by Maggie Hope
Jimmy stepped up to the door and rang the bell. He could hear it echo loudly in the house. There was no reply so he tried again.
‘What do you want? Hey, you, boy, I’m talking to you.’
Jimmy turned to see a girl of about twelve standing outside the shop. She had long black hair tied back with a green ribbon, a pale green dress with a white pinafore worn over it: one of the frilled sort, for show not for work. He walked round to her.
‘Hello, Alice,’ he said. ‘You haven’t seen our sister Elizabeth, have you?’
Walking back along the path not ten minutes later, he seethed. Stuck-up little madam that she was, that Alice! She should have had her bum tanned. He picked up a stick and slashed at the hedge as he walked along.
‘Elizabeth who?’ she had asked, face set and straight. ‘I haven’t got a sister.’
‘An’ I suppose you’ll say I’m not your brother!’ Jimmy flared, then calmed himself. ‘Look, Alice, our Elizabeth’s gone missing and I have to find her.’
‘Well, she’s not here, I haven’t seen her, even if I knew what you were talking about,’ said Alice, and waltzed off into the shop.
Jimmy fumed, but it was no use, he knew that. Alice was an unfeeling little … No, she wasn’t, she had her new family now. Why, she hardly knew him or Elizabeth. Best leave her alone. At least he knew now that she had no idea where Elizabeth was. He tried to take his mind off his sisters. Finding a good, grassy bank he sat down, leaned back and crossed his legs. Small white clouds chased across the sky and in spite of his worry, his mood lightened. It was a grand day. Jimmy let his mind dwell on Captain Benson’s proposal. It was a great chance, he knew that. And Elizabeth would be proud as punch of him if he went to the grammar school. The pit wasn’t the same since Tommy went and he couldn’t even pretend to be eighteen and enlist in the army for another year at least.
He’d give it a go, he decided, getting to his feet. Make something of himself, he would.
Next morning, Captain Benson was standing in the office doorway as Jimmy walked past from the cage. He beckoned to him and the boy left the crowd of miners and went over to him. Some of the men looked at each other and raised their eyebrows but that was all.
‘Did you hear anything?’ Captain Benson asked without preamble.
‘No, sir.’ Jimmy shook his head. Tiny bright specks of coal dust dropped from his hair and eyebrows at the movement. He looked up in time to see the acute disappointment in the gaffer’s face. Blimey, he really did care about Elizabeth, Jimmy realised, and couldn’t help warming to him. He glanced round at the other men streaming past, most of them openly curious by now. Especially Mr Dunne, poking his head round the inner door of the office, all eyes and ears.
‘I’ll take you up on that offer. An’ don’t worry – our Elizabeth will get in touch, I know she will,’ Jimmy said rapidly, and walked off quickly to the pit gates. She better had an’ all, he said to himself as he hurried on down to the rows.
‘I might let Jen go to school, what do you think about that?’ asked Peart, smiling craftily. He was pleased with himself, Elizabeth could see, reckoned he was getting what he wanted now. She had been back at the farm for a few weeks and felt trapped, in spite of her relief at getting out of the workhouse. Lying in bed the night before, she had gone over and over in her mind what she could do. If she wrote to Jimmy surely he would help her, or at least give her the money to get away. But Jimmy was no doubt disgusted with the story of why she had been dismissed, it must be all round Morton Main by now. Elizabeth cringed at the thought. She couldn’t bear to face the people she knew.
Especially not Jack Benson. He meant so much to her and must despise her now. How could she face him? Her thoughts slid back to Jenny. Jenny, who was a different girl since she had been here. Her sister looked up to her, admired the way she stood up to Peart, was pathetically grateful for everything Elizabeth did for her. She would be heartbroken to be left without her.
‘Well?’ Peart demanded, bringing Elizabeth’s thoughts back to the present.
‘She should be at school anyway,’ she replied. ‘I cannot understand why the kiddy-catcher hasn’t been after you before now.’
