Bert and his colleague departed, the Barracloughs stunned into silence until Lacey cut through the shrouds of misery cloaking them. ‘I’m to blame for this,’ she said. Uncomprehending, Joshua, Matt and Edith stared at her.
‘I knew our Jimmy was hanging about with Arty Bincliffe; I told him to put a stop to it. He promised me he would and I wanted to believe him. I even warned Arty off. I threatened I’d get our Matt to sort him out.’
‘Why the bloody hell didn’t you then?’ Matt roared. ‘Why didn’t you say summat afore now?’
Lacey shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. ‘I didn’t want our Jimmy to think we were picking on him, us making out he wasn’t to be trusted. He wants to be thought of as a grown-up, as smart and tough as the rest of ‘em. Trouble is, he’s just a silly young lad trying to be a man. We’ve got to help him.’
‘Trusted! A man!’ Joshua thrashed the air with clenched fists, his cheeks puce. ‘He’s no son o’ mine after what he’s done. Bringin’ shame on our family, us as have had a good name in this valley for generations. He’ll not be back in this house, let me tell you. He can go to prison for all I care.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Jos,’ wailed Edith. ‘Our Jimmy won’t last a crack in gaol. He’s only a bairn. We’ve got to help him. We can’t just pretend it never happened.’
Joshua threw himself into a chair by the fire. ‘Aye, well, you lot can go an’ make fools o’ yourselves but I’m done wi’ him.’
‘We don’t even know if he’s guilty,’ Lacey cried. Even to her ears, the words sounded pathetic.
‘Course we do,’ Matt shouted. ‘Bert Pickles wouldn’t get summat’ like that wrong. An’ if Arty Bincliffe did threaten him, our Jimmy had only to come to me an’ I’d have sorted it.’
‘I thought I already had,’ Lacey said, inwardly cursing her own stupid arrogance for believing she’d frightened off a man as devious as Arty. She grabbed her coat from the hook behind the door. ‘I’m going to the Police Station. If anyone cares to join me, you’re welcome.’
*
In the Police Station Lacey, Matt and Edith listened patiently as the desk sergeant repeated what Bert Pickles had already told them: the only fresh information being that Jimmy hadn’t denied the charges, neither had he implicated the person who had struck Fred Sykes.
‘Can we see him?’ Lacey begged.
The desk sergeant frowned; then unable to resist the pleading green eyes and the pretty face he asked them to follow him. He left them in a small room furnished with a table and three chairs. A short while later a different officer entered, leading Jimmy by the arm. Indicating for Jimmy to sit in one chair and Lacey and Edith the others, the officer leaned against the wall by the door and Matt stood behind Edith’s chair, a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Pale and clearly terrified, Jimmy perched on the chair, his head down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled over and again.
‘Sorry you got caught, or sorry that you’ve shamed this family? Look what it’s done to your mother,’ snarled Matt.
Edith, her face leached of colour and tears brimming her eyes, gazed at her precious younger son. ‘Wa’ you thievin’, Jimmy, or did somebody force you to do it?’ she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.
Jimmy stared at the floor.
‘Answer your mother,’ Lacey snapped, then more kindly added, ‘tell us your side of it, Jimmy.’
‘There’s nowt to tell. We wa’ doin’ a job an’ we got caught.’
‘Was it Arty who forced you to do it?’ Lacey didn’t want to believe Jimmy had carried out a robbery of his own free will. ‘You must tell ‘em if it was.’
‘You don’t split on your mates.’
At that Lacey lost patience. ‘Mates! Mates don’t involve you in robberies, Jimmy. They used you and you were willing to let ‘em because it made you feel like a big man.’
Jimmy flushed and glancing across at the policeman asked, ‘Can I go now?’
Shocked to think he was dismissing them, Lacey jumped up. ‘You can’t leave it like this, you little fool. You’re admitting you’re guilty.’
‘I am.’ Jimmy stood up and walked towards the door. ‘I wa’ doin’ it for you, Lacey.’ He slouched out of the room.
*
In the weaving shed the next morning, Lacey ignored the pointing fingers and the gossiping mouths as news of her brother’s involvement in the robbery flitted from loom to loom. She had been in two minds about whether to stay at home, but knowing she would have to face up to the scandal sooner or later she decided otherwise. What would Nathan – and Jonas – think of her now? And what had Jimmy meant when he’d told her he did it for her sake?
