A Woman Undefeated (26 page)

Was it a dream or could she hear a man shouting and was that the thudding of fists on the front door that she could hear? She sat bolt upright, glad of the closed curtains she had pulled across the window before sleeping, adrenalin coursing through her body, as sleep fled in an instant when she heard the noise!

“We know yer in there, Missis. It’s the Po-leece. Open up I say, or we’ll begin to break your door down.”

Holy Mother and all the Saints! Maggie got off the mattress as fast as her ungainly body would let her, trembling from head to foot as she did so. How she managed to get her shaking fingers to turn the key in the lock, she never knew.

It was Ernie Higgins, the local man from the constabulary, all puffed up with importance, with Farmer Briggs at his side. Higgins was sweating profusely from his harassed exertion and the farmer was staring at her, indignantly.

Maggie looked at them both in total bewilderment. What were they doing there and was that Ruthie and all her kids at the top of the path, looking over balefully? And what time was it? She had gone to bed with the sun still peeping through the tree tops and now the moon was glinting from a starry sky!

Ernie Higgins could have been a prize fighter himself, with his squashed in nose and brutish face which looked to be older than his forty five years. He was the last of generations of “burley men”, whose job had been to look after the hedges and common land of the area. He had been promoted in 1840 to look after the good men and women of his village and he took his work very seriously, seeing that he had been chosen by a jury of local
businessmen and shopkeepers. Chosen for his height, powerful muscles and his towering frame, he was head and shoulders above ordinary men.

“Is Jack hurt? Is that what you’ve come to tell me, Farmer?” she asked, still trembling slightly at her recent shock, but determined to be in control and face up to whatever was going to present itself.

“Or is it that he’s dead?” she asked further, seeing that Briggs was hesitant and waiting for Higgins to speak.

“We haven’t come about yer blessed husband,” replied the policeman. “Though we should be throwing him into prison for all the trouble that he’s caused today. No, it’s this one’s man we’ve come about......”

He jerked his thumb in the direction of Ruthie, who, for once, was looking very nervous. Not daring to come down the path to Lilac Cottage, in case she herself was whisked away.

“I’ve got Tibbs in the lock up in the village. When yer see that husband of yours, ‘cos I can see from lookin’ that the rumour is correct and he’s been taken somewhere else, tell him, if he wants to press charges on Tibbs, he’s to present himself to me by Tuesday morning. The magistrates sit once a quarter at the Mostyn Arms Hotel and until then Tibbs will reside in Park Street. Not a pleasant place for any person to have to stay in, being damp and smelly, but I’m sure he’s been up to things in the past that I’ve been unaware of, so a few days incarceration will make up for the times he’s got away.”

“But what’s he done? Why have yer put him in prison?” Maggie asked in bewilderment, looking beyond to where Ruthie stood crying and the children were starting to howl.

“He was caught red handed by a fellow policeman. We had to bring in twenty other men from the Chester police force, to cope with the numbers that turned up to watch the quarry fight. There must have been three hundred and fifty workmen, from the railway, the colliery and the quarry, including all the followers that came with McKeown from Liverpool and, of course, all the local
support for Jack. It seems that there was a lot of money in the purse and Tibbs was caught running away up Neston High Street, as if the devil was at his tail.

My man challenged him. Well, what was a lone fella doing, running up the High Street, when every man was at the quarry watching your Jack? It appears Tibbs was going to hide it. It was his responsibility and he was going to keep the money safe. But your father-in-law tells a different story. Solly has been hanging around, since Jack’s father has taken over the promoting and overseeing of everything, including the handling of the money. It was Jack’s father who said to hold on to him, since Jack was being carried away on a handcart, the last I saw of him. Though he won the match fair and square. Reg’ McKeown wasn’t up to much, by all accounts.”

“And what are you here fer, Farmer Briggs?” she asked, relieved to hear that Jack was being taken care of and it seemed that Solly was only getting his just desserts.

“Constable Higgins came first to the farmhouse to tell me what had happened, seeing that Jack and Solly are both my employees. Well Jack was, so I decided to accompany him. But what I would like to know is, what you are doin’ with a lock on my cottage door?”

