Down Weaver's Lane (38 page)

The old resentment against his father surged up again and with it a strong desire to be left alone. ‘Go to bed, Mam. Leave me be.’

She shook her head. ‘No. Something’s upsetting you. I’ve never seen you so low before, son. Is it -’ she hesitated ‘- a woman?’

He nodded, then said in a tight voice, ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to worry. She won’t have me.’

Netta’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘You’ve asked a lass to wed you without telling me? Who is she? Do we know her?’ When he didn’t answer, she asked in a sharper tone, ‘What did you think would happen to the rest of us if you got married?’

‘I’d worked it all out and -’

‘Well, I’m not having it!’

Anger surged up in him. ‘It’s not just your decision, though, is it? And it’s more than time you thought about
me
and what
I
need. I’m not without a man’s natural feelings, you know. I’d like a wife and family of my own. I’ve wanted it for years and well you know it.’

She pressed one hand against her mouth, moaning behind it. ‘It’s
her,
isn’t it? Still her. The whore’s bastard!’

‘Don’t
ever
talk about Emmy that way!’ Jack jerked his hand away and went to stand with one foot on the brass fender. As he stared down into the dying embers of the fire, he said more gently, ‘Emmy’s not at all like her mother. Do you think Parson would have her living in his house if she wasn’t a decent lass? You’ve never even given her a chance.’

Netta’s tone became piercingly shrill. ‘Parson can have who he wants in his house, but that one’s never coming into mine! Never! If you bring her across the doorstep, I’m leaving.’

Meg’s voice interrupted them from the doorway that led to the tiny hall. ‘She’d never leave. She’s bluffing you, Jack, been doing it for years. If you want to get wed, you do it. I’ll welcome your wife with open arms. An’ we’ll manage, too. It’s not just you bringing in the money now. There are my wages coming in as well, and Shad’s, an’ Ginny’s looking for work.’

Netta spat the words across the room.
‘Your
wages, Meg Pearson! You’re a fine one to talk! It’s not just wages but another mouth to feed, a child to care for, that you’ve brought us. You can only work because I look after your Nelly. You’re one of the burdens our Jack carries - an’ so do I.’

Meg gave her a bitter look. ‘I more than earn my keep and Nelly’s, and well you know it. You take most of my wages every week. Don’t think I don’t know about the money you’ve got saved under the floorboard now. I’ve seen you putting coins in there. We all know about your little hiding place, actually, Jack as well.’

Netta folded her arms across her chest. ‘Well, someone has to think of the bad times. What if you came home with another babby in your belly? What’d happen to your wages then?’

‘The only baby I’ve ever had was born to my husband, an’ he’s the only man I’ve ever had as well. If Ben hadn’t died I’d not have come home at all. Do you think your nagging makes for a happy home? And when will you admit we’re not lacking food in our mouths or clothes on our backs?’

‘It doesn’t matter what we’ve got now. Good times don’t last, and I deserve a bit of comfort after the hard life I’ve had.’

Meg made a scornful noise in her throat. ‘You don’t deserve anything, Mam, an’ what’s more, you’ve no
right
to prevent our Jack from marrying the lass he loves.’ She turned to him and asked more gently, ‘It’s Emmy Carter, isn’t it? I’ve seen you looking at her in church. She has a sweet face an’ I don’t blame you for wanting to live with someone who knows how to smile. You call Mam’s bluff, our Jack. Bring your lass home and tell
her
she can like it or lump it.’

‘Don’t let her talk to me like that!’ Netta wailed, clutching his arm.

But for once he was unsympathetic. Meg was right. They would manage somehow if he married. Especially with Mrs Oswald’s money behind them. He had to persuade Emmy to marry him, not for the money but because he didn’t think he could live without her. ‘Go to bed now, Mam. It’s getting late.’ Then he went back to staring into the fire.

Sobbing, Netta stumbled up the stairs.

