by Val Wood
‘Mama!’ Christina whispered. ‘There’s a man staring at us.’
‘Avert your eyes,’ Jenny murmured. ‘Don’t acknowledge him. Sometimes men will try to attract your attention.’ How innocent she is, Jenny thought worriedly, glancing sideways at the man standing by the barrier who was looking their way. She hasn’t had enough experience of town life to know when to say hello and when to ignore and walk on.
‘Jenny?’ The man came over to them and took off his cap. ‘Beg your pardon. Am I mistaken?’ He looked directly at her. ‘Is it really you?’
‘Harry!’ The name came out on an astonished breath. ‘Good gracious! I don’t believe it! To see you here after all this time.’ She put out her hand in greeting. He looked the same, dressed in his tweed jacket, cord breeches and leather boots, and smelling of horses.
He seemed embarrassed at the gesture and unsure of what to do with his cap as he shook her hand. ‘I’ve not been anywhere,’ he murmured. ‘So there’s nowt surprising about me being here. You’re ’one who’s been away.’ Then he gave a shy grin. ‘You look right well. What you doing back in Beverley after all this time? Been far, have you?’
‘N-no, not very far,’ she admitted. Then she turned to Christina. ‘This is my daughter, Christina.’
Harry’s eyes lingered over Christina for a moment, and then he put out his hand to her. ‘Pleased to meet you, miss – Christina.’ He glanced again at Jenny. ‘Just been talking to Billy,’ he said. ‘Billy Brown –’
‘Butcher boy,’ she added, almost without thinking.
‘Aye,’ he said wryly. ‘’Same.’
‘What do you do, Harry? Still a farrier? I was telling Christina earlier that I once had a friend in Beverley whose first love was horses.’
‘Aye, that’s right. Onny don’t tell my wife that.’ He grinned, and she thought he seemed less shy than he used to be. ‘Got my own farrier business now; my wife, well she was a widow, and her son, my stepson, he’s good wi’ hosses same as I was, so I’m teaching him. And I’m buying and selling hosses as well as shoeing ’em.’
‘Oh!’ Christina said. ‘We need another horse for my brother! Perhaps we should have a look.’
‘Not today, Christina,’ Jenny said quickly. ‘We won’t have time, not with shopping and everything.’ Her voice trailed away. ‘Perhaps another day?’
‘Aye, why not?’ Harry nodded. ‘Got just ’two, have you, same as me? Bairns, I mean?’
‘Er, no,’ Jenny said. ‘I have five children. Three boys and two girls, including twins.’
‘Ah!’ Harry nodded again, glancing at Christina. ‘Keep you busy, then!’
‘Yes,’ Jenny murmured. ‘Christina is ’eldest. William ’youngest at eleven.’
‘Ah!’ Harry’s blue eyes perused her face. ‘Call and see Billy if you’ve time. He’s in ’Toll Gavel shop this morning,’ he said. ‘He’d be pleased to see you. He’s doing well, is Billy. Got four shops now. Two in Beverley, two in Hull. Got a nice little house as well.’
‘Has he?’ Jenny felt her eyes prickle. ‘Yes, we’ll call. He was a good friend to me.’
‘Aye, he was.’
‘Goodbye then, Harry,’ she said. ‘It was nice to meet you again.’ She blinked and felt her mouth tremble as she spoke. ‘It’s so good to come back to Beverley and meet old friends.’
He frowned. ‘Have you not been back since—’
‘No,’ she interrupted. ‘Not in a long time.’
She felt shaky as they walked away from the station and down Railway Street towards Wednesday Market. This isn’t going to be easy, she thought. I should never have come. She was wearing a grey bonnet with a lace insert and a matching shawl round the neck of her coat. She pulled the shawl up to her chin and lowered her head.
‘Are you cold, Mama?’ Christina asked. ‘You’re shivering!’
‘Yes. Yes, just a little. Let’s go and have a cup of tea. It’ll warm me up. I must have caught a chill on the train,’ she said nervously.
There was a teashop adjacent to a grocer’s in Wednesday Market and Christina ushered Jenny into it. She ordered tea and biscuits for her mother and lemonade for herself. ‘It’s upset you, hasn’t it? Coming back, I mean,’ she murmured. ‘Were you very happy here? Is this where you met my father?’
