by Polly Heron
Oh, if only she could have talked Mrs Rostron round, how much better his life would be. He wouldn’t have to walk home from school in Stretford any more, wouldn’t have to worry whether Shirl would be there as he turned each corner. The worst thing was when Shirl came upon him from behind, throwing his arm round Jacob’s shoulders and falling in step – no, Shirl didn’t fall in step; he carried Jacob along with him, his longer stride forcing a faster pace and causing Jacob to stumble as he made the adjustment. In his head, he didn’t adjust. In his head, he wrenched free and spun away; in his head, he faced Shirl, stood up to him, told him to sod off; but that was only in his head. His body went along with it and he felt feeble. Cowardly. Terrified. Jemima.
Recruiting Daniel Cropper hadn’t got him off the hook.
‘But you said, if I found someone for you, I’d be able to pack it in.’ It had taken all Jacob’s resolve to force the words out. His insides were shaking. Any moment now, his outside would be shaking an’ all.
‘Nah, I never said nowt of the kind.’
‘You did…’ It had been a whisper; barely even that, more of a dying breath.
Shirl had laughed in that matey way he had. ‘I said we might let you bugger off and leave us, but only might, nothing definite. And I only said it to make you find me another lad.’
It had been all Jacob could do to hold in the tears that wanted to burst forth. If he let even one tear slip through, next news he would be howling like a babby, he knew it. He couldn’t let that happen. No matter how scared he was, no matter that his thin body ached with dread, like having toothache all over, he had to put on a front, had to look like he didn’t care. That was important. Thad used to kick the shit out of weedy lads who showed their fear.
‘Fair enough,’ he had managed to say. Pretending to see Shirl’s side. Pretending to agree. Coward. Jelly-belly.
‘Good for you, pipsqueak. I like a fellow who can take it on the chin. And to show you that you’re still one of us, here’s a little job you can do for me.’
And Shirl had slipped a packet into his sweaty hand. Automatically he had transferred it to his pocket and had gone on his way, dimly aware of the rest of the world, but separated from it by the roar of fear in his ears.
There had been a couple of jobs since then. More or less than there would have been, had Cropper not also been making deliveries? There was no knowing.
Bloody Miss Watson. She should have tried harder.
Bloody Thad. If he hadn’t been such an out-and-out rogue, Jacob wouldn’t be in this mess now.
Oh aye, and wouldn’t you rotten well know it? Here was Shirl, unpeeling himself from the brick wall he had been leaning against. Any moment now, he would grab Jacob round the shoulders in that one-armed hug that might look jolly and brotherly from a distance, but was downright brutal when you were on the receiving end. He made an effort to dodge away, but since he also had to try to look like he wasn’t dodging away, he couldn’t move far and, lo and behold, Shirl’s arm slung itself round his shoulders and clamped itself into position.
‘Afternoon, Jemima. Good day at school? Why do you even bother going? Me, I haven’t set foot in school since I were ten.’
Was that true? Or just a way of sounding tough? Even Thad had attended school. Well, on and off.
‘Still, if you’re at school, you must be having lessons, right? It’s time to show how clever you are, time to use some of that eddycation.’
Jacob tried and failed to throw off Shirl’s arm. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘I gotta job for you, pipsqueak. And it’s the same as your old job, taking a little packet for me, but it’s different to your old job, cos you have to take it to a different place.’
‘Oh aye?’
‘Aye. Weren’t you going to tell me?’
Was it his imagination or did Shirl’s arm tighten? ‘Tell you what?’
Hell’s bells, it wasn’t imagination. Like lightning, Shirl’s arm moved from his shoulders to his neck. Squeeze, squeeze, can’t breathe.
‘About the orphanage bloke what saw you on Chorlton Green when you was working for me, of course.’
‘Oh, that.’ Squeeze, squeeze. Jacob blinked at top speed to stop his eyeballs popping out. ‘I…I…’ He tugged at Shirl’s arm. ‘Let me… I can’t talk if you…’ Squeeze, squeeze, can’t breathe.
