Arthur agreed. ‘Nor by us. And he’ll never be gone whilst Daniel’s around, will he? Like two peas in a pod they are. I could never tell the difference between them. I’d never have believed two people could be so alike.’

  Hannah said nothing. To her the two boys had been very different. Daniel was nothing like the merry, outspoken Luke, but a mere shadow of his brother. But she felt for him. What was poor Daniel going to do now without his twin?

  Mrs Grundy wept openly. ‘Another death. When are the authorities going to do something about that place?’

  ‘There’s not much they can do, love.’ Ollie Grundy patted his wife’s shoulder and glanced sympathetically at Hannah.

  ‘Well, there ought to be. Isn’t there someone we can report it to?’

  Ollie shrugged his huge shoulders. ‘I wish there was. D’you know, I’d even risk that part of our livelihood – losing that trade – if it meant saving them poor children up there any more hurt.’

  Hannah, believing him, smiled weakly. ‘It wasn’t so bad when old man Critchlow still ran things. It’s only since he’s taken over.’ She paused and then added, ‘You’ve heard the news, I suppose, about Mr Nathaniel?’

  The Grundys glanced at each other. ‘No.’

  ‘When he heard the news about Luke, he had another seizure. A really bad one. He’s not expected to live.’

  ‘Aye,’ Lily Grundy said bitterly. ‘Well, there you are then, that puts Mr Edmund in full control an’ no arguing with it now. And he’s likely to be there for years to come.’ She paused and looked directly at Hannah. ‘You ought to get away from that place – from him – whilst you’ve the chance. We’ll help you, won’t we, Ollie?’

  Hannah stared at them, glancing from one to the other in amazement. ‘But . . . but I haven’t even paid you all the money back you lent me last time. With all the stoppages I get, I haven’t been able to manage even a few pennies recently. I still don’t get proper wages.’

  Lily flapped her hand. ‘Don’t think any more about that. We’ve got it all planned, me and Ollie.’ Husband and wife glanced at each other like conspirators. ‘He’ll take you to Buxton on the cart on Friday morning and you can get a ride from there on the carrier’s cart – or the coach, whichever you like – back to Macclesfield. There must be folks there you know who’d help you.’

  Hannah was doubtful. ‘We were in the workhouse. I daren’t go back there. Mr Goodbody’d have me sent straight back here.’

  ‘What about where you lived before you went into the workhouse? Can you remember?’

  Hannah sought back through her mind to being eight years old and even before that. ‘I can remember me gran – just. She looked after me when me mother went out to work. I . . . I can remember her dying and the coffin outside our house in the street, on a cart – a handcart – and the men pushing it. And . . . and the neighbours. They all came out and I watched me mother walking behind it down the street. I wanted to go with her but I wasn’t allowed and . . . and someone was holding onto me to stop me running after her . . .’

  ‘Can you remember who that was?’ Lily tried to prompt her memories.

  ‘I . . . I think she lived next door. I called her Auntie – Auntie – oh, I can’t remember.’ Hannah rubbed her forehead in frustration as if the action would massage her brain to work better.

  ‘Can you remember where you lived – the name of the street? She might still be there.’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘It was a narrow street with tall terraced houses.’

  ‘Well, there’ll be dozens of streets just like that one in a place like Macclesfield,’ Lily said. ‘That don’t help much.’

  ‘Is there anything else you can remember?’ Ollie pressed, trying to help. ‘Did you live near anything like a church or the place your mother worked or . . . ?’

  Hannah frowned. ‘I . . . I think we lived a couple of streets away from the mill where Mam worked.’

  ‘The mill? Your mother worked in a mill?’

  ‘Oh, not like the one here. It was a silk mill. I do remember that.’

  ‘A silk mill! Well, I never.’ Ollie was thoughtful for a moment before he said, ‘That might help. You could ask at the silk mills. There might be people there who’d remember her.’

  Hannah smiled wryly. ‘There might well be, but I don’t know if they’d kill the fatted calf, exactly.’

  Ollie and Lily glanced at each other. ‘What do you mean, lass?’