He thought he was alone until he heard the soft sound of Meg’s felt slippers on the stone-flagged floor. She came to stand beside him and laid one hand on his shoulder, a light butterfly touch. The hand was removed almost immediately. Funny, he thought, Meg doesn’t like to touch anyone now except for her child.

‘It
is
Emmy Carter you care for, isn’t it?’ she repeated.

He nodded.

‘And does she care for you?’

He smiled. ‘Oh, yes. I’m sure she does.’

‘Then don’t let Mam ruin your life, Jack!’

‘How could I bring Emmy home to that?’ He jerked his head towards the back bedroom where his mother slept with Ginny. ‘She’d make our life a misery.’

‘She makes everyone’s life a misery anyway because she has to have someone to cling to. First Dad, then you. An’ yet she can’t even be kind to them when she’s got them.’ Meg sighed and stared bleakly into the dying fire. ‘I’d get out if I could see any way to do it, Jack.’

‘Where would you go?’

‘I don’t know. I’m a good worker, but there’s Nelly. I have to be able to look after her.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Any road, I won’t leave you on your own with Mam—well, not unless she drives me mad with her moaning and nagging. Eh, I’ll be no good for work in the morning if I don’t get some sleep.’ She yawned and padded off towards the front room where she and her child slept.

Jack stood there, losing himself in his thoughts again until the embers sighed and settled still lower, making him realise how late it was. He went up to the bedroom he shared with Shad and Joe. They were asleep, huddled together in the middle of their bed. He got into his own, but it felt cold and lonely.

It was a long time before he got to sleep and Emmy’s face filled his dreams.

 

The following day when everyone was at work, Netta Staley left her granddaughter with a neighbour and went to the Parsonage, knocking on the back door and asking to see Emmy.

Cass called out, ‘It’s Jack’s mother to see you, love. Go and sit in the garden with her for a few minutes. It’s a mild day and you’ve been looking downright peaky since that attack.’

So Emmy went outside, hoping desperately that his mother had come to tell her it was all right for her and Jack to marry. But the expression on Mrs Staley’s face burst that small bubble of hope almost immediately. ‘You’d no need to come. I’ve already refused him,’ she said wearily.

‘I’m here to make sure of that.’ Netta glared at her, arms akimbo. ‘How he can even think of wedding such as you, I don’t know. You look like your mother. I used to see her playing in the street when she was a little lass. All the lads used to look at her even then, she was that pretty. But she was rotten inside! An’ so are you. It’s born into women like you an’ I’m not having a decent lad like my Jack caught in your snares. I’ll kill you myself first. They might hang me, but at least he’d be safe then.’

So virulent was the hatred on her face, so vicious her tone, that Emmy took an involuntary step backwards.

‘Think on!’ Netta said, moving forward to thrust her face close to Emmy’s. ‘My Jack’s not for such as you. An’ that’s all I have to say.’ She turned on her heel and strode out of the garden.

Emmy stood there for a moment or two, shaken by the encounter, then returned to the house, feeling quite wretched. ‘I’ll go and dust Parson’s study,’ she said, her voice breaking on the last word. She fled from the kitchen.

‘What’s that dratted woman been saying to her?’ Cook wondered aloud. But she was making a cake and did not dare let her attention wander.

A few minutes later Gerald Bradley went into his study for a book and found Emmy there, clutching a feather duster and sobbing quietly but despairingly. ‘What’s wrong?’

But she couldn’t answer him, she was weeping so hard.

He guided her towards a chair and she went with him like a limp rag doll, almost collapsing on it. ‘Tell me what’s wrong, child? Has that man come after you again? Surely he wouldn’t dare do anything while you’re in my house?’

She shook her head blindly.

‘Tell me,’ he insisted.

The words came slowly at first, interrupted by sobs, then the story gathered momentum and she unburdened herself to him.

After she’d finished he sat with his head bowed, then sighed and looked across at her. ‘I think you’ve made the right decision, Emmy,’ he said at last. ‘It hurts now, I know, but you’re young still and one day, when you’re living somewhere else - a place where people don’t know about your mother - you’ll find a man who doesn’t have Jack’s problems.’