‘Not so high an’ mighty now are you, you jumped up little tart,’ Mary Collier mouthed. ‘The boss’s son’ll not be so fond of you after this mullarky.’
‘Don’t mind her, Lacey,’ Joan mouthed, her plump face wreathed in sympathy. ‘If it wa’ one of hers had done it she’d keep her gob shut. It’s not your fault.’
Lacey didn’t bother to mouth back that she thought it was exactly that. She could have stopped Jimmy going off the rails had she not kept the knowledge to herself. Her head throbbing in tandem with her loom, Lacey puzzled over how she might help Jimmy.
By the time the hooter signalled breakfast time, Lacey felt ill. She didn’t want to go out to the yard but her frazzled nerves and the heat in the shed made her nauseous; she needed fresh air. Yet she dreaded coming into contact with Nathan or Jonas.
Halfway down the yard, on her way to the riverbank, Nathan appeared at Lacey’s side. He usually avoided drawing attention to their relationship but, given the circumstances, Lacey was hardly surprised to see him. He hurried her into a secluded corner behind the spinning shed.
‘Is it true your brother was involved in last night’s robbery?’
Lacey nodded dumbly.
Nathan’s face darkened. ‘That’s terrible. What on earth was he thinking?’
Lacey sighed. ‘Our Jimmy doesn’t think; he’s young an’ feckless. I’m not defending what he did, it was wrong, but I believe he had a reason for doing it.’
‘For the money, I imagine?’ Nathan said, harshly.
‘No,’ Lacey replied, despairingly. ‘There’s more to it than that, but I don’t know what. At first I thought he’d gone along with it to impress his so-called friends; that he thought he was being manly. Now I’m not so sure.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘The last thing he said before we left him at the Police Station was that he’d done it for me.’
Nathan looked askance. ‘For you: whatever did he mean by that?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ cried Lacey. Utterly distraught, she dashed her knuckles against the rough stone of the spinning shed’s wall, wincing at the self-inflicted pain. ‘There must be something we can do; find a solicitor, someone to plead his case. Let the judge know Jimmy’s not a hardened criminal, just a foolish boy, easily led.’ She gazed hopefully into Nathan’s face.
Nathan leaned back against the wall. ‘You’re clutching at straws, Lacey. Your brother was caught red-handed. He’ll more than likely receive a custodial sentence, maybe two or three years in gaol.’
Lacey sagged visibly. She had thought Nathan would support her; tell her what to do to help Jimmy. She clutched at his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Instead of comforting her, Nathan said, ‘It’ll do your reputation harm; mine too.’ He pulled away from her, adding reflectively, ‘just when everything was going so well for you with my family.’
A spurt of anger flared in Lacey’s chest. She looked into Nathan’s eyes, her own flashing dangerously. ‘It’ll not do much for our Jimmy’s either. An’ if it bothers you being involved with somebody whose reputation’s tarnished then I suggest you leave me alone; forget all about me.’
Nathan gazed at her sadly. ‘I don’t think I could do that, Lacey, but your brother’s actions have forced me into this situation. It makes our relationship look ridiculous. Don’t forget, it’s my Mill he robbed.’
This last remark, accompanied as it was by a look of utter revulsion, stabbed Lacey to the core. Did Nathan have to condemn him and be so pompous when all she needed was his love and support?
Nathan walked a few steps away from her. ‘I just hope Mother doesn’t hear of his involvement and connect it to you. I didn’t realise your brother was a thieving, no-good tearaway.’
Lacey jumped to Jimmy’s defence. ‘He isn’t. He’s just a foolish lad who’s been led astray.’
Nathan’s expression was a mixture of disappointment and frustration masked with contempt ‘He’s a thief, Lacey.’
Lacey’s laugh was harsh and bitter. ‘I can’t fathom you, Nathan Brearley. One minute you’re eulogising in defence of the working classes and the next you’re kicking a poor, misguided lad when he’s down. You’re more concerned with your mother’s disapproval than you are for me. I didn’t rob your bloody mill!’ She sagged against the wall, the fight knocked out of her. In a low voice she said, ‘If you truly loved me, you’d understand.’
