by The Castlefield Collector (Watch for the Talleyman) (retail) (epub)
‘Watch for the talleyman,’ her mam would endlessly cry.
They would watch for him every Friday night, but no matter if they locked the door, drew the curtains and hid, he would come again on Monday, on Tuesday, every day of the week until he caught them in. The three women spent hours hiding from him, fearing being caught for they knew that they had no money to pay him. But surely Mam was wrong. He might be a nasty piece of work, but he’d never do anything to really hurt them, would he? He just wanted the money owed to him, which was surely fair enough.
* * *
Nifty Jack was making money hand over fist, puffed up by his own arrogance as a result. He didn’t like to think anyone could get the better of him, whether it was a debt or a slight of some kind. Today he was calling on Betty Deurden’s ma, a sad old lady who, like her daughter, what she lacked in common sense she made up for by complaining. He could see her now peeping from behind her filthy net curtains. ‘I know you’re in there, Mrs Deurden, are you going to open this door,’ he bawled, ‘Or do I have to break it down?’
The bolt slid back and Nifty swaggered inside. ‘According to my reckoning, you still owe me two pounds, fifteen shillings and threepence, plus this week’s rent of seven and sixpence.’
Predictably, Mrs Deurden protested that she had no money, none at all. ‘I’m not so good on me pins, as you know. And our Betty hasn’t been so well lately and has had to take a lot of time off work. She’s not herself at all. Something happened to her one night and it right upset her. She came home covered in bruises but she won’t say who gave them to her.’
Nifty Jack tut-tutted in sympathy. ‘Dear me, I’m sorry to hear it. However, that’s none of my concern. You must have some money somewhere. A bit put by like, for a rainy day?’
Mrs Deurden was a widow who had seen better times but was fading fast. Being too rheumatic to work herself, she depended entirely upon her only daughter, who was a bit of a disappointment to her in many ways. ‘Only what my Joe left me, enough to keep the wolf from the door in lean times, like now, and what I shall need to pay the undertaker when I’m gone. I’ve got it in the Post Office Savings Bank.’
‘Ah, the very thing! How much?’
‘Only a few quid, nine or ten pounds, not much more.’
‘It’s enough. Get your coat on.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t stand about wasting my time. You wouldn’t want anything more to happen to your Betty, now would you?’
Mrs Deurden looked confused for a moment then dumbly shook her head.
‘Course you wouldn’t. It’d be a crying shame. Right then, let’s be having you. Grab your shawl, woman, and we’ll take a nice little stroll down to the Post Office and settle your account. You can manage to walk that far, I trust, with a bit of help. And think what a relief it’ll be to have matters all settled between us.’ He smiled grimly at her, showing all the gums above his false teeth.
Later that day, when Betty forced herself to stagger downstairs, knowing she should be at work but too afraid to even step outside her own front door since the attack, she asked her mother if she’d been out and managed to get them something to eat.
Mrs Deurden shook her head, her eyes glazed as if she weren’t quite seeing clearly. ‘No love, I’ve never moved from this chair all morning. What we’ll have for us tea, I can’t think. That cupboard was bare last time I looked.’
‘We’re going to have to draw a bit more money out of the Post Office then,’ Betty said. ‘Till I’m on me feet again.’
Her mother said nothing. Betty would find out soon enough that the talleyman had not only taken the money they owed him, but the rest of their savings as well.
Chapter Ten
It came to Evie one day, quite out of the blue, or rather out of a rain-filled Manchester sky, that apart from the loss of the bridal gown and the fancy reception, she’d really lost nothing by calling off the wedding. On the contrary, she had gained a great deal. She found to her surprise, that she didn’t mind in the least being free of Freddie. He was really becoming something of a bore, and it was a positive relief to be rid of his dreadful mother.
She’d been quite taken by that very nice young man who’d come to the house with that pushy girl, Dolly or Polly or some such dreadful name. He was quite a dish, and wouldn’t it serve Pops right if she opted for him instead of dear, safe Freddie. She’d slipped a piece of paper with her telephone number into his jacket pocket before he left, hoping he’d ring. Sadly, he never had. Probably had never used a telephone in his life, poor soul. The next day, feeling at a loose end, Evie brazenly waited for him outside her father’s mill. She was wearing a new little number in jade green, and there he was looking all grubby and careworn, twice as handsome and deliciously scrummy.
