Lovers and Liars (18 page)

John could see everything falling into place. ‘Where was it situated, this timber business?’

‘About four miles away, more in the countryside. The business lies alongside the Leeds and Liverpool canal – it’s easier y’see, for transporting and delivering the timber on the barges.’ Now it was Archie’s turn to be curious. ‘You’re asking a lot o’ questions. What’s all this about?’

John had not wanted to reveal his idea until he had made some more enquiries and could be sure what he was getting into, but now that Archie was asking, he decided to outline his plans for the two of them.

‘You recall I told you how I earned my living by repairing and building wagons, hay-carts and such … not in a big way, mind you, but I know a wheel from an axle and I had sufficient customers to bring in a fair enough wage.’ His voice fell to a whisper. ‘It was more than enough, until Emily and I got serious about the future.’

‘I see.’ Turning the idea over in his mind, Archie swallowed the dregs of his ale. ‘And how do you mean to go about starting such a business?’ he asked. ‘It won’t be easy. And I’m only saying that because I know there are enough well-established firms who supply all the wagons around these parts. What makes you think you can find an opening? And if you do find it, how could you secure enough customers to keep you going?’

John had already thought about that. ‘Back home there were some who said I was the best. Any cart or wagon I made or repaired, outlasted all the ones brought in from the big towns. I took a pride in what I did, Archie. I built and repaired everything the way I’d want it myself … strong and lasting, with the stamp of quality.’

‘Ah yes, but folks don’t want to pay for that.’ Archie had been around long enough to know the score. ‘Build it fast and sell it cheap, never mind quality.’

‘But that’s false economy,’ John argued. ‘There must be sharp-minded folks who’d rather pay a few guineas more for something that will last twice as long. My thinking is this – if there’s nobody building strong, quality wagons, the customers hereabouts might be glad of somebody like myself.’

He looked at Archie, his face determined. ‘I can tell there’s a place for me here,’ he declared. ‘Soonever I’ve introduced you to Harriet, I want you to take me to this yard you were talking about. I’d like to see how the land lies … get my bearings, so to speak.’

Archie’s eyes lit up at the mention of a woman’s name. ‘Who’s this Harriet then?’

‘She’s the landlady at my lodgings.’

‘Bit of all right, is she?’ Archie said eagerly, though whether that was the prospect of meeting Harriet, or the effects of too much ale, John couldn’t tell. ‘And she’s agreed to put me up, has she?’

John confirmed it. ‘You’ll have a camp-bed in my room, and it’ll be for no more than three nights, that’s the deal.’

‘Hmh! That’s not much help, if you don’t mind me saying. When the three nights are up, where am I supposed to go from there?’

Now, when John stood up, Archie followed suit. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ he answered. ‘First, let’s get you settled, then we’ll head off to the timberyard. It won’t be dark for a few hours yet.’

‘And what will you do when we get there?’

John hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said lamely. ‘Mebbe I’ll offer my skills and a deal of money to buy in as a partner.’

Archie laughed at his bare-faced cheek. ‘What if they don’t want a partner?’

‘Then I’ll set up on my own.’

Archie was impressed. ‘You’ve got big ideas, I’ll say that for you.’

Taking him by the elbow, John chided, ‘Seems to me, you’re slightly tipsy.’ He observed how Archie was gently swaying from side to side. ‘I can tell you now, Harriet won’t like that.’

‘Then she’s not my sort o’ woman and that’s a fact!’

‘Mebbe, but I reckon a bite to eat is in order before we see her.’ He led Archie to the door. ‘There’s a little tearoom round the corner,’ he said. ‘We’ll spend a few minutes in there before we make for the lodgings.’

Moaning and complaining, Archie followed him. ‘If your landlady is one o’ them miserable types that doesn’t like a man to be merry, I’m not sure I want to lodge there at all!’

John laughed. ‘I can’t deny she has a forceful side to her, but she’s agreed to let you stay, and that’s good enough for me. So, get a move on, and stop complaining, or I might decide to leave you where I found you.’

The threat didn’t worry Archie, for he knew that was the last thing John would ever contemplate.

An hour later, with Archie more sober and milder of mood, John presented him to Harriet. ‘This is my old shipmate Archie,’ he said. ‘A more amiable man you’ll never meet.’

While Archie took stock of this big, awkward woman with her straight face and large, unattractive hands, Harriet also observed Archie, who nervously glanced away under her scrutiny.

