Farewell to Lancashire
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ANNA JACOBS
Farewell to Lancashire
First published in Great Britain in 2009 by Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK company
First published in paperback in 2010
Copyright © Anna Jacobs 2009
The right of Anna Jacobs to be identified as the Author
of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form
or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher,
nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other
than that in which it is published and without a similar condition
being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance
to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title
is available from the British Library
Epub ISBN 978-1-444-71158-5
Book ISBN 978-0-340-95406-8
Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
338 Euston Road
London
NW1 3BH
Contents
In loving memory of my mother, Lucy Sheridan,
who passed away in 2008. I hope she and Dad are
dancing together ‘up there’ now that they’re
together again.
And with thanks to my wonderful sister, Carol,
who cared for my mum devotedly when I couldn’t.
With love to you both
Anna
1861 – Outham, Lancashire
O
n a cool Saturday afternoon in May, Edwin Blake lowered his newspaper and let it rest on his lap. He stared into space for a minute or two then looked across the room, his expression softening involuntarily at the sight of his four daughters. Eh, he was a lucky man to have been gifted with children such as these. No, not children now. His girls were all women grown and he didn’t know whether to be sad or glad that none of them had married, that they still lived with him.
‘Are you all right, Dad?’ Cassandra asked.
He might have known she’d notice he was worried. As the eldest, she tried to look after them all, had done since she was fourteen and her mother died.
‘I’ve been reading about this war in America.’
‘It’s good, isn’t it, that they’re trying to free the slaves?’
He nodded. ‘Of course it is, only ... if the North and South are busy fighting one another, what’s going to happen about the cotton? Without slaves, who’ll plant and harvest it?’
‘They’ll have to pay people to do it.’
‘Where will they find the money for that? Wars cost a lot of money, my lass. Look at what happened in the Crimea only a few years ago.’
There was silence, then he shared his worst fears. ‘And even if they do still produce cotton, how will they get it across the sea to us here in Lancashire? When there’s a war, they set up blockades, then ships can’t get through.’
‘We’ve been on short time before,’ Xanthe said. ‘We always manage.’
‘Short time is one thing. I’ve been trying to puzzle it out and to my mind, no cotton reaching Lancashire would mean no work at all.’
There was silence and he could see them thinking about what he’d said. Well, he’d always encouraged his lasses to think for themselves. Just because they were ordinary working folk didn’t mean they had to act like sheep and let other people shape their opinions.
‘Surely the war won’t last more than a few months?’ soft-hearted Maia asked. ‘It’s brother fighting brother. I can’t bear to think of that. Imagine if one of my sisters suddenly became an enemy.’ Her eyes filled with tears at the mere thought.
‘Brother’s been fighting brother since the world began,’ Edwin said. ‘Look at Cain and Abel in the Bible. And your uncle Joseph hasn’t spoken to me for over twenty years, didn’t even come to your mother’s funeral. He walks past me in the street now as if we’re strangers, as if we didn’t share a bed and play together when we were children. He said it was because I’d become a Methodist, but that seems a poor reason to me.’
‘I think it’s because of his wife,’ Cassandra said with a sigh. ‘She looks at us as if she hates us. I used to be frightened to walk past her in the street when I was little.’
‘I don’t like the woman either, but she’d never
harm
you.’
‘She looks as if she wants to.’
‘She and Joseph never had children, that’s why she resents you so much, I’m sure.’
‘Well, that’s not our fault, is it?’
He didn’t say anything. It was an old pain, his brother shunning him. Every now and then he had to speak about it, purge the bitterness a little. His sister-in-law was a mean-spirited woman, who had never lifted a finger to help them while his wife was ill. He’d tried to forgive her, because that was what they were taught at chapel, but he wanted nothing to do with her. He wasn’t usually fanciful, but something about her was – evil. It was the only word he could think of to describe her.
‘You don’t need anyone else when you’ve got us.’ Pandora leaned forward to lay one hand on his gnarled fingers.