‘Nay, they won’t come all the way up here,’ he said. ‘Besides, she couldn’t go in the winter, could she? Not wi’ the snow an’that.’
‘It’s not winter now. It’s May, the beginning of the summer. She could go to school now.’
‘Aye, well, isn’t that just what I’ve been saying?’ Peart looked across at her as she stood by the fire, the frying pan in her hand. By, she was getting a fine figure on her, was the lass. He felt his loins stir as he looked at her. A lovely smell of bacon frying filled the room, he had brought it in from Stanhope only that morning.
Elizabeth lifted the bacon onto a plate and put it in front of him. Going back to the pan, she put in two slices of bread to fry in the bacon fat, one for her and one for Jenny. At least the little girl was eating better now, she thought. And she had known all along what Peart had in mind when he brought her back from Stanhope Workhouse. It was a wonder she had been able to put him off until now. But the thought of him touching her after Jack … She shuddered.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.
‘Hmmm,’ Peart snorted, and began to eat his bacon, cutting great pieces and stuffing them into his mouth, chewing noisily, wiping his plate with a heel of bread. Fat ran down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.
‘Come on, Jenny, eat this,’ said Elizabeth. She was hovering in the background as she usually did when Peart was in, but these days she came to the table when Elizabeth bade her. She sat down as far away from Peart as possible and began to eat the fried bread but still he turned on her, taking out his frustrations on her.
‘You, you little beggar – feed the dog before you feed your face. Haven’t I told you before?’ he snarled.
Jenny reverted to her old self, scuttling into the corner for Snuff’s dish and filling it with scraps. She stayed in the corner with him, not coming back to the table.
‘Leave the bairn alone,’ Elizabeth protested. He was so unpredictable, she thought despairingly, one minute trying to ingratiate himself with her and the next turning nasty like this. ‘Come and eat your bread, Jenny,’ she coaxed the child, but Jenny just gazed at her with large, troubled eyes. Elizabeth sighed and sat at the table opposite Peart. At least he had never tried to force her, she thought. He was not so bad as Private Wilson. But she knew he wouldn’t wait much longer.
‘Are you talking about getting married?’ she asked.
Peart sat back and rubbed his lips with the back of his hand. ‘Married? Why the hell should I get married? It costs over much, man. Just a Minister saying words over us, isn’t it? Nay, we could just go on as we are, ’cept that you would move into my room.’ He watched her reactions slyly.
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, and rose from the table and went over to Jenny. ‘Come on, pet,’ she said. ‘We’ll go out for a breath of fresh air, will we?’ Taking the girl by the hand, she drew her to the door and out, while Peart glowered at them and Jenny kept glancing back at him timidly. Elizabeth expected him to roar and shout after them to come back but he didn’t and the girls escaped into the yard and then through the weedy pasture at the front of the house to the path leading to the high moor.
‘He’ll be fair stotting, he’ll be that angry,’ Jenny said as they gained the freedom of the moor. She clasped Elizabeth’s hand tightly and looked up, her little face like an old woman’s with the worry lines.
‘Ah, so what?’ said Elizabeth. ‘He’ll get over it.’ Though in truth she was worried herself.
‘You won’t go away again, though, will you?’
‘No, I won’t, not without you, pet,’ she answered and wondered if she could keep the promise.
The day was bright and sunny. The heather was tipped with green shoots and in the small patches of grass there were tiny daisies. Further up, the sheep were calling
to their lambs while nibbling away at the new growth. The lambs skipped and played. Peewits cried; a curlew rose suddenly in front of them, skimming away over the heather, calling plaintively, trying to distract their attention from its hidden nest.
In spite of everything, the sisters felt their spirits rise as the warm spring breeze lifted their hair. They began to scramble for the top of the moor from where they could see other farmsteads and know they were not completely alone in Stand Alone Farm. There were dark clefts over by Stanhope, where stone had been quarried for centuries, a blue mist on the horizon. And most of all there was the vast, blue sky.
