by The Castlefield Collector (Watch for the Talleyman) (retail) (epub)
The good news was that the Tomkins family was speaking to each other again and Dolly’s relations with her mother were almost back to normal, so long as she restrained from asking any questions about her father.
Whenever Dolly popped in, Maisie would brew a pot of tea and they’d sit and drink it together, mother and daughter, quite like old times.
Maisie was surprisingly perky these days, partly due to the fact that she didn’t have to worry about the talleyman any more, and she’d taken to going out, something she hadn’t been able to do in years. Dolly presumed she was off out with her friend Edna, or with other choir members from the chapel but when she asked her mam about it, she found she was wrong.
‘Edna Crawshaw, nay, I haven’t seen her in ages. As a matter of fact I’ve been seeing Cyril. We don’t do anything special, just go for walks, drink cups of tea and have a bit of a crack.’ Maisie’s cheeks flushed pink and Dolly had to laugh.
‘You old dark horse, are you and Cyril doing a bit of courting then?’
The cheeks fired to scarlet. ‘Eeh, our Dolly, what a thing to say! As if we would. We’re far too old for such nonsense.’
‘You’re not old at all. And if he’s my dad, then it keeps it in the family, doesn’t it?’
Dolly wondered how she would feel about a possible marriage between these two, and couldn’t quite make up her mind. Cyril Duckett didn’t feel like her father, even if he was, not after having rejected her. She felt no kinship with him at all, which was a bitter disappointment. Even so, Dolly wouldn’t deny her mother a little bit of happiness. Didn’t she deserve it after all those years with Calvin?
‘Cyril’s good company and allus was easy to talk to. Things are looking up grand, what with our Aggie getting wed and Nifty Jack not bothering me no more. It’s such a weight off me mind I feel like a new woman. Yer a grand lass doing this for your mam, so how are you finding it, chuck? How much do you reckon you’ve paid off so far, by working for him?’
Dolly shrugged her shoulders, trying not to show her concern. ‘I don’t know. He never says. I asked him to keep tally and he’s said that he will.’ Dolly was acutely aware that she’d no control over his promise to subtract the wages she should be earning from the debt. She could only hope that he would keep his word. Changing the subject, she asked her mother for tips on how to make a good rice pudding, which Nifty Jack had requested. Maisie dug into her memory to the days when she’d once possessed the wherewithal to make such treats, recollecting the correct quantities, cooking times and temperature.
‘And don’t forget to sprinkle a bit of nutmeg on top for a nice tasty skin. So how are you at cleaning windows? I noticed they were looking a bit streaky the other day when I walked by. Tea leaves, left to stand for a bit first, do the job best.’
All manner of useful tips and wrinkles Dolly learned from her mam and yet still she found the work hard, and so boring, with precious little in the way of fun. She polished and scrubbed, washed and ironed, cooked and baked, cleaned and swept and shopped and all the other mundane tasks that make up a woman’s day. Dolly felt at times as if she was actually turning into her mother, old before her time, except that she didn’t have to endure a husband who belted her if she got the least little thing wrong, so perhaps she should be thankful for small mercies.
And then one night, Nifty came home drunk.
He came rolling into the back kitchen, eyes glazed, with that studied quality to his speech which indicated he’d taken a skinful, his bowler hat lop-sided on his bald pate. Nifty he might be at relieving folk of their money, but not on his feet, not on this occasion. He lurched across the room and collapsed into a chair.
Dolly had been raking the ashes and riddling the fire, preparatory to going to bed. She’d spent a lonely evening mending his socks, feeling more than ever like an old woman and wondering what on earth she was doing with her life. She was pleased to be helping her mam, oh, but this job was hard going and half the time she was bored to tears.
When she’d finished the socks, she’d read for a while and then fallen asleep in the chair, waking to find the fire almost out and the clock striking midnight. She should have been in bed long since and her heart had plummeted when she’d heard his key in the door. What a stupid thing to do! Now she’d have to make him a bit of supper as he was often hungry when he came home from the pub and she wouldn’t get to bed for ages.