Shirl let go so suddenly, it was all Jacob could do not to drop to the flagstones. He doubled over, gasping, chest heaving, legs wobbling. Snot poured from his nostrils. Grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face clean, taking a few secret swipes at his eyes to dash away the tears he mustn’t let Shirl see.
Bloody Thad. This was his fault.
Shoulders square, Shirl dug his hands in his pockets, elbows sticking out. He might be built like a brute, but he was light on his feet. Perfect for swaggering.
‘Well, that tops it all. “Oh, that,” he says. “Oh, that.” Yes, that, you idiot brain. You was seen by a bloke who knows you, a bloke what works at the sodding orphanage. And it didn’t occur to you to tell me? Didn’t occur to you that this might be dangerous, eh? Eh?’
‘He…he didn’t see what was going on, honest.’
‘Didn’t see? Oh well, that’s all right then. Pardon me for making a mountain out of a molehill.’ Shirl swept closer, right up to him. One moment he was three or four feet away, next he was dead in front, toe to toe, practically standing on Jacob’s feet, his face pushed so close his spots could have jumped ship and embedded themselves in Jacob’s flesh. ‘You dummy, you idiot, you Jemima. How d’you know what he saw, eh? Did he tell you? Did he say, “Well then, young Layton, what a fine day it is and I don’t know what you’re doing here where you’re not meant to be, but I’m sure there’s no harm done”? Well? Did he say that? Did he?’
‘I know he never saw owt, because—’
‘Because what?’
‘Because all he saw were me picking up the tanner the man left.’
‘He saw what?’
Jacob pressed damp palms down his trouser legs. ‘That’s all he saw, honest to God. And he made me run after the man and give the money back. If he’d…if he’d seen owt else…’
‘Are you sure that’s all he saw?’
Shirl’s face swam in front of Jacob’s. No matter where Jacob looked, there it was. He nodded. Gulped. Please let this be over. Please let him not get beaten up. It hadn’t been his fault, that time on the Green. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t betrayed Shirl or the gang. Freezing cold water poured into Jacob’s puny chest. His heart stopped. That boy who had been killed by the tram…
‘Honest injun. He saw nowt else, I swear. How d’you know about him, anyroad?’
‘Oh, let me think.’ Shirl swaggered away and back again. ‘Could it be because you had the wit to tell me? No, wait, it weren’t that, cos you’re too stupid, aren’t you? I said, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Jacob breathed.
‘Louder. I can’t hear you.’
‘Yes.’
‘Aye, you’re a dimwit, but fortunately for you, me and the price of coal, Danny Cropper has his head screwed on. He told me. He said he’d been seen by yon caretaker and he hadn’t been able to deliver his packet as a result. Bloody lucky for him he did tell me an’ all, or I’d have broke both his legs. I’d have thought he’d made off with my packet, you see? You do see, don’t you? Only you’re so thick, I never know what you understand and what you don’t. Anyroad, I saw Danny-boy yesterday, just to slip him a little summat to pass on, and he told me something very interesting. Can you guess what it was, Jemima?’
Hell’s bells and burnt toast. Why hadn’t it occurred to him to tell Shirl himself? He had blurted it out to Cropper when there were just the two of them in the washroom, but he should have thought to tell Shirl. Now he looked stupid for saying nowt and…and what if he looked disloyal? Untrustworthy? What if Shirl decided he wasn’t worth the trouble? That boy who had been hit by the tram…
‘He tol
d you Mr Abrams had seen me on the Green.’ How sulky he sounded, but it wasn’t the sulks. It was fear.
‘He did – and d’you know why he did? Because he’s got summat between his ears, that’s why. Unlike you.’ Shirl flicked the side of Jacob’s head, once, twice, a third time. ‘Is there anything in there?’ He blew into Jacob’s ear. ‘Did that come out the other side?’
‘Stop it!’
‘Whoa there! Did you tell me to stop? Did Jemima just dare tell me what to do?’
‘I’m sorry, Shirl. I’m sorry.’
‘Well, I’m not sure about that. If you’re really sorry, you’ll beg pardon on your knees.’
‘Shirl…’ Shame writhed in his gut.
‘Of course, if you’re not sorry, well, who knows what might happen?’