She walked round him a few times, sniffing at him like a dog might sniff at a bone. And when she was done, she stood before him, hands on hips and her eyes boring into his. ‘You stink!’

‘I do not!’ Archie glared back. ‘I’m a particular man and always have been.’

‘Hmh! Not particular enough, from where I stand.’ She took another sniff at him and wrinkled her nose. ‘If you ask me, you’ve been keeping company with the dogs on the street, or women of a certain reputation. Either way you stink to high heaven and I’ll have no argument on the matter.’

When John gave Archie a warning glance, the old man took the hint. ‘All right, so mebbe I do pong a bit. It’s hardly surprising, is it, when I’ve been forced to sleep rough. But you’ve shown a kind heart to a poor old fellow, and I’m ever so grateful for that.’ He congratulated himself on being able to charm the birds from the trees. The trouble was, he hadn’t come across a woman like Harriet before; more was the pity.

‘Three nights!’ she declared. ‘But first, you go into the bathroom and strip off your clothes. You throw the clothes outside the door, and while you’re scrubbing the dirt off yourself, I’ll get the dirt off your clothes. I usually send everything to the laundry, but this is an emergency!’

Archie treated the idea with utter contempt. ‘If you think I’m handing my clothes over to you, you’ve got another think coming, missus! Moreover, if you’re expecting me to climb into a bath, you can keep your lodgings, ’cause I’m not interested.’

Harriet took him at his word. ‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘You can leave the same way you came in. I can’t say it was a pleasure meeting you.’

Smartly turning, she was about to go out of the door when John called her back. ‘He’ll do as you say,’ he promised, and looking at Archie with a warning glare, he instructed, ‘You’ll hand over your clothes and you’ll take a bath, even if I have to scrub your worthless back myself. Isn’t that so, Archie?’

The old chap remained sullen.

John gave him a shove. ‘I said
isn’t that so,
Archie?’

With great reluctance, he nodded.

Harriet tutted and John urged his old mate, ‘So, tell the lady, Archie.’

Snorting with disgust, Archie glared back at John, and in the meekest of voices told Harriet, ‘All right, missus. I’ll do as you say.’ His voice hardened. ‘But I want you to know, I’m not happy about it.’

Harriet allowed herself a wry little smile. ‘I’m not concerned about you being happy,’ she replied. ‘I’m only concerned to be rid of the stink you’ve brought in with you.’

When she was gone from the room, Archie gave John a piece of his mind. ‘If I’d known what a tyrant she was, I’d have thought twice about coming here. Wanting the shirt off my back; demanding I get a bath. What next, that’s what I’d like to know!’

Amused by the confrontation between Archie and the landlady, John told him it was no use his moaning. ‘Think of it this way,’ he suggested mischievously. ‘Once she catches sight of your manly figure, why, she’ll be like putty in your hands.’

Archie chuckled at that. ‘I’m not so sure I like that idea,’ he said. ‘I mean, yon Harriet’s not the best-looking woman I’ve ever seen, I can tell you that for nothing.’

Half an hour later, Archie was shoved into the bathroom. ‘Throw your clothes out,’ Harriet told him. ‘I’ll be here waiting.’

Under protest, Archie did as he was told. ‘Mind you take care of them,’ he warned. ‘They cost money.’

Hiding behind the door he stripped off his clothes and slung them out. ‘And don’t put no sweet-smelling stuff on them neither. I don’t fancy walking about stinking like a ponce!’

‘It’s better than walking about stinking like a polecat!’ Grabbing the clothes with a pair of tongs before he could snatch them back, Harriet placed them in a straw basket held at arm’s length. ‘Make sure you use the carbolic
and
the razor,’ she reminded him. ‘And don’t come out of there pretending to have had a bath, because I’ll soon know. I’ve been about too long to be taken in.’

Archie slammed shut the door. ‘You’re right about that,’ he grumbled to himself. ‘Old battle-axe!’

Tiptoeing across the cold floor, he kept on grumbling. ‘You’re some kind o’ witch, that’s what you are!’ Stubbing his toe on an uneven slabstone, he swore under his breath. ‘Stealing my clothes, dumping me in a tub of water and ordering me about. It’s not as if I even know her. God help me, I only ever clapped eyes on the woman five minutes since!’

