by Anna Jacobs
Wilf sighed at that thought. His wife was so obsessed with the children they’d adopted, she was hardly a wife to him these days, she so doted on them. That’s what ten years of trying in vain for a child of her own did to a woman. But he was at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. He realised Charlie was waiting for his attention. ‘Sorry. Just thinking about something.’
‘While I’ve got you, can we talk about something more pleasant? I’ve been meaning to speak to you for a while, Wilf lad. My wife wants a few little changes made to our house. Well, not so little. She wants a room with big windows adding to the back of the house for her to use as an art studio. She loves her design work.’
Wilf was all attention now. Did this mean what he hoped?
‘So I got that new young architect to draw up a plan, and it’s gone to council and been approved. There’s plenty of room for a studio because we’ve got a big back garden.’
He paused then added, ‘I thought, and she did too, that you’d be just the chap to supervise the building of the studio. We’d not want Higgerson’s company doing it. They made a right old mess of a conservatory at her friend’s house and I’ve heard that they skimp on quality of materials.’
‘I’ve heard that too, from chaps who’ve worked for them.’
‘There you are, then. So how about it?’
As it sank in what this offer would mean to him, Wilf swallowed hard and excitement ran through him. This would be his big chance to take a step up in the world. He didn’t hesitate because he knew he was good at anything to do with building and making things. ‘I’d love to do that job for you, Mr Willcox. I wouldn’t let you down, I promise you.’
‘I know you wouldn’t. I’ve been hearing good things about the smaller jobs you’ve done for people recently. I’m sure you’re more than capable of tackling something bigger. Have you finished the renovations on Heythorpe House yet? Finn’s really pleased with what you’ve done there.’
‘Not completely. But I’ve not been doing everything myself or it’d take too long. I’ve got a couple of lads I know doing most of the final work there. They’re good carpenters, and there are only cupboards and shelves in the servants’ area left to sort out now, then a bit of painting. I could come and look at what you need, though I’ve not done an estimate for a big job before.’
My wife suggests you do the job and we’ll pay the costs as we go along. Subject to everything being satisfactory, we’ll pay you ten per cent on top of what it costs.’
Wilf’s voice was husky. ‘That’s very generous of you.’
Charlie shrugged, looking embarrassed. ‘We’ve all had help along the way. And anyhow, we need another builder in the valley. I’d not trust Higgerson to do a job for me and Roy Tyler’s getting on a bit. It was sad, him losing his only son. They say he’s a shadow of his old self.’
‘He’s a good worker, Tyler is.’
‘No better than you, lad.’
Wilf took a deep breath and held out his hand. After they’d shaken on the bargain, he said, ‘When can I see the plans?’
‘We’ve got a copy at home. Why don’t you come round after tea tonight, look at the part of the house where she wants to put the studio, and study the new plans? You can see what you think and talk to Mrs Willcox about details. About seven o’clock, say? It’ll still be light then. My wife is rather impatient to get it done.’ His Marion always wanted things doing quickly, bless her.
‘Happy to do that. And Mr Willcox … thanks again for giving me the chance.’
Charlie nodded in satisfaction as he watched Wilf walk away. He’d been keeping an eye on Pollard and seen him go from strength to strength, given half a chance. It was good to keep an eye out for likely younger chaps and help them on their way through life, especially in times like these when it was even harder for poorer men with ability to get a start.
He grinned and admitted to himself that there was a more selfish reason for doing this: apart from anything else, they usually did jobs more cheaply than established tradesmen, and were so eager to get on that they did a far better job than certain people he could name, especially Higgerson.
He could definitely be sure of good workmanship with Wilf Pollard in charge. And if ever a man deserved to have worked his way out of poverty, it was that chap, who was increasingly in demand for small building and repair jobs: a new shed here, a wall rebuilt there. And a whole range of minor renovations at Heythorpe House had been well done and, just as importantly, well managed too, his friend who owned it said.
Charlie wouldn’t be surprised to see Wilf end up as a full-time builder, with a proper company of his own. The man had a talent for practical jobs, a real talent.
In fact, it might be worth investing in Wilf, as he had in Todd Selby at Willcox & Selby Motors. That business was bringing in a steady income now. Not a fortune, but every extra pound was a nice bonus when you didn’t have to do the hard work to earn it, only shell out a little money.
Thank goodness for the pawnshops he’d started up years ago, when he was trying to make good. They still brought in more money than anything else. That sort of business didn’t sit well with some of the snobby types in town, but who cared about them? Not Charlie. Well, not much.
He had a busy life, a wife he loved, though he wished she didn’t insist on running a business, and a child of his own, too. He smiled fondly at the thought of little Arthur, who was a lively youngster.
The only real sorrow in his life was his brother, who had been gassed in the war and never really recovered. Jonah had died last year, but at least he had left a son and heir. And his widow had recently married Todd, which had pleased Charlie. Connections were important. They were what made the world go round more smoothly. You could never know too many people if you were a businessman.
He missed having a close friend, though, someone with no axe to grind, a friend like his brother had been.
Charlie blinked furiously, glancing furtively round and hoping no one had seen his momentary weakness. If you couldn’t mourn for your brother, who could you mourn for, but what did it look like, a grown man standing crying in the street? Life went on and you either went with it or you sat in a corner on your own and went nowhere.
He had a few ambitions still waiting to be realised, some of them for improvements to his town, some of them for himself and his family. Realising he’d been standing there like an idiot at a fair, lost in thought, Charlie got back into his car.
The Ellin Valley and its inhabitants had been coping with the hard times for years now, but things were improving in other parts of Britain. Why shouldn’t they improve here in Lancashire, too?
The council really should look into taking action and using the Greenwood Housing Act to help things along. He’d been reading about it since he got elected to the town council. It had been passed in 1930 to encourage towns to clear out their slums. The previous members of the town council had made only a token effort, with most of their so-called slum clearance aimed at improving the property of corrupt officials. They’d been clever and not many people had realised what they were doing, or if they did, they couldn’t prove anything.
Well, things were going to change. Charlie smiled. He tried not to show it but he was rather proud of being a town councillor. Just let him hear of certain people, whose closest friends were dodgy builders, trying to subvert public money from now on. There were enough honest people on the council this time to make a difference.
And there were a couple of lady councillors, too, including his sister-in-law Leah. You had to move with the times and since the war, women were doing all sorts of things. Well, look at his own wife starting a business. Not that the lady council members would know much about building, but Leah was nobody’s fool and she’d quickly learn.
He was so lost in thought that he scraped the car on the gatepost as he turned into his own drive and that made him curse under his breath. They didn’t build gateposts far enough apart, if you asked his opinion. This wasn’t the
first one he’d hit.
Marion kept telling him he needed stronger glasses, but he didn’t. It was bad enough having to wear any glasses. He didn’t want great big ones with thick lenses that looked like the bottoms of bottles, and he wasn’t going to buy any either, whatever she said.
7
J o walked briskly down to Rivenshaw from Birch End with her two protectors, glad to be away from that unhappy house. ‘Thank you for helping me.’
‘It’s our pleasure,’ Peter said in his deep rumbling voice. ‘A word of warning, though: you’d best watch how you go from now on. People who have upset Rathley find bad things happening to them.’
‘I shall avoid him like the plague, believe me.’ But would that be enough? Jo was more than a bit concerned that Rathley might do something to blacken her name and could think of no way to prevent him.
What would her new relatives think of her then?
No, surely he wouldn’t go that far? What good would it do him? He hardly knew her and if he blackened her name, it might reflect on Edna.
She pushed that worry aside, thinking of her mother’s old saying: Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you . It had amused her as a child, still guided her sometimes as she grew older. One thing had surprised her. ‘Will the postcard we sent this morning really reach this Kath Melling by lunchtime, Peter?’
‘Aye. They’re very efficient at the central post office. Pride themselves on getting the early mail out to people quickly. Don’t they do that in Australia?’
‘I think the distances between our towns are too great to deliver anything that quickly, except in the capital cities, perhaps. It takes over two days non-stop to go by train from Perth in the west to Sydney on the east coast, you know. I was really surprised how close together the towns and villages were here when I first saw them from the train.’
‘Over two days? Non-stop?’ Allan shook his head as if finding that hard to take in.
Just before they got to the Tucker house in Rivenshaw, Peter stopped. ‘You turn off here, lad. We can manage the rest of the way.’
Jo took her bag from him. ‘It’s not too heavy. Thanks for your help.’
Still Allan hesitated. ‘If you need my help again, don’t hesitate to ask for it, Peter.’
‘I won’t. You were a big help when my sister had trouble with Rathley. I shan’t forget that.’
‘It took a few of us to keep your Meg safe, didn’t it?’
Jo looked from one grim face to the other and a shiver ran down her spine. What had she fallen into? Should she leave Rivenshaw straight away? No. That would be cowardly. And anyway, she really wanted to find her father’s relatives after coming so far. She had so few blood relatives. She’d always wished she had a brother or sister, but there you were. You made the best of what life gave you and she’d had wonderful parents.
Peter led the way into the house, hefting the heavy suitcase as if it weighed nothing and setting it down in the hall.
As she put the bag next to it, she heard the sound of voices and cutlery clinking on plates from a room to one side.
Peter jerked his head in that direction. ‘The lodgers will be finishing breakfast soon. Let’s go into the kitchen and tell Ma what happened. Your bags will be safe here.’
Jo followed him; she felt suddenly weak. The lack of sleep was catching up with her, not to mention the sheer exhaustion of living in close quarters with a foolish woman for all those weeks and needing to be mentally on guard all that time. Her father had brought out the best in Edna; she seemed to bring out the worst.
They told Mrs T about the events at Rathley’s house and she patted Peter’s shoulder. ‘Well done, son.’
Then she studied Jo and patted her shoulder as well. ‘You look tired out, love.’
‘I didn’t sleep much last night.’
‘Let me take you up to your room and you can have a rest. Would you like a cup of tea first?’
‘No, thank you. Just a drink of water, perhaps. You’re right. I am tired.’
Peter said, ‘I’ll take her suitcase and bag up.’
He was down again almost immediately and his mother shoved a plate in front of him. ‘I made you some bacon butties. You’re not going off to work without some food inside you.’
As he picked up the first of the sandwiches and took a huge bite, Jo drained the glass of water quickly and followed Mrs T up to the pleasant bedroom she’d seen briefly the previous day.
She stared round it again, seeing her trunk and suitcases waiting for her like old friends, then checked instinctively that there was a way to lock the door.
‘You won’t need a lock in my house.’
‘No. Of course not, Mrs T.’
The older woman’s eyes were shrewd but understanding. ‘If it’ll help you sleep more soundly, I’ll find you a key. Now, you have a nap. There’s plenty of time. If Kath comes to see you, it won’t be till later in the afternoon.’
‘I will have a rest, if you don’t mind. And thank you for everything, Mrs T.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She came back a couple of minutes later with a key, putting it into Jo’s hand and folding the young woman’s fingers round it. Then she left without another word.
Jo fitted the key in the lock, trying to resist the temptation to turn it because surely she was safe here. But in the end she admitted to herself that she’d rest easier with the door locked, so turned the key.
After that, she stood frowning at her luggage, which took up most of the floor space. You had to bring a lot of things when you were travelling for weeks on a ship. She’d need to get some washing done, once she’d sorted everything out.
She didn’t expect to sleep, rarely did so in the daytime, and wondered whether she should start unpacking now. If she hung up her clothes, it’d let the creases start to drop out.
A yawn took her by surprise and she gave in to her tiredness, lying down and pulling the eiderdown over herself. Just for a few minutes …
Mrs Tucker frowned as she went back into the kitchen to join her son. ‘That lass has made a bad enemy, Peter love. And she has no family to protect her. I hope she really is related to Kath.’
‘Aye.’ He glanced at the clock and put the last piece of sandwich into his mouth, saying indistinctly, ‘Thanks for that. If you can just squeeze another half cup of tea out of that pot, I’ll get off to work.’
He gave her one of his serious glances. ‘I reckon things are going to change in the valley now we’ve got a new town council, as them greedy devils like Rathley will find out. It’s a pity all the folk with money aren’t more like Mr Willcox, who doesn’t look down his nose at anyone and helps folk when he can.’
‘Well, he’s on the council now and some other good folk with him. I hope they’ll get to work quickly. Those houses in Backshaw Moss are a disgrace. It’s a wonder they haven’t fallen down. And maybe they can stop Rathley and his cronies from preying on people. It still upsets me that our Meg had to move away from the valley when she got married, so she’d be safe.’
She dragged out her handkerchief and blew her nose loudly, then poked her finger into her son’s chest by way of emphasis. ‘Yes, and it’s about time you found yourself a lass and got wed, more than time, Peter Tucker.’
He picked her up till her face was level with his and plonked a smacking big kiss on the end of her nose. ‘I will only get wed if I meet someone who can cook as well as you, Ma.’
When he put her down, she flapped one hand at him. ‘Stop joking. I meant what I said, son.’
‘I’m not getting serious about any woman yet. I won’t let that happen. Not till jobs are more secure. I’m not bringing children into the world to see them go hungry.’
‘You’ve got a good job and it’s not likely to vanish overnight. And my business isn’t going to go away. Any children you had would be sure of having bread on the table.’
‘For the moment I’ve got a job. But what would I do to support a family if Mr Cooper dropped de
ad and that nephew of his took over the business, eh? You tell me that! Vincent Cooper would sell the business in a flash and the person who bought it could chuck me out just as quickly.’
After Peter had gone to work, Mrs T had a little cry while her maid was doing the dining and sitting rooms. She so badly wanted grandchildren to love, as her friends had, and Meg’s were too far away to see very often, even if there wasn’t the boarding house to look after, a seven-day-a-week job.
Rathley was a wicked man, downright wicked he was, and she prayed every Sunday at chapel that he and those like him in the valley would get their come-uppance. Her prayers hadn’t been answered yet, but surely the recent council elections were a sign of hope?
At midday, after the incident with Rathley, Charlie smiled at his wife across the table. Marion was looking very pretty today and when she smiled back, he ventured to ask, ‘When can the doctor confirm that you’re expecting again, my dear?’
‘Not yet. I’m quite sure I am, which is what matters most. I’ve felt queasy in the mornings as I did last time and a bit sore here.’ She pressed a hand against her chest.
He beamed at her. ‘That’s wonderful!’
‘Me feeling queasy?’ she teased.
‘No. You having another baby. Um … you’ll give up your business now, surely?’
She stiffened and glared at him across the table. ‘I knew you’d say that, and I’m not going to do it, thank you very much. As I keep on telling you, I enjoy my design work, you know I do, Charlie.’
‘But people will think I can’t afford to keep you.’
‘No, they won’t. You’ve only to complain to your friends that I refuse to give up working because I enjoy creating my little designs and they’ll sympathise with you for being married to such a terrible woman.’
