Pauper's Gold (22 page)

Now, Edmund’s fist landed in the centre of Luke’s face with a sickening crack. Bone splintered and blood spurted from the younger man’s nose. Luke tottered backwards, but then
the vision of Edmund grasping Hannah so roughly, dragging her along, swam before his eyes. He straightened up and lunged at Edmund, but he was no match for the older, stronger man. Luke had little
knowledge of fighting. In the odd boyish scrap in the workhouse yard, there had always been the two of them. Him and Daniel against the world.

Where was Daniel? Why wasn’t he here, standing shoulder to shoulder with his twin?

Edmund’s blows rained thick and fast. Two more to the head, one just below Luke’s ribs, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to bend double. And each blow drove him
backwards. There was no let up. A blow to the side of his head sent him reeling, closer and closer to the edge of the bank above the wheel. The watchers moved forward, shouting, but above the roar
of the churning water neither Edmund nor Luke could hear them. Luke was almost senseless, still on his feet but only with tremendous willpower. And on Edmund’s face was murderous intent.

The watchers knew it was going to happen. They could see it. Hannah, Arthur Bramwell and one or two others ran forward, shouting a warning, but it was too late. With one last vicious blow,
Edmund sent Luke flailing backwards over the edge and down, down into the cavernous centre of the giant wheel. His body was tossed and tumbled until his features were scarcely recognizable.

The wheel ploughed on relentlessly, but Edmund stood on the edge looking down, watching with fists clenched, jaw hard and unrepentant, and making no move to stop it.

Hannah rushed towards the edge and would have fallen in too, but Arthur Bramwell caught hold of her. She struggled against him, screaming, ‘Stop the wheel. Stop it.’

Others arrived at the edge, staring helplessly down at Luke being thrown around the inside of the wheel.

Arthur’s grasp tightened on her arms briefly. ‘Stay here,’ he ordered and then he ran into the mill.

The wheel was slowing, the water settling. A gasp rippled amongst the onlookers as they saw Luke’s battered body fall to the bottom and lie there, a mass of blood and shattered bone.

And then Hannah began to scream as if she would never stop.

‘It’s all your fault. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d’ve been with him.’

Hannah gasped. Her eyes were blotchy from two days of constant weeping. She was inconsolable, but Daniel was angry, vitriolic.

‘And now he’s dead – all because of
you
!’

She had no answer.

‘I’d’ve been with him,’ he ranted on. ‘We were always together. Always. Until you came along. Then he’d rather be with you than with me.’ He glared at
her, hatred in his eyes. ‘I ’spect you were making a play for the master, were you?’

Now, Hannah was startled out of her lethargy. ‘No.’ She was horrified. ‘How can you even think such a thing of me? I loved Luke. You know I did.’ Tears welled again in
her eyes and she covered her face and sobbed. ‘How can you even think that, Daniel?’

He was silent, unapologetic. He was hurting, just like Hannah, and his only weapon was to lash out at her to try to assuage his own guilt at not being at his twin’s side when Luke had
needed him the most. But it wasn’t working. He could not pass the guilt onto her shoulders. Daniel would carry the burden for the rest of his life. And so would Hannah, for she blamed herself
just as much as Daniel did.

Her sobs quietened and for the first time since the tragedy, calmness came over her. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she said in a flat, emotionless voice. ‘And it wasn’t
really mine, even though I shall feel it was for the rest of me life. There’s only one person to blame and that’s Edmund Critchlow, and as God is my witness, I’ll pay him back for
this.’ Her tone took on a steely edge and even Daniel was forced to believe her. ‘I’ll never forgive and I’ll never forget. And one day, I’ll make him pay.’

Luke was buried in a pauper’s grave alongside Jane.

The mill worked on as usual and no one was granted official leave to attend the funeral. Only those who dared to defy the rules and take time off from their work were there. Daniel, Hannah and
Ernest Scarsfield together with Ethel and Arthur Bramwell, even though they all knew they’d be fined for doing so.

They’d thought that no one from the Critchlow family would have the audacity to show their faces, yet as they followed the coffin on its final, sorrowful journey, another figure fell into
step at the very back just as he had at Jane’s funeral.

Adam Critchlow.