He dipped his toe in the warm water, shivered and took it out again. Stooping over, he gingerly ran his fingers through the water and straightening up, gave a little smile. ‘It’s not bad,’ he said. ‘Not bad at all,’ and he climbed inside and lay back blissfully. In fact, it had been so long, he’d forgotten the pleasant, silky feel of warm water against his skin.

In the washroom, Harriet took Archie’s clothes out of the tub. They were so clean and colourful, where before they were dark and grubby, she could hardly believe they were the same ones she’d put in there. Tutting and complaining, she fed them through the mangle, before hanging them on the line in front of the fireplace. Tugging the shirt into place, she shook her head. ‘Blue,’ she declared with astonishment. ‘And I’d have sworn it were grey.’

Next stop was the big chest at the back of the room. From here, she took out armfuls of clean, neatly pressed clothes. When she’d finished matching them for size with Archie’s, she tucked them under her arm and made her way to the kitchen. ‘It’s a good job I keep a few spares,’ she told John. ‘Sometimes I have to confiscate the clothes in lieu of payment.’

John was seated at the table, busy making notes and drawings. ‘Sorry, Harriet?’ He looked up. ‘I didn’t hear what you said.’

‘That’s because you’re deep in what you’re up to.’ Reaching her gaze forward she tried to get a glimpse of his work.

‘What was it you said before?’

Harriet held up the garments. ‘I’ve found your friend some clean clothes.’ She showed him the selection. ‘These should carry him over until his own clothes dry out.’ There was a burgundy-coloured shirt, a pair of long-johns and a singlet, together with a jacket and trousers of similar colour to Archie’s own.

‘I should think he’ll be very grateful,’ John told her though, knowing Archie as he did, he couldn’t be sure. His old friend seemed to have taken against Harriet, and as for her part, she had shown little patience with him.

Draping the clothes over the back of a chair to get warm near the fire, Harriet crossed to the larder and poured them each a glass of sarsaparilla. ‘Grateful or not, he’ll either wear them, or walk about naked.’ She chuckled. ‘From the little I’ve already seen, that would be a terrible sight for sore eyes.’

Before taking a hearty gulp of her drink, she opened her little tin of snuff and applied a pinch to both nostrils. Then, seating herself beside him, she peered over John’s shoulder at the notebook. ‘What’s that you’re so intent on?’ she asked.

‘I’m making a plan.’

‘What kind of plan?’

‘A business plan.’

‘What kind of business?’

John explained, ‘I mean to have my own timberyard and men in my employ. I plan on making wagons, you see.’

Harriet thought he was a dreamer, just like many other men who had lodged here before him. ‘Dreaming and making are two very different things,’ she warned.

‘I’m aware of that.’ John, also, knew it only too well. ‘But I intend making this dream into reality.’

She admired his ambitions, but, ‘Building a business takes a deal of money.’ She took a long gulp of her sarsaparilla. ‘Money and dedication, that’s what you need. Even then, it’s a long, hard struggle. More often you lose your friends along the way. Life can become very lonely. Have you thought of that?’

‘I’ve thought of everything,’ John imparted. ‘As for friends, if they turn their back on you when you need them most, then they can’t have been worth having in the first place, that’s my thinking.’

Harriet nodded. ‘That’s true enough. But look, as I’ve just said, dreaming is one thing. Making it all happen isn’t quite so easy.’

‘I’m sure that’s true,’ John replied, ‘but a man has to have a dream.’ He thought about Emily. She had been his dream; his life and his future.

Harriet’s voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘What are all these different areas?’ Pointing to the sections on his map, she listened while he explained.

‘These are work areas,’ he said. ‘Look, this is the office, and here alongside the canal, is where the timber will be lifted from the barges and stacked in different bays. The smaller sections are where the different pieces will be made and kept ready for use – such as wheels, axles, shafts and so on. Next to that is the larger area where the wagons and carts will be constructed. And the yard outside is where they’ll be lined up ready for collection.’

She smiled at that. ‘You seem to have given over a large area for lining up the ready wagons. Does that mean you expect business to be brisk?’

‘Without a doubt,’ he answered with confidence. ‘I hope we’ve got so many orders coming in, that I’ll need to employ extra men.’

Harriet drew his attention to the long bay at the back of the building. ‘And what’s this meant to be?’

John followed her gaze. ‘That will be the repair shop.’

Surprised by the detail he’d written into his plan, she asked pointedly, ‘I suppose you have the money for this grand idea?’