  Hannah pulled a face. ‘I think the reason we ended up in the workhouse was because we lost the house after me gran died.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Me gran was the tenant – not me mam.’

  ‘Couldn’t your mother have taken it on?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘No – she was sacked from her job.’

  Gently, Lily asked, ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘No. Not really. But . . . but . . . I always thought it had something to do with me.’

  ‘With you?’

  Hannah nodded, the shame flooding through her as she whispered, ‘I haven’t got a dad, you see.’

  Lily laughed, and it was a genuine laugh – the first Hannah had heard since Luke’s terrible death. ‘Well, there’s plenty of your sort about, love. I shouldn’t let that worry you. Most o’ them orphans up at the mill’ll be just like you, I’ll be bound.’

  Hannah smiled weakly. ‘Well, yes, they are. And there were plenty of us in the workhouse. It . . . it was only then I realized I wasn’t the only . . . only bastard in the world.’

  ‘Aw, lovey.’ Lily gathered Hannah to her bosom. She rocked her and the girl felt comforted. ‘There’s one thing though, lass, that perhaps you hadn’t thought of. Somewhere you’ve got a dad. How about trying to find him, eh?’

  Hannah drew back from the woman’s embrace and stared up at her in surprise. ‘I – I’d never thought of that.’

  ‘Now, hang on a minute,’ Ollie said, suddenly concerned. ‘D’you think that’d be wise? I mean – there might be all sorts of complications.’

  Lily’s face was set. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well,’ Ollie floundered, glancing helplessly from one to the other. ‘I dunno. I just think—’

  ‘I’m not suggesting she should go marching up to his door demanding to be taken in as his daughter. But if she could find him, he just might be willing to help her. She can only ask.’ They were talking now as if Hannah was not in the room. But she was and hanging on every word.

  ‘Aye, and how will she feel if he sends her off with a flea in her ear? She’ll be hurt all over again.’

  ‘Not if she prepares herself that that might happen. She’d be no worse off than she is now.’

  ‘Huh! Just rejected again, eh?’

  ‘Oh, Ollie, you’re a lovely man.’ Lily reached up and patted his cheek. ‘But sometimes, just sometimes—’

  ‘Yes, you are, Mr Grundy.’ Hannah smiled. ‘But Mrs Grundy’s right. I’ve nothing to lose. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll find my father.’

  Over the next few days, Hannah made her plans carefully. She was determined not to be caught this time. There was only one person she confided in. Daniel. Though he was still offhand with her, she still counted him as her closest friend in the house now. How she wished Nell was still here. She would have helped her, advised her. But Nell was gone and no one would tell her where or why.

  ‘You’ll only be caught and brought back like last time,’ Daniel muttered morosely. ‘And don’t expect me to be passing up food to you in the punishment room like Luke did.’

  ‘I’m not going to get caught. Not this time. I’ve got help.’ She
bit her lip, not knowing if she could trust him enough to confide in him that much. He was still very bitter. But he guessed anyway. He stared at her for a moment and then gave a little nod. ‘Oh aye, the Grundys, I suppose.’

  Hannah caught hold of his arm. ‘Don’t tell a soul. Please, Daniel.’

  ‘All right,’ he agreed grudgingly, and she had the awful feeling that if he’d dared, he would dearly like to give her away.

  ‘Why don’t you come with me?’ she said rashly. ‘Get away from this place? Surely, you don’t want to stay here now? Not after what’s happened?’

  He glared at her. ‘’Course I’m staying here. I can’t leave Luke here all on his own, can I? I can never leave here. Not now. But you go. Oh yes, you go and forget all about us.’ He jerked himself out of her grasp, turned and hurried away.

  ‘Oh, Daniel,’ Hannah whispered, tears in her eyes.