She was saved from having to answer him, as Ruthie came shambling up to the doorway, pushing her way through, crying and pleading with whoever would listen that Solly would never steal money away from Jack and that it was all going to turn out to be a terrible mistake.

“He said to me that he was the holder of the purse and that ‘is job was one of great importance,” she cried. “Please Sir, let him go, or we’ll all be in the Workhouse. He needs his job and our little cottage. Solly ain’t a bad man to me and the kids at all.”

If it wasn’t all so serious, Maggie would have been in danger of collapsing into hysterical laughter. Ernie Higgins was standing there, so full of carrying out rightful justice. Briggs was puffed up pompously, vexed that two thirds of his workforce, if you didn’t
count Billy, were causing him untold displeasure by their actions of that night and Ruthie, her big strong neighbour, zealously declaring how good her runt of her husband was. It was all too much, she had to end it, or she would run the risk of being carried off to the asylum.

Maggie drew herself up and squared her shoulders.

“Gentlemen,” she said, “could I just remind yer of the condition that I am in. I’ve heard enough from both of you and I think the best thing would be to wait until cock crow. I will have gathered me possessions together, Farmer, and will have quit yer cottage. I believe I will be stayin’ at Seagull Cottage on the promenade, until such time as our removal to Liverpool. So, Constable Higgins, yer can see me husband down there. Ruthie, I will see yer in the mornin’ too. So good night to all of you.”

With that, she shut the door firmly on all of the astonished faces and resolutely turned the key, to sit down on the sofa trembling. Whether it was from the cold night air, or from all the agitation she wasn’t sure, but probably it was from relief that Jack hadn’t been fatally injured, as she had feared at first he might of been.

It was Seamus who arrived the next morning with the handcart. There was no sign of Jack and, in answer to her surprised questioning of his whereabouts, Seamus mumbled that his brother was resting back home.

The day promised to be a warm one, but Maggie needed to wear her cloak to cover up the money belt. She had found it where Jack had tucked it, under the mattress on his side of their bed.

With Seamus gone, and after taking the few possessions she didn’t need to her neighbour, Maggie wandered around the cottage to reminisce. Going back to the time when she had come as a reluctant bride to the place.

But Lilac Cottage had become her harbour and her shelter. Here she could close the door and turn the key, and the beauty of her view from the garden could be compared with no other. She wandered into the orchard, where fruit from the trees and
vegetable patch had kept them adequately fed. She began to think of the future then, with a sense of unease. Wouldn’t life be perfect if she could have been allowed to stay on here without him!

She decided to take a different route to the promenade, without incurring the pleading look in Ruthie’s eyes and the tearful faces of her children, which she would if she were to pass Thistledown Cottage on her way. There was nothing she could do to help the release of Solly and, if truth was told, it served him right. It would be the kind of thing that Solly would do, if he thought he could get away with it. He was a shifty character, creepy and slimy, and she felt sorry for his family. She hoped that the few possessions that she had sent down to Ruthie might bring in a little silver to tide them over if Briggs evicted them and put another family in.

Such a scene met her eyes as she came around the corner of the promenade. Outside Seagull Cottage was a grand looking carriage, with two snorting greys tossing their heads in the air. A small group of people had gathered, not because they had never seen horses and a carriage before, but probably because they were curious about who the Irish woman had got inside.

On the outside of the shiny vehicle was a coat of arms, which suggested that the visitor must be nearly royal. Maggie’s heart gave a leap of alarm. It must be the patron that Jack had spoken of, a man called Lord Charlie Belsham. He’d be sitting in the best room discussing his protege’s future, and she wasn’t even there to get a look in. She could imagine Alice in there fussing, plying his lordship with homemade cake and coffee served in fancy cups. She’d be made to stay in the background, while her future would be decided yet again.

Maggie pushed her way through the throng into the hallway, and found herself being propelled into the kitchen by Alice, demanding to know what had taken her so long?