Jenny nodded. ‘Yes. I was happy for a time. But I was unhappy too.’ She looked up as the girl brought their refreshments. She was young, perhaps fourteen, with her hair coiled neatly beneath a white cap and a crisp white apron over her black skirt. She placed the teapot on the table.
‘Come to Beverley for shopping, have you, ma’am?’ she asked Jenny. ‘Don’t recall seeing you before, but then we gets lots o’ visitors to Beverley. They come to see the Minster and St Mary’s. They’re worth a look if you’ve time.’
‘Yes,’ Jenny murmured. ‘We shall try to fit them in.’
Her teeth chattered as she drank her tea, but she felt better for it. How foolish I am, she told herself. Why do I think that people will point a finger at me? Who is going to stare and say there she is, Jenny Graham, she was arrested for murder? No-one. Then a doubt crept in. But suppose I see Mrs Ingram as I did when I came last time? What if she’s still living in Beverley? She won’t have forgotten, and she would recognize me as I would her. We won’t ever forget each other.
‘Where shall we go first?’ Christina was asking. ‘Shall we go to the other market? Aunt Bella says it has some fine shops.’
‘Saturday Market it’s called,’ Jenny told her. ‘Yes, it has milliners, haberdashers, booksellers, drapers and dressmakers. Anything anyone could want. At least, it always did have, and I see no reason why it shouldn’t have the same now, except maybe run by different shopkeepers.’
‘So shall we go?’ Christina asked eagerly. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Yes.’ Jenny smiled weakly. ‘Much better, thank you.’
They paid for their refreshments and continued on down Butcher Row, where some of the ancient timber-framed houses were in a state of dilapidation, yet were still occupied, with scrubbed-clean doorsteps and lacy curtains at their shuttered windows. They stood side by side with thriving fishmongers, barbers and butchers. Laden waggons, traps, donkeys and drays trundled along the cobbled street, people rushed around on their various errands, and Christina exclaimed how very busy it was.
‘Now we’re in Toll Gavel,’ Jenny said. ‘This is where my friend Billy Brown had his butcher’s shop. His father opened it for him when – oh, many years ago, before you were born.’
‘Is this it?’ Christina pointed to a bow-fronted shop window. ‘It says William Brown’s Son. So has he got a son? Your friend Billy?’
‘I don’t know, he might have, but Billy’s father put that sign up. They had another shop in Saturday Market but Billy ran this one.’ She glanced in at the window. It was neatly laid out with trays of mutton chops, offal, sausages, ox cheek and tails, pigs’ trotters and joints of plum-red beef. Hanging from hooks on a rack inside the window were plucked chickens and pigeons, and rabbits waiting to be skinned.
Behind the counter a lad of about fifteen wearing a long white bloodstained apron was about to slice into a loin of beef; advising him, with his arms folded in front of his clean white apron, was Billy.
Should I go in? Jenny pondered. He’s busy. I wonder if that’s his son? And there’s Billy’s mother. Jenny couldn’t help but give a little smile as she saw the woman at the back of the shop. She’s still keeping an eye on the shop and still stringing sausages.
Billy looked up, seemingly caught by the presence of someone outside the window. He wore a straw boater and in an automatic gesture he touched it with his forefinger. Then he looked again, startled. He spoke to the boy and to his mother, who also glanced at them, then came round the counter and out of the shop.
He took off his hat and stared at her. ‘Jenny!’ His voice cracked. His mouth opened as he took a breath, and then closed.
‘Hello, Billy!’ She gazed back at him and
her eyes were washed with tears. She swallowed. ‘How are you?’
He nodded. ‘I’m all right. Wha— I mean, how are you? It’s good to see you, Jenny. I thought –’ He cleared his throat. ‘I thought that I’d never see you again.’ His words were halting and strained. He was obviously stunned by her appearance.
‘We’ve come for the day,’ Jenny murmured. ‘This is Christina.’ She drew her daughter towards them; Christina had stood back when Billy came out of the shop.
He gave a bewildered frown as he looked at Christina. ‘Not that young babby? Grown into a fine young lady. I saw you when you were in your mother’s arms.’
‘I’m sixteen,’ Christina volunteered.