He looked down at her smooth young skin. His hand was worn by life and hard work, his knuckles painful and stiff in the mornings, thickened with age. At twenty-two she had hands that were soft and pretty, even though they were reddened from work. ‘I shouldn’t still have you, though, not living with me, any road. You ought to be wed by now, all of you, with homes and families of your own.’
She got up abruptly and went to stir the stew, not turning round till she had herself under control. Edwin was annoyed with himself for causing Pandora pain with his thoughtless words. She was the only one of his four who’d found herself a fellow, a decent, lively lad. She’d have been wed now if poor Bill hadn’t died suddenly of pneumonia last year.
But whether the subject was painful or not, he couldn’t help finishing what he had to say as his eyes settled on his eldest daughter. ‘You’re twenty-eight now, Cassandra. Don’t leave it too late to find a fellow, my dear girl. To grow old without children would be very sad. You four are the joy of my life.’
‘How can I marry? I could never find a man half as clever as you,’ she said lightly.
He frowned as he looked at her. ‘Is that what you think of first in a husband? Being clever?’
She nodded. ‘That and being kind, like you. I couldn’t live with a stupid or boring man. I tried once when Tom Dorring wanted to court me, because he was so kind. But it was no good. He talked of nothing but work and the neighbours.’
Edwin managed a smile, but it was yet another thing to worry him. His girls were all clever, but Cassandra had the quickest mind of them all. It was the one thing that had made him wish he was rich, to give them better chances to use their brains. He’d made sure they got as much schooling as he could afford, so that after they started work they could read well enough to continue their education on their own, as he had.
The whole family now borrowed books regularly from the public library to feed their minds. Eh, that library was a wonderful thing! He wished it’d been there when he was younger. It had opened in 1852, but the law said the ratepayers had to be polled and two-thirds had to be in favour before the money could be spent. It had been a near thing whether Outham would have one, but they’d got enough votes, thank goodness.
But perhaps, being girls, his lasses should have hidden their cleverness, just a little. Most men didn’t want their womenfolk to be quicker thinkers than they were.
No, Cassandra was right to hold out for a man whose mind could match hers. He didn’t want his girls chained to dull men, who hadn’t a thought in their heads beyond where the next meal was coming from and whether their jobs were safe.
‘The food’s ready. Shall we eat now?’ Pandora asked.
Edwin led the way to the table but after a few mouthfuls put down his knife and fork, bringing up the other subject which was weighing on his mind. ‘I must stop taking Greek lessons.’
‘But you love learning Greek!’ Cassandra protested.
‘I can puzzle on by myself for a while.’
‘Why stop?’
‘Because of this war. I think we should all start watching our pennies carefully, making every farthing do the work of two and saving as much as we can. Hard times are coming, harder than we’ve ever known.’
There. He’d said all that was on his mind now. He broke off a piece of bread, picked up his spoon and began to eat his stew slowly.
The girls were quiet after that, thinking over what he’d said, and he didn’t try to force conversation. If bad times were coming, best they all faced that fact, thought about it, planned for it.
I
n early November Cassandra lost her job when the small mill where she worked closed down. She’d missed a few years’ work while the other girls were young, running the house and caring for them all after her mother died, so was one of the first at her mill to be turned off. Her sisters had been working half-time for a while and their father was the only one in full-time work now.
To be without work at all made her feel deeply ashamed. ‘I’ll take over the housework and shopping, and you can be sure I’ll make every penny count,’ she told her sisters. ‘It’s no use me looking for other work. There’s none to be had in the whole town.’
The following morning she kept a smile on her face as she saw everyone off, but when she was alone she couldn’t hold back the tears, allowing herself a few moments’ weakness. Then she wiped her eyes and decided to clean the house from top to bottom. She had some warm water left from breakfast but wouldn’t waste coal on heating more. Water was free, so you could stay clean even if you couldn’t afford to heat it.