He was more startled than pleased to see her, his first reaction being to ask what she was doing there.
Evie offered her most entrancing smile, eyes glimmering. ‘Why else but to see you, sweetie? Couldn’t resist.’ Pops would hate it if he knew she was ‘making herself cheap’ by meeting one of his workers. It almost made her laugh out loud to imagine his shocked expression. Evie half hoped he might walk through the mill gates any minute and catch her. Oh, sweet revenge. But then he should have given her the lovely wedding she deserved. ‘Thought you could buy me a drink, a coffee, or a cup of tea. Whatever it is you working men have at this time of day.’ And she gave a little shrug, as if it were all some jolly jape.
Sam stared at her, perplexed, then grabbing her arm dragged her down an alleyway, out of sight of his mates. He’d never hear the last of it, if they spotted him with this girl, the gaffer’s daughter. ‘Have you lost your marbles? Haven’t you caused enough bother by driving round our streets? What is it you’re after this time?’
Evie leaned against him, smelling the oil on his clothes, rubbing the prickles on his unshaven chin with the back of her hand, loving the rough maleness of him. ‘Nothing, I’ve come to see you, darling. Aren’t you pleased?’
Her mouth was a glistening scarlet, held temptingly close to his own, the smell of her perfume, something flowery and fresh, made his head spin. She looked marvellous, so clean, so feminine and fashionable, soft and desirable that Sam could have taken her there and then up against the dirty wall. ‘This isn’t the moment. I have a job to do.’ She was twining her fingers in his hair, pressing her ripe breasts hard against his chest, which was doing terrible things to his self-control.
He’d almost made up his mind to kiss her when she tilted her head away from him, smiling coquettishly from under her lashes. ‘What sort of job? I thought you’d finished work for the day.’ She pretended to sulk, certain of her charms, that it was only a matter of time before he succumbed. Where was Pops? Why didn’t he come?
‘I’ve finished at the mill, only I’m going round to help a mate. He’s building a hen cote and I said I’d give him a hand.’ He felt breathless with need, knew he was babbling, but couldn’t seem to catch his breath.
She lifted rosy red lips to his. ‘Can’t it wait? My car is parked just a discreet distance away. We could drive somewhere quiet, and have a little chat. What do you say?’ If her father wasn’t going to show up, she could have some fun at least.
‘I’d say, I’ll see you safely back home.’ Sam told himself to breathe slowly, breathe in and breathe out. That’s it. He was feeling better already. He escorted her safely back to her Morris motor, parked beneath a railway arch. She still had hold of his hand, and before he’d given the matter any sensible thought, she was pulling him into the back of it with her. She offered him a strange smelling cigarette, which she called a Turkish. It tasted odd, not like his usual brand.
When he began to cough, she put back her head and screeched with laughter. Sam noticed how the line of her white throat arched deliciously, like an elegant swan.
‘I think you’re in need of a little education, my boy.’
‘Don’t call me that. I’m a man.’
‘Are you? Pro
ve it.’ She lifted his hand and began to nibble each fingertip. ‘Ooh, what a funny taste. What is it?’
He pulled his hand away, embarrassed. ‘Muck from t’mill.’ And she trilled with laughter.
‘Muck? What a lovely word.’
She was slipping out of the beautiful silk frock she was wearing under the fur coat, revealing something lacy over her breasts, a pair of cami-knickers, and not much else. Sam was stunned, could feel himself hardening. He could imagine those long legs wrapped about his waist, those luscious, slender curves all his for the taking. The blood was pounding in his head, in his loins. Dear God, she made it difficult for a man to remember his manners. He pulled her to him, made a clumsy attempt at a kiss but she pushed him brusquely away, still chuckling.
‘What’s the hurry, sweetie? Why don’t you just watch first? She look off the lacy top, and then the stockings, peeling them down over those endless legs one by one. Sam was beside himself with need, groaning in his agony, which made her chirrup with glee. The light from the street lamp illuminated the velvet globes of her breasts. Sam thought he had never seen anything more beautiful in all his life.
