‘You already knew that, didn’t you?’
‘I’d forgotten. I’ve been so wrapped up in things and feeling sorry for myself.’
‘You’re allowed,’ he told her with a smile.
‘I know, but …’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t do any good, does it? I’ve had some setbacks. It’s not as if I can win every battle, is it?’
‘No,’ he agreed and took her hand.
‘I still feel guilty, though. I let Ada and Annie down,’ she said. ‘In the end, their deaths were for nothing at all.’
‘You did your best.’ That was all she could do. ‘You’ll have other fights. And you’ll win those.’
‘Some of them, at least. Enough of them, maybe.’ She squeezed his fingers. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘Bringing us all out here. Putting up with me the last few days.’ For the first time in a week, the smile reached her eyes, as if a weight had been lifted. Before he could reply, Mary was shouting in the distance.
‘Da! Da! Come and look at these.’ She was standing by some low rocks, close to the edge.
Names carved in the sandstone. E.M. Lancaster, 24th Foot, 1882. Jas Marshall, Bramley. Johnson, 1835. Dozens of others. All the letters so clearly etched, as if they’d been done the day before. Was Lancaster still alive or had he been killed in action somewhere? And Marshall, Johnson, what about them?
‘Who were they, Da?’ Mary asked. ‘What does it mean?’
‘They’re all people who’ve been here,’ Annabelle explained.
‘But why did they do it?’
‘So people would know and remember them. And little girls would ask questions.’
‘Can we put our names in the rock, Mam?’
‘Maybe when we come another time,’ Harper said. ‘I tell you what. After we take the cart down, we’ll see if we can find a bookshop with the story of the giant and his wife. How about that?’
He could feel Annabelle smiling at him.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Hiding the real ownership of property behind an attorney was quite common at the time. It happened famously with the London slum known as the Old Nichol. There, the true owners of the buildings were only discovered when demolition began and compensation paid. Among the landlords with extensive holdings was the Church of England.
The case of the Redshaw girls is very closely based on what happened to Ada and Annie Mellor in Leeds in 1900. Their father was hanged in Armley Gaol on August 16, 1900.
Helping with an exhibition called The Vote Before The Vote, I was researching in West Yorkshire Archives, and discovered that some religious societies did sponsor children from Leeds Workhouse to be boarded elsewhere – and two sisters, Maggie and Mary, were placed with a family on Silver Street in Whitby. They remained in the records for a few years, then vanished. Catherine and Charlotte Bush are those sisters in my imagination.
Those carvings do exist up on the Cow and Calf Rocks above Ilkley, and the view is magnificent, well worth the trip.
Many thanks to Ian Downes for the guided tour of Pontefract Castle, and to my good friend Candace Robb for inviting me.
I’m constantly grateful to everyone at Severn House for their support, and particularly Kate Lyall Grant and Sara Porter. Also my wonderful agent, Tina Betts, and Lynne Patrick, whose editing skills are little short of miraculous. Penny Lomas keeps me and my writing honest. And there are others who’ve contributed indirectly to this book, even if they don’t realize it. Thank you all.
Finally, to all who buy my books or borrow them from the library. Without you, it simply wouldn’t happen. I owe you, I truly do.
The Leaden Heart Page 26