He was an unwelcome presence, but later, as Arthur Bramwell remarked, ‘The lad was brave to come. Think about it. His father caused Luke’s death. We all know that. And there were
enough of us there to bear witness, yet there’s been no inquiry. It’s all been hushed up. There’s a few bribes changed hands, if you ask me.’ It was the first time that
Hannah had ever heard the taciturn Arthur Bramwell speak out against his employers. ‘The poor lad’s been pushed into a pauper’s grave and forgotten about. The Critchlows
haven’t even had the decency to pay for a proper burial for him.’

Listening to the conversation, Ethel put in, ‘I ’spect they thought it’d be like admitting guilt if they did.’

Arthur glanced at his wife and nodded. ‘You’ve a point there. Aye, I see what you mean.’

There was silence for a moment before Hannah said softly, but in a tone that was like a vow, ‘Well, he won’t be forgotten about. Not by me.’

‘No,’ Arthur agreed. ‘Nor by us. And he’ll never be gone whilst Daniel’s around, will he? Like two peas in a pod they are. I could never tell the difference between
them. I’d never have believed two people could be so alike.’

Hannah said nothing. To her the two boys had been very different. Daniel was nothing like the merry, outspoken Luke, but a mere shadow of his brother. But she felt for him. What was poor Daniel
going to do now without his twin?

Mrs Grundy wept openly. ‘Another death. When are the authorities going to do something about that place?’

‘There’s not much they can do, love.’ Ollie Grundy patted his wife’s shoulder and glanced sympathetically at Hannah.

‘Well, there ought to be. Isn’t there someone we can report it to?’

Ollie shrugged his huge shoulders. ‘I wish there was. D’you know, I’d even risk that part of our livelihood – losing that trade – if it meant saving them poor
children up there any more hurt.’

Hannah, believing him, smiled weakly. ‘It wasn’t so bad when old man Critchlow still ran things. It’s only since
he’s
taken over.’ She paused and then added,
‘You’ve heard the news, I suppose, about Mr Nathaniel?’

The Grundys glanced at each other. ‘No.’

‘When he heard the news about Luke, he had another seizure. A really bad one. He’s not expected to live.’

‘Aye,’ Lily Grundy said bitterly. ‘Well, there you are then, that puts Mr Edmund in full control an’ no arguing with it now. And he’s likely to be there for years
to come.’ She paused and looked directly at Hannah. ‘You ought to get away from that place – from
him
– whilst you’ve the chance. We’ll help you,
won’t we, Ollie?’

Hannah stared at them, glancing from one to the other in amazement. ‘But . . . but I haven’t even paid you all the money back you lent me last time. With all the stoppages I get, I
haven’t been able to manage even a few pennies recently. I still don’t get proper wages.’

Lily flapped her hand. ‘Don’t think any more about that. We’ve got it all planned, me and Ollie.’ Husband and wife glanced at each other like conspirators.
‘He’ll take you to Buxton on the cart on Friday morning and you can get a ride from there on the carrier’s cart – or the coach, whichever you like – back to
Macclesfield. There must be folks there you know who’d help you.’

Hannah was doubtful. ‘We were in the workhouse. I daren’t go back there. Mr Goodbody’d have me sent straight back here.’

‘What about where you lived before you went into the workhouse? Can you remember?’

Hannah sought back through her mind to being eight years old and even before that. ‘I can remember me gran – just. She looked after me when me mother went out to work. I . . . I can remember her dying and the coffin outside our house in the street, on a cart – a handcart – and the men pushing it. And . . . and the neighbours. They all came out and I watched me mother walking behind it down the street. I wanted to go with her but I wasn’t allowed and . . . and someone was holding onto me to stop me running after her . . .’

‘Can you remember who that was?’ Lily tried to prompt her memories.

‘I . . . I think she lived next door. I called her Auntie – Auntie – oh, I can’t remember.’ Hannah rubbed her forehead in frustration as if the action would massage
her brain to work better.

‘Can you remember where you lived – the name of the street? She might still be there.’

Hannah shook her head. ‘It was a narrow street with tall terraced houses.’

‘Well, there’ll be dozens of streets just like that one in a place like Macclesfield,’ Lily said. ‘That don’t help much.’

‘Is there anything else you can remember?’ Ollie pressed, trying to help. ‘Did you live near anything like a church or the place your mother worked or . . . ?’

Hannah frowned. ‘I . . . I think we lived a couple of streets away from the mill where Mam worked.’

‘The mill? Your mother worked in a mill?’

‘Oh, not like the one here. It was a silk mill. I do remember that.’

‘A
silk
mill! Well, I never.’ Ollie was thoughtful for a moment before he said, ‘That might help. You could ask at the silk mills. There might be people there
who’d remember her.’