Billy nodded. ‘Aye, I reckon you will be. I remember ’day well when Jenny – your ma – came to Beverley. I’ve not seen you since. Jenny!’ he asked. ‘You wouldn’t have come without calling?’
‘Of course I wouldn’t, Billy. This is ’first time I’ve been back since that day.’
‘Why so long?’ His forehead wrinkled and he gazed anxiously at her. ‘Why didn’t you come back? I’ve wai— well, I thought you’d forgotten all about us here in Beverley.’
‘I’d never do that,’ she said softly. ‘But there have been so many things happening. It would take a month to tell.’
‘Will you come in and have a cup of tea?’ He nodded over his shoulder to the shop. ‘We still live above ’shop. Well, Ma does. I’ve a place above ’other one in Sat’day Market.’
‘We’ve just had a cup,’ Christina broke in. She was fidgeting and Jenny knew she wanted to be off.
‘I heard you have four shops,’ Jenny said. ‘We met Harry at ’railway station and had a chat with him.’
‘Did you? Aye, I have.’ Billy looked down at her. He was taller and broader than when she had seen him last. A man now, no longer a boy. ‘My da died and left me both shops in Beverley and a fair bit o’ money. Owd bugger – beggin’ your pardon, miss,’ he added, glancing at Christina. ‘He’d been stashing it away for years. So I took ’chance and bought two more shops in Hull and put managers in. But I go over twice a week to make sure they’re doing all right.’
‘Well.’ Jenny’s voice broke as she remembered. ‘Didn’t I say you’d have a string of shops before I saw you again, Billy?’ Jenny glanced towards Christina who had edged away and was looking in a stationer’s window. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said. ‘We’ve only come for the day.’
Harry driving up in a two-wheeled trap hailed them. ‘You found each other then?’ he called. ‘Why don’t you come over to my place for a bit o’ dinner and you could catch up wi’ ’news? ’Young lady could look at my hosses.’
Christina, catching this shouted invitation, came towards them. Her face lit up, shopping forgotten. ‘Could we, Mama?’
‘I – I don’t know. We haven’t a great deal of time. The train –’
‘Where do you live, Jenny?’ Billy asked. ‘Did you leave ’district?’
Jenny looked up at him. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘We live up on ’Wolds. Not far from Driffield.’
‘Only up there?’ His voice and expression was puzzled. ‘You were only as far away as Driffield? Why, I come regular to Driffield!’ He shook his head as if bewildered. ‘And I’ve never seen you! I thought – well, I’ve been about a bit,’ he said lamely. ‘I’ve looked for you,’ he added quietly. ‘Kept an eye out for you, you know. I thought mebbe you’d gone to work in Hull.’
‘Are you coming, Mama?’ Christina laughingly called from where she was sitting in Harry’s trap. ‘We can look at the shops later! The train doesn’t leave until four thirty.’
‘You go,’ Billy urged Harry. ‘I’ll bring Jenny in a bit. I’ll just have to change into my coat.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘She’ll be all right with Harry,’ he said hastily. ‘I want to show you something, Jenny. It’s important!’
CHAPTER FORTY
Jenny slowly followed Billy as he dashed into the shop and through another door. She could hear him clattering up the stairs. Mrs Brown looked up and came towards her. ‘It’s all right, Tom,’ she said, in an aside to the apprentice. ‘You carry on.
‘It’s Jenny, isn’t it?’ she murmured. ‘Jenny Graham?’ Her sharp eyes seemed to take in her appearance in a second. ‘You haven’t changed!’
‘Nor have you, Mrs Brown,’ Jenny said. ‘But – I’m not Jenny Graham any more. I’m Jenny Laslett, have been for ’last fourteen years.’
‘Oh!’ Mrs Brown’s face drooped. ‘Does Billy know?’
‘Not yet, he doesn’t. I’ve barely had a chance to talk to him but he’s whisking me off somewhere, I don’t know where. And my daughter –’ She broke off and looked out of the door but Christina and Harry had driven away.
‘Best tell him, then,’ Mrs Brown muttered. ‘Fourteen years. So long! Have you got other bairns or just the one?’
‘Yes.’ Jenny didn’t know why she felt nervous under Mrs Brown’s scrutiny. She wasn’t hostile, but she was definitely curious. ‘I’ve five children.’