Exasperated, Nathan said, ‘He robbed our Mill, Lacey.’ He looked away from her, his gaze fixed on the flowing waters of the river. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Lacey looked towards the sound. The sky was darkening, huge rainclouds banked up one on the other. Suddenly, a jagged flash of lightning swiped the sky. The Sword of Damocles, Lacey thought.
When Nathan next spoke the anguish in his voice broke her heart. ‘He ruined our chances: yours and mine. I’ll always love you, but,’ he paused, searching for words, ‘whatever we had has been damaged beyond repair by your brother’s behaviour. My father’s bound to withdraw his approval of us given the circumstances, and I’m not prepared to give up the Mill for the sake of a thief. And I only mentioned Mother because if we were to marry she’d object to having a convict in the family.’
Lacey tossed her head and glared at him. ‘Did it ever occur to you that I might object to marrying into a bunch of self-righteous, unforgiving snobs?’ Too late she added, ‘I think we’d better leave it at that, Nathan, before we both say something we regret.’ She stepped away from him and, shrouded in misery, she ran back to the weaving shed.
12
Up in her bedroom, Lacey set the lamp on the deep windowsill. Its newly trimmed wick burned brightly inside the freshly washed glass chimney; a good light to sew by. She’d promised to have Felicity’s dress ready for collection the following day, Friday.
Lacey had not seen Nathan since the robbery, and although it pained her to look at anything reminding her of him, she dutifully pulled a chair into the pool of lamplight and sat down, Felicity’s dress draped across her lap.
Three times without success, she attempted to thread her needle. Holding it up to the light and cursing under her breath, she tried again. Finally, the length of purple embroidery silk penetrated the needle’s eye and Lacey began to sew, her vision blurred by unshed tears. Would Felicity even wear the dress after all that had happened, she wondered, taking a deep breath and firmly telling herself to keep a clear head and a steady hand.
An hour later she placed the finished garment on a hanger, scrutinising it with a practised eye. Although she felt utterly joyless, she released a deep sigh of satisfaction. The dress looked beautiful. Around the hems of the voile tunic and skirt she had embroidered deep purple and mauve cornflowers; cornflowers signified friendship. But Felicity was no longer her friend. How could she be after what Jimmy had done?
Saddened to think she wouldn’t be at the party to see Felicity wearing the dress, Lacey prepared for bed thinking, I could swing for you, Jimmy Barraclough. If you were here now I’d beat the living daylights out of you. She climbed into bed, but the thought of Jimmy in gaol awaiting trial made sleep impossible.
*
The following evening Lacey stood by the yard gate, her eyes scanning the lane and her heart hoping against hope. Sunlight flashed on metal, Lacey’s spirits soaring then rapidly sinking as she realised the car trundling down the rutted lane was not Nathan’s little Austin but the large, black chauffeur driven car that ferried Jonas Brearley to and from the Mill.
However, she prayed that Nathan was in it, bringing Felicity to collect the dress. Perhaps today they could retract the terrible words they had exchanged on the riverbank and be friends, at least.
The car drew to a halt outside the gate. Cheevers climbed out. ‘Parcel to collect for Miss Brearley.’
Lacey walked dejectedly into the kitchen, returning with the carefully wrapped brown paper parcel. ‘I thought Mr Nathan and Miss Felicity might have called for it,’ she said with forced cheerfulness.
Cheevers took the parcel. ‘Miss Felicity’s busy with arrangements for tomorrow’s party and Mr Nathan’s getting ready to go to Northumberland. He’s leaving the day after.’
Cheevers marched smartly to the car.
‘Wish him a safe journey for me,’ Lacey called after him, her words wasted as Cheevers revved the engine and drove off.
*
Lacey walked to work on Monday morning, her heart heavy with the knowledge that Nathan would not be there so she’d have no chance to make amends. She asked herself did she even want to heal the rift, considering the cruel words they had exchanged behind the spinning shed? Maybe Nathan was going to Northumberland to purposely avoid her? Or was it to further his friendship with Imogen, the coal baron’s daughter?
Lacey had laughed when Nathan described Constance’s clumsy plot to involve him with Imogen, but perhaps now he’d decided to heed his mother’s advice after all and marry a girl of his own class. I’m not laughing now, she mused, and what with losing Nathan and the possibility of Jimmy being sent to gaol, I’ll probably never laugh again.