‘Let me touch you Evie, please.’
‘Oh very well,’ she said, pale blue eyes glistening provocatively, scarlet lips pouting. ‘You can touch me here, and here.’ She pointed to parts of her anatomy that had him salivating with anticipation. ‘Now you can kiss me… hard… harder… no, not on my lips, you’ll spoil my lipstick. Here and here.’ She was panting now, tugging at his shirt and dragging her long fingernails over his back, seeking the buttons on his trousers. ‘Pull me under you. That’s it, and if you’re suitably impatient, who knows what might happen next? You and I could be such good friends and have delicious fun.’
For no reason he could fathom, an unwelcome image of Dolly popped into his head, quite without warning. Perhaps because of this girl, she was out of work. Sam pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t the moment to think of Dolly and her problems. She was nothing to him, not his responsibility. He was a normal, red-blooded male, free to do as he pleased, with any woman he chose. And Evie Barker wasn’t the sort of woman a man would easily say no to.
But Evie hadn’t missed his momentary lack of attention. She was slapping his hands away, pulling the fur coat back around her half naked body. If a man wasn’t begging for her, where was the fun in getting herself messed up for nothing? She visibly cooled and turned away to find her stockings. ‘That’s enough for today. Perhaps I’ll be more generous next time. We’ll see. But you’ll certainly have to pay better attention.’
Sam was mortified. He’d ruined everything. Or rather Dolly had, damn her. ‘I am paying attention. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, Evie. I want you. God, how much I want you.’ But his words rang hollow, even to his own ears. Somehow the urge had left him.
She was pulling on the lacy top, scrabbling about the back seat in search of the silk dress. Heartsore, Sam helped her.
‘Who were you thinking of, if not me?’
‘I was thinking of Dolly.’ Lord, why had he said that?
‘What, that girl, Dolly Tomkins? I don’t believe it. You really don’t deserve me to be so generous to you.’
‘I do, I do, it’s just that she’s in a right pickle is poor Dolly. Lost her job because of that accident, which would never have happened if…’ He stopped, appalled by what he’d been about to say.
‘I hardly think I had anything to do with it. Not my responsibility. Get out of my car. Get out now, if you please.’
‘No, no, I didn’t mean that.’
‘Get out!’
She drove away, leaving him standing on the pavement, not even daring to call after her to say he’d left his cap on the back seat, because he felt such a complete fool.
* * *
It was one evening when Dolly was alone, that there came the familiar hammering on the door. Maisie was round at Edna’s, Willy was asleep upstairs and Aggie was out with Harold, goodness knows where, up to goodness knows what.
‘I know you’re in, so open this door. It’s you I want to talk to, lass. I’ve a proposition to put to you that’ll happen get your mam off the hook.’
Dolly dithered. What could he mean? What sort of proposition? Well, she’d never know if she didn’t open the door, would she?’ She glanced up the stairs, taking some comfort from the sound of her brother’s peaceful snores. She could always give their Willy a shout, if Nifty Jack got difficult. Dolly slid back the bolt and let him in.
Nifty set his bowler hat on a corner of the table and demanded a mug of tea, since robbing people blind was apparently thirsty work. Dolly made him one, albeit grudgingly, setting it before him with the comment that they’d no milk and no money to buy any.
‘Aye, I know things are tight, that’s why I’m here.’ He let his gaze travel over the starkness of the back kitchen, not even a comfy chair or the usual horse-hair sofa to rest in after a long day’s work, nothing save the table and hard kitchen chairs so no wonder Calvin had spent all his time in the pub. The only sign of cheer in the gloomy kitchen, since Dolly still hadn’t lit the gas lamp, was a picture on the wall entitled: Moses in the Bullrushes. It seemed to be a pair to the one of Daniel in Cyril Duckett’s front parlour.
Watching this careful assessment, Dolly clasped her hands tightly together to stop them from punching him. ‘We’ve nothing left to sell.’
‘I can see that. There’d be some insurance though, no doubt? Enough perhaps, to pay off a tidy bit from what’s owing?’