Jacob slumped to one knee. At least it might look from a distance like he was tying his shoe-lace. His knee felt warm where a playtime graze had opened up and started bleeding again. Perhaps dirt would get in the wound and go all the way to his heart and kill him.
‘Both knees, pipsqueak. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly. Didn’t they teach you that at school?’
He shuffled onto both knees. Now he was down here, he wanted to get it over with as fast as he could. ‘Beg pardon, Shirl.’ He made sure to say it out loud. He didn’t want any of that ‘Louder. I can’t hear you’ tripe that Shirl was so fond of.
‘That’s better.’ Shirl hoisted him to his feet so abruptly that he almost fell down again. ‘This caretaker johnny has seen Danny-boy on Chorlton Green and he’s seen you, so that’s the end of Chorlton Green. So – and this is where you have to pay attention and show that you aren’t as thick as horse-shit after all – the new place for delivering – and this place isn’t for Danny-boy; he’s being given somewhere else; this is just for you – is the bench near the cabbies’ hut outside the Lloyds.’
‘The Lloyds?’ squeaked Jacob. ‘I can’t go up that way. It’s too far from the orphanage.’
Shirl shrugged. ‘It’s no further than Chorlton Green, just in a different direction.’ He grinned. Bad breath spewed over Jacob. ‘Here’s your packet. Off you go to the Lloyds, like a good girl. See you next time, Jemima.’
‘How do I look? Will I do?’ In the centre of the sitting room carpet, Lucy twirled on the spot, showing off her evening dress. Goodness, the money Lawrence lavished on those girls! The price of those cream kid shoes alone would have fed the Wilton Close household for a week.
‘You look like an angel,’ said Patience. Typical.
‘If angels go in for sparkly gold thread and gold fringing,’ Prudence remarked.
Patience tutted at her before gazing once more at Lucy. Prudence didn’t miss her soft sigh. Ever the besotted aunt. And it wasn’t just their niece she was besotted with: she was head over heels with the dress too. Prudence didn’t give two hoots about swanky clothes, but Patience was dazzled by the sight. Not that the sight came their way very often.
And Lucy did look delightful, though why girls these days wanted to wear these drop-waisted dresses was beyond Prudence. Loose-fitting clothes might be less restrictive, but give her smartness any day; and if starch and stays were uncomfortable, so be it. It was a question of standards. Standards were everything.
The sound of a motor approaching made her glance up.
Lucy danced to the bay window. ‘Here’s Daddy now.’
‘Come away from there, please,’ said Prudence. ‘We don’t gawp from the window in this house.’
‘She’s excited,’ Mrs Atwood murmured as Lucy hurried to open the front door. ‘She’s spending the evening with her family.’
‘She could spend a great deal more than that with them if she went home,’ Prudence said drily. She didn’t wish to be unkind, but it needed saying. It especially needed saying because Mrs Atwood should keep her nose out of other people’s family business. It was odd, because she didn’t strike Prudence as a nosy parker in other respects, but this wasn’t the first time she had barged in with her two penn’orth to make a remark about families. Prudence didn’t care for it. It felt like an infringement of her privacy.
Squeals came from the hallway as Lucy and Felicity greeted one another. Honestly, what a fuss. Prudence loved Patience dearly, but she had never greeted her with squeals. She turned her face aside. What an old misery she was.
The door was thrown open and Evelyn swanned in, resplendent in her satin-lined velvet cloak which streamed behind her, revealing heavy silk in a rich green underneath. The girls followed her in, arms linked, as if they would never be parted again, with Lawrence bringing up the rear, ushering them all before him.
The room felt stuffed full. The girls perched on the arms of the sofa and Lawrence stood with his back to the fireplace. Mind you, the seats didn’t have to be all occupied for him to do that. It was his favourite position.
‘Where are you going?’ Patience asked.
‘To dinner with the Palmerstons,’ Lawrence said without so much as a flicker – as if he hadn’t persuaded the Palmerstons to send their daughter Thomasina here earlier this year in an effort to infiltrate their pupil-lodger scheme. ‘It’s an important evening, which is why I require the whole family to attend.’
‘What makes it so important?’ Prudence asked, rather thinking she knew the answer.