She stared at him, misery clamping itself around her like a leaden shell. ‘I’ve loved Jack Staley for years, since soon after we came to Northby. I know I couldn’t love anyone else.’

He didn’t smile, though he knew from experience that life had a way of changing black to grey. ‘Well, we won’t argue about that. Why don’t you go up to your room and lie down for a bit, my dear? You look exhausted. I’ll send Cass with a cup of tea, and my wife will no doubt come up to see you when she returns.’

For once Emmy nodded and did as he suggested. Today she could find no solace in hard work because Netta Staley’s words kept echoing in her mind:
I’ll kill you myself first.

When Prudence came in from her shopping, Gerald told her what had happened and she shook her head in dismay. ‘That girl is still grieving for Tibby Oswald, still recovering from the attack, and she shouldn’t have to put up with anything else. If Mrs Staley comes round here again, I’ll give her a piece of my mind.’

Jack called at the Parsonage on his way home from work, unaware of his mother’s disastrous visit. He felt desperate to see Emmy again and make her realise they’d find a way to work out their problems.

She refused point-blank to see him. She wanted to—oh, how desperately she wanted to talk to him, just one more time! But she was too afraid of weakening.

The following day John Garrett came round to say that the lady he had mentioned, a widow in comfortable circumstances, was still looking for a maid and would be happy to give Emmy a trial.

He and the Parson put their heads together and worked out a way to get the girl out of town without anyone knowing that she was leaving or where she had gone.

When they said Emmy must tell no one what they were doing, she shrugged. ‘Who is there to tell?’

‘Don’t you at least want to write a farewell letter to Jack?’ Prudence asked quietly as she was helping Emmy pack her things.

‘There’s nothing more to say. But if you see him, you could - tell him I’ll always think of him fondly.’

Prudence patted her shoulder. ‘All right, dear. I’ll do that. And if you’re ever in trouble, if this job doesn’t work out, you’re to come straight back to us. You’ll be safe in this house, at least.’

But Emmy was determined never to return to Northby

Mr Garrett was to take her across to see Mrs Dalby in his own carriage and, as planned, she crept out of the Parsonage to join him before it was light, after giving Hercules one last cuddle.

Once inside the comfortable vehicle she sat back and closed her eyes, relieved when he didn’t try to start up a conversation. No one saw them go and the coachman, who had been with his master for many years, was sworn to silence.

They drove to Blackburn and left both carriage and driver there, pretending they were going somewhere in the town so the coachman wouldn’t even be able to let slip her destination accidentally. Mr Garrett hired a vehicle from a nearby livery stable to take them on the last part of their journey while Emmy waited outside.

‘You’ve thought of everything,’ she said gratefully. ‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’

‘You don’t need to repay me. I’m happy to help you - and I think Mrs Dalby will be more than happy with your services. She’s a kindly soul, if a bit fussy.’ A little later he asked, ‘What shall I do about your money?’

Emmy stared at him, so tired from lack of sleep that she couldn’t for a moment think what he was talking about. ‘Oh, Mrs Tibby’s money. Could you keep it for me, please? I shan’t need it while I’m with Mrs Dalby.’

‘Very well. If you do need it, you have only to find another bank where it can be paid and ask them to contact me. I’m acquainted with most of the bank owners in this part of Lancashire and can arrange to have the money paid to you quarterly anywhere in the county.’ When she didn’t reply only nodded as if she was not really interested, he left her to her thoughts.

The village of Carbury, where Mrs Dalby lived, lay between Blackburn and Preston. It rained heavily all the way there so that the carriage trundled along slowly and mud splashed up against the windows.

Emmy’s thoughts brought her close to tears several times, but she didn’t want to meet a new mistress with a face swollen by weeping, and anyway, what good would it do? She had to make a new life for herself now and all the tears in the world wouldn’t bring Jack back to her.