‘Not enough to even cover the cost of his funeral,’ Dolly drily commented. ‘So don’t stand there slavering with greed, you’ll get nothing off us, because we’ve nothing left.’
‘I’m sorry to see you brought so low,’ he smoothly remarked.
Dolly gritted her teeth. ‘So, what’s this proposition then?’
Nifty hid a half smile in the mug as he noisily slurped up the tea. Then he set it down with care, smoothed a hand over his baldpate and turned to Dolly, still with that chill smile in place. ‘I’ve heard you’re having problems finding work, that no one will take a chance on you. Word will have gone around about that bit of bother at Barkers and that you were responsible. No, don’t deny it, because it doesn’t really matter whether you were or not. They think you were. So I’m here to offer you an alternative.’
‘I’m waiting.’ Dolly sat very still, feeling confused, nervous. But what he had to say was the last thing she expected.
‘I’m in need of a housekeeper. I’ve no wife or family, so I could do with someone to mind me house and look after me. I’d like to come home to a hot meal on the table, to find the place clean and tidy, beds made, washing and ironing done. How does that appeal?’
‘Is this some sort of joke?’
‘No joke, and I don’t reckon you’re in a position to refuse.’ His hard little eyes were fixed on her face, bringing a shiver to her spine.
‘Do you not indeed?’
‘There’d be no wages, of course, not till all debts were settled, but you’d have a room of your own, and I keep a good table.’
Dolly felt sick at the thought of living in the same house as Nifty Jack. The very idea turned her stomach. ‘I’d rather go on the streets than pander to you, you’re no better than pig-muck.’
Nifty sucked in his breath and attempted to look shocked. ‘Dear me, I don’t like to hear such foul language from the mouth of such a pretty young lass. I think you should at least consider the idea.’
‘I wouldn’t work for you if I were at death’s door.’
‘Happen you’re nearer to that sad state of affairs than you might imagine. Remember your mam could end up in prison, if she doesn’t pay something soon. Besides which, she might also be interested to learn that I’ve bought this place from the landlord. He was one of my clients too, and had got quite a bit behind with his payments, so we came to a deal.’
Dolly listened open-mouthed to this latest piece of disastrous news. Th
ey already owed Nifty Jack a small fortune trying to keep their heads above water, not to mention paying off Calvin’s gambling debts, now they’d owe him rent as well. It felt as if he owned them, lock, stock and barrel.
‘Think on that,’ he said, tapping one nicotine-stained finger on the table top, his nasty little eyes flicking over her. ‘If you worked the debt off, it would at least be one less mouth for your mam to feed. And once it’s settled, I’d pay the going rate for the job. I can’t say fairer than that, now can I?’
Dolly’s mind was whirling as she thought through the implications. Had she been a touch hasty? Might there be advantages in the proposition after all? It was certainly true that having one less mouth to feed would be an enormous help, and then there was the enticing prospect of helping to pay off the debt. How else could they achieve that? And once it was done, Mam truly would be free, and so would she. Even so, could she bear to work for this man? Dolly felt she could hardly bear to have him in the same room.
‘I’ll think about it.’
He stood up, replaced the bowler hat square on his head. ‘Don’t take too long. My patience is short and this offer won’t last for ever. Don’t bother getting up. I’ll see myself out.’ And he did so, just as if he owned the place.
* * *
Dolly went straight round to each of her brothers in turn, told them about the offer and asked for their help to avoid taking it up. But when she added how much money they needed to pay off the loan, nearly fifty pounds, they laughed. Not at her exactly, more at the idea that she’d ever imagined they might have a fraction of such a sum. Eli gave her what he could, Josh offered his sympathy but said he was stony broke and his missus was pregnant again. Abel told her she wasn’t in a position to refuse. It was a job, after all, and that was the end of it. They had their own families to feed. Money was tight.
But Dolly dreaded the thought of accepting Nifty Jack’s offer. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll think of something,’ she brightly informed them. Two weeks later she still didn’t have a job. Despite her best efforts and a fierce determination to succeed, no matter how many doors she knocked on, she always got the same response. ‘Tomkins? Aren’t you the troublemaker from Barkers? We’ve nothing for your sort here.’