And as they raised their faces to the sun, a lark rose to become a mere speck in all that vast blue and his trilling song was sweet and pure.
Jenny leaned against Elizabeth. ‘It’ll be all right, Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘I know it will.’ And as Elizabeth smiled down at her she saw the worried lines smoothed away. Jenny was smiling, a rare, relaxed smile. The moor had worked its magic.
Chapter Twenty
PEART WAS A more complicated man than she had realised, Elizabeth thought as she sat by her sister on the settle that evening. They had got back from the moor by five o’clock and there was no sign of him or his dog. Elizabeth had breathed a sigh of relief. She had persuaded Jenny to go upstairs and play with her doll, out of his way should he come home in a foul mood. By the time he did come in, she had a pheasant he had brought in the day before (never mind that it was out of season) broiling on the fire, fragrant with herbs. There were new young nettles and potatoes left over from the winter stock. Maybe the dinner would put him in a better mood, she told herself.
But as it happened he was in a good mood anyway, or seemed to be. He had sniffed the air appreciatively.
‘Grand,’ he pronounced. ‘I’m fair clemmed wi’ hunger.’
She had called Jenny downstairs and dished out the food and Peart had even smiled at the girl so that Jenny was encouraged to sit at the table again and eat her share of the dinner. At this rate, Elizabeth thought, the bairn would be putting a bit of weight on her bones.
Jenny was tired after the fresh air and the good food; her eyes drooped and she leaned against Elizabeth as though for support.
‘Get off to bed, young ’un,’ said Peart, and Jenny’s eyes flew open warily. But he smiled at her and felt in his pocket, bringing out a paper bag. ‘Here, have one of these,’ he said, holding out the bag. It was full of sweets like black bullets. She looked warily up at him.
‘Go on,’ he said again and she took one, gazing at it as though she wasn’t sure what to do with it.
‘Suck it, Jenny,’ said Elizabeth, ‘you’ll like it. Then we’ll go to bed.’
‘Nay, it’s far too early for you,’ Peart objected. ‘Stay and keep me company.’
Elizabeth wasn’t sure. Staying with Jenny had been her protection up to now. Yet he hadn’t forced her to do anything she didn’t want to, had he? And it was early for her. But Jenny was so tired. She could handle him, Elizabeth thought, only a trifle uneasily.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Jenny, you go up, I won’t be so long.’
They sat in silence for a while after she had gone. It was uncomfortable for Elizabeth. Every time she looked up, Peart’s eyes were intent on her, like a cat watching a cornered mouse. If only they’d had a gramophone, some music, she thought. Something to take her mind off him. One of the patients at Newcomb Hall had had a gramophone. It had been lovely. She gazed at the embers of the peat fire, trying to see pictures in the red, grey and black.
‘Do you want one?’
His voice made her jump. She looked quickly at him. He was holding out the bag of black bullets. She took one with a rapid, nervous movement and put it in her mouth then wished she hadn’t. It was large and sweet and sticky. She stood up and made to move away.
‘I’ll just get the mending.’
‘No. Stay here. I want you to stay here,’ he insisted. He caught hold of her arm, moved from his chair to the settle and pulled her down to sit beside him.
He’s not going to do anything, Elizabeth told herself silently. Keep calm, that’s the thing. She felt slightly sick. She took out her handkerchief, one that Jimmy had bought her for Christmas, and put it to her mouth, spitting the black bullet into it. She took a long breath.
‘I think I’d best be going to bed.’
‘Not yet,’ he insisted. ‘Howay, give me a kiss first.’
His face was very close to hers. His breath didn’t have its usual smell of cheap spirit, she noticed. His body smelled clean and only slightly musky. The main smell was of mint and sugar from the sweets. She leaned away from him. Embarrassment and confusion made her face red; in fact, she felt red all over.
He pressed against her. ‘Just one kiss? You’re not shy, are you?’