“The lad’s been here for ages,” she said snappily. “He said yer were only minutes behind! His Lordship is, at this moment, deep in negotiations with Jack and his Dad. Did yer know that my son
won the contest in only nineteen rounds? No, yer didn’t. Well, yer would have done if yer had come down like yer were meant to yesterday. Didn’t Jack tell yer to come down and sit with me? We could have done some knitting and kept each other company while we waited fer the outcome.”

Alice was so agog with all the excitement, that she didn’t wait for Maggie to reply and eagerly carried on.

“Did yer see his carriage and those beautiful, well-trained horses? Wait until yer meet his Lordship. Talk about handsome, he’s like a god. And the clothes he’s wearing. Straight from the best tailor in London, I’d say, and perfect teeth. White and gleaming, like pearls from an oyster. His manners are faultless. Should have heard the way he spoke to me when I asked him if he would like a cup of coffee or tea.”

“And what did yer serve him with?” Maggie asked, trying to keep up with her animated flow, but Alice didn’t answer, as she listened to the muted sounds of conversation coming through the parlour wall.

“I think he’s for the off now, Maggie,” she decided as she heard a chair being pushed back and a man’s voice coming near.“You’ll have to be presented to him. He knows Jack’s a married man. Go and stand by the front door and look as if yer just comin’ in.”

Maggie did as she was told. It wouldn’t have done, her starting a row with Alice, not at that moment anyway. She’d find the time later, if what had been discussed was not to her liking. For now, she would be gentle and biddable. The kind of wife that a pugilist could be proud of, whatever that was supposed to be.

“Lord Belsham. May I present my daughter-in-law, Mrs Margaret Haines,” Alice said, picking up her aitches and making a great sweeping movement with her arm.

“She was away on a little business, on the occasion that you had chosen to call, but providentially she is with us now for an introduction........Mrs Margaret Haines.”

Maggie had to stifle a giggle that rose up in her throat at Alice’s lengthy presentation. It was as if they were in the sumptuous
surroundings of a palatial drawing room, not in the narrow hall way of a seaside boarding house.

Lord Belsham must have sensed the levity in the situation, as he bowed to Maggie most formally, then winked with a twinkle in his other eye, as he straightened himself up.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” he said briefly. Then turning to thank Alice for her hospitality, took his leave. He whistled up his coachman when he got outside, as the man had seized the chance, in his master’s absence, to buy his Missis a pot of shrimps from the seafood shop that had recently opened, further along the road.

Lord Belsham was everything that Alice had said about him, Maggie thought distractedly, as she prepared to follow her mother-in-law. Charming, handsome, lovely teeth and a well fitting suit, but a man the same as any other.

Jack was lying on what his mother called the “chase lounge”, still in his knee length breeches from the night before, with a blanket thrown around his shoulders. His left eye was closed, his cheeks and jaw were a mass of darkening bruises. His knuckles were scraped and raw from the constant pounding that he had given McKeown and his calves had gone numb from the sneaky kicking that his opponent had inflicted when the referee’s head was turned away. McKeown would have won hands down, if he had been allowed to fight in the way that he had earned his reputation. But last night had been different. Each man knew that in the audience sat a philanthropist Lord and his agent, Richard Mannion. The rules had to be adhered to. No punching below the waist, no blows to be administered if the opponent fell to the floor. Wrestling was allowed and vicious, brutal beatings, but not biting or kicking. That was frowned on. So, McKeown lost the match in the nineteenth round, when a skillful body blow from Jack had him clutching convulsively at his heart.

Down he went, with his supporters groaning in concern all around him. He didn’t get up, just lay there, while his second flapped a wet rag over his face and upper body, in a futile attempt to try and revive him. The crowd went mad. An almighty roar
shook the sides of the quarry and Jack was carried shoulder high. Until his father insisted he was helped to get his son home and in a safe condition. Each man who had placed a bet on Jack wanted to come and shake his hand or clap him on the shoulder, but Mannion, the agent, took charge and had his fighter whisked away.

Jack looked up from his makeshift bed when Maggie entered. He smiled at her ruefully, but no wife was going to prevent him from enjoying his acclaim.

“So here I am, Maggie,” he said, speaking with difficulty through his cracked and swollen lips.