Hannah smiled wryly. ‘There might well be, but I don’t know if they’d kill the fatted calf, exactly.’

Ollie and Lily glanced at each other. ‘What do you mean, lass?’

Hannah pulled a face. ‘I think the reason we ended up in the workhouse was because we lost the house after me gran died.’

‘Why?’

‘Me gran was the tenant – not me mam.’

‘Couldn’t your mother have taken it on?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘No – she was sacked from her job.’

Gently, Lily asked, ‘Do you know why?’

‘No. Not really. But . . . but . . . I always thought it had something to do with me.’

‘With you?’

Hannah nodded, the shame flooding through her as she whispered, ‘I haven’t got a dad, you see.’

Lily laughed, and it was a genuine laugh – the first Hannah had heard since Luke’s terrible death. ‘Well, there’s plenty of your sort about, love. I shouldn’t let
that worry you. Most o’ them orphans up at the mill’ll be just like you, I’ll be bound.’

Hannah smiled weakly. ‘Well, yes, they are. And there were plenty of us in the workhouse. It . . . it was only then I realized I wasn’t the only . . . only bastard in the
world.’

‘Aw, lovey.’ Lily gathered Hannah to her bosom. She rocked her and the girl felt comforted. ‘There’s one thing though, lass, that perhaps you hadn’t thought of.
Somewhere
you’ve got a dad. How about trying to find him, eh?’

Hannah drew back from the woman’s embrace and stared up at her in surprise. ‘I – I’d never thought of that.’

‘Now, hang on a minute,’ Ollie said, suddenly concerned. ‘D’you think that’d be wise? I mean – there might be all sorts of complications.’

Lily’s face was set. ‘Such as?’

‘Well,’ Ollie floundered, glancing helplessly from one to the other. ‘I dunno. I just think—’

‘I’m not suggesting she should go marching up to his door demanding to be taken in as his daughter. But if she could find him, he just might be willing to help her. She can only
ask.’ They were talking now as if Hannah was not in the room. But she was and hanging on every word.

‘Aye, and how will she feel if he sends her off with a flea in her ear? She’ll be hurt all over again.’

‘Not if she prepares herself that that might happen. She’d be no worse off than she is now.’

‘Huh! Just rejected again, eh?’

‘Oh, Ollie, you’re a lovely man.’ Lily reached up and patted his cheek. ‘But sometimes, just sometimes—’

‘Yes, you are, Mr Grundy.’ Hannah smiled. ‘But Mrs Grundy’s right. I’ve nothing to lose. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll find my father.’

Over the next few days, Hannah made her plans carefully. She was determined not to be caught this time. There was only one person she confided in. Daniel. Though he was still
offhand with her, she still counted him as her closest friend in the house now. How she wished Nell was still here. She would have helped her, advised her. But Nell was gone and no one would tell
her where or why.

‘You’ll only be caught and brought back like last time,’ Daniel muttered morosely. ‘And don’t expect me to be passing up food to you in the punishment room like
Luke did.’

‘I’m not going to get caught. Not this time. I’ve got help.’ She bit her lip, not knowing if she could trust him enough to confide in him that much. He was still very
bitter. But he guessed anyway. He stared at her for a moment and then gave a little nod. ‘Oh aye, the Grundys, I suppose.’

Hannah caught hold of his arm. ‘Don’t tell a soul. Please, Daniel.’

‘All right,’ he agreed grudgingly, and she had the awful feeling that if he’d dared, he would dearly like to give her away.

‘Why don’t you come with me?’ she said rashly. ‘Get away from this place? Surely, you don’t want to stay here now? Not after what’s happened?’

He glared at her. ‘’Course I’m staying here. I can’t leave Luke here all on his own, can I? I can never leave here. Not now. But you go. Oh yes, you go and forget all
about us.’ He jerked himself out of her grasp, turned and hurried away.

‘Oh, Daniel,’ Hannah whispered, tears in her eyes.

Hannah couldn’t follow the same escape pattern as on the previous occasion. Security at the house was much tighter since that time, but she planned to leave late one
Thursday evening and go to the Grundys’ farm. Then early on the Friday morning, before she was missed, Ollie would take her to Buxton. So, when everyone else was in bed, Hannah took a blanket
from the bed that had been Nell’s and bundled it beneath her own to look as if she was sleeping there, nestled down beneath the covers for warmth. Then picking up the bundle of her few
belongings, she slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen.