A Daughter's Journe

by Anna Jacobs

  Nick went to fetch Silas from the kitchen and explain what was going on, then drove him and Jo to her lodgings.

  ‘I hope you’ll have enough sense to wait for Silas to arrive before you go out in the mornings, Jo.’ He gave her a look that made that ‘hope’ an order.

  She immediately stuck her tongue out at him and a snort of laughter escaped him, even though it was a serious matter. He’d never felt so much at ease with a woman before.

  Mrs T opened the front door to them and stared in shock at the bruise on Jo’s face. ‘Whatever happened to you, lass?’

  ‘Two men attacked me when I was out walking.’

  ‘I thought you’d gone into the town centre. Surely they didn’t attack you out in the street?’

  Nick watched her wriggle uncomfortably under Mrs T’s searching gaze. Good.

  ‘No, I felt like a brisk walk and I found myself near Birch End. I thought I’d be safe so near to the village, and in daylight.’ As Mrs T opened her mouth to protest, Jo held up one hand. ‘I know. It was stupid of me to get out of sight of other people, and I won’t do it again.’

  ‘See that you don’t. And who are your friends?’ She looked at the two men and waited. Once they’d been introduced and their presence explained, she looked a bit happier. ‘Nice to meet you both. Good idea to get someone to keep an eye on her, Mr Howarth. If you’re a friend of Mr Selby, I know you’re trustworthy. He’s a good man. Everyone likes him. And I think I’ve seen you around town, Silas, helping out at the market.’

  ‘Yes. I’ve picked up a few odd jobs there. I’ve seen you, too, and heard how well you look after your ladies. Nice to meet you properly, Mrs Tucker.’

  ‘Mrs T will do. Come down to the kitchen, all of you. Silas, you’ll want to meet my son, because he’s keeping an eye on this young lady as well. We’ll both be glad to have someone looking after Jo all the time, very glad.’

  ‘I’m not totally helpless,’ she protested.

  ‘You’re a stranger and you don’t even know your way round the valley properly yet, lass, let alone who to trust. Don’t be surprised if my Peter tells you off about your rashness. He saw how Rathley went after his sister. You’d better get used to being careful from now on, lass, if you want to stay safe. Rathley’s a madman about women who don’t do as he wants. Only he’s cunning with it and Sergeant Deemer has never found proof of him being behind what’s been done.’

  It felt strange to have so many people concerned about her safety, Jo thought as she followed Mrs T down the stairs to the lower floor. She hadn’t had anyone to look out for her for years. She’d been on her own when she’d left the farm to work in Perth, though she’d made one or two friends there, of course.

  And when her father fell ill and she went back to live at home, she’d been the person in charge of caring for him as he grew weaker – as well as having to deal with her stepmother. Edna had gone to pieces when her husband fell ill, which wasn’t how Jo would have behaved if a man she loved was dying.

  Stop going over all that! she told herself.

  Mrs T smiled at them and gestured to some chairs set round a huge table. ‘Sit down, do and I’ll get our Peter.’

  As they sat down, Jo caught Nick’s eye and he winked, so she winked back. He was such a lovely fellow, she thought again. Pity he lived in England.

  Now, where had that thought come from? What business was it of hers where he lived? She’d never see him again after she went back to Australia.

  Unfortunately.

  Mrs T’s son had not long been home from work and had been changing his clothes and having a quick wash before he sat down to his meal, which was always served after that of the lodgers.

  By the time they’d explained it all yet again, it was getting late and the lodgers had finished eating, so Mrs T insisted on feeding Nick and Silas as well as Jo.

  ‘You said Janey’s had to go home early because her mother’s ill, so I’ll just help you clear the table up there, Mum.’ Peter followed his mother up the stairs.

  She came back with some tureens on a tray. ‘Plenty of leftovers today. Nice lamb stew, this is, but some of those lasses eat like birds. The food’s still warm because it’s been sitting on my new electric warmer.’

  From the way Mrs T spoke, barely concealing her pride, Jo guessed this gadget must be a new possession. Electricity was certainly changing the world and making life easier for women. They didn’t have it out at her old home, but she’d got used to its convenience in Perth.

  Peter put a tray of dirty dishes in the scullery and pulled out a chair at the table opposite Jo. ‘ Promise you won’t go anywhere outside the town centre on your own till we sort this out.’

  ‘Not you nagging me as well!’

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘I’ve arranged for Silas to accompany me everywhere, haven’t I?’

  He continued to stare at her, so she rolled her eyes at him and said, ‘Oh, all right. I promise.’

  ‘Make sure you stick to that promise. Rathley is getting worse. He was acting so strangely yesterday morning when we picked up your luggage, it made me wonder if he’s losing his marbles.’ He tapped the side of his forehead in the universal sign for someone who was mentally not right.

  After that warning Jo ate her food absent-mindedly, thinking of what might have happened the other night if she hadn’t had the wits to find another bedroom. Or yesterday, if she hadn’t had Peter to protect her. How would all this end? she wondered.

  Then Peter nudged her and she realised Mrs T had spoken and was waiting for her to answer. ‘Sorry. What did you say?’

  ‘You should call in to see Mrs Fernby before you go up to Backshaw Moss looking for your relatives, Jo. The minister’s wife may know where these Tayners live and how best to approach them. She does a lot of good work among the poor.’

  ‘Yes. Good idea. I could stroll round to see her this evening. It’s not far, is it?’

  Nick gave her a stern look across the table. ‘Thinking of going out on your own?’

  ‘No. With one of you, if you’ve the time.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said at once.

  ‘So will I,’ Peter said. ‘I’ll enjoy a stroll.’

  Jo didn’t feel as grateful as she should have but hoped she hadn’t shown that. It was going to irk her to be always watched, she knew that already.

  Silas ate his meal quickly and stood up. ‘That was delicious, Mrs T. Now, if you don’t need me any longer tonight, Jo, I’ll get off home.’

  ‘See you tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.’

  ‘Yes. I won’t be late.’

  Mrs T got up with him, picking up a package and slipping it into his hand. Jo heard her say in a low voice, ‘For your wife and children.’

  His voice came out sounding choked. ‘Thank you.’

  When Mrs T came back, she sat down quietly and went on with her meal.

  ‘That was kind of you,’ Jo told her.

  Mrs T flushed. ‘It was just a few leftovers.’

  ‘Silas looked a lot happier than he did earlier. It was good to see.’

  ‘Chaps like him aren’t asking for the moon, just a regular job,’ Peter said. ‘And even a temporary job lifts the spirits. Now, if you’ve both finished, let’s go and visit Mrs Fernby before it’s too late. You’ll like her, Jo.’

  15

  T he three of them walked through the streets at a brisk pace.

  ‘You’re a good, fast walker, Jo,’ Nick commented.

  ‘Dad used to say that. He told me to be sure to go for a tramp across the moors while I was here, said I’d love the soaring feeling you get when you’re surrounded by wide open spaces. Oh, bother! I can’t go out walking on my own now, can I?’

  ‘I’ll take you, if you like,’ he offered. ‘We call it “the tops”, which is what the moors are, I suppose, tops of hills. I used to go out walking there sometimes when I was a lad, before we moved away.’

  ‘I’d enjoy that very much. Thank you.’ She sm
iled at him and couldn’t look away for a moment or two.

  He was the one to break the invisible connection. ‘We might even be able to go during the week, if I have no bookings – and if the weather is fine.’ He chuckled and added, ‘I’m sure your employers will give you half a day off work.’

  ‘Will you be working at weekends?’

  ‘Saturdays, yes, once things get going. Not Sundays, though. That’d be frowned on, even though people who work full-time would love to have driving lessons then. I can’t afford to upset people.’

  ‘I’ll go walking whenever it suits you.’ She saw Peter watching them and felt her cheeks turn warmer. She could tell what he was thinking about the two of them from the knowing smile on his face.

  She had a sudden wish that it was true. She’d gone out with young men a time or two but had lost interest in them after a while, and had come to the conclusion that she wasn’t the sort to lose her head over a man and therefore was not likely to get married. But now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she’d just never met the right person. Only it was no use starting anything with Nick. She was going back to Australia after she’d finished here … wasn’t she?

  She reined in her thoughts abruptly.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the minister’s house, a comfortable residence standing next to the neat, plain Methodist chapel with its tidy churchyard and rows of headstones.

  Peter gestured to it as he rang the doorbell. ‘Largest chapel in the district, that is, first one to be built round here. A lot of mill owners contributed towards building chapels in the nineteenth century, because they thought it kept their workers away from boozing – and also because they wanted the children they would one day employ to learn to read and write at Sunday school.’

  ‘It’s far bigger than our church in Beeniup,’ Jo said. ‘Well, even Birch End is bigger than the town I grew up in. Only we didn’t call Beeniup a village, even so.’

  The maid opened the door just then. She nodded to Peter as if she knew him and he said quickly, ‘It’s your mistress we’d like to see, not Allan.’

  ‘Oh, right. Please come and sit down. I’ll tell Mrs Fernby you’re here.’

  She showed them into a room to one side of the hall, which was furnished with wooden chairs and a table, obviously a place for parishioners to consult their minister or his wife, or perhaps hold small meetings.

  The minister’s wife joined them shortly afterwards, so Peter introduced the others and explained why they were there.

  She looked at Jo and hesitated, as if reluctant to say something.

  Jo could guess what it was. ‘I’m twenty-six, Mrs Fernby. I grew up on a farm and I do understand what the world is like. Which is not to say I approve of people behaving immorally.’

  ‘Well, then, I have heard about your relative. It’s not good news because she’s living in one of the houses in Packman Alley, Number Three I think.’ Another hesitation, then, ‘The alley’s behind the corner shop near the pub and all three houses there are apparently used for – well, immoral purposes.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘They call her Red Moira, because she dyes her hair bright red. She has a daughter who lives with her, but Tess is quite young. Most people would say she was too young to be plying that trade yet, but you can never tell. It always horrifies me when young girls are involved.’

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  ‘I was told that Moira is saving her um … her daughter’s innocence for the highest bidder, and that some men are already showing an interest.’

  No one said anything and they avoided one another’s eyes as that sank in. It horrified Jo and she could see the looks of disgust on the two men’s faces.

  She swallowed hard and stared at the ground, wondering how to help, then had an idea, not a pleasant idea but still, it might work. She forced herself to speak calmly, ‘Then perhaps I can be the highest bidder and rescue the girl that way. What do you think?’

  There was another brief silence as her companions took in her suggestion, then Mrs Fernby spoke. ‘Who knows what people like that will agree to? I don’t approve of you doing such a thing, but sadly, it may be the only way. It wouldn’t be cheap, though. Can you afford it?’

  ‘Yes, I can. I inherited some money recently.’

  ‘What would you do with the girl?’

  ‘I haven’t even thought about that. I’d take her away from Rivenshaw, I suppose, maybe take her back to Australia where nobody knows her circumstances. I’ll work something out once we discover exactly what’s going on.’

  ‘It might be best to get her as far away from Backshaw Moss as you can, if you can get Moira to agree to you taking the girl, that is.’

  ‘I’ll have to go and see her, persuade her. Surely she’ll want a better life for her child?’

  ‘You can’t always be sure. She may think it is a better life than working in a mill or in some of the hard, dirty jobs on farms, which pay very poorly. I believe the higher-paid women of the mother’s sort can earn a lot of money.’

  Peter and Nick started speaking at the same time, stopped and Nick gestured to the other man to continue.

  ‘You can’t go into this Moira’s home, Jo. It’ll also be where she works.’

  ‘How else can I speak to her?’

  ‘I’ll go and see if I can find her, persuade her to meet you—’

  Jo shook her head. ‘No! I’m going to find her myself and the sooner the better. Any suggestion about her daughter will come better from me than from either of you. I doubt she’d trust a man.’

  Her two escorts glanced quickly at one another in dismay, then looked pleadingly at Mrs Fernby as if begging her to intervene.

  ‘In that case, I think my husband and I had better come with you, Jo. We can wait outside but if you leave the door open, our presence there will protect your reputation. I’ll ask him now.’

  She got up and left the room.

  ‘You shouldn’t go near that woman, relative or not,’ Nick told Jo.

  ‘I don’t like the thought of getting mixed up in such a situation, but there you are. Sometimes you have to do things you dislike.’

  They all fell silent until the door opened and the minister joined them.

  ‘My wife has explained what’s going on and I agree with her: we’d better go with you, Jo. We can all squash into my car.’

  ‘No need. I have my car,’ Nick said.

  ‘It’ll be better only to take one car into Backshaw Moss at this time of day. Lads there have been known to throw stones at passing vehicles, goodness knows why, or try to break into parked cars. But they know mine by sight and leave it alone, because I go there to help people.’

  Peter and Nick both looked relieved at this offer. Jo wasn’t so sure about the idea. Wouldn’t being confronted by a group of people upset Moira? Especially if one of them was the Methodist minister?

  And why should this woman trust Jo, let alone allow her to take her daughter away? It was doubtful that she’d allow it straight away and if she cared about the girl, she’d want to get to know their new relative first.

  It was so hard to know what was the right thing to do. Her father would say to be careful of rushing into something heedlessly. But she hated the thought of a young girl risking being caught up in such a trade. No, her father would approve of her saving the child, whatever it cost, she was quite sure of that, at least.

  Nick sat on one side of Jo in the back of the car, looking unhappy. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this,’ he whispered suddenly as the minister drove them up towards Backshaw Moss.

  She replied in an equally low voice, ‘If Mrs Fernby is right, this girl is in great danger of being forced into an immoral life. I have to save her if I can, Nick, surely you understand that? She’s a relative. And actually, I’d want to help her even if she wasn’t related to me. She’s only a child.’

  ‘I feel sorry for the girl, of course I do, but it’s your safety and reputation that worry me most, Jo.’


  ‘I’ll do my best to look after both aspects.’

  Mrs Fernby said, ‘This is Backshaw Moss, the better part.’

  Jo gazed out, first at one side then the other, immediately disgusted by what she saw. And this was the better part of the district!

  They were driving slowly along between two rows of houses that looked ready to fall down any minute. Men were lounging on street corners, barefoot children were running round, and women in soiled pinafores, some with cigarettes in their mouths like the men, were gossiping in doorways. Windowpanes here and there must have been broken because the frames were filled by cardboard or wood. Washing still sagged on lines strung across the street, even though it was late. The clothes didn’t look particularly clean, either. And rubbish lay everywhere. You could smell it as well as see it, even from inside the car.

  The car slowed down still further, bumping along at a slow walking pace to avoid a group of men standing in the road, who scowled at the car and made no attempt to get out of the way. When Mr Fernby pulled up about twenty yards further on, the men turned to watch.

  He switched off the engine and pointed to the right. At the other side of the road there was what looked like an alley. The opening was narrow, not much wider than the car, next to a small corner shop, which had half its window boarded up and only a few tins of food on display in the other half.

  ‘This is Packman Alley, I’m afraid.’ He paused to let them look round then asked, ‘Shall I go and enquire for your cousin, Miss Melling?’

  ‘If you would, please.’

  Jo watched him cross the road, speak to an old woman leaning against the wall and slip her a coin. She pointed down the alley, slipped the coin down the front of her bodice and hurried away.

  He returned to the car. ‘The end door, she says, the blue one, and your cousin is at home, apparently. She – er – hasn’t started work yet, thank goodness.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, Jo,’ Mrs Fernby said.

  Her husband shook his head. ‘No, dear. I’d rather you didn’t. I’d better do it, I suppose, though I’ve never met this woman.’

  Jo could see his reluctance. ‘She’ll be less likely to speak openly if you’re with me, Mr Fernby, given that clerical collar you’re wearing.’ And the disapproving scowl he was also wearing, but she couldn’t say that. ‘Nick, would you come with me, please, but stand back a little?’