She was right, the moment he walked he started issuing orders.
‘Pull me boots off, girl. Don’t just stand there looking gormless.’
Dolly bent to the task, trying to stay upwind of the stink from his breath. She was worn out and anxious to get some rest, kicking herself for falling asleep in the chair instead of making her escape while she had the chance. She hung up his jacket, folded the tie he’d just taken off and offered to put on the kettle and make him a cuppa.
‘Nay, I don’t want owt to drink. I’ve supped enough.’
‘I can tell.’
‘Don’t look so po-faced. A chap deserves his pleasures.’
‘I’ll say goodnight then.’ She made a move to the stairs door but he caught her by the wrist.
‘Nay lass, would it split yer face to give me a smile, or a wee kiss? Or even to sit and talk to me for a while, instead of allus looking so uppity. You surely owe me a few home comforts in return for what I’ve done for you.’
‘I know it’s only the drink talking but I’d be obliged if you’d take your hands off me. This minute, if you please.’ Since he made no move to do so, simply continued to leer up at her out of half-closed eyes, Dolly shook him off and took a step back, out of his reach. ‘You’ve given me a job, for which I’m grateful. But may I remind you that I don’t get a penny in my pocket other than something going off my mother’s debt each week, or rather, Calvin’s debt. Whatever we owe, and I know it’s a great deal of money I’m working as hard as I can to pay it off. I owe you nothing more and I’ve no intention of staying here forever. Once it’s settled, I’m off.’
‘I’m not talking about money, lass. I’m talking about something far more precious.’
Dolly frowned. ‘And what would that be, exactly? What could possibly mean more to you than hard brass?’
‘You. We’re getting on fine, you and me, don’t you reckon? We’ll be nice as ninepence together.’
Dolly froze. What was he suggesting? Hadn’t she heard enough tales from the girls in the mill about men who took advantage of a situation for their own gratification? Look at what had happened to Betty Deurden. Arch enemy or no, Dolly wouldn’t have wished such ill fortune upon her. And she knew from experience how drink could affect a man, making him unnaturally quarrelsome, which could easily turn to violence. She’d rather die than submit to Nifty Jack’s fumblings.
‘If you’re looking for a bit of how’s-yer-father, you’ve come to the wrong shop.’ Dolly couldn’t believe how calm she sounded when really she was shaking inside, backing away, anxious to escape upstairs without upsetting him. Tomorrow, she’d go to the ironmongers and buy a bolt for her bedroom door. Why hadn’t she thought to do that before?
‘I’m very fond of you, Dolly. And you could be of me, I’m sure.’
His words struck a new fear in her heart. ‘You’re not going to ask me to wed you, are you?’
All he did was laugh, as if she’d said something funny. ‘Nay lass, the thought had never occurred to me, though now you suggest it, I’ll give it due consideration. I know all about your dodgy birth but I’ll not hold it against you. Not many would have owt to do with a bastard, but I can overlook it, since I was one meself. Some might say I still am.’ He laughed more than ever at this, enjoying the joke. ‘So you can’t afford to be too choosy. No knight on a white charger is going to come looking for you.’ Dolly simply stared at him, transfixed.
‘That’s why I asked you to come here. I thought the best way to settle this enormous sum of money what your mam owes, was for us to get to know each other a bit better, then we could com
e to a friendly arrangement like. It’ll take you half a lifetime to pay it off just by washing my socks. So why not offer a few extra services. What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that a grand notion? So don’t get uppity with me. I know about your mam’s dallyings with Cyril Duckett and all her other men friends.’
‘What are you suggesting? Mam’s dallied with no one but Cyril. They love each other, always have.’
He snorted with derision. ‘Oh aye? Pull the other leg and see if that’s got bells on it. She were a right looker in her day, was Maisie. Had all the chaps panting after her, even the maister at the mill, at one time. Who knows how far she spread her favours? Calvin told me all about her once, in t’pub.’