‘Among others, Alderman and Mrs Edwards will be present. He is retiring from his position at the end of this year.’
‘And you wish others to see you as his replacement.’
Lawrence wouldn’t be drawn. ‘If they should see me in that light, it would be an honour to bow to their judgement.’
‘I’m sure it would.’
‘You all look splendid, I must say,’ said Patience.
‘Have we got a few minutes?’ asked Lucy. ‘Fliss, come and see my room.’
‘Hold your horses,’ said Prudence as the girls jumped up. ‘It isn’t your room to invite others into, Lucy. It is Mrs Atwood’s room, which she is generously allowing you to share for the time being.’
Lucy had the grace to look abashed. Prudence was almost sorry for the reprimand. Almost.
Mrs Atwood laughed. ‘Feel free. I shan’t mind.’ As the girls left the room, she came to her feet. ‘I’ll join Molly in the dining room. She’s squeezing in some typewriting practice before lessons start. I’ll see how she’s coming along. Excuse me.’
It was a graceful exit, Prudence had to give her that, leaving the family members together.
‘Who else will be there this evening?’ Patience asked.
‘Judge Armitage, Mr and Mrs Wardle – speaking of whom,’ said Lawrence, ‘I hope you have obliged me by arranging to support that orphanage in some way.’
‘I now read to the children once a week,’ said Patience.
Lawrence huffed an exaggerated sigh. ‘Is that all?’
‘Our dear friend Miss Kirby accompanies me.’
Lawrence snorted. ‘I don’t mind telling you I’m most disappointed. You’re respectable spinsters of this parish. In your own small way, you can claim to have a certain standing. Couldn’t you do more than read a book and take a friend?’
Normally Prudence would have been hopping mad before he had said even half of this, but not today. Lawrence had played straight into her hands.
‘I have the ideal opportunity for you to…’ she mustn’t say ingratiate, ‘do something for St Anthony’s that will be of far greater use to them than sending a sister with a story-book; something that will be a lasting testament to your legendary social conscience and your desire to undertake good works.’
‘The last time you speechified in this way, Prudence, it was to inform me in front of a room full of newspaper reporters that I had set up a business school I knew nothing about.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, that was a gratifying moment.’
‘What’s this about?’ Lawrence asked sharply. ‘Spit it out.’
‘Really, Lawrence, anyone would think you don’t trust me. You wan
t to impress the Wardles and your other cronies by making a grand gesture to benefit the orphanage. It so happens I have the perfect opportunity for you and you’ll find it’s a great deal more impressive than weekly story-telling.’
Chapter Twenty-One
MOLLY COULD HARDLY believe her ears as Mrs Rostron read the letter to her. Mr Lawrence Hesketh, the husband of the lady Mrs Wardle had brought to St Anthony’s on Molly’s first day, had offered to sponsor the bedroom for a visiting parent or relative.
…Blessed as I am to live in my own home with my wife and two beautiful daughters, I regard it as both a duty and a privilege to extend to the less fortunate the possibility of spending more time with the children of their family. I should be grateful if all bills could be sent to me at the above address and I hope you will permit me to visit St Anthony’s in due course when the room has been made ready for occupancy, so that I may see for myself the accommodation that is going to make such a difference to the lives and hopes of some of the children in your care…
Mrs Rostron laid the letter on her blotter; Molly glimpsed strong, sloping handwriting in black ink.
Mrs Rostron looked at her. ‘Did you approach Mr Hesketh yourself?’
‘No, but he is the brother of the Miss Heskeths who run the business school I attend, and who are also my landladies, so they must have mentioned it to him.’
‘A word of warning, Miss Watson. I am not pleased that you discussed orphanage business outside these four walls. That was inappropriate; indeed, it was downright unprofessional. I appreciate that in this particular instance, no harm was incurred and in fact St Anthony’s and its children will benefit, but that does not make it right. Kindly remember in future that orphanage matters are confidential.’
But no amount of telling off was going to take the wind out of Molly’s sails. Her plan was going to come into being, it really was. Her pulse quickened. She wanted to rush in search of Aaron and share her splendid news. He would be delighted too. Maintaining her composure, she nodded gravely.