*
Nathan’s absence left Lacey feeling utterly confused. Time and again, as she tended her looms or walked the moor, she asked herself could she truly love a man whose beliefs were at odds with her own. Had his natural charm and protestations of love lulled her into thinking it was possible for him to ignore the rules that governed the upper classes? Was he too weak willed to relinquish the prejudices that had been drummed into him from birth?
The more Lacey thought about it, the more convinced she became. It was true, Nathan harboured idealistic notions about society and change, but each time he had been faced with an incident emphasising the difference in their backgrounds he had been thrown into turmoil. For all his fine words it seemed he lacked the moral fibre to begin changing a system that, throughout history, had by dint of birth divided people, placing some on pedestals and others in chains. Like her Mam said, there was one law for the rich and one for the poor.
*
‘I’ve given up on Nathan,’ she told Joan one morning as they walked to work a week after Nathan had left for Northumberland. ‘I was fooling myself thinking we could make a go of it. We come from two different worlds and Nathan doesn’t seem capable of accepting mine, even though I’d have tried my bloody hardest to accept his.’
‘I know you would, Lacey, ‘cos I know how much you love him,’ said Joan as they crossed the road to the Mill gates. ‘Mebbe it’ll come right in the end.’
Lacey wasn’t convinced, and although she steeled herself to admit their love affair was over it took every ounce of strength for her not to dwell on all that they had shared. She missed catching a glimpse of him through the office window or walking across the yard, and most of all she missed their trysts down by the river or up on Cuckoo Hill. Gone were the hours of lively conversation and the accompanying hugs and kisses.
A brief thank you note from Felicity did little to lighten her spirits. Even the words ‘complemented the stylish cut and exquisite needlework’ failed to impress, as did the enclosed crisp ten shilling note.
*
On a dismal Friday morning in late July, Lacey, Edith and Matt sat in Huddersfield County Court, numb with dread. Jimmy and his co-accused sat in the dock, Jimmy shrunken and fearful. He fidgeted with his shirt collar, a clean one sent in by Edith, and chewed
on his fingernails. Every now and then he raised his eyes and stared across the courtroom at Lacey. Lacey smiled back whenever their eyes met: a warm, encouraging smile. Outwardly she appeared perfectly calm but inside she felt as though her stomach might turn in on itself.
Formalities dealt with, the magistrate addressed each of the accused in turn asking what they had to say in their defence. Both Tom Jagger and Bill Johnson shook their head mutely. Arty gave the magistrate a malevolent glare and replied ‘Nowt.’
The magistrate addressed Jimmy, Lacey moving to the edge of her seat, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands, her eyes riveted on Jimmy’s ashen face. Edith gave a shuddering sob and Matt bowed his head. Jimmy fixed his gaze on Lacey.
The magistrate repeated the question. Jimmy glanced wildly at his partners in crime. The magistrate gave an exasperated sniff. ‘Speak up, man, we haven’t all day.’
Jimmy swallowed noisily, his Adam’s apple jerking visibly. He looked intently at Lacey.
‘Louder; speak louder.’
Jimmy’s eyes flicked from the magistrate to Arty, then back to Lacey. He essayed a tremulous little grin, took a deep breath and then faced the magistrate directly. When he spoke his voice was clear and shrill.
‘I only did it because he said he’d hurt my sister if I didn’t do what he told me.’ He pointed his finger at Arty. ‘He said he’d rape her if I split on ‘em.’
Lacey’s sharp intake of breath whistled in her throat. Jimmy had been protecting her.
‘You bloody liar.’ Arty’s roar ricocheted round the courtroom.
‘Silence,’ barked the magistrate, ‘address the court in such manner again and I’ll charge you with contempt.’
‘An’ it were Arty what hit Fred Sykes over t’head,’ blurted out Jimmy, ‘Bill tried to stop him.’
The magistrate pursed his lips and stared hard at Jimmy. ‘We only have your word for it that Bincliffe threatened such actions.’
There then followed a series of questions and answers, Jimmy defending his statement, Arty denying it with vitriolic glares.
The Girl from the Mill Page 11