  Hannah couldn’t follow the same escape pattern as on the previous occasion. Security at the house was much tighter since that time, but she planned to leave late one Thursday evening and go to the Grundys’ farm. Then early on the Friday morning, before she was missed, Ollie would take her to Buxton. So, when everyone else was in bed, Hannah took a blanket from the bed that had been Nell’s and bundled it beneath her own to look as if she was sleeping there, nestled down beneath the covers for warmth. Then picking up the bundle of her few belongings, she slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  Ethel Bramwell was busy in front of the range, her face red from the heat. For a brief moment, Hannah hesitated, wishing she could say goodbye. Ethel and her husband had been as kind to her – and the others – as their position allowed. She was surprised to realize just how fond she’d become of them both.

  Ethel straightened up from bending over the fire and was about to turn around as Hannah slipped unnoticed out of the back door. She hurried along the path and down the steep slope, past the gate into the mill. Even from here she could hear the rhythmic clatter of the machinery as it worked through the night. From the rumours she’d heard, it seemed Edmund had plans to have the mill running non-stop – twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, even on a Sunday.

  ‘He’s got young master Adam drawing up plans to have us working in relays,’ Hannah had overheard Ernest Scarsfield telling Arthur Bramwell one night over a tankard of ale at the kitchen table. ‘And he’s lengthening the hours we’ve to work. Breaking the law, he is, but what can any of us do about it?’

  Nothing, Hannah thought bitterly. Mr Edmund considers himself above the law, even that of murder.

  ‘Sit down, sit down,’ Lily Grundy greeted her, bustling about the warm kitchen.

  ‘I ought to hide,’ Hannah said anxiously, standing just inside the doorway, still holding her bundle. ‘If they come after me—’

  ‘Look, love, sit down. I’ve something to tell you.’ Mrs Grundy was avoiding looking directly at her, and Hannah felt a moment’s panic. Then she calmed herself. If the worst came to the worst, she could always go back now, before she was missed. No one would be any the wiser.

  ‘My Ollie had a bit of an accident. Hurt his leg, silly man – stabbed himself in the foot with a pitchfork.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Is it bad?’

  ‘He’ll be all right, but he’ll be laid up for a day or two.’

  ‘Tell him not to worry. I’ll go back now – this minute. We’ll wait till he’s better.’

  ‘No, no, our Ted’s going to take you. He’ll be here early in the morning. And in the meantime, we’ll hide you here. In the hayloft, if necessary. They can’t come searching our place. Oh, they can come and ask, but that’s as far as they’ll get.’ She sniffed. ‘They’ll get short shrift from me if they try searching my place without so much as a by-your-leave.’

  She was so adamant, so sure, that Hannah believed her.

  ‘Now,’ Lily said briskly, as if it was all settled. ‘Sit down and eat your supper. I’ll just take a plate up to his lordship and then you and me can sit down and have ours together. That’ll be nice, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hannah said meekly, and sat down.

  As they finished their meal, they heard the dog begin to bark. Hannah leaped to her feet. ‘It’s them. I know it is. They’ve come after me.’

  ‘Quick. I’ll let you out the front door. They’ll likely come to the back. I’ll ask ’em in and you nip round to the barn and up the ladder into the loft. I’ll hide this,’ Lily said, snatching up Hannah’s bundle of belongings from the floor and moving with surprising agility. ‘Look sharp, now.’

  Hannah ran. Out of the door on the opposite side of the house and around the corner. Here she paused, listening to the voices as Mrs Grundy opened her back door and ushered the visitors into her kitchen. Then Hannah ran softly across the yard to the barn. Inside it was gloomy, but she could just see the ladder up to the hayloft. Gathering up her long skirt, she climbed up. Her knees were shaking, not from the climb up the rickety ladder, but the fear of being caught by the ankles and dragged down again. She reached the top and scrambled across the hay-strewn floor to the furthest, darkest corner, where she huddled into a ball, her heart beating so loudly, she was sure that if they came into the barn below they would hear it.

  Minutes passed and she heard voices. Voices that came nearer and nearer.

  ‘She’s not here, I tell you. What would she come here for, I might ask?’

  ‘You helped her before. And you’ve helped others an’ all.’ Hannah recognized Arthur Bramwell’s voice. ‘Don’t think we don’t know, Lily. It’s only ’cos we’ve kept it from the master that he hasn’t stopped you supplying us.’