Elizabeth turned her face to his. Maybe she could escape to bed if she let him kiss her. He smiled slightly, grasped her around the waist and pressed his mouth to hers. She stayed compliant. His teeth pressed against her lips. His tongue darted out and forced her mouth open. She steeled herself to endure it. He pulled back and gave a triumphant smile.
‘I’ll go now,’ she said but he did not release her.
‘I’ll let the bairn go to school,’ he said. ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see. And I’ll marry you. Later on, in the winter mebee, when I’m not so busy.’ She could tell he was being as nice as he could.
Could she do it, for Jenny’s sake? The girl had had no sort of a life up ’til now; she would be broken altogether if Elizabeth were to leave. Jenny trusted her, she was the bairn’s only chance. Oh, she must go upstairs, give herself time to think. Fleetingly, images of Jack came into her mind: Jack smiling; Jack making love to her. Pure agony rose in her. She had to push it to the back of her mind, forget him. She couldn’t bear to think of him, it was too painful. She had to think what she could do now. Jack didn’t want her, his mother had made it clear.
‘What do you say?’ Peart’s voice was low in her ear, persistent. ‘Come on, pet, I want ye. I love ye.’ He ran his hand down her arm, across her breasts, down to her hips.
‘Upstairs,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Not here, not where Jenny might come down and see us.’
Peart sprang to his feet. He seized her hand, holding it clasped so tightly she could feel the hard calluses across his palm. Just in case she changed her mind, she thought in a detached, dull sort of way. But she wouldn’t, there was an inevitability about what was happening. She allowed him to lead her upstairs, past Jenny’s room (she kept her eyes averted), to his, a room which smelled strongly male from the years he had slept there, in his dirt, in this bed.
‘I don’t know why you want to waste your time and money on that pit boy?’ said Olivia. She stared at her son, distaste plain to see on her face. ‘What your father would have thought, I dread to imagine. That was something he wouldn’t hear of. “The working classes won’t thank you for interfering in their private lives,” that’s what he used to say.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ said Jack. ‘He also said that they were shiftless, drunken and needed a firm hand, didn’t he?’ Jack gave her a meaningful smile. He hardly remembered his father sober, and as for gambling – well, he could teach any pitch and toss school of miners a thing or two about gambling. He’d very nearly driven the family to ruin and now his son was slowly rescuing it.
Olivia put her nose in the air and favoured him with her haughtiest look. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Jack.’
‘Don’t you, Mother?’
He picked up the book he had been studying and started to walk out of the room. At the door he paused.
‘I will, no matter what you say, be helping Jimmy Nelson to get a decent education, Mother.’
‘Jimmy Nelson? Of course, that’s his name,’ said Olivia as though she had just heard it, though Jack had introduced him to her only an hour ago. The boy had come up to the Manor to hear how Jack’s plans were progressing and Jack had given him books to read and set him
some elementary maths problems he judged would be about the level of a fourteen-year-old.
‘Nelson? Isn’t that the name of the girl who was dismissed from Newcomb Hall for immoral behaviour? She came here, the impudent young hussy, looking for you, would you believe? I—’
‘She came here? When did she come here?’
Jack let go of the door he was holding open. It closed silently behind him as he strode back into the room and confronted his mother. Hope flared in him. Perhaps Elizabeth had been recently. Perhaps she had left a clue as to where she was living.
‘Oh, ages ago, winter it was. I remember we had snow …’
‘In the winter? You mean she came looking for me when she left the Hall?’ Jack could feel a cold rage beginning to stir deep within him. He had to keep a firm hold on it to stop himself from shouting at his mother.
‘Don’t look at me like that, young man,’ she said testily. ‘Yes, I suppose it would be just after that incident. It was just as well you weren’t here, you’re such a softie. I told her you wanted nothing to do with her, of course you didn’t.’
‘Where did she go?’ asked Jack, his voice low and menacing now so that his mother faltered and looked away.
‘How would I know? I’m not interested in where such riffraff go,’ she snapped. ‘But forget about her. I was talking about this boy, her brother. He’s probably no better than she is. Jack, I can’t understand—’