‘Five!’ Mrs Brown breathed out the number. ‘That’s nice; I allus wished I could have had more. They’re a comfort to you when you get old. I keep telling Billy—’
What she kept telling Billy she didn’t have the chance to say as Billy banged down the stairs again, and Jenny guessed that the treads were uncarpeted. He had removed his apron, washed his hands and brushed his hair, and was wearing a smart black coat with a grey waistcoat beneath it.
‘I’ve just been saying to Mrs Laslett here how I keep nattering on to you to give me grandchildren,’ Mrs Brown said pointedly.
‘Who?’ Billy’s blue eyes went from his mother to Jenny. There was no-one else in the shop, so there was no mistaking whom she meant. ‘Mrs Laslett? That was— Wasn’t that ’fellow you were working for?’
‘Yes, but – shall we walk on?’ Jenny interrupted. ‘I must catch up with Christina. You’ll know where Harry lives?’
‘Aye.’ Billy took her arm and ushered her out. ‘I do.’ Jenny threw a glancing goodbye to Mrs Brown as Billy told his mother he would be back later.
‘I didn’t know you’d got married!’ Billy muttered. ‘I should have guessed! He offered you security, I suppose?’
‘How could you have known, Billy? And yes, Stephen did offer security for both of us, me and Christina. That’s why I married him. And he gave Christina his name.’
‘You didn’t love him then?’ Billy turned to look down at her as he guided her towards Saturday Market. ‘It was for refuge?’
‘Not then I didn’t. Billy, can we slow down? Where are we going?’
He dropped her arm and put clenched fingers against his mouth. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I’m used to dashing between one shop and another. We’ll pick ’trap up from ’back of the other shop. It’s too far to walk to Harry’s if you’re in a hurry. But you do now?’ He swallowed. ‘Love him? I suppose you’ve got other bairns?’
‘Five, including Christina, but Billy –’
They’d come to the front of a butcher’s shop, which had a similar sign to the other. At the side of the shop was a narrow passageway and Billy ushered her down it. ‘I keep ’trap here,’ he explained. ‘It’s onny a small stable and yard but big enough for one horse.’
‘You’ve done well, Billy,’ Jenny said admiringly. ‘Four shops and a horse and trap!’
‘Aye,’ he said glumly. ‘And a delivery waggon and driver.’ He shrugged as if it was of no importance. ‘I reckon I have.’
He whistled to a boy who was in the back of the shop and the lad came running, took the stabled horse and hitched it to the smart red and green trap. The yard came out onto Lairgate, one of the ancient streets of Beverley, and Billy, without speaking, helped Jenny into the trap and drove along it before turning up the narrow lane of Newbegin.
‘We’re going towards ’Westwood,’ Jenny remarked. ‘Is that where Harry and his family live? Or where his stables are?’
‘Both.’ Billy nodd
ed. ‘Farrier’s shop and stables are behind his house, up near ’Westwood. It’s a good place to be; his lad exercises ’horses up there. But I wanted to show you something first, before we go to Harry’s. Not that it matters now,’ he added in a low mutter.
‘You’ve stayed friends a long time, haven’t you?’ Jenny said, looking about her, as they turned, not onto the Westwood road but in the other direction. ‘Since you were boys? I remember when –’ She broke off, confronted by memories.
‘What?’ he asked abruptly. ‘What do you remember? When all three of us wanted your attention?’
‘Three?’ she queried, looking at him.
‘Aye. Harry was sweet on you at one time, but he daren’t say, and anyway we both saw how Christy would win ’day. We knew he’d more to offer than either of us.’
‘It wasn’t a matter of having more to offer! It was just –’ What was it exactly about Christy? she wondered. He seemed vulnerable then, in spite of his apparent wealth. I wanted to take care of him. But in the end – she gave a deep shuddering sigh. ‘I don’t know what it was, Billy. He—’
‘He sweet-talked you,’ Billy interrupted harshly. ‘Convinced you that ’fairy story would come true. Rich man and poor girl would live happy ever after! We knew, Harry and me, that it would come to nowt, but we couldn’t warn you. Daren’t warn you! You were smitten with him. Under his spell.’ He shook his head and added softly. ‘Not that we ever thought it would end ’way it did.’
Jenny didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. No-one could have foreseen what lay in front of them.