  ‘Huh!’ was Lily’s scathing reply.

  ‘Look, love,’ Ernest Scarsfield’s tone was placating. ‘We’re mates, me ’n’ Arthur here and your Ollie.’

  ‘Aye, drinking mates,’ Lily put in, but there was amusement rather than resentment in her tone.

  Hannah heard the two men chuckle. ‘Aye well, mebbe so, mebbe so, but we wouldn’t want to do anything to harm your living. You know that, so if you know anything about the girl, tell us.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘If you see her, you’ll let us know?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ernest. I know you mean well, and I ’preciate it, but, no, I won’t come telling tales to the mill about her or anyone else from that place. You know full well what happened to me niece and I’ve no time for the Critchlows, not one of ’em. So there you have it.’

  ‘Well, you’re straight, Lily Grundy, I’ll give you that. But it’d be the best for the girl herself. Where’s she going to go? Back to the workhouse, eh? She’ll not get a welcome there, I can tell you. The Critchlows and Goodbody have got a nice little scheme still going that they’re not about to let go of. She’ll be sent right back here to spend a week in the punishment room. And God knows what else Mr Edmund might think up to punish her.’

  ‘He’s evil, that one,’ Lily spoke up. ‘The old man was bad enough, letting accidents happen and young lasses get killed, but he was a saint compared to that son of his.’

  To this, the two men made no reply.

  Hannah held her breath as she heard a scuffling in the barn below and then, when they spoke again, their voices were further away and she began to breathe more easily. Several minutes passed before she heard Lily below calling up. ‘Come on down, Hannah. Coast’s clear. They’ve gone.’

  Hannah peered down from the hayloft. ‘They might come back.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Lily chuckled. ‘I reckon they know very well you’re here. Maybe, deep down, they sympathize with you, love. Come on down, they’re not coming back. I’m sure of it.’

  Reluctantly, Hannah climbed down and, as she reached the bottom of the ladder, Lily put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. ‘Now come on, you snuggle down in the bed in the spare room and I’ll bring you up a nice mug of cocoa.’

  Impulsively, Hannah hugged her. ‘Oh, Mrs Grundy, you spoil me.’

  Embarrasse
d, Lily patted her shoulder. ‘Aye well, mebbe so. But it’s nice to have someone to spoil and I reckon you deserve it, love.’

  Hannah couldn’t remember when she’d last slept in such a comfortable bed nor been cosseted and pampered by anyone. Her memories of life with her mother and grandmother when they’d lived in their own home were dim and fleeting. It was as if all the traumas of the past three and a half years had blotted out some of her happy memories – more, if she counted her time in the workhouse too. But she fell asleep in the soft feather bed dreaming of soft hands and gentle voices and the shadowy unknown figure of a man – her father.

  Twenty-Three

  The Grundys’ nephew, Ted, arrived the following morning as the first fingers of light crept over the top of the hills. He was fair-haired, small and wiry, with a grin that seemed to stretch across the whole of his face. He reminded Hannah poignantly of Luke.

  ‘Hello there,’ he greeted her, and held out his hand to help her onto the seat on the front of the cart. ‘Aren’t I the lucky one? It’s not every day I get to drive a pretty girl into the countryside.’

  Lily Grundy bustled up. ‘Now then, Ted, none of your flirting with this one. She’s special, she is.’

  Ted’s grin widened even further if that were possible. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘And just mind you get her well away from here before anyone from the mill is likely to be about. I don’t want her running into Roper – not this time.’

  The young man’s face sobered and his tone became serious. ‘I know, Auntie. I’ve put a pile of sacks in the back. If the worst happens, she can hide under them.’

  Lily smiled and patted his shoulder. ‘Good lad. I’ve packed some food up for you both and mind you let her take some with her when you drop her off in Buxton, Ted. We don’t know if she’s going to get anywhere to sleep tonight. And I want you to have this, Hannah.’ Lily unfolded a thick, warm shawl and tucked it around Hannah’s shoulders.