It was as if she were spinning through space, as if she were falling downwards into a dark pit where there was no sound, no light, no sensation of any kind and she was suffocating, quite unable to breathe or think or move a muscle. And while all sensible consciousness oozed out of her in the depth of this black hole, Nifty pulled her into a clumsy embrace. Whether it was because she instantly resisted, or because he was so stewed, he lost his balance, toppled over and they both fell to the ground, sending the coal bucket and fire irons flying.
Dolly desperately struggled to push him away and escape his clutches but she seemed to have no strength in her limbs and in seconds he’d rolled on top of her, the weight of him pressing down upon her, squashing all breath from Dolly’s small body. He stroked her hair, her cheek, her throat; his ale-soaked breath almost making her gag.
‘Nay, lass, stay calm. Don’t get all het up now. I know a young lass such as yerself doesn’t care to imagine her own mother doing IT – you know - what comes naturally, let alone with every Tom, Dick and Harry. But it happens more than you might think.’
‘I don’t believe you. She didn’t, she didn’t!’ Somehow her skirt had got rucked up in the tussle and Dolly could feel the pressure of his fingers pulling it up still further, rubbing up and down her bare thigh, patting and fondling her bottom. Up and down, up and down.
‘I’ll not hurt you, or belt you one, as Calvin used to. I’ll take good care of you lass, with lots of treats and petting.’ He kissed her softly on one cheek, then on the other, and finally on her mouth, allowing his tongue to flicker lightly over her tightly closed lips. ‘So long as you’re generous with me, I’ll see you right.’
Nifty felt a surge of power. He’d taken over ownership of the Tomkins’s house to put himself in a position of strength. He didn’t like folk getting away with not paying what they owed, particularly if there was a juicy morsel of female flesh to be enjoyed. He’d planned to have a bit of fun for a while then pack her off back to her mam but he’d found himself captivated by her, enjoyed listening to her humming or talking to herself as she polished and swept. He decided that he wanted to keep her around, might indeed agree to marry her one day and make an honest woman of her. He could do worse and a wife was cheaper to keep than a mistress, and far less trouble. Not that he expected her to come easy. She was a mettlesome little madam, in need of a bit of taming. But he was certainly the man for the task.
Dolly was staring up at him out of eyes glazed with terror, scrubbing frantically at her mouth as she strived to eradicate all taste of him, whimpering softly in fear.
‘Hush, lass. Hush! And keep still, fer God’s sake, or I’ll forget me promise not to land you one. I’m easy to please. Good plain food and a clean house is all I require. Oh, and a bit of a kiss and a cuddle now and then, eh? Just to help you pay off that debt a bit quicker.’ He sniggered, then launching himself upon her once more, started to lick and suck at her throat, slobbering all over her.
Dolly cried out, striving to shove him off, pushing and slapping at him, beating him about the head. ‘Get off me! Get off. Get off. Get off!’ She tried to shove a thumb in his eye but he stopped that with a simple twist of her wrist, making her cry out in pain. ‘I swear I’ll kill you!’
This seemed to amuse him and he laughed in that unpleasant, sarcastic way he had, still sticking to her like glue as if he had a dozen hands, with arms and legs everywhere.
‘Temper, temper! Don’t you fly into one of your paddies with me, girl, or you’ll be the loser.’ He stroked her hair, slick with sweat and spoke to her in soft, chilling tones. ‘All I want is to check out the merchandise. Nothing wrong with that, is there? Come on girl,’ he crooned. ‘Relax, why don’t you? Your mother was always so generous-hearted with her many lovers, though I wasn’t good enough apparently. She owes me this, a taste of her precious little girl. I could eat you all up, I could really.’ He was tugging at the buttons on the front of her frock and Dolly heard the tearing of thin cotton as he grabbed and clawed at her breasts. ‘Come on girl, show a bit of gratitude.’ He winked roguishly at her and kissed her, swamping her small mouth with his great wet one.
Dolly made a choking sound deep in her throat, tasting the acrid burn of bile in her throat, which the minute the kiss ended she vomited all down the front of his clean waistcoat. Nifty looked down at it with sad disinterest.
‘Nay, you could’ve given me fair warning. But I’ll not chastise you for it. Tis only nerves, I imagine.’
The air in the small, stuffy room now reeked of vomit in addition to the stink of his sweat, and the beer and nicotine on his breath. This man, this odious, evil man had called her a bastard, accused her mam of being a woman of easy virtue, and believed he could do with her as he pleased. ‘Damn you, get off! Get off me this minute.’
He laughed.
Even as she fought with all her strength, Dolly knew it was useless. There was no one to hear, or come running to her aid. The neighbours would be fast asleep, perhaps also well soaked in beer or gin. She felt dazed with fear, close to exhaustion, couldn’t seem to get her thoughts together. She was losing the strength to fight. It was slipping away from her.
Having successfully reached bare skin, Nifty clamped one hand on her breast and Dolly screamed. Somehow the sound of her own voice brought her back to life, sent a surge of renewed energy flowing through her frozen limbs.
Her fingers scrabbled frantically among the coals that had spilled from the bucket when they’d fallen, searching for something, anything, to use as a weapon. They closed around the handle of the poker and Dolly brought it down with a violent crack on to the back of his head. He gave scarcely a whimper as he slumped against her, but there was a great deal of blood. It went all over Dolly too until she finally managed to pull herself free of him, scrambling free in desperation and terror.
She wasted no time in weeping or mentally going over what had happened. Time enough for that later when she was free and clear of this place. She paused only long enough to grab her few belongings, then ran straight home to her mam’s house.
* * *
‘Lord above, what’s wrong now?’ Maisie had her lank, mousy hair done up in plaits, since she’d been fast asleep when Dolly had hammered on the door. Now she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and reached for the kettle, recognising trouble when she saw it.
‘Nifty Jack went for me, so I clocked him one.’
Maisie gave a sharp, bitter laugh. ‘Serve him right, the nasty old goat.’ She slid the kettle on to the hob but the fire had been banked down and there was no flame to warm it, so she began to prod the fire with the poker, hoping to encourage a bit of life to it. ‘It’ll be a while, love. Sit down and take weight off your feet. You can have your old bed back tonight. Now, tell me what happened.’
Dolly had already sunk on to one of the hard kitchen chairs. ‘I hit him because of what he said about you, not just what he tried on with me.’
It all came out then, in a breathless rush: how he’d accused Maisie of ‘putting it about’, of betraying her husband with more than one man.
‘He said you were a looker in your time, implied that you had loose morals and had spread your favours wide, even with the gaffer, Nathan Barker himself. Have you ever heard anything more…’ Dolly’s words stuttered to a halt as she saw th
e change come over her mother’s face. ‘What is it? What have I said?’
‘Nathan Barker? What did he say about – about the master?’
‘He said— Mam, why are you looking like that? Your face has gone all grey, like putty and… Oh, God, it’s true, isn’t it? You did sleep with other men, not just Cyril. Nathan Barker, and who else? How could you lie to me again? How could you?’
‘You’d believe that nasty tyke rather than your own mother, would you?’
‘Well, tell me the truth.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘You must talk about it. I need to know.’
‘There are some things best not spoken of. I can’t tell you, love. There are other people involved.’
‘Why do you always have to lie? Why can’t you ever tell me the truth?’ The pain in Dolly’s chest felt as if her heart would burst in two at any minute. Who could she trust, if not her own mother? Who was her father? Cyril? Nathan Barker? Or some other unknown man, as Nifty had hinted. At least it couldn’t be Nifty himself, him having tried to assault her. Unless he didn’t know for sure either! ‘How many other lies have you told me? How many more men did you sleep with? Who were they? I want all their names.’
‘Oh, Dolly.’
‘How many? It wasn’t just Cyril, was it? If he really is my dad, say so now. Say it!’
But even as Dolly waited impatiently for an answer, she knew one wouldn’t be forthcoming. Her mother sat unmoving, the silence seeming to develop a life of it’s own, reverberating around the small kitchen that smelled of coal dust and carbolic soap, and the stuff she put down every night to kill the cockroaches. The expression on her mother’s face was enough. No words were needed.
